"What on earth's the
matter with you? Play up, School!"
Jim stopped short a moment--and burst out laughing, Wally's indignant
face glanced back over his shoulder as he ran off. There was a new
spring in the bowler's walk as he went to his crease, and the smile
still lingered.
The left-handed man faced him confidently--not many local bowlers could
trouble him much, and being a large and well-whiskered gentleman, the
tall schoolboy opposite to him sent no thrill of fear through his soul.
But Jim had learned a thing or two at school about left-handed bats. He
took a short run.
On returning to the pavilion the whiskered one admitted that he knew
really nothing about the ball. It seemed to come from nowhere, and curl
about his bat as he lifted it to strike. How the bails came off was a
mystery to him, though it was unfortunately beyond question that they
had not remained on. The left-hander removed his pads, ruminating.
Cunjee, meanwhile, had cheered frantically, and Wally sent a School
yell ringing down the field. Jim's eye lit up anew as he heard it.
"I do believe I've been asleep," he muttered.
The new man was waiting for him, and he treated his first two balls
with respect. Then he grew bolder; hit him for a single, and snicked
him to the fence for four.
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