e him to his feet with words of
praise, and encouragement, and hope. He was in pain and could not stand
erect, yet the honest fellow confessed that there was no accident in my
victory. "He did it a-purpose! He did it a-purpose!"

Again and again he said it. Yes, it is a great game this cricket, and I
would gladly have ventured upon it again but Lord Rufton and Rudd said
that it was late in the season, and so they would play no more.

How foolish of me, the old, broken man, to dwell upon these successes,
and yet I will confess that my age has been very much soothed and
comforted by the memory of the women who have loved me and the men whom
I have overcome. It is pleasant to think that five years afterward, when
Lord Rufton came to Paris after the peace, he was able to assure me that
my name was still a famous one in the north of Devonshire for the fine
exploits that I had performed. Especially, he said, they still talked
over my boxing match with the Honourable Baldock. It came about in this
way. Of an evening many sportsmen would assemble at the house of Lord
Rufton, where they would drink much wine, make wild bets, and talk
of their horses and their foxes. How well I remember those strange
creatures. Sir Barrington, Jack Lupton, of Barnstable, Colonel Addison,
Johnny Miller, Lord Sadler, and my enemy, the Honourable Baldock.
They were of the same stamp all of them, drinkers, madcaps, fighters,
gamblers, full of strange caprices and extraordinary whims. Yet they
were kindly fellows in their rough fashion, save only this Baldock, a
fat man, who prided himself on his skill at the box-fight. It was he
who, by his laughter against the French because they were ignorant
of sport, caused me to challenge him in the very sport at which he
excelled. You will say that it was foolish, my friends, but the decanter
had passed many times, and the blood of youth ran hot in my veins. I
would fight him, this boaster; I would show him that if we had not skill
at least we had courage. Lord Rufton would not allow it. I insisted. The
others cheered me on and slapped me on the back. "No, dash it, Baldock,
he's our guest," said Rufton. "It's his own doing," the other answered.
"Look here, Rufton, they can't hurt each other if they wear the
mawleys," cried Lord Sadler. And so it was agreed.

What the mawleys were I did not know, but presently they brought out
four great puddings of leather, not unlike a fencing glove, but larger.
With these o