med at 2.15. For a quarter of an hour Mike was
comparatively quiet. Adair, fortified by food and rest, was bowling
really well, and his first half dozen overs had to be watched carefully.
But the wicket was too good to give him a chance, and Mike, playing
himself in again, proceeded to get to business once more. Bowlers came
and went. Adair pounded away at one end with brief intervals between the
attacks. Mr. Downing took a couple more overs, in one of which a horse,
passing in the road, nearly had its useful life cut suddenly short.
Change bowlers of various actions and paces, each weirder and more
futile than the last, tried their luck. But still the first-wicket stand
continued.

The bowling of a house team is all head and no body. The first pair
probably have some idea of length and break. The first-change pair are
poor. And the rest, the small change, are simply the sort of things one
sees in dreams after a heavy supper, or when one is out without
one's gun.

Time, mercifully, generally breaks up a big stand at cricket before the
field has suffered too much, and that is what happened now. At four
o'clock, when the score stood at two hundred and twenty for no wicket,
Barnes, greatly daring, smote lustily at a rather wide half volley and
was caught at short slip for thirty-three. He retired blushfully to the
pavilion, amidst applause, and Stone came out.

As Mike had then made a hundred and eighty-seven, it was assumed by the
field, that directly he had topped his second century, the closure would
be applied and their ordeal finished. There was almost a sigh of relief
when frantic cheering from the crowd told that the feat had been
accomplished. The fieldsmen clapped in quite an indulgent sort of way,
as who should say, "Capital, capital. And now let's start _our_
innings." Some even began to edge toward the pavilion.

But the next ball was bowled, and the next over, and the next after
that, and still Barnes made no sign. (The conscience stricken captain of
Outwood's was, as a matter of fact, being practically held down by
Robinson and other ruffians by force.)

A gray dismay settled on the field.

The bowling had now become almost unbelievably bad. Lobs were being
tried, and Stone, nearly weeping with pure joy, was playing an innings
of the "How-to-brighten-cricket" type. He had an unorthodox style, but
an excellent eye, and the road at this period of the game became
absolutely unsafe for pedestrians and traf