Riddell was not destined to have much leisure during the next few days
for indulging his misery or making up his mind in what direction his
duty lay.
As he reached the school after his memorable excursion on the river, he
was met by Fairbairn, who had evidently been on the lookout for him.
"Why, where have you been? and what's wrong?" he exclaimed, as he
observed his friend's dejected looks.
"I've been a turn on the river," replied Riddell, making a desperate
effort to recover his wits and look cheerful.
"You look every bit as if you were just starting there to drown
yourself," said Fairbairn; "but, I say, I've got a message for you."
"From whom?" inquired Riddell, who had had quite enough "messages"
during the last few days to last him for the rest of the term.
"You'd scarcely guess--from Bloomfield. The thing is, he has two places
yet to fill up in the eleven for Saturday, and he wants you to play for
one."
Despite his trouble, Riddell could hardly conceal a smile of pleasure at
this honour, which, though not exactly unexpected, he had hardly
realised till now.
"Oh, I say," said he, "I'm certain there are lots of better fellows."
"You may be quite sure if there had been Bloomfield would have picked
them up," said Fairbairn. "As it happens, we want a slip, and I heard
Bloomfield say himself that you are awfully good there. You seem to
have hidden your light under a bushel, old man, while in the
schoolhouse."
"I may have been lucky while Bloomfield was watching," said Riddell.
"All gammon. You needn't fancy he's doing this to compliment you, old
man. Game and that lot are awfully down on him about it. They'd like
to make up the team entirely of Parretts, but it seems they can't do
without us for once! Of course you'll play."
"Oh, yes," said Riddell; "he's captain of the eleven; I must."
"Hurrah. Well, you'll have to turn up at the Big practices, of course,
during the next three days. There's one at three this afternoon and
another at 6:30, and if you like to come down for an hour after first
school I'll give you some balls at the nets."
This was Tuesday. The Rockshire match was to come off on Saturday, and
between now and then, as Riddell well knew, every spare moment he could
call his own would have to be devoted to cricket.
Personally, with the burden of the secret of young Wyndham's knife upon
him, he would have been glad enough of some excuse for avoiding the
honour even of a place in the first eleven. But there was no such
excuse. On the contrary, his duty pointed clearly to his making the
best of the opportunity. As captain of the school, even a humble place
in the first eleven would be an undoubted gain to his influence; while
to Welch's--demoralised Welch's--the knowledge that once more one of
their number was "playing for the school" might be of real service.
Till Saturday, at any rate, he must try to banish the hideous nightmare
from his mind, and give himself up wholly to the calls of cricket.
It is easier to resolve to give up one's mind to a pursuit than it is to
do it, and for the first day or two Riddell found himself but a
halfhearted cricketer. However, as the eventful day drew near things
grew more serious, not to say critical.
It was a nervous occasion for the captain the first time he presented
himself at a Big practice, and he could not help feeling that the eyes
which watched his performance were more than ordinarily critical, and
many of them less than ordinarily friendly.
Still he managed not to disgrace himself, and on the next occasion,
having partially recovered his presence of mind, he was able to do
himself even more justice. Every one had to admit that Riddell was a
long way off being a fine cricketer--he would have been the first to
admit it himself--but for all that, what with a quick eye, and much
perseverance, and sound judgment, he possessed more than one of the
qualities which go to make up a useful member of any team.
"He ought to do," said Bloomfield to Game on the Friday evening after
the last of the practices. "He stood up to Fairbairn's bowling not at
all badly."
"Shouldn't wonder," said Game, whose prejudice was stronger than his
judgment, "if Fairbairn bowled down easy to him on purpose; they're
awfully thick, you know."
"But I didn't bowl down to him easy," replied Bloomfield; "and he cut me
for two twice running."
Game could not answer this argument, and was bound to admit a worse man
might have been put into the odd place.
"It's a pity, though; they'll be so jolly cocky, all that set, there'll
be no enduring it. I only hope our fellows will do most of the scoring
to-morrow, and not leave them a chance of saying they won the match for
us."
Bloomfield laughed. "Not much fear of that," said he; "but if they did,
I suppose you'd sooner beat Rockshire with their help than be thrashed?"
Game was not quite sure, and said nothing.
One might have supposed that an occasion like the present, when the
picked eleven Willoughby was to play the picked eleven of Rockshire,
that there would have been no place left for party rivalry, or any
feeling but one of patriotic ardour for the victory of the old school.
But so deeply was the disease of party spirit rooted in Willoughby that
even this match came to be looked on quite as much as a struggle between
rival houses as between the school and an outside team.
The discovery was made that the eleven consisted of five schoolhouse
players, five Parrett's players, and one Welcher. More than that, the
ingenious noted the fact that the two best bowlers of the eleven were
Bloomfield and Fairbairn, one from each house, who could also both field
as wicket-keepers when not bowling. And the two second bowlers were
Game and Porter, also one from each house. This minute analysis might
doubtless have been continued down to the cover-points. At any rate, it
was manifest the two houses were very evenly divided, both as regarded
merit and place, and it would therefore be easy to see which contributed
most to the service of the school.
The Rockshire men arrived by the ten o'clock train, and were met as
usual by the Willoughby omnibus at the station. As they alighted and
proceeded to stroll in a long procession across the Big to their tent,
they were regarded with much awe and curiosity by the small boys
assembled to witness their advent, some of whom were quite at a loss to
understand how boys like themselves could ever expect not to be beaten
by great whiskered heroes like these. Even the young Welchers, who had
contrived to be practising close to the line of march, felt awed in
their presence, and made a most hideous hash of the little exhibition
with which they had intended to astonish their visitors.
The self-confident ease of these Rockshire men was even a trifle
discouraging for a few of the school heroes themselves, who looked on
nervously as their rivals coolly went up and inspected the wickets and
criticised the pitch, and then proceeded, laughing among themselves,
towards the pavilion. Things like this are more or less terrifying, and
an old team that comes down to play a young one ought to be more
considerate.
It was fortunate for the school team that all its members were not as
shy and diffident as others, or the operation of tossing for innings and
other matters of form would never have been got through.
Mr Parrett, however, as an old 'Varsity blue, was as great a hero in
the sight of Rockshire as Rockshire was in the sight of Willoughby, and
with his aid the preliminaries were all arranged, and Willoughby went
out first to field.
The Big was never so crowded with boys, masters, or the outside public,
as it was on this bright June day. The exploits of the school at the
recent election may have had something to do with the number of
townsfolk who flocked up to see the game, but apart from that the
Rockshire match was always one of the great events of the season.
Last year, thanks to old Wyndham's prowess, the school had won; but
before that, back almost to the days of the mythical Bouncer, the fates
had been the other way; and this year, good as the team was, no one had
the hardihood to predict with any confidence a victory for the boys.
Just as Riddell was leaving the tent to take his place in the field,
young Wyndham came up and clapped him cheerily on the back.
"Go in and win, I say," he cried, gaily. "I back you, old man."
It was the first time the two had met since Riddell's interview with Tom
the boat-boy, and the sight of his old friend's brother, and the sound
of his voice just now, gave the captain a shock which for the moment
almost unmanned him.
He turned pale as he looked at the boy, and thought of that knife.
"Oh, I say," said Wyndham, noticing his perturbation, "pull yourself
together, old man; you'll get on all serene. I was funky the first time
I showed up for the second-eleven, you know, but it's all right now!"
"Now, Riddell!" cried Bloomfield, impatiently, from the wickets; and off
the captain hurried to his post, with a load of trouble at his heart,
and feeling anything but a jubilant athlete.
Wyndham, little dreaming what was passing through his patron's mind,
settled himself cross-legged at the door of the scorer's tent, and
thought of nothing for the next few hours but the match.
The two Rockshire men, upon whom devolved the duty of "opening the
ball," strolled slowly up to the wickets, and a minute later the match
had begun.
As usual, the first few overs were uneventful. The bowlers were trying
what the batsmen were made of, and the batsmen were trying what the
bowlers were made of. Riddell was thankful for his part that no ball
came his way, and the spectators generally seemed to regard two maiden
overs as a sort of necessary infliction at the opening of any big match.
But when Bloomfield took the ball again it was evident things were to
grow a little brisker. His first ball was very neatly patted towards
square-leg for two, amid the cheers which always greet "the first
blood," and his next ball slipped past the long-stop for a bye. Wyndham
and some other enthusiasts sighed, as if those three runs had settled
the fate of Willoughby. But his sigh was abruptly turned into a cheer
when next moment the Rockshire man's wicket tumbled all of a heap, and
one of the foe was out for three.
Willoughby began to breathe again. When they had seen those two
portentous heroes go in, the prospect of their ever going out had seemed
fearfully remote. But now, if one man was got rid of for only three
runs, why should not ten men go for only thirty? At which arithmetical
discovery the school immediately leapt from the depths of despondency to
the heights of confidence, and considered the match as good as won
before it was fairly begun.
However, during the next half-hour they had time to seek the happy mean
between the two extremes. The newcomer was a tough customer, and should
certainly have gone in first. For he was one of those aggravating
batsmen who keep a steady bat at everything, who never aspire to a slog,
never walk out to a slow, never step back to a yorker, are never too
soon for a lob, or too late for a shooter--in fact, who play the safe
plodding game in the face of all temptation.
The one comfort was, he did not make many runs. Still, this sort of
business is demoralising for bowlers and slow for the field, and a
change of bowlers was consequently decided upon after about half an
hour's play, when the score was at twenty-one.
Game and Porter were the two new hands, the latter being the first to
officiate with a very neat maiden over, loudly cheered from the school
tent. Game who followed, was not so fortunate. The Rockshire man who
had gone in first cut him hard for three on his second ball--the first
hard hit of the match. And this the steady man followed up with a quiet
two neatly placed between point and mid-off. Then came another ball,
which the same player turned off sharply into the slips.
It was a fairly difficult ball to field, but Riddell picked it up
smartly and returned it to the wickets in time to prevent a run being
made.
"Well fielded indeed, sir!" cried Wyndham's voice from the tent. Little
thought he how strangely those words of encouragement missed their mark.
Riddell had just been forgetting his trouble and warming up to the
game, and now they came once more to remind him of that hated knife and
Tom the boat-boy's story.
The next ball the Rockshire man also "slipped," but this time, though it
was within easier reach, and for a first-rate fielder was even a
possible catch, Riddell missed it, and two runs were made. "Look out
there!" cried Bloomfield severely. "Well tried, sir!" cried some one,
sarcastically. "Well missed, sir!" cried some one else, with painful
truthfulness. Riddell saw the crisis. Another miss like that, a few
more taunts like those, and he might as well retire from the field.
Not for the first time in his life he pulled himself together with a
vehement effort and shook off every thought but the one duty that
claimed him.
And only just in time.
The last ball of the over was played again into slip, this time very
smartly. The school shivered as they saw it whiz straight for the weak
point. But they might have spared themselves their agitation, for
Riddell had it--all but a catch--before the shiver was over, and had
returned it to Fairbairn at the wickets promptly enough to make the
Rockshire man feel he had had a narrow escape of a run-out.
"Fielded, sir!" said Bloomfield, as the players crossed over; and this
commendation was more encouraging than all the shouts of the schoolhouse
partisans.
Porter's next over disposed of the first Rockshire man, amid great
school rejoicing, which was only tempered by the reflection among the
Parretts that it was a wicket to the credit of the schoolhouse half of
the eleven.
Then followed a succession of short but smart innings, during which the
Rockshire score crawled up to seventy, despite of a further change of
bowlers and very careful all-round fielding by the school.
All this time the steady man hung on obstinately; nothing seemed to
puzzle him or tempt him out of his caution.
At length, in sheer desperation, Coates was put on to bowl; anything
seemed better than this hopeless deadlock. And so it turned out.
Coates's first ball came down temptingly towards the off stump. Any
enterprising player would have cut it for a safe four, but this cautious
hand, who seemed to smell a rat in everything, was evidently determined
not to be taken in by first appearances, and turned it off, half
contemptuously, to his favourite quarter among the slips, thinking
possibly he might punish the next rather more freely. But the next was
not to come for him. Coates's ball was rising a bit as the batsman
touched it, and though he did not hit it up, it yet spun a foot or so
above the ground, an easy catch, straight into Riddell's hand, who held
it fast, much to his own surprise, and greatly to the jubilation of all
Willoughby.
"Well caught, sir! Caught, indeed! Played up, Riddell!" were the cries
which on all hands greeted the achievement, Wyndham's call being longest
and loudest of them all.
But this time Riddell suffered no harm from the sound of that familiar
voice. He had steeled himself against it for a few hours at least, and
it was to him but one out of many.
Rockshire's first innings terminated shortly with no further event of
note. The last wicket fell for ninety-two, a respectable total, of
which fifty-nine had been made off the Parretts' batsmen, and thirty-
three off the schoolhouse. Indeed, the advantage of the schoolhouse did
not end there. Out of three catches--not counting Riddell's--they had
made two, while of the five wickets which had been taken by the bowling,
they claimed three against their rivals' two.
Great was the dismay of Parrett's as these results were made known.
They buoyed themselves up greatly, however, with the prospect of the
batting, where it would be strange indeed if they did not score better
than the schoolhouse. And after all, it is the runs that win a match.
Bloomfield himself, be it said to his credit, allowed no petty
considerations of party rivalry to influence him in sending in the best
men at the right time. However much in some ways he might lend himself
to the whims of his more energetic comrades, in a matter like the
Rockshire match, where he was in sole command, and responsible for the
glory of the school, he acted with the sole object of winning the match.
It would have been easy to send in Fairbairn and Porter last, when they
would have no chance of scoring; or Coates, who was a rash hitter, and
never was safe until the back of the bowling had been somewhat broken,
might have been sent in first.
But such an arrangement Bloomfield knew would be fatal for the chances
of the school, and it therefore never entered his head to contrive it.
And his fairness in this respect was fully justified, for the school put
together a hundred and twelve runs--just twenty more than their
opponents--a performance which not even the most sanguine Willoughbite
had dared to anticipate. Towards this total Riddell, who had gone in
last and carried his bat, had contributed seven, not a little to his own
surprise and the delight of the onlooking Welchers. But the most
remarkable thing about the innings was that, contrary to all
calculation, the five schoolhouse fellows had contributed no less than
sixty-four runs to the total, while the Parretts' united score only
amounted to forty-one.
The second innings of Rockshire differed very little from the first.
The steady man went in first, and bothered every bowler the school could
bring against him; and, having had one lesson, he took good care not to
give himself another, and rather avoided slip for the future. So that
Riddell had a quiet time of it, fielding the few balls that came to him
steadily and promptly, but otherwise not figuring prominently in the
downfall of any wicket.
It was half-past four before Rockshire finally retired with a total for
their second innings of ninety-nine, leaving the school boys with eighty
runs to obtain to win.
It was not a formidable total after their first-innings performance, but
at the outset a calamity happened enough to depress the hopes of any
Willoughbite.
Bloomfield had gone in first with every intention of breaking the ice
effectually for his side. What, therefore, was the consternation of
everybody when, after neatly blocking the first ball, he was clean
bowled for a duck's-egg by the second! Willoughby literally howled with
disappointment, and gave itself up to despair as it saw its captain and
champion retreating slowly back to the tent, trailing his bat behind
him, and not daring to look up at the hideous "0" on the telegraph
board.
But hope was at hand, though Parrett's was not to supply it. Coates and
Crossfield, who were now together, made a most unexpected and stubborn
stand. They even scored freely, and the longer they held together the
harder it was to part them. The reviving hopes of the Rockshire
partisans gradually died out before this awkward combination, and Game
and Ashley and Tipper, as they sat and watched this spirited performance
by the two schoolhouse boys, felt their triumph for the school utterly
swamped in the still more signal victory which the despised house was
achieving over them.
The score, amid terrific cheering, went up to fifty-two before a
separation could be effected. Then Coates was caught at long-leg, and
retired, covered with glory, in favour of Tipper.
Alas for Parrett's! Tipper, in whom their forlorn hopes rested, was run
out during his first over, while attempting to snatch a bye!
It was an anxious moment while Bloomfield was deciding whom next to send
in. There was still thirty runs to make, but unless he took care the
whole innings might be muddled away in the getting of them.
"You go in, Fairbairn," said the captain.
The Parretts felt their fate to be sealed hopelessly. Had Game been
sent in he might still have done something for Parrett's, but now his
chance might never come.
It did not come. Fairbairn joined Crossfield, and the two did just what
they liked with the bowling. As the score shot up from fifty to sixty
and from sixty to seventy, the school became perfectly hoarse with
cheering. Even most of the partisans of Parrett's, sorely as the match
was going against them, could not help joining in the applause now that
the prospect of the school winning by seven wickets had become a
probability.
Up went the score--another three for Fairbairn--another two for
Crossfield--seventy-five--then next moment a terrific cheer greeted a
four by Fairbairn, which brought the numbers equal; and before the
figures were well registered another drive settled the question, and
Willoughby had beaten Rockshire by seven wickets!