The big fellow
stolidly remarks that it is all one to him; but Master Jackey spurns the
proposal with lofty contempt. The contest is renewed; another round is
fought, and the lighter weight once more bites the grass. Before he can
arise to resume the fray, the company receives an accession in the person
of a tall, slabsided, awkwardly-made youth, who impetuously elbows the
others aside, and makes his way to the centre of the fistic arena. The
new-comer is somewhat older than any of the other boys, and is apparently
verging towards manhood. His appearance is somewhat peculiar. The most
partial admirer could hardly pronounce him handsome. Apart from his
ungainly build, he has fiery red hair, high, prominent cheek bones, a
receding forehead, and a proboscis of the kind which the French call a
nose in the air. There is a set, decisive expression about his mouth which
betokens an indomitable will; and a flash in his sparkling blue eyes bears
witness that he has an ominous temper of his own. But, though his personal
appearance is by no means that of an Adonis, the brightness of his
complexion and a certain bold frankness of facial expression preserves him
from absolute ugliness.
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