long stand made by Scaife and Desmond, Caesar is caught at
cover-point, but Scaife remains. It is a Colossus batting, not a Harrow
boy. The balls come down the pitch; the Demon's shoulders and chest
widen; the great knotted arms go up--crash! First singles; then twos;
then threes; and then boundary after boundary. To John--and to how many
others?--Scaife has been transformed into a tremendous human machine,
inexorably cutting and slicing, pulling and driving--the embodied symbol
of force, ruthlessly applied, indefatigable, omnipotent.

The Eton captain, hopeful against odds, puts on a cunning and cool
dealer in "lobs." Fluff is in, playing steadily, holding up his wicket,
letting the giant make the runs. The Etonian delivers his first ball.
Scaife leaves the crease. Fluff sees the ball slowly spinning--harmless
enough till it pitches, and then deadly as a writhing serpent. Scaife
will not let it pitch. The ball curves slightly from the leg to the off.
Scaife is facing the pavilion----

A stupendous roar bursts from the crowd. The ball, hit with terrific
force, sails away over the green sward, over the ropes, over the heads
of the spectators, and slap on to the top of the pavilion.

Only four; but one of the finest swipes ever seen at Lord's. Shade of
Mynn, come forth from the tomb to applaud that mighty stroke!

But the dealer in lobs knows that the man who leaves his citadel, leaves
it, sooner or later, not to return. In the hope that Scaife, intoxicated
with triumph, will run out again, he pitches the next lob too much up--a
half-volley. Scaife smiles.

John's prediction has been fulfilled. A record has been established.
Never before in an Eton and Harrow match have two balls been hit over
the ropes in succession. The crowds have lost their self-possession.
Men, women, and children are becoming delirious. The Rev. Septimus
throws his ancient topper into the air; the Caterpillar splits a
brand-new pair of delicate grey gloves. Upon the tops of the coaches,
mothers, sisters, aunts, and cousins are cheering like Fourth-Form boys.

* * * * *

The Harrow first innings closed with 289 runs, Scaife carrying out his
bat for an almost flawless 126. Desmond made 72; Fluff was in for
twenty-seven minutes--a great performance for him--and was caught in the
slips after compiling a useful 17.

But the remarkable feature of the innings was the short time in which so
many runs were made--exactly