Burgess walked off the ground feeling that fate was not using himwell.

　　Here was he, a well-meaning youth who wanted to be on good terms withall the world, being jockeyed into slaughtering a kid whose batting headmired and whom personally he liked. And the worst of it was that hesympathised with Mike. He knew what it felt like to be run out justwhen one had got set, and he knew exactly how maddening the Gazeka'smanner would be on such an occasion. On the other hand, officially hewas bound to support the head of Wain's. Prefects must stand togetheror chaos will come.

　　He thought he would talk it over with somebody. Bob occurred to him.

　　It was only fair that Bob should be told, as the nearest of kin.

　　And here was another grievance against fate. Bob was a person he didnot particularly wish to see just then. For that morning he had postedup the list of the team to play for the school against Geddington, oneof the four schools which Wrykyn met at cricket; and Bob's name didnot appear on that list. Several things had contributed to thatmelancholy omission. In the first place, Geddington, to judge from theweekly reports in the _Sportsman_ and _Field_, were strong thisyear at batting. In the second place, the results of the last fewmatches, and particularly the M.C.C. match, had given Burgess theidea that Wrykyn was weak at bowling. It became necessary, therefore,to drop a batsman out of the team in favour of a bowler. And eitherMike or Bob must be the man.

　　Burgess was as rigidly conscientious as the captain of a school elevenshould be. Bob was one of his best friends, and he would have givenmuch to be able to put him in the team; but he thought the thing over,and put the temptation sturdily behind him. At batting there was notmuch to choose between the two, but in fielding there was a great deal.

　　Mike was good. Bob was bad. So out Bob had gone, and Neville-Smith, afair fast bowler at all times and on his day dangerous, took his place.

　　These clashings of public duty with private inclination are thedrawbacks to the despotic position of captain of cricket at a publicschool. It is awkward having to meet your best friend after you havedropped him from the team, and it is difficult to talk to him as ifnothing had happened.

　　Burgess felt very self-conscious as he entered Bob's study, and wasrather glad that he had a topic of conversation ready to hand.

　　"Busy, Bob?" he asked.

　　"Hullo," said Bob, with a cheerfulness rather over-done in his anxietyto show Burgess, the man, that he did not hold him responsible inany way for the distressing acts of Burgess, the captain. "Take apew. Don't these studies get beastly hot this weather. There's someginger-beer in the cupboard. Have some?""No, thanks. I say, Bob, look here, I want to see you.""Well, you can, can't you? This is me, sitting over here. The tall,dark, handsome chap.""It's awfully awkward, you know," continued Burgess gloomily; "thatass of a young brother of yours--Sorry, but he _is_ an ass,though he's your brother----""Thanks for the 'though,' Billy. You know how to put a thing nicely.

　　What's Mike been up to?""It's that old fool the Gazeka. He came to me frothing with rage, andwanted me to call a prefects' meeting and touch young Mike up."Bob displayed interest and excitement for the first time.

　　"Prefects' meeting! What the dickens is up? What's he been doing?

　　Smith must be drunk. What's all the row about?"Burgess repeated the main facts of the case as he had them fromFirby-Smith.

　　"Personally, I sympathise with the kid," he added, "Still, the Gazeka_is_ a prefect----"Bob gnawed a pen-holder morosely.

　　"Silly young idiot," he said.

　　"Sickening thing being run out," suggested Burgess.

　　"Still----""I know. It's rather hard to see what to do. I suppose if the Gazekainsists, one's bound to support him.""I suppose so.""Awful rot. Prefects' lickings aren't meant for that sort of thing.

　　They're supposed to be for kids who steal buns at the shop or muckabout generally. Not for a chap who curses a fellow who runs him out.

　　I tell you what, there's just a chance Firby-Smith won't press thething. He hadn't had time to get over it when he saw me. By now he'llhave simmered down a bit. Look here, you're a pal of his, aren't you?

　　Well, go and ask him to drop the business. Say you'll curse yourbrother and make him apologise, and that I'll kick him out of the teamfor the Geddington match."It was a difficult moment for Bob. One cannot help one's thoughts, andfor an instant the idea of going to Geddington with the team, as hewould certainly do if Mike did not play, made him waver. But herecovered himself.

　　"Don't do that," he said. "I don't see there's a need for anything ofthat sort. You must play the best side you've got. I can easily talkthe old Gazeka over. He gets all right in a second if he's treated theright way. I'll go and do it now."Burgess looked miserable.

　　"I say, Bob," he said.

　　"Yes?""Oh, nothing--I mean, you're not a bad sort." With which glowingeulogy he dashed out of the room, thanking his stars that he had wonthrough a confoundedly awkward business.

　　Bob went across to Wain's to interview and soothe Firby-Smith.

　　He found that outraged hero ............