"I expect so," said Ginger, with a condescension that was most agreeable. "You are just the build for a goalkeeper. If it's fine tomorrow dinner-hour, we'll put you through your paces on Cox's Piece. I'm thinkin', Enery, you and me will soon be out after that four quid. Anyhow, I'll answer for Mr. W. H."
With the air of a Bismarck, Mr. W. H. Jukes, alias Ginger, resumed an extremely concentrated perusal of the evening's news.
VI
That night the repose of the Sailor was rather disturbed. For one thing he was unused to sleeping on dry land; for another Ginger took up a lot of the bed, and as he slept next the wall, the Sailor's position on the outer verge was decidedly perilous. Also when Ginger lay on his back, which he did about two, he was a snorer. Therefore the Sailor had to adjust himself to circumstances before he could begin to repose at all.
Even when slumber had really set in, which was not until after three, he had to wriggle his lean form into the famous but very tight jersey of the Blackhampton Rovers, the historic blue and chocolate. But what a moment it was when he came proudly on to the field in the midst of the heroes of his early dreams, coolly buttoning his goalkeeping gloves, and pretending not to be aware that thousands were massed tier upon tier around the amphitheater craning their necks to get a glimpse of him, and shouting themselves hoarse with their cries of battle!
It was odd that his first game with his beloved Rovers should be against the doughtiest of their foes, the world-famous Villa. And it seemed at first that the occasion would be too much for him. But Ginger was there, ruddy and insouciant, also in a magnificent new jersey. Ginger was playing full back, and just as the match was about to begin he turned round to the goalkeeper and said, "Now, Sailor, pull up your socks, old friend." But the queer thing was, the voice did not belong to Ginger, it was the voice of Klondyke. Then confusion came. It was not Ginger, it was Klondyke himself who was playing full back, Klondyke the noblest hero of them all. So much was the Sailor astonished by the discovery that he fell out of bed, without disturbing Ginger who was in occupation of three parts of it and snoring like a traction engine.
Next day, the dinner-hour being fine, the Sailor made his début as a football player on Cox's Piece in the presence of a critical assembly. A number of the choicest spirits of the neighborhood, some in work, some out of it, but one and all fired with real enthusiasm for a noble game, gathered with a football about a quarter past twelve. This was a stalwart company, but as soon as Ginger appeared on the scene he took sole command of it. There were those who could kick a football as well as he, there were those who were older, bigger, stronger, but by sheer pressure of character in that assembly Ginger's word was law.
"Parkins," said Ginger, "you can't keep goal. Come out of it, Parkins. Here's a chap as can."
While the crestfallen and unwilling Parkins deferred to the master mind, a wave of solemn curiosity passed through the cognoscenti of Cox's Piece. The Sailor was seen to doff his wonderful fur cap, which alone was a guaranty of untold possibilities in its wearer, to roll up solemnly the sleeves of his tattered blue seaman's jersey, and to take his place in the goal which had been formed by two heaps of coats.