quarters. Tester caught it, it passed to
Buchan, who as he fell flung it right out to Cardillac; Cardillac draw
his man, swerved, and sent it back to Olva. As Olva felt the neat hard
surface of it, as he knew that the way was almost clear before him, his
feet seemed clogged with heavy weights. Something was about to happen to
him--something, but not this. The crowd behind the ropes were shouting,
he knew that he was himself running, but it seemed that only his body
was moving, his real self was standing back, gazing at those white
clouds--waiting.

He knew that he made no attempt to escape the man in front of him; he
seemed to run straight into his arms; he heard a little sigh go up from
behind the ropes, as he tumbled to the ground, letting the ball trickle
feebly from his fingers. A try missed if ever one was!

No one said anything, but he felt the disappointment in the air. He
knew what they were saying--"One of Dune's off days! I always said you
couldn't depend upon the man. He's just too sidey to care what happens.
. . ."

Well they might say it if they would; his eyes were on the horizon.

But his failure had had its effect. Let there be an individualist in
the line and Tester and Buchan would play their well-ordered game to
perfection. They relied as a rule upon Whymper--to-day they had depended
upon Dune. Well Dune had failed them, the forwards were heeling so
slowly, the scrum-half was never getting the ball away--it was a
miserable affair.

The Dublin forwards pressed again. For a long time the two bodies of men
swayed backwards and forwards; in the University twenty-five Lawrence
was performing wonders. He seemed to be everywhere at once, bringing
men down, seizing, in a lightning flash of time, his opportunity for
relieving by kicking into touch.

Twice the ball went to the Dublin three-quarters and they seemed
certainly in, but on the first occasion a man slipped and on the second
Olva caught his three-quarter and brought him sharply to the ground. It
was the only piece of work that he had done.

More struggling--then away on the right some Dublin man had caught it
and was running. Some one dashed at him to hurl him into touch, but he
slipped past and was in.

Another try--the kick was again successful--Dublin ten points.

The half-time whistle blew. As the met gathered into groups in the
middle of the field, sucking lemons and gathering additional melancholy
there from, Olva stood a little away