And for Dick at the present moment to hold up his hands and say, "Oh, no, thank you," when Culver asked him if it was a fight, would have been as bad every bit, as if he had picked a quarrel and fought with the man who caught him out at cricket.
Having relieved our minds so far, let us, reader, accompany Basil the son of Richard, as he strides; surrounded by his myrmidons, and most of all by the faithful Heathcote, to the Templeton "cock pit," where already the large-boned Culver, hemmed in no more by the envious grip of the toga of his mothers sister's son, awaits the fray.
For him Gosse holds the sponge, and bids him hit low, and walk his foeman over the tapes.
And now a score of officious voices cry out "A ring!" and the surging waves fall back, as when a whirlpool opens in mid-ocean.
Tall amid the crowding juniors stalks Birket, at sight of whom Dick's heart rejoices, and Gosse's countenance falls.

For Birket will see fair play.
And now the faithful Heathcote staggers under the weight of his friend's discarded garments, and whispers words of brotherly cheer as the snowy sleeves of the hero roll up his arm, and his chafing collar falls from his swelling neck.
The crowd grows dumb and hearts beat quick, as those two stand there, face to face, the large-boned, solid Culver, and the compact, light- footed Dick, with his clean, fresh skin, and well-poised head, and tight, determined lips; and the signal goes forth that the battle has begun.
The knowing ones are there, who, with Birket, look close to see what the new boy is made of, and how he works his left.

But the unknowing regard the size of their Culver, and prophesy fast and furiously.
Then do these two circle slowly round the tapes, attempting nothing great, but, by feint and parry, seeking each to unmask his man and discover where he is weak and where strong.

The unknowing ones and Gosse murmur, and cry on their man to let out.

And he, irresolute a moment, yields, and standing drives at his foeman's head.