The success of such a simple manoeuvre was equivalent to a “fools’ mate” at chess, and was a lesson to Jolliffe’s never to despise their enemy. They were not to be caught napping again, however, and, by dint of steady, persistent, concentrated play, they too got a goal and equalised matters. Then, after a considerable period, during which the advantages fluctuated, they obtained a rooge. If, in the old game, the ball is kicked behind the goal-posts but not between them, there arises a struggle between the contending sides to touch it with the hand. If one of the defenders, those behind whose goal the ball has passed, does so first, nothing has happened, and the ball is kicked off again for renewal of the game. But should one of the opposite side so touch it, a rooge is gained. The rooge is formed close in front of the defenders’ goal, they being clustered in a semicircle with their backs to it, and with a big and heavy member of the team for the central pillar, who plants his heel firmly in the ground, the ball being placed against his foot. The opposite side complete the circle, leaving an opening for one of their number to rush in and get a good kick at the ball—they instantly closing upon him and endeavouring to force the whole surging, struggling mass bodily back between the posts, ball and all; if they cannot make an opening they send the ball through alone—the defenders, of course, endeavouring to force the ball out sideways, and either touch it down behind their goal or get it away from their end altogether. One goal counts more than any number of rooges; but when no goal is made at all, or the number of them on each side is equal, the rooges decide the game.
Ends were changed, and after a good deal of play without result Cookson’s also scored a rooge, and matters were equal again; after which the Jolliffe team, which was the strongest physically, kept the ball entirely in the neighbourhood of the Cookson goals. For the latter had made great exertions, and were tiring fast. The time fixed for leaving off play was now approaching; and if they could only keep matters as they were a little longer they would make a drawn match of it, which would be of itself a triumph, considering that their opponents, with the redoubtable Crawley at their head, were reckoned so much the stronger.
“Come, we must get one more rooge,” said the Jolliffe captain, “and weak as they are getting we ought to turn it into a goal.” And pursuing his determination he dribbled the ball up close to the base line, sent it behind the goal-posts, and rushed forward to touch it down. Edwards ran up to it at the same time to touch it first, and a collision ensued which sent him flying. Near that spot there was a tree with seats round it, and Edwards fell heavily with his side against a corner of this wooden settle. Crawley touched the ball down.
“You have given us all our work to get this!” he called out to the other, laughing; and then seeing that Edwards was lying on the ground, he added, “You are not hurt, old fellow, are you? Only blown?”
But as the other was not in the position in which any one would lie still a moment to get breath, he went up to him and repeated his question.
“I don’t know; I—I feel rather queer,” was the reply.
Crawley stooped, and put his arms round his body to raise him up, but Edwards shrieked out, “Ah! don’t; that hurts!”
The other players now gathered round, and many offered well-meaning but absurd suggestions. One practical youth ran off, however, to Cookson’s house to report what had happened, and then returned with a chair. By the time he got back Edwards had managed to rise, and was sitting on the settle, very faint. They managed to transfer him to the chair, and carried him home in it very gently, and by the time he was laid on his bed, which had been got ready, the doctor arrived. A couple of ribs were broken, he said, after an examination which made poor Edwards groan a good deal; but he did not think there was much more the matter, which words were a great comfort to Crawley, who began to fear that he might have been the cause of the boy’s death. He was quite sufficiently sorry and vexed as it was, and would have liked to nurse him if he had been allowed.
It was just as well for his reading that they were not in the same house, for he spent all the hours that he was out of school, and not necessarily in his own tutor’s, by Edwards’ bedside. You cannot fall with your side against a sharp angle heavily enough to break a couple of ribs without feeling it afterwards, I can tell you, so you had better not try, and Edwards suffered a good deal from pain and difficulty of breathing for a few days, and when the inflammation was got down, and he felt more easy, he was kept back by a great depression of spirits.
“One would say that the boy had something on his mind!” said the doctor to Mr Cookson, “but that is impossible. At his age we possess no minds worth speaking about to have anything upon;” and so he lost the scent after hitting it off to go on the trail of a witticism, which after all was not very brilliant.