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Taking no denial from Butterson, he forced his way into the presence of his master and clamoured for instant retributive justice or the acceptance of his resignation forthwith, and him twanty-twa years in the ane place. "Grandfather," roused from slumber, gouty, liverish, ferociously angry, sent for Dam, Sergeant Havlan, and Sergeant Havlan's cane.
Sergeant Havlan soon found that he had little need to begin at the beginning with Damocles de Warrenne in the matter of riding, fencing or boxing, and was unreasonably annoyed thereat. In time, it became the high ambition and deep desire of Dam to overcome Sergeant Havlan's son in battle with the gloves.
As young Havlan was a year his senior, a trained infant prodigy, and destined for the Prize Ring, there was plenty for him to learn and to do. With foil or sabre the boy was beneath Dam's contempt. Daily the children were in Sergeant Havlan's charge for riding and physical drill, Dam getting an extra hour in the evening for the more manly and specialized pursuits suitable to his riper years.
"I told him you were an innocent unborn babe and that Justice had had a mis-carriage, but he only grinned and said you had got C.B. and dry bread for insilence in the Orderly Room. What is 'insilence'?" "Pulling Havlan's leg, I s'pose," opined Dam. "What about that grub? There comes a time when you are too hungry to eat and then you die.
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