way out of it, nothing was done, except that two or three of them went
up to Mitcham, and strongly urged him to shake hands with Tom, and
confess that he had done wrong in giving him the lie. This Mitcham
would not hear of, and there was nothing further to be done.

"I am afraid, Tom, you have no chance with that fellow." Peter said,
as they were undressing.

"No chance in the world, Peter; but I can box fairly, you know, and am
pretty hard. I shall be able to punish him a bit, and you may be sure
I shall never give in. It's no great odds getting a licking, and I
suppose that they will stop it before I am killed. Don't bother about
it. I had rather get knocked about in a fight than get flogged at Eton
any day. I would rather you did not come to see it, Peter, if you
don't mind. When you fought Evans it hurt me ten times as much as if I
had been fighting, and, although you licked him, it made me feel like
a girl. I can stand twice the punishment if I don't feel that any blow
is hitting you as well as myself."

Tom's prediction about the fight turned out to be nearly correct. He
was more active, and a vastly better boxer than his antagonist, and
although he was constantly knocked down, he punished him very heavily
about the face. In fact, the fight was exactly similar to that great
battle, fifty years afterwards, between Sayers and Heenan. Time after
time Tom was knocked down, and even his second begged him to give in,
but he would not hear of it. Breathless and exhausted, but always
cool and smiling, he faced his heavy antagonist, eluding his furious
rushes, and managing to strike a few straight blows at his eyes before
being knocked down. By the time that they had fought a quarter of
an hour half the regiment was assembled, and loud were the cheers