from other games,
and the bowler began his manoeuvres again. A half-volley this time.
Mike slammed it back, and mid-on, whose heart was obviously not in the
thing, failed to stop it.

"Get to them, Jenkins," said Mr. Downing irritably, as the ball came
back from the boundary. "Get to them."

"Sir, please, sir----"

"Don't talk in the field, Jenkins."

Having had a full-pitch hit for six and a half-volley for four, there
was a strong probability that Mr. Downing would pitch his next ball
short.

The expected happened. The third ball was a slow long-hop, and hit the
road at about the same spot where the first had landed. A howl of
untuneful applause rose from the watchers in the pavilion, and Mike,
with the feeling that this sort of bowling was too good to be true,
waited in position for number four.

There are moments when a sort of panic seizes a bowler. This happened
now with Mr. Downing. He suddenly abandoned science and ran amok. His
run lost its stateliness and increased its vigour. He charged up to
the wicket as a wounded buffalo sometimes charges a gun. His whole
idea now was to bowl fast.

When a slow bowler starts to bowl fast, it is usually as well to be
batting, if you can manage it.

By the time the over was finished, Mike's score had been increased by
sixteen, and the total of his side, in addition, by three wides.

And a shrill small voice, from the neighbourhood of the pavilion,
uttered with painful distinctness the words, "Take him off!"

That was how the most sensational day's cricket began that Sedleigh
had known.

A description of the details of the morning's play would be
monotonous. It is enough to say that they ran on much the same lines
as the third and fourth overs of the match. Mr. Downing bowled one
more over, off which Mike helped himself to sixteen runs, and then
retired moodily to cover-point, where, in Adair's fifth over, he
missed Barnes--the first occasion since the game began on which that
mild batsman had attempted to score more than a single. Scared by this
escape, Outwood's captain shrank back into his shell, sat on the
splice like a limpet, and, offering no more chances, was not out at
lunch time with a score of eleven.

Mike had then made a hundred and three.

* * * * *

As Mike was taking off his pads in the pavilion, Adair came up.

"Why did you say you didn't play cricket?" he asked abruptly.

[Illustration: "WHY DID YOU SAY YOU