He runs, in his usual unconcerned manner, up to the wicket and delivers the ball. It is one which there is but one way of playing—among the slips.
Oliver understands it evidently, and, to the joy of the Fifth, plays it. But why does their cheer drop suddenly, and why in a moment is it drowned, over and over and over again, by the cheers of the Sixth and their partisans, as the crowd suddenly breaks into the field, and the ball shoots high up in the air?
A catch! Baynes, the odd man, had missed a chance a few overs back from standing too deep. This time he had crept in close, and saved the Sixth by one of the neatest low-catches that had ever been seen in a Dominican match.
Chapter Fifteen.
A Lower School Festival.
“I tell you what, Wray,” said Oliver one evening about a week after the match, “I heartily wish this term was over.”
“Why, that’s just what I heard your young brother say. He is going to learn the bicycle, he says, in the holidays.”
“Oh, it’s not the holidays I want,” said Oliver. “But somehow things have gone all wrong. I’ve been off my luck completely this term.”