alluding even indirectly to South African
affairs. Charles Desmond said that, other things being equal, the Hill
would triumph; but he admitted that other things were very far from
equal. It looked as if Harrow would have to bat upon a treacherous
wicket, and Eton on a sound one.

At half-past ten punctually the men were in the field. Scaife issued
last instructions. "Block the bowling; don't try to score till you see
what tricks the ground will play. A minute saved now may mean a quarter
of an hour to us later." Caesar nodded cheerfully. The fact that the luck
had changed stimulated every fibre of his being. And he said that he
felt in his bones that this was going to be a famous match, like that of
'85--something never to be forgotten.

Charles Desmond spoke few words while his son was batting. It was a
tradition among the Desmonds that they rose superior to emergency. The
Minister wondered whether his Harry would rise or fall. The fast bowler
delivered the first ball. It bumped horribly. The Rev. Septimus
shuddered and closed his eyes. Caesar got well over it. The third ball
was cut for three. The fourth whizzed down--a wide. The fast bowler
dipped the ball into the sawdust.

"It isn't all jam for him," whispered the Rev. Septimus.

"Well bowled--well bowled!"

Alas! the middle stump was knocked clean out of the ground. Caesar's
partner, a steady, careful player, had been bowled by his first ball.

Two wickets for 17.

The crowd were expecting the hero, but Fluff was walking towards the
wickets, wondering whether he should reach them alive. Never had his
heart beat as at this moment. Scaife had come up to him as soon as he
had examined the pitch.

"Fluff, I am putting you in early because you are a fellow I can trust.
My first and last word is, hit at nothing that isn't wide of the wicket.
The ground will probably improve fast."

Fluff nodded. A hive of bees seemed to have lodged in his head, and an
active automatic hammer in his heart; but he didn't dare tell the Demon
that funk, abject funk, possessed him, body and soul.

The second bowler began his first over. He bowled slows. Desmond played
the six balls back along the ground. A maiden over.

And then that thick-set, muscular beast, for so Fluff regarded him,
stared fixedly at Fluff's middle stump. Fluff glanced round. The
wicket-keeper had a grim smile on his lips, for his billet was no easy
one. Cosmo Kinloch at short slip looked as if it were a fo