team, including Mike, were dispersing to their homes or were due for
visits at other houses that night, stumps were to be drawn at six. It
was obvious that they could not hope to win. Number nine on the list,
who was Bagley, the ground-man, went in with instructions to play for a
draw, and minute advice from Mr Smith as to how he was to do it. Mike
had now begun to score rapidly, and it was not to be expected that he
could change his game; but Bagley, a dried-up little man of the type
which bowls for five hours on a hot August day without exhibiting any
symptoms of fatigue, put a much-bound bat stolidly in front of every
ball he received; and the Hall's prospects of saving the game grew
brighter.

At a quarter to six the professional left, caught at very silly point
for eight. The score was a hundred and fifteen, of which Mike had made
eighty-five.

A lengthy young man with yellow hair, who had done some good fast
bowling for the Hall during the week, was the next man in. In previous
matches he had hit furiously at everything, and against the Green
Jackets had knocked up forty in twenty minutes while Mike was putting
the finishing touches to his century. Now, however, with his host's
warning ringing in his ears, he adopted the unspectacular, or Bagley,
style of play. His manner of dealing with the ball was that of one
playing croquet. He patted it gingerly back to the bowler when it was
straight, and left it icily alone when it was off the wicket. Mike,
still in the brilliant vein, clumped a half-volley past point to the
boundary, and with highly scientific late cuts and glides brought his
score to ninety-eight. With Mike's score at this, the total at a
hundred and thirty, and the hands of the clock at five minutes to six,
the yellow-haired croquet exponent fell, as Bagley had fallen, a victim