of Smallwick.
Away into the unchronicled past runs the record of these annual contests.
Each village hints that it has gained the greater number of victories; each
is inclined in its heart to believe that the other one has actually done
so--because, as I suppose, the agony of defeat leaves a more lasting
impression than the joy of victory. But I digress. We have not even got to
Rankin's mannerism yet.

Rankin's mannerism is the habit of plunging his hands into his trouser
pockets. A very ordinary one, you will say; but not when carried to the
extent to which Rankin carries it. It is useless for Rankin to field at
short slip, for instance. The only time he did so a catch struck him
sharply in the lower chest (and fell to the ground, of course) before he
had time to take his hands out of his pockets. When he is batting he crams
one hand into his pocket between each delivery. As he wears a large batting
glove and his trousers are very tight (as I mentioned before) this is a
matter of some difficulty. In fact we usually attribute the smallness of
his scores to its unsteadying effect.

How he ever survived five years of military service without being shot for
persistently carrying his hands in his pockets while on parade, to the
detriment of good order and military discipline, I can never understand.
Surely some Brass-hat, inspecting Rankin's regiment, must have noticed that
Rankin's hands were in his pockets when he should have been presenting
arms? I can only presume that they all loved Rankin, and love is blind.
Well, he is quite a good chap. I like him myself.

We now come to the day of the Smallwick _v._ Littleborough match.

Smallwick lost the toss and went out to field, and, as one of their players
had not arrived, Rankin went with them as a substitute.

We lost three wickets for only ten runs, and then I went in. It was one of
my rare cricket days. I felt, I knew, that I should make runs--not much
more than twenty, of course, but then twenty is a big score for
Littleborough. And I felt like twenty at least.

Rankin was fielding at deep long-on, close to the tent; but they had no one
at square leg, which is my special direction on my twenty days. Presently
the bowler offered me a full pitch on the leg side. I timed it
successfully, and had no doubt of having added four to my score, when, to
my astonishment, I saw a fieldsman running from the direction of the hedge.
The next moment he had brought off a very credi