"Wish he'd wake up," said Wally to himself. "I'd like a chance to talk to him."
The chance came when the field crossed over, disposed anew to harry a left-handed batsman. Jim came over with his long, swinging walk, his head a little bent. He started a little at his friend's voice.
"You'll snore soon!" said Wally, incisively. "What on earth's the matter with you? Play up, School!"
Jim stopped short a moment—and burst out laughing, Wally's indignant face glanced back over his shoulder as he ran off. There was a new spring in the bowler's walk as he went to his crease, and the smile still lingered.
The left-handed man faced him confidently—not many local bowlers could trouble him much, and being a large and well-whiskered gentleman, the tall schoolboy opposite to him sent no thrill of fear through his soul. But Jim had learned a thing or two at school about left-handed bats. He took a short run.
On returning to the pavilion the whiskered one admitted that he knew really nothing about the ball. It seemed to come from nowhere, and curl about his bat as he lifted it to strike. How the bails came off was a mystery to him, though it was unfortunately beyond question that they had not remained on. The left-hander removed his pads, ruminating.
Cunjee, meanwhile, had cheered frantically, and Wally sent a School yell ringing down the field. Jim's eye lit up anew as he heard it.
"I do believe I've been asleep," he muttered.
The new man was waiting for him, and he treated his first two balls with respect. Then he grew bolder; hit him for a single, and snicked him to the fence for four. There was a perceptible droop in the Cunjee spirits at the boundary hit. Then Jim bowled the last ball of the over, and there was a composite yell from Cunjee as the Mulgoa man pushed the ball gently into the air just over Dr. Anderson's head. The little doctor was pitifully hot, but he did not fail. The Mulgoa batsman returned to his friends.
Dan Billings was a little worried. Much, he felt, depended on him, and he had never been more comfortably set; but his men—would they be as reliable? He decided to hit out, and Mulgoa roared as the hundred went up for a beautiful boundary hit. Six wickets were down, and Mulgoa was 107 at the end of the over. It seemed safe enough.