“Time!” You must call louder yet before he will hear, and lance a vein in the throat before he will answer.

Then, in the old market-place of B——­, there went up such a shout as I think it has never heard since Vikings and Berserkyr caroused there after storming the town.  The gownsmen, as they will do on slighter provocation, screamed themselves hoarse and voiceless with delight; and their late opponents—­the honest Saxon’s love of a fair fight overcoming the spirit of the partisan—­echoed and prolonged the cheer.

There was no more thought of battle or broil; and there were as many navvies as University men among the enthusiasts who bore the champion on their shoulders into “The George.”

How we reveled on that night of victory, especially when Guy, after necessary ablutions and change of raiment, joined us, calm and self-possessed as ever, only slightly swelled about the lower lip, and a dark red flush on his forehead!  He had satisfactory accounts of his adversary, the said amiable individual having so far recovered, under the surgeon’s hands, as to swear thrice—­“quite like hisself,” the messenger said—­and to call for cold brandy and water.

Livingstone’s health was proposed twice—­the first time by a fellow of King’s, with a neat talent for classical allusions, who remarked that, “if the olive-crown of the Hippodrome had fallen to the lot of Cambridge, none would deny her sister’s claim to the parsley of the caestus.”  The second time was very late in the evening, by M’Diarmid.  It must be confessed that gallant chieftain was somewhat incoherent, and amid protestations of admiration and eternal friendship, much to our astonishment, wept profusely.  Still later, he got very maudlin indeed, and was heard to murmur, looking at his scarred knuckles, that “he was afraid he must have hurt some one that night,” with an accent of heartfelt sorrow and contrition which was inimitable.

We heard afterward that the taunt which made the fight a certainty came from the commissioner of the party who stood heavily against the Big ’un, sent down to watch him in his training, and spy out the joints in his harness.

CHAPTER V.

     “As he rode down the sanctified bends of the Bow,
     Each carline was flyting and shaking her pow;
     But the young Plants of Grace they looked couthie and slee,
     Saying, ‘Luck to thy bonnet, thou bonnie Dundee.’”

In the autumn of that year my chest became so troublesome that I was obliged to try Italy.  Thither I went; and, about the same time, Guy was gazetted to the ——­ Life Guards.  The struggle between climate and constitution was protracted, and for a long time doubtful; but winters without fog, and springs without cold winds, worked wonders, and at last carried the day.  In the fourth year they told me I might risk England again.  Moving homeward slowly, I reached London about the beginning of December—­a most unfavorable season, it is true; but I was weary of foreign wandering, and wanted to spend Christmas somewhere in the fatherland, though where I had not yet determined.