their number was "playing for the school" might be of real service.

Till Saturday, at any rate, he must try to banish the hideous nightmare
from his mind, and give himself up wholly to the calls of cricket.

It is easier to resolve to give up one's mind to a pursuit than it is to
do it, and for the first day or two Riddell found himself but a
halfhearted cricketer. However, as the eventful day drew near things
grew more serious, not to say critical.

It was a nervous occasion for the captain the first time he presented
himself at a Big practice, and he could not help feeling that the eyes
which watched his performance were more than ordinarily critical, and
many of them less than ordinarily friendly.

Still he managed not to disgrace himself, and on the next occasion,
having partially recovered his presence of mind, he was able to do
himself even more justice. Every one had to admit that Riddell was a
long way off being a fine cricketer--he would have been the first to
admit it himself--but for all that, what with a quick eye, and much
perseverance, and sound judgment, he possessed more than one of the
qualities which go to make up a useful member of any team.

"He ought to do," said Bloomfield to Game on the Friday evening after
the last of the practices. "He stood up to Fairbairn's bowling not at
all badly."

"Shouldn't wonder," said Game, whose prejudice was stronger than his
judgment, "if Fairbairn bowled down easy to him on purpose; they're
awfully thick, you know."

"But I didn't bowl down to him easy," replied Bloomfield; "and he cut me
for two twice running."

Game could not answer this argument, and was bound to admit a worse man
might have been put into the odd place.

"It's a pity, though; they'll be so jolly cocky, all that set, there'll
be no enduring it. I only hope our fellows will do most of the scoring
to-morrow, and not leave them a chance of saying they won the match for
us."

Bloomfield laughed. "Not much fear of that," said he; "but if they did,
I suppose you'd sooner beat Rockshire with their help than be thrashed?"

Game was not quite sure, and said nothing.

One might have supposed that an occasion like the present, when the
picked eleven Willoughby was to play the picked eleven of Rockshire,
that there would have been no place left for party rivalry, or any
feeling but one of patriotic ardour for the victory of the old school.
But so deeply was the disease of party spirit ro