Smallwick lost the toss and went out to field, and, as one of their players had not arrived, Rankin went with them as a substitute.
We lost three wickets for only ten runs, and then I went in. It was one of my rare cricket days. I felt, I knew, that I should make runs—not much more than twenty, of course, but then twenty is a big score for Littleborough. And I felt like twenty at least.
Rankin was fielding at deep long-on, close to the tent; but they had no one at square leg, which is my special direction on my twenty days. Presently the bowler offered me a full pitch on the leg side. I timed it successfully, and had no doubt of having added four to my score, when, to my astonishment, I saw a fieldsman running from the direction of the hedge. The next moment he had brought off a very creditable catch.
It did not dawn on me at first that this was their eleventh man, arrived at that moment. When it did, I could not help laughing to think that he should imagine he could rush in like that while his substitute was still fielding. Then I heard the bowler appeal to the umpire, and to my horror I heard the umpire (their umpire) say "Out."
"But they can't have twelve men fielding," I cried. "The substitute is still there."
"You're out, Sir," said the umpire haughtily. "The substitoot has already retired. 'E's standing there watching the game with 'is 'ands in 'is pockets."
A Self-Starter.
"Born of an Iris moter and a Scots father, in Chicago, U.S.A., Mr. ——'s ability for the stage developed very early."—New Zealand Paper.