‘So you’ve asked Rakes to play?’ said Will Brown, who had become a stanch friend of Edgar’s ever since the fight with Bully Rakes.
‘Yes,’ said Edgar. ‘He’s not a bad bat at all; he’s a fair field, and will do to put on for a change bowler. We must win the match. I’m awfully anxious about it. My father will be here, and there’s sure to be a big crowd of people. We have a good team, and I’m pretty confident this time.’
‘All the same, I should not have played Rakes,’ said Will Brown.
‘Why?’ asked Edgar.
‘Because I don’t trust him. He’s never forgiven you for licking him, and if he gets half a chance he’ll throw us over in the match, just to spite you,’ said Will.
Edgar looked at his schoolmate in surprise. He could not believe in any lad doing such a thing.
‘He’ll never do that,’ said Edgar. ‘Even if it is as you say, and he still bears me a grudge, he would never be such a cad as to throw the school over in order to annoy me.’
‘I hope he won’t, for your sake,’ said Will; ‘but all the same, I have my doubts.’
Will Brown’s words made Edgar feel uneasy for a time, but he soon forgot them. It was universally agreed that a better eleven could not have been chosen to meet Fairfield College. Masters were not to play; it was to be purely a boys’ match.
Early and late Edgar was at the cricket nets watching the practice and debating how he should send his team in to bat. For such a young lad, he had keen powers of observation, and he made a pretty accurate calculation as to the pluck and nerve of each boy. Edgar’s father arrived the day before the match, and saw the final practice.