Challis’s first over realised a single, Wayburn snicking him to leg. The first ball of Kennedy’s second over saw him caught at the wicket, as Walton had been.
“Every time a coconut,” said Jimmy Silver complacently, as he walked to the other end. “We’re a powerful combination, Kennedy. Where’s Fenn? Does anybody know? Why doesn’t he come in?”
Billy Silver, seated on the grass by the side of the crease, fastening the top strap of one of his pads, gave tongue with the eagerness of the well-informed man.
“What, don’t you know?” he said. “Why, there’s been an awful row. Fenn won’t be able to play till four o’clock. I believe he and Kay had a row last night, and he cheeked Kay, and the old man’s given him a sort of extra. I saw him going over to the School House, and I heard him tell Wayburn that he wouldn’t be able to play till four.”
The effect produced by this communication would be most fittingly expressed by the word “sensation” in brackets. It came as a complete surprise to everyone. It seemed to knock the bottom out of the whole match. Without Fenn the thing would be a farce. Kay’s would have no chance.
“What a worm that man is,” said Kennedy. “Do you know, I had a sort of idea Fenn wouldn’t last out much longer. Kay’s been ragging him all the term. I went round to see him last night, and Kay behaved like a bounder then. I expect Fenn had it out with him when they got indoors. What a beastly shame, though.”
“Beastly,” agreed Jimmy Silver. “Still, it can’t be helped. The sins of the housemaster are visited on the house. I’m afraid it will be our painful duty to wipe the floor with Kay’s this day. Speaking at a venture, I should say that we have got them where the hair’s short. Yea. Even on toast, if I may be allowed to use the expression. Who is this coming forth now? Curtis, or me old eyes deceive me. And is not Curtis’s record score three, marred by ten chances? Indeed yes. A fastish yorker should settle Curtis’s young hash. Try one.”
Kennedy followed the recipe. A ball later the middle and leg stumps were lying in picturesque attitudes some yards behind the crease, and Curtis was beginning that “sad, unending walk to the pavilion,” thinking, with the poet,
“Thou wast not made to play, infernal ball!”
Blackburn’s noncombatants, dotted round the boundary, shrieked their applause. Three wickets had fallen for five runs, and life was worth living. Kay’s were silent and gloomy.
Billy Silver continued to occupy one end in an immovable manner, but at the other there was no monotony. Man after man came in, padded and gloved, and looking capable of mighty things. They took guard, patted the ground lustily, as if to make it plain that they were going to stand no nonsense, settled their caps over their eyes, and prepared to receive the ball. When it came it usually took a stump or two with it before it stopped. It was a procession such as the school grounds had not often seen. As the tenth man walked from the pavilion, four sounded from the clock over the Great Hall, and five minutes later the weary eyes of the supporters of Kay’s were refreshed by the sight of Fenn making his way to the arena from the direction of the School House.
Just as he arrived on the scene, Billy Silver’s defence broke down. One of Challis’s slows, which he had left alone with the idea that it was going to break away to the off, came in quickly instead, and removed a bail. Billy Silver had only made eight; but, as the full score, including one bye, was only eighteen, this was above the average, and deserved the applause it received.
Fenn came in in the unusual position of eleventh man, with an expression on his face that seemed to suggest that he meant business. He was curiously garbed. Owing to the shortness of the interval allowed him for changing, he had only managed to extend his cricket costume as far as white buckskin boots. He wore no pads or gloves. But even in the face of these sartorial deficiencies, he looked like a cricketer. The field spread out respectfully, and Jimmy Silver moved a man from the slips into the country.
There were three more balls of Challis’s over, for Billy Silver’s collapse had occurred at the third delivery. Fenn mistimed the first. Two hours’ writing indoors does not improve the eye. The ball missed the leg stump by an inch.
About the fifth ball he made no mistake. He got the full face of the bat to it, and it hummed past coverpoint to the boundary. The last of the over he put to leg for three.
A remarkable last-wicket partnership now took place, remarkable not so much for tall scoring as for the fact that one of the partners did not receive a single ball from beginning to end of it, with the exception of the one that bowled him. Fenn seemed to be able to do what he pleased with the bowling. Kennedy he played with a shade more respect than the others, but he never failed to score a three or a single off the last ball of each of his overs. The figures on the telegraph-board rose from twenty to thirty, from thirty to forty, from forty to fifty. Williams went on at the lower end instead of Challis, and Fenn made twelve off his first over. The pavilion was filled with howling enthusiasts, who cheered every hit in a frenzy.
Jimmy Silver began to look worried. He held a hasty consultation with Kennedy. The telegraph-board now showed the figures 60—9—8.
“This won’t do,” said Silver. “It would be too foul to get licked after having nine of them out for eighteen. Can’t you manage to keep Fenn from scoring odd
