Ernest Bracebridge: School Days

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“Capital! well done, Ellis!” shouted many of the fellows, both players and lookers-on; and away he ran, and performed a whole circle.

Ernest determined to play his best, so as to keep Ellis in as long as possible. He was sure, from what he saw, that his success would give him encouragement, not only to play other games, but to mix more sociably with his schoolfellows. Ernest played capitally, but Ellis scored almost as many, to the surprise of those who fancied that he could not play at all. Few would have believed that he was the same awkward, shy boy, who was usually creeping about the play-ground, as they saw him, with a high colour and full of animation, hitting ball after ball with all his might, and cutting away round the bases. At last, one of their side was caught out, and Buttar went in. He was a good player, and added considerably to the numbers scored by his side. Still, as both Dawson and Bouldon were capital players, and so were most of their side, Ernest did his utmost to get as many runs as possible, at the same time that he wanted to make Ellis feel that he had himself contributed largely to the victory. Every time Ellis made a good hit, he praised him loudly, and certainly felt more pleasure than if he had done well himself. Poor Ellis had never been so happy since he was a child. He began to feel that, after all, he need not fancy himself less capable than his companions to enter into the usual sports of the school. At last, Buttar was struck out, and so was another player, and Ernest and Ellis alone were kept in. The latter could scarcely believe his senses, when he found himself the only person to help Ernest to keep up the game. Ernest was in the home; Ellis was on the base at the opposite side. He knew that he must run hard, or he would put Ernest out as well as himself.

“Now, Tom, two fair hits for the rounder,” exclaimed Ernest.

The proposal was agreed to. Bouldon kept tossing the ball several times, but Ernest refused to hit. At last he hit, but did not run, and Ellis very nearly got out by attempting to do so. The next time he hit, and hit hard indeed. Away flew the ball further than ever, to the very end of the field.

“Now, Ellis, run! run!” he sang out.

Ellis moved his legs faster than he had ever before done, and shouted and shrieked with delight when Ernest made the round in safety. Thus the game continued. Ellis appeared to have a charmed existence as far as the game was concerned. Nothing could put him out. More than once his balls seemed to slip through the very fingers of those about to catch them.

“I say, Bracebridge, are you going to be out or not, this evening?” exclaimed Tom, getting positively tired of feeding.

“Not if Ellis and I can help it,” was the answer. “We’ve taken a fancy to have a long innings, do you see?”

So it seemed, in truth; and the tea-bell positively rang while they were still in. By the custom of our school, a game of that minor description was then considered over; and the two new friends went into the tea-room together in a very triumphant state of mind.

“I told you, Ellis, you could do whatever you tried, just as well as other fellows,” said Ernest, as he sat by him at tea. “Now I must show you how to play cricket, and hockey, and football, and fives, and all sorts of games. To-morrow we’ll have a little quiet practice at cricket with single wicket, and I’ll wager by the summer that you’ll be able to play in a match with any fellows of our size.”