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Updated: June 9, 2025
Anyhow he knew enough to hit straight and put his weight into it, to guard chin and mark, to use his feet, duck, dodge, and side step. Suppose Harberth knew as much? Well since he was far stronger, taller, and heavier, the only hope of success lay in the fact that he was connected with the Snake from whom mere blows in the open would be welcome. Anyhow he would die or win.
Harberth sat shaking his head, looking piteous, and, in the middle of the time-keeper's counting, he arose remarking, "I've had enough" and walked to his chair. Bully Harberth was beaten and Dam felt that the Snake was farther from him than ever it had been since he could remember.
"Now you've got to fight him, of course," said Delorme, and fled to spread the glad tidings far and wide. "I I don't feel well now," mumbled Harberth. "I'll fight him when I'm better," and shambled away, outraged, puzzled, disgusted. What was the world coming to? The little brute! He had a punch like the kick of a horse. The little cad to dare!
"How will you torture me, Harberth, please?" asked Dam meekly, as he measured the other with his eye, noted his puffiness, short reach, and inward tendency of knee. "Oh! lots of ways," was the reply. "Dry shaves, tweaks, scalpers, twisters, choko, tappers, digs, benders, shinners, windos, all sorts." "I don't even know what they are," moaned Dam.
"Nit," was Dam's firm but gentle reply, and a little pulse began to beat beneath his cheek bone. "Oh! Ho!" smiled Master Harberth, "then I'll begin here, and when you're broke and blubbing you'll come with me and get just double for a start."
On the word "nine" he sprang to his feet and as Harberth rushed in, side-stepped, and, as that youth instinctively covered his much-smitten "mark," Dam drove at his chin and sent him staggering. As he went after him he saw that Harberth was breathing hard, trembling, and swaying on his feet. Springing in, he rained short-arm blows until Harberth fell and then he stepped well back.
Rising majestically, the time-keeper lifted up his voice and counted: "One two three four five six" and Harberth opened his eyes, sat up, "seven eight nine" and lay down again; and just as Dam was about to leap for joy and the audience to roar their approval instead of the fatal "OUT" the time-keeper called "Time".
A very large and very informal committee took charge of the business of the fight, and what was alluded to as "a friendly boxing contest between Bully Harberth of the Fifth and de Warrenne late Funky " was arranged for the following Saturday afternoon. Those who had been loudest in dubbing him Funky Warrenne were quickest in finding explanations of his curious conduct and explained it well away.
Oh, if it could only inflict mere physical pain instead of such agonies of terror as made the idea of any bodily injury mere cutting, burning, beating, blinding a trifling nothing-at-all. Anyhow, he could imagine that Bully Harberth was the Snake or Its emissary and, since he was indirectly brought upon him by the Snake, regard him as a myrmidon and deal with him accordingly....
Even certain more or less grave and reverend seniors of the upper school took a well-disguised interest in the matter and pretended that the affair should be allowed to go on, as it would do Harberth a lot of good if de Warrenne could lick him, and do the latter a lot of good to reinstate himself by showing that he was not really a coward in essentials.
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