If the day happens to be fine, there is a curious, dream-likeatmosphere about the opening stages of a first eleven match.

　　Everything seems hushed and expectant. The rest of the school havegone in after the interval at eleven o'clock, and you are alone on thegrounds with a cricket-bag. The only signs of life are a fewpedestrians on the road beyond the railings and one or two blazer andflannel-clad forms in the pavilion. The sense of isolation is tryingto the nerves, and a school team usually bats 25 per cent. betterafter lunch, when the strangeness has worn off.

　　Mike walked across from Wain's, where he had changed, feeling quitehollow. He could almost have cried with pure fright. Bob had shoutedafter him from a window as he passed Donaldson's, to wait, so thatthey could walk over together; but conversation was the last thingMike desired at that moment.

　　He had almost reached the pavilion when one of the M.C.C. team camedown the steps, saw him, and stopped dead.

　　"By Jove, Saunders!" cried Mike.

　　"Why, Master Mike!"The professional beamed, and quite suddenly, the lost, hopelessfeeling left Mike. He felt as cheerful as if he and Saunders had metin the meadow at home, and were just going to begin a little quietnet-practice.

　　"Why, Master Mike, you don't mean to say you're playing for the schoolalready?"Mike nodded happily.

　　"Isn't it ripping," he said.

　　Saunders slapped his leg in a sort of ecstasy.

　　"Didn't I always say it, sir," he chuckled. "Wasn't I right? I used tosay to myself it 'ud be a pretty good school team that 'ud leave youout.""Of course, I'm only playing as a sub., you know. Three chaps are inextra, and I got one of the places.""Well, you'll make a hundred to-day, Master Mike, and then they'llhave to put you in.""Wish I could!""Master Joe's come down with the Club," said Saunders.

　　"Joe! Has he really? How ripping! Hullo, here he is. Hullo, Joe?"The greatest of all the Jacksons was descending the pavilion stepswith the gravity befitting an All England batsman. He stopped short,as Saunders had done.

　　"Mike! You aren't playing!""Yes.""Well, I'm hanged! Young marvel, isn't he, Saunders?""He is, sir," said Saunders. "Got all the strokes. I always said it,Master Joe. Only wants the strength."Joe took Mike by the shoulder, and walked him off in the direction ofa man in a Zingari blazer who was bowling slows to another of theM.C.C. team. Mike recognised him with awe as one of the three bestamateur wicket-keepers in the country.

　　"What do you think of this?" said Joe, exhibiting Mike, who grinnedbashfully. "Aged ten last birthday, and playing for the school. Youare only ten, aren't you, Mike?""Brother of yours?" asked the wicket-keeper.

　　"Probably too proud to own the relationship, but he is.""Isn't there any end to you Jacksons?" demanded the wicket-keeper inan aggrieved tone. "I never saw such a family.""This is our star. You wait till he gets at us to-day. Saunders is ouronly bowler, and Mike's been brought up on Saunders. You'd better winthe toss if you want a chance of getting a knock and lifting youraverage out of the minuses.""I _have_ won the toss," said the other with dignity. "Do youthink I don't know the elementary duties of a captain?"* * * * *The school went out to field with mixed feelings. The wicket was hardand true, which would have made it pleasant to be going in first. Onthe other hand, they would feel decidedly better and fitter forcenturies after the game had been in progress an hour or so. Burgesswas glad as a private individual, sorry as a captain. For himself, thesooner he got hold of the ball and began to bowl the better he likedit. As a captain, he realised that a side with Joe Jackson on it, notto mention the other first-class men, was not a side to which he wouldhave preferred to give away an advantage. Mike was feeling that by nopossibility could he hold the simplest catch, and hoping that nothingwould come his way. Bob, conscious of being an uncertain field, wasfeeling just the same.

　　The M.C.C. opened with Joe and a man in an Oxford Authentic cap. Thebeginning of the game was quiet. Burgess's yorker was nearly too muchfor the latter in the first over, but he contrived to chop it away,and the pair gradually settled down. At twenty, Joe began to open hisshoulders. Twenty became forty with disturbing swiftness, and Burgesstried a change of bowling.

　　It seemed for one instant as if the move had been a success, for Joe,still taking risks, tried to late-cut a rising ball, and snickedit straight into Bob's hands at second slip. It was the easiestof slip-catches, but Bob fumbled it, dropped it, almost held it asecond time, and finally let it fall miserably to the ground. It wasa moment too painful for words. He rolled the ball back to the bowlerin silence.

　　One of those weary periods followed when the batsman's defence seemsto the fieldsmen absolutely impregnable. There was a sickeninginevitableness in the way in which every ball was played with the verycentre of the bat. And, as usual, just when things seemed mosthopeless, relief came. The Authentic, getting in front of his wicket,to pull one of the simplest long-hops ever seen on a cricket field,missed it, and was l.b.w. And the next ball upset the newcomer's legstump.

　　The school revived. Bowlers and field were infused with a new life.

　　Another wicket--two stumps knocked out of the ground by Burgess--helpedthe thing on. When the bell rang for the end of morning school, fivewickets were down for a hundred and thirteen.

　　But from the end of school till lunch things went very wrong indeed.

　　Joe was still in at one end, invincible; and at the other was thegreat wicket-keeper. And the pair of them suddenly began to force thepace till the bowling was in a tangled knot. Four after four, allround the wicket, with never a chance or a mishit to vary themonotony. Two hundred went up, and two hundred and fifty. Then Joereached his century, and was stumped next ball. Then came lunch.

　　The rest of the innings was like the gentle rain after thethunderstorm. Runs came with fair regularity, but wickets fell atintervals, and when the wicket-keeper was run out at length for alively sixty-three, the end was very near. Saunders, coming in last,hit two boundaries, and was then caught by Mike. His second hit hadjust lifted the M.C.C. total over the three hundred.

　　* * * * *Three hundred is a score that takes some making on any ground, but ona fine day it was not an unusual total for the Wrykyn eleven. Someyears before, against Ripton, they had run up four hundred andsixteen; and only last season had massacred a very weak team of OldWrykynians with a score that only just missed the fourth hundred.

　　Unfortunately, on the present occasion, there was scarcely time,unless the bowling happened to get completely collared, to make theruns. It was a quarter to four when the innings began, and stumps wereto be drawn at a quarter to seven. A hundred an hour is quick work.

　　Burgess, however, was optimistic, as usual. "Better have a go forthem," he said to Berridge and Marsh, the school first pair.

　　Following out this courageous advice, Berridge, after hitting threeboundaries in his first two overs, was stumped half-way through thethird.

　　After this, things settled down. Morris, the first-wicket man, was athoroughly sound bat, a little on the slow side, but exceedingly hardto shift. He and Marsh proceeded to play themselves in, until itlooked as if they were likely to stay till the drawing............