The thrashing of Bully Rakes gave Edgar Foster a hold over the
affections of his schoolfellows, and he never lost it. In twelve months
he became captain of the eleven, and led them to victory on many
occasions. Edgar worked hard, both at lessons and play. He found it
much easier to study when his body was in good order, and his athletic
exercises helped to make his school tasks the easier. He could not be
called a brilliant scholar by any means, but he was endowed with an
amount of perseverance that generally pulled him through.
‘It’s got to be done, and I’ll do it,’ Edgar thought to himself when
pondering over a difficult task, and he generally succeeded.
The Redbank lads took a defeat from their great opponents, the eleven
of Fairfield College, with a very bad grace. Not that they allowed
their successful opponents to see their chagrin, they were too manly
for that, but they felt the defeat keenly.
Edgar Foster determined to win the return match if possible. He had
taken great care to select his eleven, and felt confident of success.
He was the more eager to win because his father was coming to Redbank
to watch the game. Dr. Hook too was anxious his boys should regain
their lost laurels, and he encouraged Edgar by his kindly advice.
It so happened that Raymond Rakes, despite his many bad qualities, was
a very fair cricketer. He had not been chosen to play in the first
match against Fairfield, and he put his being left out of the team down
to Edgar’s animosity.
Edgar Foster, however, was not actuated by any such motive. He thought
Rakes hardly good enough, and therefore did not select him. Since this
match Rakes had shown such good form that Edgar decided to include him
in the eleven for the return match.
Bully Rakes was much surprised when Edgar asked him to play. He said he
would think over the matter, and complained about not being chosen in
the first match.
‘You had not shown good enough form then,’ said Edgar; ‘you have come
on wonderfully since, and therefore I ask you to play. It is for the
honour of the school we are playing this time, so you ought to have no
hesitation.’
‘Then I’ll play,’ said Rakes, in his usual surly manner.
‘And I hope you will make a good score,’ said Edgar.
As the captain of the Redbank eleven walked away, Rakes looked after
him with no friendly eyes. He had never forgotten the humiliating
defeat he sustained when Edgar first came to the school. No opportunity
had yet occurred of paying off the grudge he owed Edgar on that account.
‘He’s set his heart on winning this match,’ muttered Rakes to himself;
‘he’d have left me out again if he could. I’ve a good mind to spoil his
plans. What does it matter whether we win or lose the match? I don’t
care much which way it goes, and I’d like to see Foster taken down a
peg or two. I’ll wait and see how our side shapes. I may be able to
carry out a plan of my own.’
Had Edgar Foster doubted Rakes, he would not have asked him to play;
but he could not understand any lad throwing away a chance of victory
merely to spite the captain of the team. Such conduct Edgar would not
have suspected even in Raymond Rakes.
‘So you’ve asked Rakes to play?’ said Will Brown, who had become a
stanch friend of Edgar’s ever since the fight with Bully Rakes.
‘Yes,’ said Edgar. ‘He’s not a bad bat at all; he’s a fair field, and
will do to put on for a change bowler. We must win the match. I’m
awfully anxious about it. My father will be here, and there’s sure
to be a big crowd of people. We have a good team, and I’m pretty
confident this time.’
‘All the same, I should not have played Rakes,’ said Will Brown.
‘Why?’ asked Edgar.
‘Because I don’t trust him. He’s never forgiven you for licking him,
and if he gets half a chance he’ll throw us over in the match, just to
spite you,’ said Will.
Edgar looked at his schoolmate in surprise. He could not believe in any
lad doing such a thing.
‘He’ll never do that,’ said Edgar. ‘Even if it is as you say, and he
still bears me a grudge, he would never be such a cad as to throw the
school over in order to annoy me.’
‘I hope he won’t, for your sake,’ said Will; ‘but all the same, I have
my doubts.’
Will Brown’s words made Edgar feel uneasy for a time, but he soon
forgot them. It was universally agreed that a better eleven could not
have been chosen to meet Fairfield College. Masters were not to play;
it was to be purely a boys’ match.
Early and late Edgar was at the cricket nets watching the practice
and debating how he should send his team in to bat. For such a young
lad, he had keen powers of observation, and he made a pretty accurate
calculation as to the pluck and nerve of each boy. Edgar’s father
arrived the day before the match, and saw the final practice.
‘You have a real good team,’ he said to his son, ‘and ought to win.
Remember, a good deal depends upon the captain.’
‘I’m not likely to forget that,’ said Edgar. ‘You have often told me a
good captain wins many a game at cricket.’
Robert Foster was proud of his son, and naturally felt anxious to see
him successful.
‘How’s my lad doing?’ he had said to the head-master.
‘Well--very well,’ said Dr. Hook. ‘He is not a brilliant scholar, but
he will get on in the world. He is like his father in one respect.
He is about the best cricketer and all-round athlete we have in the
school.’
Robert Foster’s eyes brightened, and he said:
‘I’m glad of that. I’m not a rich man, and my lad will have to fight
his own battles. He has a great inclination to go abroad, and I don’t
know that it will not be a good thing for him. His sister will be able
to keep me from feeling lonely.’
Dr. Hook looked at Robert Foster with his kindly eyes, and replied:
‘Travel expands the mind. If a lad has plenty of ballast, he will take
no harm in any part of the world. Your son is a lad of mettle, and you
need have no fear about his future. If I am a judge of character, I
should say Edgar Foster is a lad who will surmount difficulties and
dangers, and he is bound to be a leader of men.’
Robert Foster was proud of the way in which the head-master spoke
of his son. How little do thoughtless schoolboys know the pleasure
a father feels in hearing praise bestowed upon his child, or of the
pang he feels when the son he loves strays from the right path.
Robert Foster loved his son devotedly, although he made very little
demonstration of his affection, and Edgar thoroughly understood and
appreciated the manly qualities of his father.
The eventful day arrived, and a glorious day it was. The sun shone
brightly, and there was a slight cool breeze. Redbank cricket ground
was charmingly situated. The pavilion was small, but there were several
large trees growing at the back which afforded ample shade. The ground
was level and well-kept, and the pitch had much care bestowed upon it.
It was a great day at Redbank when this return match with Fairfield
College was to be played. Flushed with the triumph of their previous
victory, the Fairfield lads were eager for the fray, and had invited
many friends to come and witness their further triumph. The captain
of the Fairfield eleven, Harold Simpson, was almost as popular at
Fairfield as Edgar Foster was at Redbank. The two captains had a mutual
liking for each other, although each one was determined to beat the
other in the great game they were about to play.
Edgar Foster lost the toss, and, as the ground was in such good order,
Harold Simpson elected to send his men in first.
‘They are a strong batting team,’ said Edgar to his father. ‘It will
take us some time to get rid of them.’
‘It is a one-day match, so you must do your level best to get them out
quickly,’ said his father.
As the boys filed on to the field they were cheered by their comrades
and the Redbank supporters, who had mustered in strong force.
Edgar Foster came in for a special share of applause, and he felt his
pulses tingle and his heart beat high with hope as he bounded over the
springy turf towards the wickets.
The two Fairfield batsmen were wildly cheered by their mates, and
Harold Simpson decided on this occasion to go in first.
Will Brown and Sayers junior were put on to bowl.
An anxious moment is that during which the first ball in a match is
delivered. The bowler goes back from the wicket, measuring his men; for
a second or two he hesitates and looks round, then he glances at the
batsman, sees all is ready, and prepares for the delivery. As he takes
his run to the wicket the spectators hold their breath. Will this first
ball be fatal? A sigh of relief goes round as the batsman plays it well
forward.
Harold Simpson failed to score in Brown’s first over. Sayers junior
then took the ball, and his first delivery made the bails fly, much to
the delight of the Redbank boys, who shouted and cheered vociferously.
Edgar Foster felt they had commenced well, and was anxious for the
good-fortune to continue. The Fairfield boys were determined bats, and
a long stand took place before the second batsman was got rid of.
Harold Simpson still kept his wicket up, and runs came freely. At the
fall of the fifth wicket Fairfield had put a hundred runs on, of which
the captain had made forty.
Edgar Foster went on to bowl. He was not such a good bowler as Rakes,
who thought he ought to have been tried before, and looked sullen.
In his first over Harold Simpson skied a ball to Raymond Rakes. It
was an easy catch, but Rakes missed it, and so clumsily that the boys
jeered at him.
Will Brown, who had been watching him, thought:
‘He dropped that on purpose, because Edgar bowled it.’
Nothing daunted at this stroke of bad luck, Edgar sent another similar
ball down. Harold Simpson hesitated for a moment as to what he should
do with it; then he struck out, and, strange to say, the ball went to
Rakes again.
It was not such an easy catch as the former one, but, still, there
ought to have been very little difficulty in a good fielder securing
it. Rakes fumbled it badly, and again missed the catch.
Edgar Foster could not help thinking of what Will Brown had said to
him. He was very much annoyed, and at the conclusion of his over said
to Rakes:
‘Those were two easy catches to miss; they may cost us the match.’
‘They were not as easy as they looked,’ said Rakes. ‘You don’t suppose
I dropped them on purpose, do you?’
‘I should be very sorry to think that,’ said Edgar; ‘but be more
careful next time.’
At last Will Brown secured Harold Simpson’s wicket, and the others
followed rapidly, the innings closing for a hundred and thirty-four, a
good score in a one-day school match.
‘What do you think of it, Edgar?’ asked his father. ‘Shall you be able
to wipe that off?’
‘I think so,’ replied Edgar. ‘We should have had a much easier task had
Rakes held those two catches off my bowling.’
‘He made an awful mess of them,’ said Robert Foster. ‘How he dropped
the first puzzles me; he had it fairly in his hands.’
‘Look here, Edgar!’ said Will Brown. ‘It’s no use mincing matters. I’m
sure Rakes missed those catches purposely. When are you going to send
him in?’
‘About seventh,’ said Edgar.
‘Put him in last,’ said Will.
‘That would only make matters worse,’ said Edgar; ‘he would know I
doubted him, and act accordingly. He shall go in sixth wicket down. It
will give him a chance of making up for missing those catches.’
‘As you wish,’ said Will. ‘Mind, if you are in with him, he does not
run you out.’
‘No fear of that,’ said Edgar, laughing.
And he crossed over to speak to Raymond Rakes.
‘You go in sixth wicket down,’ he said.
‘All right,’ replied Rakes, ‘that will suit me.’
‘We’ve not been very good friends,’ said Edgar, ‘but you know it is not
my fault. We want to win this match, and it may be that your batting
will turn the scale in our favour at a critical point of the game. I
shall rely upon you to do your best for the honour of the school. You
missed two very easy catches; try and make up for it by playing your
best when you go in to bat.’
‘I always do,’ said Rakes sulkily, and walked away.
Edgar Foster felt rather sorry he had included Raymond Rakes in the
Redbank eleven.