"How do you like _this_?" inquired Dam rising also--and he smote his
tormentor with all his strength beneath the point of his chin. Rage,
pain, rebellion, and undying hatred (of the Snake) lent such force to
the skilful blow--behind which was the weight and upward spring of his
body--that Bully Harberth went down like a nine-pin, his big head
striking the sharp edge of a desk with great violence.

He lay still and white with closed eyes. "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.