Within ten minutes of half-time it was plain that the enemy was exhausted. Wild eyes, heaving chests, pallid faces confronted a team full of running and brimful of hope. At the next pause Archie moved along the line. Orders to charge. And didn't Billy's charge? Didn't every boy's heart thrill to that whispered word? Charge? Aye, with a yell which must have echoed in the Fourth Form Room, nearly a mile away. Charge? Yes—with the fury of the Light Brigade at Balaclava! And the Bashanites bowed down before that charge like the worshippers of Baal beneath the sword of the Prophet! It was Homeric, worthy, so Billy said, of the finest traditions of the house.
One goal to two—and half-time.
While Billy's sucked the lemons which the fry hurled at them, Jim found time to observe to Mark: "I say, so far we haven't scored."
"N-n-not yet," said Mark.
Bashan's kicked off after ends had been changed. They had got their second wind, and also sound advice from their captain, a man of guile, who has since been seen and heard at Baba Wali, at Abu Klea, and at Suakin. The Bashanites herded together, bent on retaining the advantage of their one goal, not daring to risk it in pursuit of another. Once, twice, thrice, Billy's swept up the field, to be driven back and back when within a dozen paces of the Bashanite citadel. And then, at the fourth essay, Jim's chance came. He had the ball between his legs. "Kick it, kick it!" screamed Billy's. "Yards," whispered Mark. Jim turned mechanically, kicking the ball into Archie's outstretched hands as the leading Bashanite rolled him head over heels in the mud.
A silence fell on players and onlookers. Archie took his time, eyeing anxiously the distance between himself and the goal-posts. Jim shut his eyes, which in point of fact were nearly closed already. A roar of applause from Billy's, a despairing groan from Bashan's, proclaimed the accuracy of the kick.
Two goals all, and twenty minutes to play!
The Lubber sauntered up, sucking a lemon, and stolid as usual.
"Well," said he to Mark, "what'll happen now?"
"Why they'll play up like m-mad, of course. They've everything to gain, and precious little to lose. We ought to go back to our defensive tactics. Let 'em p-pump 'emselves out, and then smash 'em."