Mr. Johnson was out, and loud acclamations rent the sky.
Compton rose, and saw Ruperta clapping her hands close by.
She left off and blushed, directly he saw her. He blushed too, and touched his cap to her, with an air half manly, half sheepish, but did not speak to her.
This was the last ball of the over, and, as the ball was now to be delivered from the other wicket, Compton took the place of long-leg.
The third ball was overpitched to leg, and Wright, who, like most country players, hit freely to leg, turned half, and caught this ball exactly right, and sent it whizzing for five.
But the very force of the stroke was fatal to him; the ball went at first bound right into Compton's hands, who instantly flung it back, like a catapult, at Wright's wicket.
Wright, having hit for five, and being unable to see what had become of the ball, started to run, as a matter of course.
But the other batsman, seeing the ball go right into long-leg's hands like a bullet, cried, “Back!”
Wright turned, and would have got back to his wicket if the ball had required handling by the wicket-keeper; but, by a mixture of skill with luck, it came right at the wicket. Seeing which, the wicket-keeper very judiciously let it alone, and it carried off the bails just half a second before Mr. Wright grounded his bat.
“How's that, umpire?” cried the wicket-keeper.