That night Boddy and Catman paced in the bedchambers, to prevent plotting and conspiracy, they said.

I longed to get my arms about Heriot, and thought of him, and dreamed of blood, and woke in the morning wondering what made me cry, and my arms and back very stiff.

Heriot was gay as ever, but had fits of reserve; the word passed round that we were not to talk of yesterday evening.

We feared he would refuse to play in the match.
'Why not ?' said he, staring at us angrily.

'Has Saddlebank broken his arm, and can't bowl ?' No, Saddlebank was in excellent trim, though shamefaced, as was Salter, and most of the big boys were.