HE NEXT FELT HIMSELF LIFTED OVER THE ROPES
"Stay there till the dust-cart picks you up, you vermin," said Dick, with withering scorn.
After that the game was better and brighter. Nobody said anything, but everybody felt that a spirit of mischief had been erased from the match. Osbody fell back to defend again, and he and Niblo put up so stout a defence that the Merry Men could only score twice more before Dick's whistle blew for time.
Still, twenty-three goals to none represented a terrible drubbing for the Squirms, and one that made their tournament victory seem a very feeble triumph indeed.
Yet nobody seemed the least inclined to rub the licking in. The Squirms, with one conspicuous exception, had played a clean game, and kept their tempers in humiliating circumstances. Just, then, as they were trooping dejectedly from the field, they were electrified by hearing Robin's familiar treble calling out:
"Three cheers for Osbody's team, you fellows—hip, hip, hooray!"
Forge turned to listen in smiling approval as the Merry Men whole-heartedly gave three cheers. Osbody blushed like a girl and gazed apprehensively round at the Squirms, wondering how they would take this totally unexpected outburst. Then, swinging his arm round his head, he cried to them:
"Three cheers for the winners, you chaps."