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The swifter the ball the happier he was; sending one over the bowler's head, another nearly into the scorers' tent, another among the spectators behind the ropes. The score, hitherto so slow, began to fly up. Forty, fifty, sixty, seventy we saw posted up in rapid succession, and wondered how it all would end. He seemed to have as many lives as a cat.
When remonstrated with, he would consider a little, hanging out a pink tongue and looking rather too eagerly at the ball, then canter slowly out to a sort of forward short leg. Why he always chose that particular position it is difficult to say; possibly he could lurk there better than anywhere else, the batsman's eye not being on him, and the bowler's not too much.
He started a little at his friend's voice. "You'll snore soon!" said Wally, incisively. "What on earth's the matter with you? Play up, School!" Jim stopped short a moment and burst out laughing, Wally's indignant face glanced back over his shoulder as he ran off. There was a new spring in the bowler's walk as he went to his crease, and the smile still lingered.
And it was the cleverest of all the balls, for it was sent to land inside the block, just so much nearer as might deceive the batsman accustomed to the former distance. No sooner had it left the bowler's hand then Fleming saw the risk and gnawed his moustache. Every eye followed the ball through the air on what seemed, for the anxiety of it, a course of miles.
You great booby!" cried one and all, springing to their feet and rushing in the direction of the pier, upsetting and trampling over the unhappy Tubbs as they did so. "What on earth shall we do?" gasped Gayford, as he ran by Bowler's side. "We must swim for it," said Bowler. "It's our only chance." "Can't do it. She's half a mile out." "It's all up with us if we can't get her!" groaned Bowler.
The "popping-crease" and the "bowling-crease" having been white-washed on the turf the one marking the batsman's safety-ground, and the other the bowler's limits all is now ready for play. The captains toss a copper for choice of innings, and the winner may elect to send his men to the bat.
Who d'ye think is in town and under Bowler's roof? Aaron Burr!" There was a silence, then Cary said quietly, "Aren't you mistaken, Fair?" "Not in the least," answered the other. "He came in a sloop from Baltimore yesterday. It is not known that he's in town; he does not want it known. He's keeping quiet, perhaps he has another duel on his conscience.
Have nothing to say to any fishing-boats they are nearly all spies and that puzzles them. This Robin Hood's Bay is our centre for the present, unless there comes change of weather. Donovan's beat is from Whitby to Teesmouth, mine from Whitby to Scarborough, and Bowler's thence to Flamborough. Carroway goes where he likes, of course, as the manner of the man is.
Of course, we shall have to come back before six; but we must make believe we've landed there for good, and see how we manage. And, of course, if we get on there, we're bound to get on at New Swishford, for it's a far jollier place than the Long Stork." Bowler's proposition was hailed with acclamation.
"He said very little would have tempted him to do it, Bowler." "Oh!" was Bowler's only reply. "And I tell you another thing," continued Gayford, "he gave me an old chart with the identical island he saw marked on it, and I've got it in my box, my boy." "Have you, though?" said Bowler. "I'd like to have a look at it."
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