catapultic cross shot. Again and again the game resolved itself into a
duello between Acton and Aspinall, and Bourne, when he saw the dealings
with the International and his wiles, smiled easily. He saw the school was
stronger than he thought.

The interval came with the score standing at two against us. When I
started the game again I found that our fellows were pulling along much
better with the wind, and that some of Shannon's men were not quite so
dangerous as before, for condition told. We quickly had one through, and
when I found myself blowing the whistle for a second goal I began to think
that the school might pull through after all. Meanwhile Acton and Aspinall
were having their occasional tussles, though somewhat less often than
before, and three or four times the school back was overturned pretty
heartily in the encounters.

Though there was not a suspicion of unfairness or temper on Aspinall's
part, I fancied that Acton was getting rather nettled at his frequent
upsets. He was, I considered, heavier than Aspinall, and much taller, so I
was both rather waxy and astonished to find that he was infusing a little
too much vigour into his tackling, and, not to put too fine a point on it,
was playing a trifle roughly. Aspinall was bundled over the touch-line a
good half-dozen times, with no little animus behind the charge, and
ultimately Bourne noticed it. Now, Bourne loathed anything approaching bad
form, so he said sharply to Acton, though quietly, "Play the game, sir!
Play the ball!" Acton flushed angrily, and I did not like the savage way
he faced round to Bourne, who was particularly busy at that moment and did
not notice it. The game went on until within about five minutes from time.
Amber had been feeding Aspinall assiduously for the last ten minutes, and
Acton had, despite his cleverness, more than he could really hold in the
flying International. He stalled off the attack somehow, and Bourne always