"Golly," shrilled the Haddock, "Funky Warren has murdered Bully Harberth.

Hooray! Hooray!" and he capered with joy.
A small crowd quickly collected, and, it being learned from credible eye-witnesses that the smaller boy had neither stabbed the bully in the back nor clubbed him from behind, but had well and truly smitten him on the jaw with his fist, he went at one bound from despised outcast coward to belauded, admired hero.
"You'll be hung, of course, Warren," said Delorme.
"And a jolly good job," replied Dam, fervently and sincerely.
As he spoke, Harberth twitched, moved his arms and legs, and opened his eyes.
Sitting up, he blinked owl-like and inquired as to what was up.
"You are down is what's up," replied Delorme.
"Oh--he's not dead," squeaked the Haddock, and there was a piteous break in his voice.
"What's up ?" asked Harberth again.
"Why, Funky--that is to say, Warren--knocked you out, and you've got to give him best and ask for _pax_, or else fight him," said Delorme, adding hopefully, "but of course you'll fight him." Harberth arose and walked to the nearest seat.
"He hit me a 'coward's poke' when I wasn't looking," quoth he.

"It's well known he is a coward." "You are a liar, Bully Harberth," observed Delorme.

"He hit you fair, and anyhow he's not afraid of _you_.

If you don't fight him you become Funky Harberth _vice_.