Dr. Jolliffes Boys | Page 2

the amount of hope they had would not have taken the room of a pair of socks in Pandora's box.
But Crawley was a bowler as well as a batsman, and Robarts was the Westonian wicket-keeper, so that both were somewhat fagged when they first went in, whereas they were now quite fresh. Again, the Hillsburian bowling champion found his dangerous left arm a little stiff, and his eyesight not so keen as it had been an hour before. One is bound to find a cause for everything, so these may be the reasons why the pair, after defending their wickets cautiously for an over or two, began to knock the bowling about in great style.
"What a jealous brute that Crawley is!" said Saurin, sitting down by Edwards.
"Awful!" replied Edwards, not at all knowing why, but following Saurin blindfold, as he always did.
"I was the only one who made any stand in the first innings, and yet he does not send me in early. He will keep me to the last, I daresay."
The wonderful stand spoken of had not lasted two overs, but Edwards only observed:
"It's mean."
"Not that I care," said Saurin.
"Of course not."
"Only I do hate spite and jealousy."
"He ought not to be captain."
"Bah! the soft-spoken humbug; it's a wonder to me that fellows don't see through him."
"It is strange," echoed the complacent Edwards.
The number 30 went up amidst a storm of clapping, and Saurin relapsed into prudent silence, but he thought "hapes," like the Irishman's dumb parrot. The dinner-bell rang, the pair were not separated, and the score stood at 50.
"It will be a match yet," was the general opinion on the Weston side, and their opponents also thought that the affair did not look quite such a certainty, and agreed that they must not throw a chance away, though they hoped much from dinner, which sometimes puts a batsman off his play, the process of digestion inducing, especially in hot weather, a certain heaviness which impairs that clearness of brain necessary for timing a ball accurately. At the same time the bowlers would get a good rest, and the left-handed artist, who had been acting as long-stop, might reasonably be expected to regain his cunning. True that the midday meal tells most upon the field, which very generally grows sluggish after eating: but the Hillsborough boys fancied that would not matter so much, if they could only separate those two.
But "those two" had a due sense of their responsibilities, and ate a very moderate meal, which they washed down with nothing stronger than water. They also played very careful cricket on first going in again, and risked nothing until they had got their hands in. Item, Crawley had mastered the left-handed bowler's favourite ball, and by playing very forward hit it away before it took the dangerous twist. It looked very risky, and the Hillsborough wicket-keeper was in constant hope of stumping him, but he never missed, and scored off every ball of that sort which came to him. When the same twisters came to Robarts he played back, contenting himself with simply guarding his wickets with an upright bat.
Altogether the two put 85 together before Robarts was caught at point.
As they were going in to dinner Crawley had said to Saurin:
"You go in the first wicket down. You showed good form in the first innings, and it was a very unlucky ball that settled you so soon. But you will have a good chance again presently." Which speech had the unintended effect of making Saurin more exasperated than ever. "Confound his patronising!" he said to himself; but he could not find any excuse for any audible utterance except the conventional "All right," and he now drew on his gloves, took up his bat, and issued from the tent.
"Play careful cricket, Saurin," said Robarts as he passed him; "the great thing is to keep Crawley at the wicket as long as we can."
"A likely story!" he thought to himself as he strode across the turf, "to make myself a mere foil and stop-gap for that conceited brute! Not I." Far from practising the abstinence of the other two, he had eaten as much as he could stuff and drunk all the beer he could get, and this, combined with resentment at Robarts' words, caused him to go in for slogging just to show that he was not to be dictated to.
The first ball he got he hit as hard as he could, and well on to the ground, but it was cleverly stopped before a run could be made. The second he sent into the hands of the fielder standing at mid-wicket, who stuck to it, fast as it came, and threw it up amidst the cheers of his friends. Saurin stalked away with his duck's egg.
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