ot, Batchy. It rowed a' the road."

There was an awfu' wey-o-doin', an' aboot fifty laddies roond Sandy, a'
yalpin' till him at ae time. Efter a lang laberlethan, the bailer got
three shies at Batchy's wickets, because he tried to het what they ca'd
a sneak. But he missed ilky time, an' syne Batchy wallapit the ba' a'
ower the Common, an' floo frae end to end o' the wickets like's he
wasna wyse. It was gey slow wark for Sandy though, an' I think he had
gotten tired, for the laddies roond aboot me began to say, "There was
thirteen ba's i' that lest over; I think Sandy Bowden's dreamin'," an'
so on. I think mysel' Sandy had been doverin', for the ba' hut
Batchy's wicket, an' every ane o' the loons playin' gae a yowl at the
same meenit--"How's that?" Sandy near jamp ootin his white coat wi'
the start; an', takin' till his heels, he was a hunder yairds doon the
Common afore ane o' the laddies grippit him by the tails, an' speered
whaur he was fleein' till.

"I was gettin' hungrie," says Sandy. "I was gaen ower to the toll for
a biskit." That was a lee; for he tell'd me efter, he dreedit, when he
heard the roar, that it was ane o' Sandy Mertin's ki gane wild; an' he
took till his heels, thinkin' it was efter him.

"That bloomin' empire's a pure frost," I heard some o' the loons
sayin'. "He canna coont; an' noo he's genna stop the match 'cause he's
hungrie. Wha ever heard o' an empire gettin' hungrie?"

Sandy got back till his place, an' the match gaed on. "Over comin'
up," said the ither empire forby Sandy; an' the laddie that was ballin'
says, "Ay weel, than, I'm genna see an' get wid." He gae his arm an
awfu' sweel roond, an' instead o' sendin' the ba' to the wickets, it
gaed spung ower an' hut Sandy a yark i' the side o' the heid.

"There's wid," said the ither empire; "but it's no' a wicket for a'
that." Sandy was springin' aboot wi' his heid in his oxter, an' a' the
laddies roarin' and lauchin' like to kill themsel's.

I was ance genna gae doon an' tak' him awa' hame; but I thocht it micht
look raither queer, so I lut him aleen for a little. The captain
loonie began to ball, an' a gey wild-lookin' bailer he was. The Collie
Park's henmost man--he was a little berfit craturie wi' nicker-buckers
an' a straw hat--was in, an' the captain gae him an awfu' crack below
the knee wi' the ba'.

"How's that?" he yowled at Sandy.

"Man, I believe that's fell sair," says Sandy, rubbin' the swalled side
o' his