In Ned, however, the lad found an opponent of a different stamp.
The latter saw at once that his opponent's far greater weight and
strength rendered it hopeless for him to trust to close fighting,
and he worked round and round him, every now and then rushing at
him and delivering a telling blow, and getting off again before
his heavy and comparatively unwieldy companion could reply.
Once or twice, indeed, the lad managed to strike him as he came in,
each time knocking him fairly off his feet; but in the fair spirit
which at that time animated English men and boys of all classes he
allowed Ned each time to regain his feet without interference.
"Thou bee'st a plucky one," he said, as Ned after his third fall
again faced him, "but thou bain't strong enough for oi."
Ned made no reply, but nerved himself for a fresh effort. The blows
he had received had been heavy, and the blood was streaming from
his face; but he had no idea of giving in, although Tompkins, in
spite of his calls and reproaches, refused to raise himself beyond
a sitting position.
"It's no good, Ned," he replied, "the brute is too big for us, and
I'd rather try to walk home all the way round than get another like
the last. My nose feels as big as my head."
Ned hardly heard what his companion said. He would have been killed
rather than yield now, and gathering all his strength he sprang at
his opponent like a tiger.
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