and had since made prodigious scores in regimental cricket in India. In the first innings, nevertheless, he had shown want of practice and failed to score; hence this bustle to avoid the dreaded pair. He was rewarded by watching Swiller Wilman play an over from young Cave with ease, scoring three off the last ball, and then playing a maiden from Jan with more pains than confidence. The gallant soldier did indeed draw blood, with a sweeping swipe in the following over from the younger Cave. But the first ball he had from Jan was also his last; and the very next one was too much for ex-captain Bruce.
"I told you it'd all come back, Rutter," said Wilman with wry laughter at the bowler's end. "I'm sorry I commenced prophet quite so soon."
"It's the wicket," Jan explained genuinely enough. "I always liked a wicket like this—the least bit less than fast—but you've got its pace to a nicety."
"I wish I had yours. You're making them come as quick off the pitch as you did two years ago. I wish old Boots Ommaney was here again."
"I'd rather have him to bowl to than the next man in. Ommaney always plays like a book, but Swallow's the man to knock you off your length in the first over!"
Swallow looked that man as he came in grinning but square-jawed, with a kind of sunny storm-light in his keen, skilled eyes. It was capital fun to find this boy suddenly at his best again; good for the boy, better for the Eleven, and by no means bad for an old man of thirty-eight who was actually on the point of turning out once more for the Gentlemen at Lord's. Practice and the bowler apart, however, it would never do for the Old Boys to go to pieces after leading a rather weak school Eleven
