Cann, my boy, behold how brutalising is ungoverned instinct.' But, wearying of the contest, the master made a sudden descent upon Jacker, and tore him from his enemy's grasp.

The effort brought Dick to his feet, panting and still eager for the fray.

He could not see an inch beyond his nose, and for a few moments moved about fiercely, feeling for his foe.
'D'you gimme best ?' he spluttered.

'If you don't, come on--I ain't done up!' Then he flung the curtain of cobweb from his eyes, and the situation flashed upon him in all its grim significance.

For a swift moment he thought of flight, but the master's grip was on his collar.
'Blowed if it ain't Jo,' he murmured in his consternation, and yielded meekly, like one for whom Fate had proved too strong.
The schoolmaster's white-lashed eyelids blinked rapidly for a second or so, and he screwed his face into a hard wrinkled grin of gratification.
'Yes, Ginger, my lad,' he said genially, 'Jo, at your service--very much at your service; and yours, McKnight.