At this bland query spoken from under the lamp at the garden gate,like some demand of a god,their nerves gave way,and snatching up their coats,they ran at the railings,shinned up them,and made for the secluded spot whence they had issued to the fight.Here,in dim light,they mopped their faces,and without a word walked,ten paces apart,to the college gate.They went out silently,Val going towards the Broad along the Brewery,Jolly down the lane towards the High.His head,still fumed,was busy with regret that he had not displayed more science,passing in review the counters and knockout blows which he had not delivered.His mind strayed on to an imagined combat,infinitely unlike that which he had just been through,infinitely gallant,with sash and sword,with thrust and parry,as if he were in the pages of his beloved Dumas.He fancied himself La Mole,and Aramis,Bussy,Chicot,and D'Artagnan rolled into one,but he quite failed to envisage Val as Coconnas,Brissac,or Rochefort.The fellow was just a confounded cousin who didn't come up to Cocker.Never mind!He had given him one or two.'Pro-Boer!'The word still rankled,and thoughts of en-listing jostled his aching head;of riding over the veldt,firing gallantly,while the Boers rolled over like rabbits.And,turning up his smarting eyes,he saw the stars shining between the house-tops of the High,and himself lying out on the Karoo (whatever that was)rolled in a blanket,with his rifle ready and his gaze fixed on a glittering heaven.
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