"Scene, Mr. Bouncer's rooms in Brazenface; in the centre a table, at
which a party are drinking log-juice, and smoking cabbage leaves. Door,
left, third entrance. Enter the Putney Pet. Slow music; lights half
down."

Even Mr. Verdant Green did not require to be told the profession of the
Putney Pet. His thick-set frame, his hard-featured, battered, hang-dog
face proclaimed him a prize-fighter.

"Now for a toast, gentlemen," said Mr. Bouncer. "May the Gown give the
Town a jolly good hiding!"

This was received with great applause, and the Putney Pet was dressed
out in a gown and mortar-board, and the whole party then sallied out to
battle. From time immemorial it has been the custom at Oxford for the
town-people and the scholars to engage, at least once a year, in a wild
scrimmage, and the pitched battle was now due. No doubt it was not quite
fair for the men of Brazenface to bring the Putney Pet up from London
for the occasion; but for some years Gown had been defeated by Town, and
they were resolved to have their revenge.

When Mr. Bouncer's party turned the corner of Saint Mary's, they found
that the Town, as usual, had taken the initiative, and in a dense body
had swept the High Street and driven all the gownsmen before them. A
small knot of 'varsity men were manfully struggling against superior
numbers by St. Mary's Hall.

"Gown to the rescue!" shouted Mr. Bouncer, as he dashed across the
street. "Come on, Pet! Here we are in the thick of it, just in the nick