at _is_ a piece of luck!" said Paul. "Who's to take his
place?"

"Baynes, they say. He's no use, though."

"Don't you be too cock-sure, you two," growled Bramble. "I say we shall
beat you even if Loman don't play. Got any brandy-balls left,
Greenfield?"

Similar speculations and hopes were being exchanged all round the field,
and when at last the Fifth went out to field, and Callonby and Wren went
in to bat for the Sixth, you might have heard a cat sneeze, so
breathless was the excitement.

Amid solemn silence the first few balls were bowled. The third ball of
the first over came straight on to Wren's bat, who played it neatly back
to the bowler. It was not a run, only a simple block; but it was the
first play of the match, and so quite enough to loosen the tongues of
all the small boys, who yelled, and howled, and cheered as frantically
as if a six had been run or a wicket taken. And the ice once broken,
every ball and every hit were marked and applauded as if empires
depended on them.

It was in the midst of this gradually rising excitement that Loman
slipped quietly and unobserved from the scene, and betook himself to the
errand on which we accompanied him in the preceding chapter.

The two Sixth men went quickly to work, and at the end of the second
over had scored eight. Then Callonby, in stepping back to "draw" one of
Wraysford's balls, knocked down his wicket.

How the small boys yelled at this!

But the sight of Raleigh going in second soon silenced them.

"They mean hard work by sending in the captain now," said Paul. "I
don't like that!"

"No more do I," said Stephen. "He always knocks Oliver's bowling
about."

"Oh, bother; is your brother bowling?" said Master Paul, quite
unconscious of wounding any one's feelings. "It's a pity they've got no
one better."

Stephen coloured up at this, and wondered what made Paul such a horrid
boy.

"Better look-out for your eyes," said Bramble, cheerily. "The captain
always knocks up this way, over square-leg's head."

There was a general buzz of youngsters round the field, as the hero of
the school walked up to the wicket, and coolly turned to face Oliver's
bowling.

The scorer in the tent hurriedly sharpened his pencil. The big fellows,
who had been standing up to watch the opening overs, sat down on the
grass and made themselves comfortable. Something was going to happen,
evidently. The captain was in, and meant business.

Oliver gripp