t to pick it up, but ran to
meet it with a flying kick. For a moment it seemed doubtful whether it
would clear the onward rush of Redwood and his forwards. But it did,
and rose steadily and beautifully over their heads, and with the wind
straight upon it, reached the goal and skimmed over the bar, amid the
loud shouts of every one, conspicuous among which was my shrill voice.

Half-time! Now was my chance; and before the shouting had ceased, or
the discomfited Eleven had quite realised their misfortune, I darted
into the sacred enclosure, and presented the captain with his belt.

"I'm awfully sorry I wasn't in time," said I. "You'd just begun when I
got back."

"Thanks, youngster, it's all right," said Redwood, wonderfully cheerful,
as it seemed to me; "here, take care of this for me," and he divested
himself of the belt he was wearing and donned the new one.

"You'll have the wind with you now," I ventured to observe.

"Yes," said he with a nod, "I think we shall do the trick this time,
eh?"

"Rather," said I; and departed elated, not so much to have been spared
the rebuke I expected, but to be talked to by such a hero, as if I was
not a junior at all, but a comrade.

My chums when I rejoined them were anxious to prevent my being too much
puffed up by my exploit.

"Good old Sarah Toady," cried Trimble, as I approached. "Is he coming?"

"Who? Where?" I inquired.

"I thought you were asking Redwood to tea or something."

"No, I wasn't--I only--"

"There's Jarman," cried Langrish. "Run and cadge up to him. Perhaps
he'll pat you on the back too."

Despite these taunts I could not fail to notice the depressing effect of
the new arrival on the onlookers generally. Mr Jarman, the gymnasium
master, was a ruddy, restless-looking man of about thirty-five, with
cold grey eyes, and the air of a man who knew he was unpopular, but was
resolved to do his duty nevertheless. If I had heard nothing about him
before, I should have disliked him at first glance, and instinctively
tried to avoid his eye. And yet, as he stood there, talking to Mr
Selkirk, the melancholy master of the reputedly "fast" house at Low
Heath, he did not look particularly offensive.

"Look out now; they're starting again."

There was no mistaking the veterans now. Their backs were up, and the
order had evidently gone out for no quarter to be given to the audacious
Fifteen.

Redwood's kick off all but carried the goal from the middle