hen what would you have
done? Looked at him for a minute like a tiger with its claws all spread
out, and the next minute you would have done what you always did do."

"What was that?" cried the boy fiercely.

"Held out your hand and said, `I am sorry. I was wrong.'"

Singh turned away and walked to the window, to stand looking out for a
few minutes before turning back; and then he walked up to Glyn and said:
"Come down into the cricket-field."

"To have it out?" said Glyn quietly.

"Oh, Glynny!" cried the boy, and he held out his hand.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

SINGH FINDS FLANNEL TOO HOT, AND--

There was a game going on in the cricket-field, a sort of French and
English affair, which necessitated a good deal of running, and proved to
be very hot work; and in an interval of rest, when the boys were
gathered together under the elms, Singh threw himself down, panting and
half-exhausted, crying: "Oh, I wish to goodness I had something else on
but this hot flannel! Here, I know. I'll go and change it for my
silk."

He left the group of companions, walked slowly along under the row of
elms, and came suddenly upon Glyn, who was playing on the opposing side.

"Hallo!" cried the latter anxiously. "What a face! Aren't you well?"

"Oh yes, quite; only what you call pumped out."

"What, are you going in?"

"Yes; I shall be all right directly. I had no business to play in this
hot jacket. I am only going in to change it."

"You're sure you are not done up?" said Glyn anxiously.

"Done up? Nonsense! I only want a bit of rest, and then I shall get
back to my side and we can beat you."

"Jacket?" said Glyn, still looking at him in doubt. "Here, let me fetch
it for you. I haven't had so much running."

"Do! There's a good chap," cried Singh eagerly, and thrusting his hand
into his pocket he brought out his keys.

"In the bottom drawer, isn't it?" said Glyn.

"Yes, I think so. If it isn't, it's in the bullock-trunk."

"All right," cried Glyn, catching the keys that were pitched to him; and
he trotted off, while Singh picked out a shady spot and threw himself
upon the turf.

Just about the same time, book in hand, Morris, apparently deep in
study, after walking all round the field, came up to the group that
Singh had just left, and closed his book, retaining the place with his
thumb. He glanced round amongst the resting little party.

"Why, where is Singh?" he said quietly, addressing Burton. "