by Carol Norton
*CHAPTER IV*
*THE GREAT MATCH*
"God bless the grilling days of cricket! They're gone but I shall bless them ever, For good it is to guard a wicket By sudden wrist and big endeavour." NORMAN GALE.
"There's a breathless hush in the close to night, Ten to make and the match to win, A bumping pitch and a blinding light, An hour to play and the last man in." HENRY NEWBOLT.
"Hawkins, stand out!"
"Please, sir, I wasn't doin' nothin'!"
"No, you wasn't doin' nothin', but you have been talking all morning,you tiresome boy! Write out 'disobedient' three hundred times afterschool."
The fact is, Tom was relating the bushranging episode to a schoolmate,and, like Tom Sawyer, he "laid over" considerably in his recital. Whilein the act of enlarging he was brought to book in this peremptoryfashion by the master, and had to do penance with as little relish asmost boys.
"Sorry you can't come out and play, Tom," said Joe Blain, poking hishead into the empty schoolhouse after dismissal.
"It's a beastly shame! What are you fellows up to?"
"Goin' to practise for the Dingdongla match. After that we'll have aswim."
"Oh, rot it!" grunted the chagrined prisoner.
"Say, Tom, don't forget to come along to-night an' help pick the team."
"I'll be there, never fret."
"Well, so-long. Wire in, and keep your pecker up."
Dingdongla was an up-river settlement; Tareela a down-river town. Thelatter named was the older and more substantial place, being theheadquarters of the shipping. As a consequence it was instinct with thesuperior air generally to be met with in places of metropolitanpretensions. In schools, too, the down-river town had the advantage.Its school building was of sawn timber, with a shingle roof.Furthermore, it possessed two teachers, and pine desks. While, on theother hand, the up-river academy was constructed of roughly adzed slabsand a bark roof.
For the Dingdonglas to be thrashed in cricket by the Tareelians was notconsidered to be a disgrace. _Per contra_, their victory was a splendidachievement, and a great humiliation to their opponents. The latter wasfairly beaten by the former last season, and naught would restore theirprestige save the administration of an unmitigated licking. So, atleast, thought the match Committee, as they conned names, and analysedthe merits of the candidates on the name list.
Needless to say, Joe, Tom, and Sandy headed the list of certainties.Yellow Billy came next; for though a very irregular attendant at school,he was a tremendous swiper when he got his eye in. Billy had draggedmore than one match out of the fire.
Saturday morning broke fair. Shortly after an early breakfast acavalcade of about twenty youthful horsemen, followed by two teachers ina gig, were scampering along the bush road to Dingdongla, distant aboutnine miles up the river. Oh, the merry, merry days of youth! Those arethe days of the superlative mood.
It was a merry, roaring, romping, racing crowd of youngsters that torealong the bush track. They jumped fallen timber and gullies; chased theflying marsupial; and spurted in couples for short lengths. There wereminor accidents, 'tis true. Pincher Putnan's horse, in a fit ofpig-jumping, broke a girth, sending Pincher and saddle to mother earth.Yellow Billy's half-broken brumby fairly bolted in a race, cleared offthe road, and rushed through a belt of timber at breakneck speed,towards his native haunts in the Nulla ranges. It was only the superbhorsemanship of the half-caste that saved him from being dashed againstthe trees in the headlong flight.
In due time Dingdongla is reached. The horses are turned out in a maizestubble paddock, where is a fine picking, and the boys stroll on to theground to have a look at the pitch.
"Whatyer think of the pitch, Joe?"
"You'll have to keep your eye skinned for shooters Rody. The ball'llkeep very low. Must keep a straight bat and forward play."
The stumps, like much of the material, were home-made. The Dingdonglashad only one "spring handle"; the others were chopped out of beechboards. The Tareelians were not much better off for material. They, itis true, had two "spring handles,"--more or less battered,--and couldboast a pair of wicket gloves, but for the rest were like theiropponents, sans leggings and gloves. That, however, was a small item;for every boy who possessed boots doffed them, rolling his trouser legsto the knees and his shirt sleeves to the elbows.
"Got all your men, Wilson?" said Joe to the Dingdonglas' captain.
"Yes, they're all here. May as well toss for innin's, Joe."
"Right you are," responds Joe, ejecting a jet of saliva on a piece offlat wood. "Shall I toss, or you?"
"You toss, Joe."
"Call you!" cried Blain, tossing the board with a twirl skywards. "Wetor dry?"
"Wet!" called Wilson, as the wood spun in the air.
"Dry!" exclaimed Joe, as it lay on the ground with its dry sideuppermost. "We've won, and go in."
"Tom," said he a moment later, "you and Yellow Billy go in first, an'you take the strike."
The batsmen were soon in their places, and the Dingdongs in the field.The innings opened fairly well for the Tareelians. Yellow Billy gotquickly to work, and laid on the wood to some purpose; Tom playingcarefully the while.
Facing the Dingdonglas' swift bowler, after a smart short-hit run Billysent a well-pitched ball for four, a rattling, straight-hit drive. Butin trying to repeat the stroke off the next ball he misjudged, and,skying the sphere, was easily caught.
"One wicket for twenty!" of which the half-caste contributed fifteen.
After this the troubles of the batsmen set in. The Dingdongs werestrong in bowling talent, and possessed a local Spofforth, whoselightning deliveries shot and kicked in a marvellous fashion. Joe,going in fifth man, stayed the "rot" for a while, but was foolishly runout by his mate.
The Tareelians were all out in an hour for the small total offorty-seven. If the down-river boys were despondent over this score,the up-rivers were correspondingly jubilant. Going to the wickets withplenty of confidence, they rattled up ninety-nine before the last wicketfell; the captain carrying out his bat for a well-earned forty-two.
Adjournment for lunch was now made. We call it lunch by courtesy. Itwas a big bush feed. This repast was served in the schoolhouse, therough desks being converted into tables, which were literally coveredwith good things.
The Dingdonglas' mothers were determined that, whoever won, the boys ofboth sides should have a rippin' feed. A stuffed sucking-pig, whosesavoury odour filled the room, lay at one end. Roast wild duck and acold pigeon-pie balanced it at the other. An immense round of spicedbeef, standing in the centre of the long table, seemed to say: "You maycut and come again." Potatoes and pumpkins smoked in big tin bowls, andall the available space was filled with cakes, puddings, and pies.Needless to say, the onslaught was terrific. They were all sloggers attuck. Meats, puddings, cakes, tea, and ginger-beer disappeared likemagic.
All good things mundane, however, come to an end; especially when thegood thing happens to be a dinner. And now, after divers whisperings andnudgings, up stood Captain Joe, amid the cheers of his side.
Joe was silent a moment, nervously looking up and down the board, andheartily wishing himself at the bottom of the deep blue sea. "Mr.Chairman" (addressing the local schoolmaster), "I--we--that is--usfellows from Tareela asked me to tell you--I mean to say,that--that--that--a--it gives us much pleasure--er--er--oh, hang itall!--I--I mean--er--this is the jolliest blow in the way of tuck we'veever had." Joe subsided to the rattle of the knives on the bare board.As soon as the noise ceased, Tom Hawkins jumped up and called: "Threecheers for the Dingdonglas!" which were heartily given.
Half an hour's lounge, and the battle began afresh.
"We've got fifty-two to wipe out before we start even, boys. We can doit, and score plenty more to win the game, if we keep our heads.Anyway, we must have a big try. Billy an' I'll go in first; Tom next,and then Pincher.
The order of the rest of you depends on the waythings turn out."
"Look here, Billy," continued the captain, as the two batsmen walked tothe wickets. "They've got two slashing bowlers, but if we can manage toknock 'em out they've no one else of much account. Get your eye well inbefore you do any slogging."
"All right, Joe! Do me best."
"Your best means steady play and a big score. I'll take the strike."
If Joe was nervous in public speech it was not observable in action. Heplayed Ginger Smith's fast deliveries with confidence, punishing theloose balls and blocking the straight ones. Billy, too, was playingwith unwonted caution, and the score, though slowly, was surely mountingup; until after half an hour's play it stood at twenty-five, with nowickets down. There were no boundaries, and every hit was run out.
"Oh, glory, what a swipe!"
Yellow Billy had got hold of one of Ginger's leg balls with a mightylunge. The ball seemed as if it would go on for ever, and finallyrolled into a gutter. They ran six for it.
There was great cheering among the Tareelians. Mr. Simpson, who umpired,forgot for a moment his impartial office. Flinging his hat into theair, he cried, "Bravo, Billy!"
"Thirty-one an' none out. Only twenty-one to get level!"
The boys were now scoring faster; singles, twos, threes were coming withgreat rapidity. Joe made his first four, a sweet, square cut.
"Forty-nine an' no wickets down!"
Joe faced the new bowler. The local demon had begun to bowl wildly, andwas relieved.
"They'll never bowl them!" cried young Ben Wilde, as Joe took block forthe new-comer--a lad with a reputation for slow left-hand twisters. Thefirst ball was pitched on the leg stump; just the ball for Joe'sfavourite leg glance.
It went for two.
"Only one to make us even!" shouted Tom to his captain. The second ballwas pitched in exactly the same spot, and Joe proceeded to treat it inthe same fashion. The sphere, however, had a little more twist on itthan its predecessor, and, breaking on to the left bail, flicked it off.
There was a great chorus of disappointment among the Tareelians, andhearty cheers from their opponents, as the captain's wicket fell. Histwenty-one, got by true cricket, was worth twice that number by reasonof the spirit of confidence he had infused.
Billy and Tom carried the score to seventy-three, when the latter wascaught for ten. Pincher fell a victim to a very simple ball from anunder-hand lob bowler, after making seven. Sandy gave the bowlers sometrouble, and got into double figures before he retired. All this whileBilly was scoring well, and, when Sandy's wicket fell, had made fiftyruns. All the boys scored less or more; and when the innings closed hadcompiled a total of one hundred and thirty-seven, of which Billy madeseventy-one and not out. This was a grand achievement, and thehalf-caste was carried off the ground amid great applause.
This left the Dingdongs eighty-six runs to win, which they failed to doby seventeen runs, Sleepy Sam stumping no less than three off youngBen's slow lobs.
There was great cheering as the victorious cricketers rode in the duskof the evening through the main street of Tareela, after a grand day'sfun.