which, except for the creases, was absolutely undistinguishable from the
surrounding turf, and behind the pavilion after the match Adair had
spoken certain home truths to the groundsman. The latter's reformation
had dated from that moment.

* * * * *

Barnes, timidly jubilant, came up to Mike with the news that he had won
the toss, and the request that Mike would go in first with him.

In stories of the "Not Really a Duffer" type, where the nervous new boy,
who has been found crying in the changing room over the photograph of
his sister, contrives to get an innings in a game, nobody suspects that
he is really a prodigy till he hits the Bully's first ball out of the
ground for six.

With Mike it was different. There was no pitying smile on Adair's face
as he started his run preparatory to sending down the first ball. Mike,
on the cricket field, could not have looked anything but a cricketer if
he had turned out in a tweed suit and hobnail boots. Cricketer was
written all over him--in his walk, in the way he took guard, in his
stand at the wicket. Adair started to bowl with the feeling that this
was somebody who had more than a little knowledge of how to deal with
good bowling and punish bad.

Mike started cautiously. He was more than usually anxious to make runs
today, and he meant to take no risks till he could afford to do so. He
had seen Adair bowl at the nets, and he knew that he was good.

The first over was a maiden, six dangerous balls beautifully played. The