He fell on his face. Rouse picked him up, and he tottered and fell on his back. The game went on and left him there. Rouse shouted to him, and he rose and stood for a moment with boggling eyes and nodding head, thinking. Toby pointed into the distance and spoke cheering words.
“Chase after it, man! Scoot! Catch ’em up!”
He began to trot foolishly up the field, with Rouse behind him. And then suddenly the ball came sailing towards him again and dropped directly on to his chest. He clutched at it as if for support and Rouse let loose a loud shout of delight.
“NOW! You’re off. Nothing can stop you!” He whipped him gently into a gallop.
As if suddenly imbued with the spirit of the game Arthur began to show determination. A boy flew at him. Arthur handed him off with violence.
“Let me alone!” he cried, suddenly very wrath.
Another essayed to tackle him. Arthur struggled clear of his grasp but overbalanced and let go the ball.
Immediately another boy had sprung forward and gathered it.
Arthur shot after him. He suddenly understood. Everybody was against him. He had to get the ball and everybody was trying to steal it away. The sole idea of the game was that he should be allowed to run about the field holding the ball, and they were all cheating. They wouldn’t let him do it. He caught the thief by his jersey and tugged him back.
His fierce cries sounded across the field.