Once there, really "set," Silver looked round and began to play a faster and more open game. The Windsor team were sent scurrying all over the field, chasing the leather; and the score of Deepwater College rose notch by notch.
All the same, there was a considerable discrepancy still between the scores, and both sides were now striving with all their skill for a win. Doggedly as the School batted, sneaking every run that could possibly be sneaked, the Windsor team battered with an equal doggedness at their defences.
No longer, now, did the derisive comments come from the crowd. The finish had the appearance of being exciting—very much so; and flippancy was forgotten. Instead, roars of cheering greeted especially adroit moves from either side; any partisanship previously allowed to show was now lost in the expectation of a hard-fought finish.
Martin went out, with a useful score, and Screw came in. Screw was, generally speaking a rather weak sort of bowler, but as a batsman, the only word that aptly describes him is "furious." There was method in his dashing, wild-seeming attack, though; and his lively innings for thirty runs tickled the crowd immensely. He received an ovation from the town's supporters, and grinned happily.
"They didn't care for my bowling," he remarked to Billy Faraday, "but my innings seemed to please them."
"Rather! I say, isn't old Silver knocking up a score? He's sixty-four now, and once he's set he's liable to stay there for ever."
"That's Silver's way. It wouldn't surprise me to see him rake in a century. Now he's in the mood, and has his eye in, the bowlers can't shift him!"
"And if we've any sort of luck—"
"—we ought to win," completed Screw, with a twinkle of pleasure in his eye. "Jove—there's another boundary; go on, Silver! Silver!"
When Billy's turn came to bat, he felt distinctly nervous. He had had such incredible luck with his bowling that it was far too much to expect that his batting would be of the same fortunate brand.