The second innings of Rockshire differed very little from the first. The steady man went in first, and bothered every bowler the school could bring against him; and, having had one lesson, he took good care not to give himself another, and rather avoided slip for the future. So that Riddell had a quiet time of it, fielding the few balls that came to him steadily and promptly, but otherwise not figuring prominently in the downfall of any wicket.
It was half-past four before Rockshire finally retired with a total for their second innings of ninety-nine, leaving the school boys with eighty runs to obtain to win.
It was not a formidable total after their first-innings performance, but at the outset a calamity happened enough to depress the hopes of any Willoughbite.
Bloomfield had gone in first with every intention of breaking the ice effectually for his side. What, therefore, was the consternation of everybody when, after neatly blocking the first ball, he was clean bowled for a duck’s-egg by the second! Willoughby literally howled with disappointment, and gave itself up to despair as it saw its captain and champion retreating slowly back to the tent, trailing his bat behind him, and not daring to look up at the hideous “0” on the telegraph board.
But hope was at hand, though Parrett’s was not to supply it. Coates and Crossfield, who were now together, made a most unexpected and stubborn stand. They even scored freely, and the longer they held together the harder it was to part them. The reviving hopes of the Rockshire partisans gradually died out before this awkward combination, and Game and Ashley and Tipper, as they sat and watched this spirited performance by the two schoolhouse boys, felt their triumph for the school utterly swamped in the still more signal victory which the despised house was achieving over them.
The score, amid terrific cheering, went up to fifty-two before a separation could be effected. Then Coates was caught at long-leg, and retired, covered with glory, in favour of Tipper.
Alas for Parrett’s! Tipper, in whom their forlorn hopes rested, was run out during his first over, while attempting to snatch a bye!
It was an anxious moment while Bloomfield was deciding whom next to send in. There was still thirty runs to make, but unless he took care the whole innings might be muddled away in the getting of them.
“You go in, Fairbairn,” said the captain.
The Parretts felt their fate to be sealed hopelessly. Had Game been sent in he might still have done something for Parrett’s, but now his chance might never come.
It did not come. Fairbairn joined Crossfield, and the two did just what they liked with the bowling. As the score shot up from fifty to sixty and from sixty to seventy, the school became perfectly hoarse with cheering. Even most of the partisans of Parrett’s, sorely as the match was going against them, could not help joining in the applause now that the prospect of the school winning by seven wickets had become a probability.
Up went the score — another three for Fairbairn — another two for Crossfield — seventy-five — then next moment a terrific cheer greeted a four by Fairbairn, which brought the numbers equal; and before the figures were well registered another drive settled the question, and Willoughby had beaten Rockshire by seven wickets!
Chapter Twenty Five
“Am I My Brother’s Keeper?”
The evening of the Rockshire match was one of strangely conflicting emotions in Willoughby.
In the schoolhouse the jubilation was beyond bounds, and the victory of the school was swallowed up in the glorious exploits of the five schoolhouse heroes, who had, so their admirers declared, as good as won the match among them, and had vindicated themselves from the reproach of degeneracy, and once for all wiped away the hateful stigma of the boat-race. The night was spent till bedtime in one prolonged cheer in honour of their heroes, who were glad enough to hide anywhere to escape the mobbing they came in for whenever they showed their faces.
In Parrett’s house the festivities were of a far more subdued order. As Willoughbites they were, of course, bound to rejoice in the victory of the old school. But at what cost did they do it? For had not that very victory meant also the overthrow of their reign in Willoughby. No reasoning or excusing could do away with the fact that after all their boasting, and all their assumed superiority, they had taken considerably less than half the wickets, secured considerably less than a third of the catches, and scored considerably less than a quarter of the runs by which the match had been won. Their captain had been bowled for a duck’s-egg. Their best bowlers had been knocked about by the very batsmen whom the schoolhouse bowlers had dispatched with ease.
It was vain to attempt to account for it, to assert that the schoolhouse had had the best of the luck: that the light had favoured them; or that just when they happened to bowl the Rockshire men had got careless. Even such stick-at-nothing enthusiasts as Parson, Bosher, and Co., couldn’t make a case of it, and were forced to admit with deep mortification that the glory had departed from Parrett’s, at any rate for a season.
Perhaps the most patriotic rejoicings that evening were in Welch’s house. They cared but little about the rivalry between Parrett’s, and the schoolhouse, and were therefore free to exult as Willoughbites pure and simple, bestowing, of course, a special cheer on their own man, Riddell, who, though not having performed prodigies, had yet done honest work for his eleven, and at any rate made one smart catch.
“I tell you what,” said Fairbairn, who along with Coates and Porter had escaped from the violent applause of the schoolhouse and sought refuge that evening in the captain’s study—“I tell you what, I’m getting perfectly sick of this everlasting schoolhouse against Parrett business.”
“So am I,” said Porter. “As if they need go into the sulks because our fellows did better than they did!”
“They’ve brought it on themselves, anyhow,” said Coates, “and it may do them good to have to sing small for once.”
“I’m afraid if it had been the other way our fellows would have been just as much cut up as theirs are,” said Fairbairn. “Upon my word I half envy you, Riddell, old man, being a Welcher.”
Riddell smiled.
“Our fellows certainly consider themselves free to abuse or cheer all round, without the least partiality. Listen to them now.”
And certainly the hubbub that was going on was a trifle outrageous, even for Welchers.
Indeed it was so outrageous that Riddell was obliged to ask his visitors to excuse him for a moment while he went and quieted them.
As he opened the door of the preparation-room, where the house was assembled, a louder cheer than ever arose in his honour; and then those who waited in the study heard a general lull in the noise, which continued in subdued animation after he had left the scene and returned to his friends.
This casual illustration of the captain’s influence in his new house was quite a revelation to the three schoolhouse monitors.
“Why, what do you do to them to shut them up like that?” asked Coates, with something like envy in his tones. “It takes half an hour’s bawling to stop a row like that in our house, and a licking or two into the bargain; doesn’t it, you fellows?”
Riddell laughed.
“They are cricket-mad at present,” said he, “and I suppose they’re afraid of having their match against Parrett’s stopped.”
It was a modest way, no doubt, of accounting for their obedience to his authority; but whatever the reason might be, it was certain the captain had no further occasion to interfere that evening.