walked away down the passage. Drummond
went back into his study, and shut the door.

The expedition, deprived of its commander-in-chief, paused irresolutely
outside. Then it followed its leader's example.

There was peace in the passage.

XV

THE ROUT AT RIPTON

On the Saturday following this episode, the first fifteen travelled to
Ripton to play the return match with that school on its own ground. Of
the two Ripton matches, the one played at Wrykyn was always the big
event of the football year; but the other came next in importance, and
the telegram which was despatched to the school shop at the close of
the game was always awaited with anxiety. This year Wrykyn looked
forward to the return match with a certain amount of apathy, due partly
to the fact that the school was in a slack, unpatriotic state, and
partly to the hammering the team had received in the previous term,
when the Ripton centre three-quarters had run through and scored with
monotonous regularity. "We're bound to get sat on," was the general
verdict of the school.

Allardyce, while thoroughly agreeing with this opinion, did his best to
conceal the fact from the rest of the team. He had certainly done his
duty by them. Every day for the past fortnight the forwards and
outsides had turned out to run and pass, and on the Saturdays there had
been matches with Corpus, Oxford, and the Cambridge Old Wrykinians. In
both games the school had been beaten. In fact, it seemed as if they
could only perform really well when they had no opponents. To see the
three-quarters racing down the field (at practice) and scoring
innumerable (imaginary) tries, one was apt to be misled into
considering them a fine quartette. But when there was a match, all the
beautiful dash and precision of the passing faded away, and the last
thing they did was to run straight. Barry was the only one of the four
who played the game properly.

But, as regarded condition, there was nothing wrong with the team. Even
Trevor could not have made them train harder; and Allardyce in his more
sanguine moments had a shadowy hope that the Ripton score might, with
care, be kept in the teens.

Barry had bought a _Sportsman_ at the station, and he unfolded it
as the train began to move. Searching the left-hand column of the middle
page, as we all do when we buy the _Sportsman_ on Saturday--to
see how our names look in print, and what sort of a team the enemy has
got--he made a remarkable