Come here, East! Diggs, he's dying!" "Not he," said Diggs, getting leisurely off the table; "it's all sham; he's only afraid to fight it out." East was as frightened as Tom.

Diggs lifted Flashman's head, and he groaned.
"What's the matter ?" shouted Diggs.
"My skull's fractured," sobbed Flashman.
"Oh, let me run for the housekeeper!" cried Tom.

"What shall we do ?" "Fiddlesticks! It's nothing but the skin broken," said the relentless Diggs, feeling his head.

"Cold water and a bit of rag's all he'll want." "Let me go," said Flashman surlily, sitting up; "I don't want your help." "We're really very sorry--" began East.
"Hang your sorrow!" answered Flashman, holding his handkerchief to the place; "you shall pay for this, I can tell you, both of you." And he walked out of the hall.
"He can't be very bad," said Tom, with a deep sigh, much relieved to see his enemy march so well.
"Not he," said Diggs; "and you'll see you won't be troubled with him any more.

But, I say, your head's broken too; your collar is covered with blood." "Is it though ?" said Tom, putting up his hand; "I didn't know it." "Well, mop it up, or you'll have your jacket spoilt.