lf. No one took any notice of him,
for he did nothing worthy of notice. He had rather looked forward to his
first game of football, for he had been quite a decent half-back at his
preparatory school. He might perhaps do something brilliant. But for his
first two days he wasn't allowed even to play a game. With the other new
boys he shivered in the autumn wind while Meredith, who rather
surprisingly seemed quite an ordinary sort of person, instructed them in
how to pack down. They were then told to watch the Upper game and see
how football should be played. It was here that Gordon first saw Buller,
the games master. He was indeed a splendid person. He wore a
double-breasted coat, that on anyone else would have looked ridiculous,
and even so was strikingly original. He had the strong face of one who
had fought every inch of his way. It was a great sight to see "the
Bull," as he was called, take a game; he rushed up and down the field
cursing and swearing. His voice thundered over the ground. It was the
first game after the summer holidays, and everyone felt rather flabby.
At half-time the great man burst out: "I have played football for
twenty-five years, I coached Oxford teams and Gloucestershire teams, led
an English scrum, and for fifteen years I have taught footer here, but
never saw I such a display! Shirking, the whole lot of you! Get your
shoulders down and shove. Never saw anything like it. Awful!" The Bull
said this to every team at least three times every season, but he was
every bit as generous with his praise as with his blame when things went
well, and he was a great man, a personality. Even a desultory Pick-Up
woke into excitement when the shrill, piping voice of a full-back came
in with, "'The Bull's' coming." There was only one man in Fernhurst who
was not afraid of him, and that was Lovelace, who was indeed afraid of
nothing, and who towered over his contemporaries by the splendour of his
athletic achievements, and the strength of an all-mastering
personality.

On the next day Gordon had to watch another Upper game. This time "the
Bull" was more or less quiet. Lovelace was at the top of his form, and
Meredith twice cut through brilliantly and scored between the posts.
Then life seemed to Buller very good. After the game he rolled up to his
house perfectly satisfied, whistling to himself. It was not until the
Saturday that Gordon actually played in a game. He was originally
performing on the Pick-Up; but a