We hailed two hansoms, and drove, three in each, and all of us addressing appropriate sentiments to the passers-by, to a music-hall which, as I am now making my début as a distinguished sportsman, I shall call the “Umpire.” I shall not give its real name, as my share in the occurrences that ensued is probably still remembered by the management. It was, however, not unlike the title I have given it.
My head, I confess, was buzzing in the most unwonted fashion, but I remember quite distinctly that as we alighted from our cabs there was quite a crowd about the doors, all apparently making as much noise as they could, and that as we pushed our way through, my eyes were fascinated by a bill bearing the legend “NEPTUNE—the Amphibious Marvel! First appearance to-night! All records broken!” And I wondered, in the seriously simple way one does wonder under such conditions, what in the world the meaning of this cryptogram might be.
We got inside, and, my faith! the scene that met our eyes! Apparently the football match was being replayed in the promenade and on the staircases of the Umpire. Three gigantic figures in livery—“the bowlers-out” as they are termed—were dragging a small and tattered man by the head and shoulders while his friends clung desperately to his lower limbs. Round this tableau seethed a wild throng shouting “Oxford!”
“Cambridge!” and similar war-cries—destroying their own and each others' hats, and moved apparently by as incalculable forces as the billows in a storm. On the stage a luckless figure in a grotesque costume was vainly endeavoring to make a comic song audible; and what the rest of the audience were doing or thinking I have no means of guessing.
“Oxford! To the rescue!” shouted Mr. Black.
“Vive Juggins! Kick the football!” I cried, leading the onslaught and hurling myself upon one of the bowlers-out.
“Good old Juggins!” yelled my admirers, as they followed my spirited example, and in a moment the house rang with my new name. “Juggins!” could, I am sure, have been heard for half a mile outside.
The uproar increased; more bowlers-out hurried to the rescue; and I, thanks to my efficient use of my fists and feet, found myself the principal object of their attention. Had it not been for the loyal support of my companions I know not what my fate would have been, but their attachment seemed to increase with each fresh enemy who assailed me.
At last, panting and dishevelled, my opera-hat flattened and crushed over my eyes, the lining of my overcoat hanging out in a long streamer, like a flag of distress, I was dragged free by the united efforts of Mr. White and Mr. Scarlett, and for an instant had a breathing space.