“Oh!” he shouted, half-beside himself with rage; and, scrambling up, he made a rush with clenched fists at the two boys, who now stood perfectly still awaiting his onslaught.
It was a thoroughly angry charge, but not a charge home; for Burney stopped some three or four yards short of the distance, with his rage evaporating fast and beginning to feel quite discreet.
For quite a minute the opponents stood gazing fiercely, and then what had threatened to become a cuffing encounter became verbal.
“Look here,” cried Burney, “you two will get it for this. What am I to say to the captain?”
“Tell him to bowl for himself,” said Singh sharply.
“Here! Hi! Burney, bring ’em along!” came from across the field and from between Slegge’s hands. “Tell these beggars they had better not keep me waiting much longer!”
“All right!” shouted back Burney; and then to the two lads, “There, you hear. Come on at once, and as you are new chaps I won’t tell on you. You had better come, or he’ll pay you out by keeping you on bowling so that you can’t go and see the show.”
“Yes,” said Glyn quietly. “Go back and tell him what Singh said.”
“What!” cried Burney, staring with wonder. “Tell the captain he’s to bowl for himself?”
“Yes,” said Glyn coolly, “as long as he likes.—Come along, Singh;” and, throwing his arm over his Indian companion’s shoulder, the two lads fell into military step and marched slowly towards the Doctor’s mansion-like house.