Mates at Billabong

by Mary Grant Bruce

Then there was a rush for the refreshment shed, and monumental quantities of tea were consumed by the teams and their supporters, administered by the admiring maidens of Cunjee. Wally and Jim, prone on the grass in the shade, were cheerful, but by no means enthusiastic regarding their chances. Norah had half expected to find Jim cast down over his batting failure, and was much relieved that he exhibited all his usual serenity. Jim's training had been against showing feeling over games.

"Absolutely fiery out there," said he, accepting a cup gratefully. "Thanks, awfully, Mrs. Anderson; you people are no end good. Didn't we make a beautiful exhibition of ourselves?—all except Dave and this kid, that is."

"Kid yourself," said Wally, who was sucking a lemon slowly and luxuriously. "No tea, thanks, Norah. I'm boiling already, and if I took tea I don't know what might happen, but certainly heat apoplexy would be part of it. Have half my lemon?"

"I don't think so, thanks," said Norah, unmoved by this magnificent offer. "You seem to be getting used to that one, and I'd hate to deprive you of it. Do you boys think we've any chance?"

"It's highly doubtful," Jim answered. "The general opinion is that Mulgoa's good for 150 at the very least—they've got a few rather superior men, I believe, and of course that Billings chap is a terror. And the wicket, such as it is, is all in favour for the bat—which doesn't say much for us And one of our men has gone down with the heat and can't field—fellow from the hotel with red hair, who made five—remember him, Wal.? He's out of training, like most hotel chaps, and as soft as possible, So we're playing a man short."

"I wish they'd give you Murty back!" said Norah, with feminine ignorance.

"Much hope!" returned her brother. "Anyway, Murty's not over good in the field; he's too much in the saddle to be a quick man on his feet. I wouldn't mind you as substitute, Nor."—which remark, though futile, pleased Norah exceedingly.

She was rather more hopeful when the Cunjee team at length took the field, with Boone and the blacksmith bowling against Billings and another noted Mulgoa warrior. But her hopes were rapidly put to flight, and the spirits of the Cunjee "barrackers" went down to zero as it became distressingly apparent that Mr. Billings and his partner were there to stay. Alike they treated the bowling with indifference, hitting the Billabong stockman with especial success—which soon demoralized Dave, who appealed to be taken off, and devoted his energies to short slip fielding. Here he had his revenge presently, for the second Mulgoa man hit a ball almost into his hands, and Dave clung to it as a drowning man to a straw—one wicket for thirty-five.

Then the score mounted with alarming steadiness, and the wickets fell all too slowly for the home team. Dan Billings appeared as comfortable at the wickets as though on the box of his coach, and smote the bowling all round the ground with impartiality. The heat became more and more oppressive, and several of the Cunjee men were tiring, including plump little Dr. Anderson, who stuck to his work as wicket-keeper pluckily—to the unconcealed anxiety of his wife. His reward came when a hot return from the field by Wally gave him a chance of stumping one of the Mulgoa cracks. But the enthusiasm was only momentary; the game was considered, even by the most sanguine small boy of Cunjee, to be "all over bar shouting."

Jim had been bowling for some time from one end with fair results. The batsmen certainly took fewer liberties with him, and he managed to account for three of them for a comparatively low average. He had allowed himself to become anxious, which is a bad thing for a bowler when the score is creeping up and the batsmen are well set. Wally watched his chum with some anxiety—there was none of the fire in his bowling that had so often brought down the ground in a School match.