But finding now that I had foughten three-score fights already, he came up to me woefully, in the quickness of my breathing, while I sat on the knee of my second, with a piece of spongious coralline to ease me of my bloodshed, and he says in my ears, as if he was clapping spurs into a horse,-- 'Never thee knack under, Jan, or never coom naigh Hexmoor no more.' With that it was all up with me.

A simmering buzzed in my heavy brain, and a light came through my eyeplaces.

At once I set both fists again, and my heart stuck to me like cobbler's wax.

Either Robin Snell should kill me, or I would conquer Robin Snell.

So I went in again with my courage up, and Bob came smiling for victory, and I hated him for smiling.