g an ice. All eyes seemed on him. He had made Collins take the
first ball. The start was worthy of the best School House traditions.
The first ball was well outside the off-stump; it landed in the National
School grounds that ran alongside of the school field. A howl of
untuneful applause went up. This was the cricket anyone could
appreciate, and this was the cricket that was always seen on a School
House game. Its only drawback was that could not last. Collins made a
few more daring strokes. In the second over he made a superb drive over
shortslip's head to the boundary, and his next shot nearly ended
FitzMorris' somnolent existence. It was great while it lasted, but, like
all great things, it came to an end. He gave the simplest of chances to
cover point, and Buller's rarely missed their catches.

It was so with nearly all the other members of the side. Three or four
terrific hits and then back under the trees again. Gordon alone seemed
at all comfortable. Either the novelty of the surroundings (it was only
his second innings at Fernhurst), or else the presence of "the Bull,"
quieted his customary recklessness. At any rate, he attempted no
leg-glides on the off-stump, and in consequence found little difficulty
in staying in. The boundaries, as was natural on a side ground, were
quite close. Runs came quite easily. During the interval after Foster's
dismissal "the Bull" walked across to him:

"How old are you, Caruthers?"

"Thirteen and a half, sir."

"Oh, good thing to come young. I did myself. Keep that left foot well
across and you'll stop in all day. Well done. Stick to it."

Gordon was amazingly bucked up. He had always heard "the Bull" was
anti-School House, and here he was encouraging one of his enemies. What
rot fellows did talk. Splendid man "the Bull"! He would tell Mansell so
that night.

And his opinion was even more strengthened when, after he had been clean
bowled for forty-three without a chance, "the Bull" stopped him on the
way out and said:

"Well done, Caruthers! Plucky knock. Go and have a tea at the tuck-shop,
and put it down to my account."

The School House innings closed for one hundred and forty-eight.
"Nothing like big enough," said Foster.

FitzMorris overheard him.

"Rot! Absolute rot! If you go on the field in that spirit you won't get
a single man out. Go in and win."

And a very fine fight the House put up. Foster bowled splendidly,
Betteridge was fast asleep at point and br