ves were strained and their muscles quivered as he stood
with an unfinished break at two points from home, and his opponent ten
behind.

It was an easy shot, so easy that Birralong almost cheered, but caught
its breath in a gasp, lest it should put the champion off his stroke.
He, feeling something of the excitement, miscalculated a bump, or forgot
a hard patch on the cushion, and broke down, just two from home.

Gleeson, cool, collected, and unmoved, said "Pity" under his breath, and
a shiver passed through the audience. Then he played his strokes,
carefully and quietly, and the room, save for the click of the balls as
they cannoned, the rustle of the player as he moved, and the ceaseless
buzz from the starving grasshoppers outside, was silent. But it had no
effect on Gleeson. He was quite unmoved and unconcerned as he made his
strokes, steadily and well, till he was level with Tony, and only needed
two to win.

A hum, half curse, half gasp, travelled round the crowded room and out
of the open doors to the swarms buzzing and chirping in the paddocks and
the trees, and Gleeson, with obtrusive calm, paused to chalk his cue.

Leisurely and tantalizingly he put back the chalk and studied the easy
shot which was all that stood between him and victory, between Birralong
and bankruptcy; and another hum, half curse, half gasp, travelled round
the room and out of the open doors and windows, out to where the
countless myriads of hungry, stridulating insects sung and chirped and
buzzed, careless of the human anguish pent up so near them, careless of
everything, as they strained their senses in search of something green.

Gleeson took his aim, and gently touched his ball, playing to pot the
red. The red, rolling slowly, was halfway to the pocket, when there came
into the silent room a sound of rushing, rustling, throbbing wings, as
through the open doors and windows and fanlights a cloud of grasshoppers
swarmed down upon the something green their eyes had seen when attracted
by the weird, inhuman hum. The red ball ran against three and stopped,
an inch from the drop of the pocket, and the mighty shout that came from
the throats of the Birralong men shook even the foundations of the Rest,
and put to flight, out on to the dusty paddocks again, most of the
grasshopper swarm.

Those that remained were stamped to death, as, a moment later, Tony put
the red ball down, and the audience, mad with the glee of victory,
danced, shoutin