"Over there" was the end net, where frenzied novices were bowling on a
corrugated pitch to a red-haired youth with enormous feet, who looked as
if he were taking his first lesson at the game.

Mike walked away without a word.

* * * * *

The Archaeological Society expeditions, even though they carried with
them the privilege of listening to Psmith's views of life, proved but a
poor substitute for cricket. Psmith, who had no counterattraction
shouting to him that he ought to be elsewhere, seemed to enjoy them
hugely, but Mike almost cried sometimes from boredom. It was not always
possible to slip away from the throng, for Mr. Outwood evidently looked
upon them as among the very faithful, and kept them by his side.

Mike on these occasions was silent and jumpy, his brow "sicklied o'er
with the pale cast of care." But Psmith followed his leader with the
pleased and indulgent air of a father whose infant son is showing him
round the garden. Psmith's attitude toward archaeological research
struck a new note in the history of that neglected science. He was
amiable, but patronizing. He patronized fossils, and he patronized
ruins. If he had been confronted with the Great Pyramid, he would have
patronized that.

He seemed to be consumed by a thirst for knowledge.

That this was not altogether a genuine thirst was proved in the third
expedition. Mr. Outwood and his band were pecking away at the site of an