Morris pushed the first ball away to leg. Mike would have liked to
have run two, but short leg had retrieved the ball as he reached the
crease.

The moment had come, the moment which he had experienced only in
dreams. And in the dreams he was always full of confidence, and
invariably hit a boundary. Sometimes a drive, sometimes a cut, but
always a boundary.

"To leg, sir," said the umpire.

"Don't be in a funk," said a voice. "Play straight, and you can't get
out."

It was Joe, who had taken the gloves when the wicket-keeper went on to
bowl.

Mike grinned, wryly but gratefully.

Saunders was beginning his run. It was all so home-like that for a
moment Mike felt himself again. How often he had seen those two little
skips and the jump. It was like being in the paddock again, with
Marjory and the dogs waiting by the railings to fetch the ball if he
made a drive.

Saunders ran to the crease, and bowled.

Now, Saunders was a conscientious man, and, doubtless, bowled the very
best ball that he possibly could. On the other hand, it was Mike's
first appearance for the school, and Saunders, besides being
conscientious, was undoubtedly kind-hearted. It is useless to
speculate as to whether he was trying to bowl his best that ball. If
so, he failed signally. It was a half-volley, just the right distance
away from the off-stump; the sort of ball Mike was wont to send nearly
through the net at home....

The next moment the dreams had come true. The umpire was signalling to
the scoring-box, the school was shouting, extra-cover was trotting to
the boundary to fetch the ball, and Mike was blushing and wondering
whether it was bad form to grin.

From that ball onwards all was for the best in this best of all
possible worlds. Saunders bowled no more half-volleys; but Mike
played everything that he did bowl. He met the lobs with a bat like
a barn-door. Even the departure of Morris, caught in the slips off
Saunders's next over for a chanceless hundred and five, did not disturb
him. All nervousness had left him. He felt equal to the situation.
Burgess came in, and began to hit out as if he meant to knock off the
runs. The bowling became a shade loose. Twice he was given full tosses
to leg, which he hit to the terrace bank. Half-past six chimed, and two
hundred and fifty went up on the telegraph board. Burgess continued to
hit. Mike's whole soul was concentrated on keeping up his wicket.
There was only Reeves to follow him,