to rig yourself out well enough to hold your own against Louis or William, you would have to fork out a ten pound note or more."
John went on with his work in rather a grumpy humor, for he had always been looked up to as the leading Boy in the school, and he did not like to play the second fiddle. He felt sure that if he had been half so natty and well got up as he used to be, he might have stopped the fight in a moment. For the next half hour he cursed Billy and Bobby, and all the other little sneaks who had wormed themselves into favor with him, by teaching him to save money. "Hang the money!" growled Johnnie to himself; "I'd give up half my shop to get my old prestige back again." But it was too late now. Nevertheless he had his own way about the sponging, and certainly he did behave well there. At the end of every round that was fought, he got across the stream and bathed poor Louis' head, for he wanted help the most, and gave him sherry and water out of his own flask. "I'm so very sorry for you, my dear Louis," said he, as the boy, more dead than alive, struggled up to his feet again."
"Thank you kindly, John," said Louis; "but," he added, looking somewhat reproachfully at his friend, "why don't you separate us? Don't you see that this great brute is too many for me? I had no idea that he could fight like that."
"What can I do?" said John. "You began it, you know, and you really must fight it out. I have no power."
"So it seems," replied Louis. "Ah, there was a time—well, thank you kindly, John, for—the sticking plaster."
"Come on!" shouted William, thirsting for more blood.
"Vive la guerre!" cried poor Louis, rushing blindly at his foe. Well and nobly he fought, but he could not stand his ground.
