Then Jim, having recovered, took _his_ fling, and a rare fling it was, for Howe dodged him just as he was at the top of a kangaroo leap, and left him looking very foolish in a sitting posture on the ground.

However, in dodging, Howe had allowed me time to extricate my nose from the earth and make my third attempt.

This time was more successful, for I got my hands round the ball; but I shouldn't have kept them there if Jim hadn't taken the opportunity of executing another astounding buck-jump, which landed him safe on his man's shoulders, where he stuck like a scared cat on the back of a somnambulist.

So between us we brought our quarry to earth and gained no end of applause.

Wasn't it prime?
That's about all the news here, except that Willoughby is going to Trinity at Midsummer, and that Salter is laid up from the effects of an explosion of crackers in his trousers pockets.
"I've taken a turn at reading hard, which may astonish you.