, I breathe again, knowing that
the Parkhurst boat has won, by three yards, the grandest race in which
it was ever my lot to take part.

CHAPTER FOUR.

PARKHURST VERSUS WESTFIELD.

"Now, Parkhurst, turn out sharp! They are going in first." So shouted
Steel, the captain of our eleven, putting his head in at the door of the
tent in which we were arraying ourselves in flannels and spiked shoes,
and otherwise arming for the great match against Westfield School, which
was now about to commence.

We always looked upon these Westfield fellows as our most dangerous
rivals on the cricket field (much in the light in which we esteemed
Craven where football was concerned), and the match in which our
respective pretensions were yearly settled was, I need hardly say,
regarded as _the_ match of the season, and made the object of untiring
practice and feverish excitement.

Year after year, for twelve years, our rival elevens had met, always on
the last Saturday of June, one year at Parkhurst and the next at
Westfield, and so far the result had been that each school had won six
matches. Fancy then the state of our feelings this year, as we started
off in the early morning on our omnibus from Parkhurst, to engage in the
decisive contest which (unless it ended in a draw) must turn the balance
either in favour of our school, or to the glorification of our rivals.
We could not bear to think of the possibility of a defeat; it would be
too tragical, too shameful. So as we drove over to Westfield that
morning, we talked of nothing but victory, and felt very like those
determined old Spartans who, when they went to the wars, made a vow they
would return either with their shields or on them.

Of course there was a regular swarm of people to see the match. Old
Parkhurst "bats," who had played in the first match, thirteen years ago,
were there, with big beards, and very majestic to look at; Old Boys, now
settled in life, were there with their wives and children; carriages
full of our own and Westfield's fathers and mothers; and shoals of young
brothers and sisters, crammed the space beyond the flags; the "doctors,"
as usual, had driven over; and almost gave offence to some of our most
enthusiastic partisans by "chumming up" publicly with the head master of
our rivals! And then, besides, there was a host of outsiders, drawn
together by simple curiosity or love of cricket; so that altogether, as
we emerged from our tent in our snow-