So Grandcourt went in again, and although it fared somewhat better, was still unable to stem the tide of defeat. With 135 to get in order to avoid a single innings defeat, it was only natural they did not settle down to their task very cheerfully or hopefully. Pledge still sent down a ruthless fire from one end; and seemed even to improve with exercise. Nor was he badly backed up at the other end by Cresswell; while Mansfield, at the wicket, and Ponty, at point, seemed, as it were, to help themselves to the ball off the end of the bat, whenever they liked. By painful, plodding hard work, Grandcourt put up their hundred, and it spoke well for the chivalry of the victorious seventy, that they cheered the three figures as loudly as any one.
It was uphill work trying to hold out for the remaining 35 runs. But the losers were Englishmen, and long odds brought out their good qualities. With solemn, almost ferocious, faces, the two last men in clung to their bats, and blocked, blocked, blocked, stealing now a bye, pilfering now a run out of the slips, and once or twice getting on the right side of a lob with a swipe that drew the hearts of Templeton into their mouths.
A score of runs did those two add on to their hundred, and the seventy groaned as the chances of a single innings victory dwindled run by run.
“Most frightful soak if they do us,” said Dick, addressing the audience generally. “Why don’t they try Mansfield?”
“Shut up. Lie down under the seat, and don’t talk to me,” said Hooker, flushed with excitement.
“Pledge has bowled four maidens running,” said Heathcote, determined that no one should blame the bowler he had assisted to train.
“What’s the use of bowling maidens? Why don’t he bowl the boys, and have done with it?” said Duffield.
Dick looked at Heathcote; Heathcote looked at Dick; Duffield hummed a ditty. How could he do such a thing at such a time, and in such a place? Oh, had he been only in the Mountjoy waggonette on a lonely road, what a business meeting they could have held! As it was, there was only time to crush the debtor’s hat down over his eyes, and dig him on each side in the ribs, when a general stir betokened some important movement on the field of battle.
“By George! they’re going to change bowlers,” said Hooker. “Quite time, too.”
“No, they’re not,” replied Dick, “they’re going to change ends. Awful low trick to put Cresswell with the light in his eyes.”