At last he found himself rocking groggily on his pins and he pulled himself together sharply, and when next Coles came at him he struck out lustily with either hand. One blow landed and he was delighted beyond measure. The other was somehow lost in mid-air, and before he could puzzle out what had happened Coles had hit him again with his straight left and dazed his thinking powers. Rouse’s eyes recovered their normal vision slowly, and he looked before him. The walls seemed to be caving in, the chairs and the tables were dancing before his eyes. Coles looked disproportionate and rather horrible. He wondered if all this meant that he was going to be beaten. He could not believe it. To be licked by Coles, particularly when it was he himself who had started the fight, would be the last drop in his cup of bitterness. He dimly conceived what he would feel like when the news went round the school. What would Nick say when he crept back with a disfigured countenance and a look of shame? These thoughts passed through his mind at high speed but with peculiar clearness, and their effect was immediate. He poised himself squarely upon his feet. Somehow or other he had got to hit Coles on the chin, and if he could not do it by attack then he would do it by countering with all his force each time Coles himself came in. As he waited he furtively wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips were very bruised. One of his teeth was loose. He felt quietly angry and decidedly disappointed. But under no circumstances whatever would he give in. He was not going to admit defeat even if it were pointed out to him whilst he lay stiffly outstretched upon the floor. In point of fact he found himself wondering whether there would be room for him to lie stiffly on that particular floor anyway. He very nearly smiled at that. Then with sudden resolution Coles was moving forward. To Rouse he seemed strangely magnified. He came with a watchful attitude, his eyes brightly ashine, his clenched fists ready as if for a final blow. Rouse made preparation. With alarming suddenness Coles was on top of him. His fists were striking out with terrible intent. They were landing almost as they liked. Rouse rocked this way and that. At last he caught a sudden glimpse of Coles’ face for once temptingly exposed, and he hit out on the spur of the moment. His fist landed gloriously, and with delightful accuracy, upon the chin, and he gave a sigh of content. Whatever else happened now he had at least done what he had come for. He had hit Coles on the chin. The blow gave him a second’s respite. He had evidently hurt Coles a good deal. Yet in the end it availed him little. Before the faint smile of satisfaction had died from his lips Coles was up against him again, driving at his face with long arms that could not be properly avoided. He fell forward, and finding himself leaning against Coles’ waistcoat, struck at it cheerfully with each hand in turn, and heard Coles grunt distressfully.