Say, you should have heard the Foxes, yell then! The crowd joined in to a man, for everybody loved the Octopus, even those whose skin had been scraped off by his flying boots. They called on him for a speech now, and the reception he got when he drew up his lanky form to make it was every bit as deafening as the din that greeted Dick.
"Your ladyship, and ladies and gentlemen, I'm glad the match ended as it did," he said. ("Good old Bessingham—real old sport!") "Foxenby won the Cup last year fair and square, and it was no wish of mine that we should play again. To-day they whacked us beyond question. ('Well said, Bess.') Old Forge was the 'daddy' of us all (laughter), long streets and terraces ahead of any player on the field. ('Excepting you, Bess!') No, not excepting me—good old Forge had me skinned a mile at the finish. (Lots more laughter.) How did he win the match? By turning two raw nippers into footballers almost as Foxy as himself (great cheering from the Merry Men and the Squirms). He outwitted us—made children of us. Give him two Cups, gentlemen—he's won this one twice! Cuthbertians, three cheers for Forge, the better captain of the better team."
So Dick got another rousing cheer on top of the first one, and Foxes and Cuthbertians talk to this day of how Forge and the Octopus clasped hands over the Cup and were forthwith "horsed" in triumph all the way from the football-field to the railway-station, so that people who did not know either imagined them to be victorious colleagues on the same side.
"I'll have my revenge on you yet, my honourable opponent," said Bessingham, on parting. "We shall meet in conflict again."
"In the final of the English Cup, I hope," laughed Dick, in reply. "Till then, old friend, au revoir!"
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