“I dare say you do; cheeky great bully!” said Glyn softly. “I shan’t come and field for you. The Doctor did not give us a holiday to-day to come and be your slaves.”
“Hi, there! Are you coming, or am I to come and fetch you?” shouted Slegge, without any effect, and the big lad turned to Burney and gave him an order. The next minute the boy, armed with a stump, came running at full speed across the grass, shouting to the two companions to stop, but without their paying the slightest heed or increasing their pace.
The consequence was that the lad soon overtook them, to cry, rather out of breath, “Did you hear the captain call to you to come and field?”
Singh glanced at Glyn, who gave him a sharp look as he replied, “Yes, I heard him quite plainly.”
The messenger stared with open eyes and mouth, as if it was beyond his comprehension.
“Then, why don’t you come?” he cried.
“Because we are going up to the house,” replied Glyn coolly, “to our dormitory.”
“That you are not,” cried Burney. “The rules say that the fellows are not to go up to their rooms between hours, and you have been here long enough to know that. Now then, no nonsense. Here, you, Singh, you’ve got to come and field while old Slegge practises batting, and Tompkins has got to bowl.”
As the boy spoke in an unpleasant dictatorial way he made a thrust at Singh with the pointed stump he held; but quick as thought and before it was driven home, this third-part of a wicket was wrenched from his hand by Severn and sent flying through the air.
“How dare you!” shouted Burney, and he made a rush at Glyn to collar him and make him prisoner; but before he could reach the offending lad a foot was thrust out by Singh, over which he tripped and fell sprawling upon his face.