"You'll just jolly well pay up that ninepence or get kicked, young Masters," he said. "It's bad enough to have to lose a match like this, for I suppose that that's what's going to happen. I ain't going to lose money as well."
"But—but I swapped a fives ball," pleaded Masters feebly. "That's worth sixpence."
"Most are; yours wasn't. It went to pieces first game; it was a rotter," declared Franklin harshly. "None of your bunkum. That ninepence or a kicking."
It was no wonder that Masters welcomed the renewal of the game; though, to be sure, he was now silent. But in a little while he had almost regained his cheerfulness. For Sturton and his men were making the pace. Instead of playing on the defensive, they were carrying the war into the enemy's country. Within five minutes, in fact, they had scored a goal, whereat Ranleigh applauded vociferously.
"Just watch them closely, you fellows," Barlow cautioned his Parkland eleven, as they went back into their own ground for the kick off. "That was simply a rush. We got our first from them in the same way. Hold together and keep the ball always in their half."
"Well done," commented Sturton. "Don't let 'em rest. We're fit enough to keep at it hard till the whistle goes. So push 'em, boys."
How magnificently Moon used his fists! The shots which the Parkland team made at the home goal might easily have succeeded. But Moon made light of them. He always seemed to be in the right place and at the very right moment, while his ponderous blows sent the ball flying far from the goal. But if he had his work to do, so also had the keeper of the Parkland goal. Within ten minutes of the recommencement of play, Harper sent in a shot which struck one of the posts with a thud and scared the visitors. It brought a howl of delight and encouragement from the Ranleigh fellows.
"Pitch 'em in hard," Clive found himself shouting frantically. "Bravo, Sturton! Well done, Norman! Hooray for Ranleigh!"
But time went on swiftly. In spite of every effort, and in spite also of the almost obvious fact that Parkland men were hard pressed and none too fit, Sturton and his team had not yet equalled the score of the enemy. Ranleigh's score still stood at two, against three by Parkland, and time was terribly short.
"Play up, Ranleigh!" screamed the boys. "Stick to it, Parkland!" shouted the visitors. Sturton looked about him coolly, though there was anxiety in his eyes. He called to his men curtly. "Now, Ranleigh," he said. "Time's almost up. Let's do something."