The two youngsters sprang to their legs, but he lay there still.  They began to be frightened.  Tom stooped down, and then cried out, scared out of his wits, “He’s bleeding awfully.  Come here, East!  Diggs, he’s dying!”

“Not he,” said Diggs, getting leisurely off the table; “it’s all sham; he’s only afraid to fight it out.”

East was as frightened as Tom.  Diggs lifted Flashman’s head, and he groaned.

“What’s the matter?” shouted Diggs.

“My skull’s fractured,” sobbed Flashman.

“Oh, let me run for the housekeeper!” cried Tom.  “What shall we do?”

“Fiddlesticks!  It’s nothing but the skin broken,” said the relentless Diggs, feeling his head.  “Cold water and a bit of rag’s all he’ll want.”

“Let me go,” said Flashman surlily, sitting up; “I don’t want your help.”

“We’re really very sorry—­” began East.

“Hang your sorrow!” answered Flashman, holding his handkerchief to the place; “you shall pay for this, I can tell you, both of you.”  And he walked out of the hall.

“He can’t be very bad,” said Tom, with a deep sigh, much relieved to see his enemy march so well.

“Not he,” said Diggs; “and you’ll see you won’t be troubled with him any more.  But, I say, your head’s broken too; your collar is covered with blood.”

“Is it though?” said Tom, putting up his hand; “I didn’t know it.”

“Well, mop it up, or you’ll have your jacket spoilt.  And you have got a nasty eye, Scud.  You’d better go and bathe it well in cold water.”

“Cheap enough too, if we’re done with our old friend Flashey,” said East, as they made off upstairs to bathe their wounds.

They had done with Flashman in one sense, for he never laid finger on either of them again; but whatever harm a spiteful heart and venomous tongue could do them, he took care should be done.  Only throw dirt enough, and some of it is sure to stick; and so it was with the fifth form and the bigger boys in general, with whom he associated more or less, and they not at all.  Flashman managed to get Tom and East into disfavour, which did not wear off for some time after the author of it had disappeared from the School world.  This event, much prayed for by the small fry in general, took place a few months after the above encounter.  One fine summer evening Flashman had been regaling himself on gin-punch, at Brownsover; and, having exceeded his usual limits, started home uproarious.  He fell in with a friend or two coming back from bathing, proposed a glass of beer, to which they assented, the weather being hot, and they thirsty souls, and unaware of the quantity of drink which Flashman had already on board.  The short result was, that Flashey became beastly drunk.  They tried to get him along, but couldn’t; so they chartered a hurdle and two men to carry him.  One of the masters came upon them, and they naturally enough fled.  The flight of the rest raised the master’s suspicions, and the good angel of the fags incited him to examine the freight, and, after examination, to convoy the hurdle himself up to the School-house; and the Doctor, who had long had his eye on Flashman, arranged for his withdrawal next morning.