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"
After
school
,
"
says
he
,
of
course
;
after
a
pause
and
a
look
,
as
much
as
to
say
,
"
Make
your
will
,
and
communicate
your
last
wishes
to
your
friends
between
this
time
and
that
.
"
"
As
you
please
,
"
Dobbin
said
.
"
You
must
be
my
bottle
holder
,
Osborne
.
"
"
Well
,
if
you
like
,
"
little
Osborne
replied
;
for
you
see
his
papa
kept
a
carriage
,
and
he
was
rather
ashamed
of
his
champion
.
Yes
,
when
the
hour
of
battle
came
,
he
was
almost
ashamed
to
say
,
"
Go
it
,
Figs
"
;
and
not
a
single
other
boy
in
the
place
uttered
that
cry
for
the
first
two
or
three
rounds
of
this
famous
combat
;
at
the
commencement
of
which
the
scientific
Cuff
,
with
a
contemptuous
smile
on
his
face
,
and
as
light
and
as
gay
as
if
he
was
at
a
ball
,
planted
his
blows
upon
his
adversary
,
and
floored
that
unlucky
champion
three
times
running
.
At
each
fall
there
was
a
cheer
;
and
everybody
was
anxious
to
have
the
honour
of
offering
the
conqueror
a
knee
.
"
What
a
licking
I
shall
get
when
it
's
over
,
"
young
Osborne
thought
,
picking
up
his
man
.
"
You
'd
best
give
in
,
"
he
said
to
Dobbin
;
"
it
's
only
a
thrashing
,
Figs
,
and
you
know
I
'm
used
to
it
.
"
But
Figs
,
all
whose
limbs
were
in
a
quiver
,
and
whose
nostrils
were
breathing
rage
,
put
his
little
bottle-holder
aside
,
and
went
in
for
a
fourth
time
.
As
he
did
not
in
the
least
know
how
to
parry
the
blows
that
were
aimed
at
himself
,
and
Cuff
had
begun
the
attack
on
the
three
preceding
occasions
,
without
ever
allowing
his
enemy
to
strike
,
Figs
now
determined
that
he
would
commence
the
engagement
by
a
charge
on
his
own
part
;
and
accordingly
,
being
a
left-handed
man
,
brought
that
arm
into
action
,
and
hit
out
a
couple
of
times
with
all
his
might
--
once
at
Mr.
Cuff
's
left
eye
,
and
once
on
his
beautiful
Roman
nose
.
Cuff
went
down
this
time
,
to
the
astonishment
of
the
assembly
.
"
Well
hit
,
by
Jove
,
"
says
little
Osborne
,
with
the
air
of
a
connoisseur
,
clapping
his
man
on
the
back
.
"
Give
it
him
with
the
left
,
Figs
my
boy
.
"
Figs
's
left
made
terrific
play
during
all
the
rest
of
the
combat
.
Cuff
went
down
every
time
.
At
the
sixth
round
,
there
were
almost
as
many
fellows
shouting
out
,
"
Go
it
,
Figs
,
"
as
there
were
youths
exclaiming
,
"
Go
it
,
Cuff
.
"
At
the
twelfth
round
the
latter
champion
was
all
abroad
,
as
the
saying
is
,
and
had
lost
all
presence
of
mind
and
power
of
attack
or
defence
.
Figs
,
on
the
contrary
,
was
as
calm
as
a
quaker
.
His
face
being
quite
pale
,
his
eyes
shining
open
,
and
a
great
cut
on
his
underlip
bleeding
profusely
,
gave
this
young
fellow
a
fierce
and
ghastly
air
,
which
perhaps
struck
terror
into
many
spectators
.
Nevertheless
,
his
intrepid
adversary
prepared
to
close
for
the
thirteenth
time
.
If
I
had
the
pen
of
a
Napier
,
or
a
Bell
's
Life
,
I
should
like
to
describe
this
combat
properly
.
It
was
the
last
charge
of
the
Guard
--
(
that
is
,
it
would
have
been
,
only
Waterloo
had
not
yet
taken
place
)
--
it
was
Ney
's
column
breasting
the
hill
of
La
Haye
Sainte
,
bristling
with
ten
thousand
bayonets
,
and
crowned
with
twenty
eagles
--
it
was
the
shout
of
the
beef-eating
British
,
as
leaping
down
the
hill
they
rushed
to
hug
the
enemy
in
the
savage
arms
of
battle
--
in
other
words
,
Cuff
coming
up
full
of
pluck
,
but
quite
reeling
and
groggy
,
the
Fig-merchant
put
in
his
left
as
usual
on
his
adversary
's
nose
,
and
sent
him
down
for
the
last
time
.
