"Oh, come: that's bullying," said Lomax, shaking his head, "and it isn't a fair match; they're a good two years older than you, and used to fighting, and you ain't."

"No," said Mercer excitedly; "and it's cruel and cowardly. I'm not a bit afraid of him, and Burr junior wasn't of his man, and we did the best we could, but they knocked us about just as they liked, and hit us where they pleased, and we couldn't hurt them a bit."

"No, you wouldn't be able of course," said the old sergeant thoughtfully, taking our arms and feeling our muscles. "Well, it was very plucky of you both to stand up and face 'em, that's all I can say.

Is that why you want to learn to use your fists?"

"Yes, and as soon as we can both box well, we want to give them both such lickings!" cried Mercer eagerly.

The old sergeant began to laugh in a quiet way, and wiped the tears out of his eyes.

"Then you want to learn on the sly, and astonish 'em some day?"

"Yes, yes," I said eagerly, for I was as excited as my companion, whose idea of revenge, now it was explained, seemed to me to be glorious.

"Well, it is tempting," said the sergeant thoughtfully.

"And you'll teach us?"

"And his father fought at Chillianwallah! Yes, it is tempting. You ought to be able to take your own part if big cowards tackle you."

"Yes, Lom. Then do teach us."

"No. What would the Doctor say?"

"He never should know. We'd never tell, either of us, would we, Burr?"

"Never!" I cried.

"I believe you, boys, that I do," said the old man; "and it was never forbidden. Never even mentioned," he continued thoughtfully. "I should like to oblige an old soldier's son."

"And I mean to be an army surgeon," said Mercer.

"And you couldn't do better, my lad."

"Then you'll teach us?" cried Mercer, and I hung upon his answer, with the spirit of retaliation strong within me now.

"Do you know what it means, my lads? Deal of knocking about."

"We don't care how much, do we, Burr?"

"No," I cried excitedly. "You may knock me down hundreds of times, if you'll teach me how to knock you down."

"But the gloves will cost about a pound."

"A pound!" said Mercer in dismay. Then a happy thought struck him.

"We shall have to give up buying Magglin's gun for the present," he whispered to me. Then aloud--

"All right Lom. If we bring you the money, will you buy the gloves?"

"Yes, my lads, I will; and good ones."

"And you will teach us?"

"I'll teach you," said the sergeant, "for the sake of helping to make a strong man of the son of a brave officer, who died for his country.

There!"

"Hooray!" cried Mercer; "and how much will you charge for the lessons, Lom? because you must make it a little more, as we shall have to go tick for a bit, because of paying so much for the gloves."

"How much?" said the sergeant thoughtfully. "Let me see. First and foremost, your words of honour that you'll never tell a soul I taught you how to fight, for it might lead to unpleasantness."

"On my honour, I'll never tell!" cried Mercer.

"And on my honour I never will!" I said excitedly.

"Right, then, so far," said Lomax. "Now about those gloves. If I recollect right, they're eight-and-six a pair, and two pairs are seventeen shillings."

"And the carriage," said Mercer.

"Stop a bit. I think, being an old soldier, and teaching, the makers'll take something off for me. I know they'll send 'em down carriage paid, and Jem Roff'll get 'em for me from the cross when the waggon goes in.

Got your money?"

"I've got half a sovereign," said Mercer.

"I've got seven shillings," I said.

"Hand over then," said the sergeant, and we lightened our purses tremendously.

"That's right," said Lomax. "Now about the pay for the lessons. I want that in advance."

"Oh!" we both e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed in dismay.

"We can't pay now, Lom," said Mercer, "but we will."

"Yes, you can."

"But how?"

"Give me your fists, both of you, in a hearty soldier's grip, my lads.

That's my pay in advance, and if in less than six months you two don't give those two bullies a big dressing down, why, I'm a Dutchman."

"Oh, Lom!"

"Oh, thank you!" I cried.

"Thank you, my lads, and G.o.d bless you both. Fighting's generally bad, but it's good sometimes. There, be off, both of you, and I'll write a letter for those gloves to-night."

We left him with our hearts beating high.