Читать книгу A Lad of Mettle - Nat Gould - Страница 4

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The thrashing of Bully Rakes gave Edgar Foster a hold over the affections of his schoolfellows, and he never lost it. In twelve months he became captain of the eleven, and led them to victory on many occasions. Edgar worked hard, both at lessons and play. He found it much easier to study when his body was in good order, and his athletic exercises helped to make his school tasks the easier. He could not be called a brilliant scholar by any means, but he was endowed with an amount of perseverance that generally pulled him through.

‘It’s got to be done, and I’ll do it,’ Edgar thought to himself when pondering over a difficult task, and he generally succeeded.

The Redbank lads took a defeat from their great opponents, the eleven of Fairfield College, with a very bad grace. Not that they allowed their successful opponents to see their chagrin, they were too manly for that, but they felt the defeat keenly.

Edgar Foster determined to win the return match if possible. He had taken great care to select his eleven, and felt confident of success. He was the more eager to win because his father was coming to Redbank to watch the game. Dr. Hook too was anxious his boys should regain their lost laurels, and he encouraged Edgar by his kindly advice.

It so happened that Raymond Rakes, despite his many bad qualities, was a very fair cricketer. He had not been chosen to play in the first match against Fairfield, and he put his being left out of the team down to Edgar’s animosity.

Edgar Foster, however, was not actuated by any such motive. He thought Rakes hardly good enough, and therefore did not select him. Since this match Rakes had shown such good form that Edgar decided to include him in the eleven for the return match.

Bully Rakes was much surprised when Edgar asked him to play. He said he would think over the matter, and complained about not being chosen in the first match.

‘You had not shown good enough form then,’ said Edgar; ‘you have come on wonderfully since, and therefore I ask you to play. It is for the honour of the school we are playing this time, so you ought to have no hesitation.’

‘Then I’ll play,’ said Rakes, in his usual surly manner.

‘And I hope you will make a good score,’ said Edgar.

As the captain of the Redbank eleven walked away, Rakes looked after him with no friendly eyes. He had never forgotten the humiliating defeat he sustained when Edgar first came to the school. No opportunity had yet occurred of paying off the grudge he owed Edgar on that account.

‘He’s set his heart on winning this match,’ muttered Rakes to himself; ‘he’d have left me out again if he could. I’ve a good mind to spoil his plans. What does it matter whether we win or lose the match? I don’t care much which way it goes, and I’d like to see Foster taken down a peg or two. I’ll wait and see how our side shapes. I may be able to carry out a plan of my own.’

Had Edgar Foster doubted Rakes, he would not have asked him to play; but he could not understand any lad throwing away a chance of victory merely to spite the captain of the team. Such conduct Edgar would not have suspected even in Raymond Rakes.

‘So you’ve asked Rakes to play?’ said Will Brown, who had become a stanch friend of Edgar’s ever since the fight with Bully Rakes.

‘Yes,’ said Edgar. ‘He’s not a bad bat at all; he’s a fair field, and will do to put on for a change bowler. We must win the match. I’m awfully anxious about it. My father will be here, and there’s sure to be a big crowd of people. We have a good team, and I’m pretty confident this time.’

‘All the same, I should not have played Rakes,’ said Will Brown.

‘Why?’ asked Edgar.

‘Because I don’t trust him. He’s never forgiven you for licking him, and if he gets half a chance he’ll throw us over in the match, just to spite you,’ said Will.

Edgar looked at his schoolmate in surprise. He could not believe in any lad doing such a thing.

‘He’ll never do that,’ said Edgar. ‘Even if it is as you say, and he still bears me a grudge, he would never be such a cad as to throw the school over in order to annoy me.’

‘I hope he won’t, for your sake,’ said Will; ‘but all the same, I have my doubts.’

Will Brown’s words made Edgar feel uneasy for a time, but he soon forgot them. It was universally agreed that a better eleven could not have been chosen to meet Fairfield College. Masters were not to play; it was to be purely a boys’ match.

Early and late Edgar was at the cricket nets watching the practice and debating how he should send his team in to bat. For such a young lad, he had keen powers of observation, and he made a pretty accurate calculation as to the pluck and nerve of each boy. Edgar’s father arrived the day before the match, and saw the final practice.

‘You have a real good team,’ he said to his son, ‘and ought to win. Remember, a good deal depends upon the captain.’

‘I’m not likely to forget that,’ said Edgar. ‘You have often told me a good captain wins many a game at cricket.’

Robert Foster was proud of his son, and naturally felt anxious to see him successful.

‘How’s my lad doing?’ he had said to the head-master.

‘Well—very well,’ said Dr. Hook. ‘He is not a brilliant scholar, but he will get on in the world. He is like his father in one respect. He is about the best cricketer and all-round athlete we have in the school.’

Robert Foster’s eyes brightened, and he said:

‘I’m glad of that. I’m not a rich man, and my lad will have to fight his own battles. He has a great inclination to go abroad, and I don’t know that it will not be a good thing for him. His sister will be able to keep me from feeling lonely.’

Dr. Hook looked at Robert Foster with his kindly eyes, and replied:

‘Travel expands the mind. If a lad has plenty of ballast, he will take no harm in any part of the world. Your son is a lad of mettle, and you need have no fear about his future. If I am a judge of character, I should say Edgar Foster is a lad who will surmount difficulties and dangers, and he is bound to be a leader of men.’

Robert Foster was proud of the way in which the head-master spoke of his son. How little do thoughtless schoolboys know the pleasure a father feels in hearing praise bestowed upon his child, or of the pang he feels when the son he loves strays from the right path. Robert Foster loved his son devotedly, although he made very little demonstration of his affection, and Edgar thoroughly understood and appreciated the manly qualities of his father.

The eventful day arrived, and a glorious day it was. The sun shone brightly, and there was a slight cool breeze. Redbank cricket ground was charmingly situated. The pavilion was small, but there were several large trees growing at the back which afforded ample shade. The ground was level and well-kept, and the pitch had much care bestowed upon it. It was a great day at Redbank when this return match with Fairfield College was to be played. Flushed with the triumph of their previous victory, the Fairfield lads were eager for the fray, and had invited many friends to come and witness their further triumph. The captain of the Fairfield eleven, Harold Simpson, was almost as popular at Fairfield as Edgar Foster was at Redbank. The two captains had a mutual liking for each other, although each one was determined to beat the other in the great game they were about to play.

Edgar Foster lost the toss, and, as the ground was in such good order, Harold Simpson elected to send his men in first.

‘They are a strong batting team,’ said Edgar to his father. ‘It will take us some time to get rid of them.’

‘It is a one-day match, so you must do your level best to get them out quickly,’ said his father.

As the boys filed on to the field they were cheered by their comrades and the Redbank supporters, who had mustered in strong force.

Edgar Foster came in for a special share of applause, and he felt his pulses tingle and his heart beat high with hope as he bounded over the springy turf towards the wickets.

The two Fairfield batsmen were wildly cheered by their mates, and Harold Simpson decided on this occasion to go in first.

Will Brown and Sayers junior were put on to bowl.

An anxious moment is that during which the first ball in a match is delivered. The bowler goes back from the wicket, measuring his men; for a second or two he hesitates and looks round, then he glances at the batsman, sees all is ready, and prepares for the delivery. As he takes his run to the wicket the spectators hold their breath. Will this first ball be fatal? A sigh of relief goes round as the batsman plays it well forward.

Harold Simpson failed to score in Brown’s first over. Sayers junior then took the ball, and his first delivery made the bails fly, much to the delight of the Redbank boys, who shouted and cheered vociferously.

Edgar Foster felt they had commenced well, and was anxious for the good-fortune to continue. The Fairfield boys were determined bats, and a long stand took place before the second batsman was got rid of.

Harold Simpson still kept his wicket up, and runs came freely. At the fall of the fifth wicket Fairfield had put a hundred runs on, of which the captain had made forty.

Edgar Foster went on to bowl. He was not such a good bowler as Rakes, who thought he ought to have been tried before, and looked sullen.

In his first over Harold Simpson skied a ball to Raymond Rakes. It was an easy catch, but Rakes missed it, and so clumsily that the boys jeered at him.

Will Brown, who had been watching him, thought:

‘He dropped that on purpose, because Edgar bowled it.’

Nothing daunted at this stroke of bad luck, Edgar sent another similar ball down. Harold Simpson hesitated for a moment as to what he should do with it; then he struck out, and, strange to say, the ball went to Rakes again.

It was not such an easy catch as the former one, but, still, there ought to have been very little difficulty in a good fielder securing it. Rakes fumbled it badly, and again missed the catch.

Edgar Foster could not help thinking of what Will Brown had said to him. He was very much annoyed, and at the conclusion of his over said to Rakes:

‘Those were two easy catches to miss; they may cost us the match.’

‘They were not as easy as they looked,’ said Rakes. ‘You don’t suppose I dropped them on purpose, do you?’

‘I should be very sorry to think that,’ said Edgar; ‘but be more careful next time.’

At last Will Brown secured Harold Simpson’s wicket, and the others followed rapidly, the innings closing for a hundred and thirty-four, a good score in a one-day school match.

‘What do you think of it, Edgar?’ asked his father. ‘Shall you be able to wipe that off?’

‘I think so,’ replied Edgar. ‘We should have had a much easier task had Rakes held those two catches off my bowling.’

‘He made an awful mess of them,’ said Robert Foster. ‘How he dropped the first puzzles me; he had it fairly in his hands.’

‘Look here, Edgar!’ said Will Brown. ‘It’s no use mincing matters. I’m sure Rakes missed those catches purposely. When are you going to send him in?’

‘About seventh,’ said Edgar.

‘Put him in last,’ said Will.

‘That would only make matters worse,’ said Edgar; ‘he would know I doubted him, and act accordingly. He shall go in sixth wicket down. It will give him a chance of making up for missing those catches.’

‘As you wish,’ said Will. ‘Mind, if you are in with him, he does not run you out.’

‘No fear of that,’ said Edgar, laughing.

And he crossed over to speak to Raymond Rakes.

‘You go in sixth wicket down,’ he said.

‘All right,’ replied Rakes, ‘that will suit me.’

‘We’ve not been very good friends,’ said Edgar, ‘but you know it is not my fault. We want to win this match, and it may be that your batting will turn the scale in our favour at a critical point of the game. I shall rely upon you to do your best for the honour of the school. You missed two very easy catches; try and make up for it by playing your best when you go in to bat.’

‘I always do,’ said Rakes sulkily, and walked away.

Edgar Foster felt rather sorry he had included Raymond Rakes in the Redbank eleven.