The Fifth Form at Saint Dominic's Part 22

"Of course I'm safe to get it! Why ever didn't I think of that before?

Won't I just work the rest of the term! Nothing like having an object when you're grinding."

With this philosophical reflection he re-entered Saint Dominic's, and un.o.bserved rejoined the spectators in the cricket-field, just in time to witness a very exciting finish to a fiercely contested encounter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

SIXTH VERSUS SCHOOL.

Never had a Sixth versus School Match been looked forward to with more excitement at Saint Dominic's than the present one. Party feeling had been running high all the term, intensified on the one hand by the unpopularity of some of the monitors, and on the other by the defiant att.i.tude of the Fifth and the tone of their organ, the _Dominican_.

The lower school naturally looked on with interest at this rivalry between the two head forms, the result of which, as might have been expected, was the reverse of beneficial for the discipline of the school generally. If the big boys set a bad example and disregard rules, what can one expect of the little ones?

So far, anything like conflict had been avoided. The Fifth had "cheeked" the Sixth, and the Sixth had snubbed the Fifth; but with the exception of Loman's a.s.sault on Oliver, which had not led to a fight, the war had been strictly one of words. Now, however, the opposing forces were to be ranged face to face at cricket; and to the junior school the opportunity seemed a grand one for a display of partisanship one side or the other.

The School Eleven, on this occasion, moreover, consisted exclusively of Fifth Form boys--a most unusual circ.u.mstance, and one which seemed to be the result quite as much of management as of accident. At least so said the disappointed heroes of the Fourth.

The match was, in fact--whatever it was formally styled--a match between the Sixth and the Fifth, and the partisans of either side looked upon it as a decisive event in the respective glories of the two top forms.

And now the day had come. All Saint Dominic's trooped out to the meadows, and there was a rush of small boys as usual for the front benches. Stephen found himself along with his trusty ally, Paul, and his equally trusty enemy, Bramble, and some ten other Guinea-pigs and Tadpoles, wedged like sardines upon a form that would comfortably hold six, eagerly canva.s.sing the prospects of the struggle.

"The Sixth are going to win in a single innings, if you fellows want to know," announced Bramble, with all the authority of one who knows.

"Not a bit of it," replied Paul. "The Fifth are safe to win, I tell you."

"But they've got no decent bowlers," said Raddleston.

"Never mind," said Stephen. "Loman's not going to play for the Sixth.

He's sprained his wrist."

"Hip, hip, hurrah?" yelled Paul, "that _is_ jolly! They are sure to be licked now. Are you sure he's out of it?"

"Yes. Look at him there with his arm in a sling."

And Stephen pointed to where Loman stood in his ordinary clothes talking to some of his fellows.

"Well, that _is_ a piece of luck!" said Paul. "Who's to take his place?"

"Baynes, they say. He's no use, though."

"Don't you be too c.o.c.k-sure, you two," growled Bramble. "I say we shall beat you even if Loman don't play. Got any brandy-b.a.l.l.s left, Greenfield?"

Similar speculations and hopes were being exchanged all round the field, and when at last the Fifth went out to field, and Callonby and Wren went in to bat for the Sixth, you might have heard a cat sneeze, so breathless was the excitement.

Amid solemn silence the first few b.a.l.l.s were bowled. The third ball of the first over came straight on to Wren's bat, who played it neatly back to the bowler. It was not a run, only a simple block; but it was the first play of the match, and so quite enough to loosen the tongues of all the small boys, who yelled, and howled, and cheered as frantically as if a six had been run or a wicket taken. And the ice once broken, every ball and every hit were marked and applauded as if empires depended on them.

It was in the midst of this gradually rising excitement that Loman slipped quietly and un.o.bserved from the scene, and betook himself to the errand on which we accompanied him in the preceding chapter.

The two Sixth men went quickly to work, and at the end of the second over had scored eight. Then Callonby, in stepping back to "draw" one of Wraysford's b.a.l.l.s, knocked down his wicket.

How the small boys yelled at this!

But the sight of Raleigh going in second soon silenced them.

"They mean hard work by sending in the captain now," said Paul. "I don't like that!"

"No more do I," said Stephen. "He always knocks Oliver's bowling about."

"Oh, bother; is your brother bowling?" said Master Paul, quite unconscious of wounding any one's feelings. "It's a pity they've got no one better."

Stephen coloured up at this, and wondered what made Paul such a horrid boy.

"Better look-out for your eyes," said Bramble, cheerily. "The captain always knocks up this way, over square-leg's head."

There was a general buzz of youngsters round the field, as the hero of the school walked up to the wicket, and coolly turned to face Oliver's bowling.

The scorer in the tent hurriedly sharpened his pencil. The big fellows, who had been standing up to watch the opening overs, sat down on the gra.s.s and made themselves comfortable. Something was going to happen, evidently. The captain was in, and meant business.

Oliver gripped the ball hard in his hand, and walked back to the end of his run. "Play!" cried the umpire, and amid dead silence the ball shot from the bowler's hand.

Next moment there rose a shout loud enough to deafen all Saint Dominic's. The ball was flying fifty feet up in the air, and Raleigh was slowly walking, bat in hand, back to the tent he had only a moment ago quitted!

The captain had been clean bowled, first ball!

Who shall describe the excitement, the yelling, the cheering, the consternation that followed? Paul got up and danced a hornpipe on the bench; Bramble kicked the boy nearest to him. "Well bowled, sir!"

shouted some. "Hard lines!" screamed others. "Hurrah for the Fifth!"

"You'll beat them yet, Sixth!" such were a few of the shouts audible above the general clamour.

As for Stephen, he was wild with joy. He was a staunch partisan of the Fifth in any case, but that was nothing to the fact that it was _his_ brother, his own brother and n.o.body else's, who had bowled that eventful ball, and who was at that moment the hero of Saint Dominic's. Stephen felt as proud and elated as if he had bowled the ball himself, and could afford to be absolutely patronising to those around him, on the head of this achievement.

"That wasn't a bad ball of Oliver's," he said to Paul. "He can bowl very well when he tries."

"It was a beastly fluke!" roared Bramble, determined to see no merit in the exploit.

"Shut up and don't make a row," said Stephen, with a bland smile of forgiveness.

Bramble promised his adversary to shut _him_ up, and after a little more discussion and altercation and jubilation, the excitement subsided, and another man went in. All this while the Fifth were in ecstasies. They controlled their feelings, however, contenting themselves with clapping Oliver on the back till he was nearly dead, and speculating on the chances of beating their adversaries in a single innings.

But they had not won the match yet.

Winter was next man in, and he and Wren fell to work very speedily in a decidedly business-like way. No big hits were made, but the score crawled up by ones and twos steadily, and the longer they were at it the steadier they played. Loud cheers announced the posting of thirty on the signal-board, but still the score went on. Now it was a slip, now a bye, now a quiet cut.

"Bravo! well played!" cried Raleigh and his men frequently. The captain, by the way, was in excellent spirits, despite his misfortune.

Thirty-five, forty! The Fifth began to look hot and puzzled. The batsmen were evidently far too much at home with the bowling. A change must be made, even though it be to put on only a second-rate bowler.