“Come along, old fellow; you’re surely going to fight for the school against the sixth,” said Kenrick.
“Isn’t it too late?”
“No; anyone is allowed a quarter of an hour’s grace.”
“Excuse number one bowled down,” said Henderson.
“But I’m not dressed; I shan’t have time to put on my Jersey.”
“Never mind, you’ll only want your cap and belt, and can play in your shirt-sleeves.”
“There goes excuse number two; so cut along,” said Henderson, “and get your belt. We’ll wait for you here. Why, the eternal friend’s getting as wasted with misery as the daughter of Babylon,” said Henderson, as Walter ran off.
“Yes,” said Kenrick. “I don’t like to see that glum look instead of the merry face he came with. Never mind; the game’ll do him good; I never saw such a player; he looks just like the British lion when he gets into the middle of the fray; plunges at everything, and shakes his mane. Here he is; come along.”
They ran up and found a hotly-contested game swaying to and fro between the goals; and Walter, who was very active and a first-rate runner, was soon in the thick of it. As the evenness of the match grew more apparent the players got more and more excited. It had been already played several times, and no base had been kicked, except once by each side, when the scale had been turned by a heavy wind. Hence they exhibited the greatest eagerness, as school and sixth alike held it a strong point of honour to win, and a shout of approval greeted any successful catch or vigorous kick.
Whenever the ball was driven beyond the bounds, it was kicked straight in, generally a short distance only, and the players on both sides struggled for it as it fell. During one of these momentary pauses Kenrick whispered to Walter, “I say, Evson, next time it’s driven outside I’ll try to get it, and if you’ll stand just beyond the crowd I’ll kick it to you, and you can try a run.”