tered here and there, the wickets pitched in the middle
of that vast expanse of lawn, and the umpires in their long white coats.
Upon the top of the steps, in the middle of the pavilion, the Eton
captain was collecting his Eleven. The Duffer, who had got his Flannels
at the last moment, came up and joined John and the Caterpillar.

"The Manor's well to the front," said the Caterpillar. "By Jove! I never
thought to see Fluff in the Eleven."

"Fluff came on tremendously this term," the Duffer replied.

"Of course the Kinlochs are a cricketing family."

"Good joke the brothers playing against each other," said John.

"Warde," the Duffer nodded in the direction of Warde, who was talking
with Charles Desmond and Colonel Egerton, "has worked like a slave. He
made a cricketer out of Fluff and a scholar out of Jonathan. He's so mad
keen to see us win, that he's given me the jumps."

"You must keep cool," the Caterpillar murmured. "I've just come from the
Trent coach. Fluff has it from the brother who is playing that the Eton
bowling is weak. But Strathpeffer, the eldest son, tells me the batsmen
are stronger than last year. He seemed anxious to bet; so we have a
fiver about it. They're taking the field."

The Eton Eleven walked towards the wicket, loudly cheered. Caesar came up
in his pads, carrying his bat and gloves. He shook hands with the
Caterpillar, and said, with a groan, that he had to take the first ball.

"Keep cool," said the Caterpillar. "The bowling's weak; I have it from
Cosmo Kinloch. They're in a precious funk."

"So am I," said the Duffer.

"But you're a bowler," said Desmond. "If I get out first ball, I shall
cut my throat."

But Caesar looked alert, cool, and neither under- nor over-confident.

"You'll cut the ball, not your throat," said the Duffer. Cutting was
Caesar's strong point.

The Caterpillar nodded, and spoke oracularly--

"My governor says he never shoots at a snipe without muttering to
himself, 'Snipe on toast.' It steadies his nerves. When you see the
ball leave the bowler's hand, you say to yourself, 'Eton on toast.'"

"Your own, Caterpillar?"

"My own," said the Caterpillar, modestly. "I don't often make a joke,
but that's mine. Pass it on."

The other Harrovian about to go in beckoned to Desmond.

"Caesar won't be bowled first ball," said the Caterpillar. "He's the sort
that rises to an emergency. Can't we find a seat?"

They sat down and watched the Eton captain placing