Parkhurst Boys | Page 4

a trice he passes the ball into
my hands, and I am off like the wind. So suddenly has it all been done
that I have already a yard or two start before my flight is discovered.

There is a yelling and a rush behind me; there is a roar from the crowds
on either side; there is a clear "Follow up, Parkhurst!" from Wright in
the rear; there is a loud "Collar him!" from the Craven captain ahead. I
am steering straight for their goal; three men only are between me and
it--one, their captain, right back, and Slider and another man in front of
him.
I see at a glance that my only hope is to keep as I am going and waste
no time in dodging, or assuredly the pursuing host will be upon me.
Slider and his companion are closing in right across my path, almost
close together. With a bound I dash between them. Have they got me,
or have I escaped them? A shout louder than ever and a "Bravo!" from
Wright tell me I am clear of that danger, and have now but their last
defence to pass. He is a tall, broad fellow, and a formidable foe to
encounter, and waits for me close under their goal. The pace, I feel, is
telling on me; the shouting behind sounds nearer, only a few yards
divides us now. Shall I double, shall I venture a kick, or shall I charge
straight at him?
"Charge at him!" sounds Wright's voice, as if in answer to my thought.
I gather up all my remaining force, and charge. There is a flash across
my eyes, and a dull shock against my chest. I reel and stagger, and
forget where I am. I am being swept along in a torrent; the waters with
a roar rush past me and over me. Every moment I get nearer and nearer
the fatal edge--I am at it--I hang a moment on the brink, and then--
"Down!" shouts a voice close at my ear, and there is such a noise of
cheering and rejoicing that I sit up and rub my eyes like one waking
bewildered from a strange dream.
Then I find out what has happened. When I charged at the Craven
captain the shock sent me back staggering into the very arms of Wright
and our forwards, who were close at my heels, and who then, in a
splendid and irresistible rush, carried me and the ball and the half of the
other side along with them right behind the enemy's goal-line, where
we fall en masse to the earth--I, with the ball under me, being at the
bottom.

Even if I had been hurt--which I was not--there was no time to be
wasted on condolences or congratulations. The time-keeper held his
watch in his hand, and our goal must be kicked at once, if it was to be
kicked at all. So the fifteen paces out were measured, the "nick" for the
ball was carefully made, the enemy stood along their goal-line ready to
spring the moment the ball should touch the earth. Wright, cool and
self-possessed, placed himself in readiness a yard or two behind the
ball, which one of our side held an inch off the ground. An anxious
moment of expectation followed; then came a sharp "Now!" from our
captain. The ball was placed cunningly in the nick, the Craven forwards
rushed out on it in a body, but long before they could reach it, Wright's
practised foot had sent it flying straight as an arrow over the bar, and
my first football match had ended in a glorious victory for the Old
School.
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The terms used here describe the Rugby game as it used to be played
prior to 1880.
CHAPTER TWO.
THE PARKHURST PAPER-CHASE.
"The meet is to be at one o'clock, sharp, in the Dean's Warren--don't
forget!"
So said Forwood, the "whipper-in" of the Parkhurst Hare and Hounds
Club, to me, one March morning in the year 18--. I had no need to be
reminded of the appointment; for this was the day of the "great hunt" of
the year, always held by the running set at Parkhurst School to yield in
interest to no other fixture of the athletic calendar.
In fine weather, and over good country, a paper-chase is one of the
grandest sports ever indulged in--at least, so we thought when we were
boys--and the "great hunt" was, of course, the grandest run of the year,
and looked forward to, consequently, with the utmost eagerness by all
lovers of running in our school.

This year, too, I had a special interest in the event, for it was my turn to
run "hare"--in other words, to be, with another fellow, the object