He never meddled with any little boy, and was popular with
them, though they all looked on him with a sort of compassion, and
called him "Poor Diggs," not being able to resist appearances, or to
disregard wholly even the sneers of their enemy Flashman. However, he
seemed equally indifferent to the sneers of big boys and the pity of
small ones, and lived his own queer life with much apparent enjoyment to
himself. It is necessary to introduce Diggs thus particularly, as he not
only did Tom and East good service in their present warfare, as is about
to be told, but soon afterwards, when he got into the sixth, chose them
for his fags, and excused them from study-fagging, thereby earning unto
himself eternal gratitude from them and all who are interested in their
history.
And seldom had small boys more need of a friend, for the morning after
the siege the storm burst upon the rebels in all its violence. Flashman
laid wait, and caught Tom before second lesson, and receiving a
point-blank "No" when told to fetch his hat, seized him and twisted his
arm, and went through the other methods of torture in use. "He couldn't
make me cry, though," as Tom said triumphantly to the rest of the
rebels; "and I kicked his shins well, I know." And soon it crept
out that a lot of the fags were in league, and Flashman excited his
associates to join him in bringing the young vagabonds to their senses;
and the house was filled with constant chasings, and sieges, and
lickings of all sorts; and in return, the bullies' beds were pulled to
pieces and drenched with water, and their names written up on the walls
with every insulting epithet which the fag invention could furnish.
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