We caught all we could, and punched and pummelled and rolled them in the snow to our hearts' content.
Jem never was much of a talker, and I never knew him speak when he was fighting; but three several times on this occasion, I heard him say very stiffly and distinctly (he was on the top of Tim Binder), "I'll fettle thee! I'll fettle thee! I'll fettle thee!" The battle was over, the victory was ours, but the campaign was not ended, and thenceforward the disadvantages would be for us.

Even real warfare is complicated when men fight with men less civilized than themselves; and we had learnt before now that when we snowballed each other or snowballed the rougher "lot" of village boys, we did so under different conditions.

_We_ had our own code of honour and fairness, but Bob Furniss was not above putting a stone into a snowball if he owed a grudge.
So when we heard a rumour that the bigger "roughs" were going to join the younger ones, and lie in wait to "pay us off" the first day we came down to the ice, I cannot say we felt comfortable, though we resolved to be courageous.

Meanwhile, the thaw continued, which suspended operations, and gave time, which is good for healing; and Christmas came, and we and our foes met and mingled in the mummeries of the season, and wished each other Happy New Years, and said nothing about the pond.
How my father came to hear of the matter we did not know at the time, but one morning he summoned Jem and me, and bade us tell him all about it.

I was always rather afraid of my father, and I should have made out a very stammering story, but Jem flushed up like a turkey-cock, and gave our version of the business very straightforwardly.