"Better," he said; "but it wouldn't have killed a blue-bottle. Now you,
Master Mercer."
"I'll hit you hard, then, if you will not mind."
"Tchah! just as if you could hurt me! Go on."
Mercer flew at him and struck with all his might.
"Better," said Lomax; "that might have killed a blue-bottle. But it is
just as I thought; you're both wrong."
"Wrong?" we echoed.
"Of course you are. So those two gave you both a good thrashing, eh?"
"Yes," I said bitterly.
"Of course they would if you behaved like that. What are those hanging
down by your sides?"
"Arms," I said wonderingly.
"Then why do you treat 'em as if they were wind-mill sails, and swing
'em round that fashion?"
"Then you ought to hit straight out," I said, "and not swing your arms
round?"
"Of course," said our instructor; "but that isn't all. You both hit at
me with your right glove."
"Of course. The right arm's the stronger."
"Exactly, my lad; so keep it to use as a shield."
"But you want to beat a boy when you fight him," I said.
"To be sure you do, and to beat him you must be strong and able to hold
out, and to do this you must be ready to keep him first of all from
injuring you. It's self-defence, so you keep your best arm to keep the
enemy from making your nose swelled like yours was, Master Mercer, and
from sticking his fist in your eye like Master Dicksee did in yours,
Master Burr. And that isn't all. If you are keeping him from hurting
you, he goes on getting tired and more tired, and then your turn comes,
and you can thrash him."
"I see," cried Mercer.
"No, you don't; you're only getting a peep yet."
"But mustn't you ever hit with your right fist?"
"Oh yes, at proper times. Wait: I'll tell you when."
"But shall we begin fighting now?" I said eagerly.
"No, not till you know what you're going to do. Now look here, boys; I
daresay some people would teach you very differently to what I do, but
you've asked me, and I shall teach you my way. Some people let those
they teach put the gloves on and begin knocking each other about, but
that's all waste of time. I want everything you do with your right or
your left to be for some reason. Those two boys can't fight, but they
thrashed you two because I can see you swung your arms about anyhow, and
while you were coming round with one of your wind-mill swings, they hit
straight out and you had it. Do you see?"
"Not quite," I said.
"Then look here. See that round table turned up in the corner?"
"Yes."
"Suppose, then, two flies started from the edge to get to the opposite
edge, and one went round and the other right across straight, which
would get there first?"
"Oh, I know that," said Mercer, rubbing his nose with the back of his
glove; "the one that went across the diameter ever so much sooner than
the one that went half round the circumference."
"Yes," I said; "the chord is shorter than the arc."
"Never mind about your fine way of putting it," said Lomax. "I see you
understand, and that's what I mean. The enemy would diameter you while
you tried to circumference him."
The serjeant laughed at his ready adoption of our words, and we laughed
too, but he cried "'Tention!" again, and now made us stand face to face
on guard, manipulating us and walking round till he had us exactly to
his taste, when he suddenly remembered something, and, taking a piece of
chalk from his pocket, he drew a line between us, and then raised our
hands with their huge gloves to the pitch he considered correct.
"There you are, boys," he said; "that couldn't be better. Now, bear in
mind what I said; self-defence is the thing you've got to aim at, just
as a general manages his regiments and fences with them till the proper
time comes, and then he lets them go. Now, to begin with, you must be
the enemy, Master Mercer, and Master Burr here's got to thrash you."
"Oh!" cried Mercer.
"Well, your turn will come next. Now then. Ready?"
"Yes," we cried.
"Then you, Mercer, hit him in the chest."
"And what shall I do?"
"Don't let him. You've got your right ready, haven't you? Now then,
off!"
We were both terribly excited, and I was on my guard as Mercer hit at me
with his soft glove, and I caught the blow on my right arm.
"Good!" cried Lomax; "bravo! well stopped. But that's all you did,
because you didn't know any better. If you had known better, Master
Mercer would be sitting on the floor."
"What ought I to have done, then?" I said.
"You wait and I'll show you. Now, Mercer, hit at him again. Hit this
time. That's a boxing-glove you've got on."
"Well, I know it is."
"Oh, I thought you fancied it was a snowball that you were going to
throw at him."