"Not a bit of it," said the master. "Why, in those very passages of
arms, how can you thoroughly appreciate them unless you are master of
the weapons? and the weapons are the language, which you, Brown, have
never half worked at; and so, as I say, you must have lost all the
delicate shades of meaning which make the best part of the fun."

"Oh, well played! bravo, Johnson!" shouted Arthur, dropping his bat and
clapping furiously, and Tom joined in with a "Bravo, Johnson!" which
might have been heard at the chapel.

"Eh! what was it? I didn't see," inquired the master. "They only got one
run, I thought?"

"No, but such a ball, three-quarters length, and coming straight for his
leg bail. Nothing but that turn of the wrist could have saved him, and
he drew it away to leg for a safe one.--Bravo, Johnson!"

"How well they are bowling, though," said Arthur; "they don't mean to be
beat, I can see."

"There now," struck in the master; "you see that's just what I have been
preaching this half-hour. The delicate play is the true thing. I don't
understand cricket, so I don't enjoy those fine draws which you tell me
are the best play, though when you or Raggles hit a ball hard away for
six I am as delighted as any one. Don't you see the analogy?"

"Yes, sir," answered Tom, looking up roguishly, "I see; only the
question remains whether I should have got most good by understanding
Greek particles or cricket thoroughly. I'm such a thick, I never should
have had time for both."

"I see you are an incorrigible," said the master, with a chuckle; "but
I refute you by an example. Arthur there has taken in Greek and cricket
too."

"Yes, but no thanks to him; Greek came natural to him. Why, when he
first came I remember he used to read Herodotus for pleasure as I did
Don Quixote, and couldn't have made a false concord if he'd tried ever
so hard; and then I looked after his cricket."

"Out! Bailey has given him out. Do you see, Tom?" cries Arthur. "How
foolish of them to run so hard."

"Well, it can't be helped; he has played very well. Whose turn is it to
go in?"

"I don't know; they've got your list in the tent."

"Let's go and see," said Tom, rising; but at this moment Jack Raggles
and two or three more came running to the island moat.

"O Brown, mayn't I go in next?" shouts the Swiper.

"Whose name is next on the list?" says the captain.

"Winter's, and then Arthur's," answers the boy who carries it; "but
there are onl