And a slip's the very man we want to make up the eleven for Rockshire." "My dear fellow," said Ashley, in tones almost of alarm, "you're surely not thinking of putting a fellow like that into the eleven." "I don't care much who goes in so long as he can play," said Bloomfield.
"But fancy the fellow's bumptiousness if he gets stuck into the team! He's bad enough as it is," said Ashley.
"We've got the schoolhouse fellows to look at," said Bloomfield, "_come_ along.

If they've any one better we'll take him, but we _must_ get hold of the best man." So off they went, and the Welchers' practice continued gaily till the bell for call-over sounded.
"Riddell," said Cusack, who had become captain's fag since the migration to Welch's, "there's a letter for you." "Where ?" asked the captain.
"On your table.

I saw it there when I was sticking away your pens just now." "You may as well bring it," said Riddell; "I am going to the library." So Cusack went off, and presently reappeared in the library with the letter.
Riddell was busy at the moment searching through the catalogue, and consequently let the letter lie unopened for some little time beside him.

In due time, however, he turned and took it up.
It was a strangely directed letter, at any rate--not in ordinary handwriting, but in printed characters, evidently to disguise the authorship.
Riddell hastily tore open the envelope of this mysterious missive and read the contents, which were also written like printing, in characters quite unrecognisable.
The letter was as follows: "Riddel,--If you want to get to the bottom of that boat-race affair, you had better see what Tom the boat-boy has to say.

That's all.".