"And he'll juggle better," said Broome, still despairing. Then, brightening up a little, he cried eagerly: "Here, take that centre from Lake; it's a ripe cherry, Forge!"
So it was. But the Octopus had a taste for ripe fruit too, and at this particular cherry he had the first bite.
Though Dick made quickly for the outside-right's fine centre, Bessingham matched him. Their boots met the ball together, and the greater force of Bessingham's kick lifted Dick off his feet. He sprawled yards within the penalty-area, with a conviction that something awkward had happened to his big toe.
"Penalty, penalty!" roared some of the crowd. It is the habit of football spectators to claim free kicks when things like this happen. To eyes blinded by prejudice it looked as though Dick had been roughly kicked about, but the players and the referee knew better. In a straight-out trial of physical strength, the sturdy captain of Foxenby had come off second-best. Moreover, he limped a little as the result, which was more ominous still.
"What did I tell you, kid?" said the Junior Cuthbertian, taking heart of grace. "You can't get past old 'Bess'. Old Bess is a brick wall. Old Bess is a house-side!"
"He's a clinking player, I admit," said Robin, "but who'll pay the doctor's bill if he kicks somebody's teeth out?"
"That's your affair," snapped Cuthy. "Perhaps you'd like old Bess to play on crutches to give your forwards a chance."
"He's not All England versus The Rest," retorted Robin. "We'll make rings round him yet."
Spoken like a true optimist, Robin! But spectators cannot win games, however loyal they may be, and rose-coloured spectacles are as useless in football as in any other field of activity. Bluff could not disguise that the luck had again turned against Foxenby. The sun came out and shone in their eyes and the wind suddenly moderated. Forwards who had stood idly on the half-way line (glad enough to rest after their first-half exertions) now found it possible to pick up Bessingham's big kicks and move towards Ennis again. True, they kept a respectable distance from Lyon and Lebberston, and only sent in long-range shots with little powder behind them. Ennis, ever reliable, hugged them safely to his breast and punted them back with ease. All very well and good; but each movement in his direction brought relief to St. Cuthbert's defenders, and cut down Foxenby's scoring chances at the same time.
The gathering behind the top goal thinned a little as some of the crowd drifted speculatively down the field. They thought they saw a prospect of a bit of sport at the other end. There was always a chance of Ennis's sun-dazzled eyes failing to judge a straight one, however languidly the ball were kicked.