At each fall there was a cheer; and everybody was anxious to have the honour of offering the conqueror a knee.
"What a licking I shall get when it's over," young Osborne thought, picking up his man.

"You'd best give in," he said to Dobbin; "it's only a thrashing, Figs, and you know I'm used to it." But Figs, all whose limbs were in a quiver, and whose nostrils were breathing rage, put his little bottle-holder aside, and went in for a fourth time.
As he did not in the least know how to parry the blows that were aimed at himself, and Cuff had begun the attack on the three preceding occasions, without ever allowing his enemy to strike, Figs now determined that he would commence the engagement by a charge on his own part; and accordingly, being a left-handed man, brought that arm into action, and hit out a couple of times with all his might--once at Mr.
Cuff's left eye, and once on his beautiful Roman nose.
Cuff went down this time, to the astonishment of the assembly.

"Well hit, by Jove," says little Osborne, with the air of a connoisseur, clapping his man on the back.

"Give it him with the left, Figs my boy." Figs's left made terrific play during all the rest of the combat.

Cuff went down every time.