For as I stooped right down, scooping up the water with one hand to bathe my face, I suddenly felt a sharp thrust from a foot on my back, and before I could save myself I was head over heels in the deep water.
It was not so deep but that I got my footing directly, and seizing the post at the side tried to struggle out, when amidst shouts of laughter Philip cried: "Give him another dowse.

That's the way to wash a pauper clean." I was half-blind with the water, as Courtenay thrust my hand from the post, and in I went again, to come up red hot instead of cold.
He thrust me in again and I went right under; but my rage was not quenched, and, taught by my experience, I made a rush as if to spring out on to the dipping-place but instead of doing so I caught at a branch of a willow by the side and sprang out.
"Shake yourself, dog!" cried Courtenay, roaring with laughter.
"Fetch him a towel," cried Philip.

"A towel for the clean pauper.

Give him another ducking, Courtenay." He ran at me, but in those moments I had forgotten everything in my thirst to be revenged on my cowardly persecutors.
Philip only seemed to be something in my way as I made at his brother, and throwing out one fist, he went down amongst the willows, while the next minute I was striking at Courtenay with all my might.
He was a bigger boy than I.

Taller and older, and he had had many a good fight at school no doubt; but my onslaught staggered him, and I drove him before me, striking at him as he reached the handles of my water-barrow, and he fell over them heavily.
This only enraged him, and he sprang up and received my next blow right in the face, to be staggered for the moment.
Then I don't know what happened, only that my arms were going like windmills, that I was battering Courtenay, and that he was battering me; that we were down, and then up, and then down again, over and over, and fighting fiercely as a couple of dogs.
I think I was getting the best of it, when I began to feel weak, and that my adversary was hitting me back and front at once.
Then I realised that Philip had attacked me too, and that I was getting very much the worst of it in a sort of thunderstorm which rained blows.
Then the blows only came from one side, for there was a hoarse panting and the sound of heavy blows and scuffling away from me, while I was hitting out again with all my might at one boy instead of two.
All at once there was a crash and the rattle of an iron handle, and Courtenay went down.