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Updated: June 3, 2025
But give him a good steady spell of leather-hunting, and you will know him for what he is, a mere dilettante, a dabbler, in a word, a worm, who ought never to be allowed to play at all.
The Bishop had the satisfaction of being not out with twenty-eight to his credit, but nothing less than a century would have been sufficient to soothe him after his shocking bowling performance. Pringle, who during the luncheon interval had encountered his young friends the Ashbys, and had been duly taunted by them on the subject of leather-hunting, was top scorer with forty-one.
Wrykyn had then gone in, lost Strachan for twenty before lunch, and finally completed their innings at a quarter to four for a hundred and thirty-one. This was better than Sedleigh had expected. At least eight of the team had looked forward dismally to an afternoon's leather-hunting.
He didn't know who he could set on to bowl. "Try young Black," suggested Hardy at this juncture, when we were having a short interval of rest from our exhilarating game of leather-hunting, which had now been going on for two hours and more. "Young Black, indeed!" repeated Charley Bates with intense scorn. "Well," said Prester John, "he can't possibly do worse than you."
In spite of the fact that he himself was playing in the match today, and might under the circumstances reasonably look forward to a considerable dose of leather-hunting, the task of announcing the bad news to Norris appeared to have a most elevating effect on his spirits: 'That's nothing extra special, said Norris, in answer to the last item of information, 'the Malvern wicket's like a billiard-table.
And then, when his "eye" is in, he will give the Etonians such leather-hunting as they never had before. After a long stand made by Scaife and Desmond, Caesar is caught at cover-point, but Scaife remains. It is a Colossus batting, not a Harrow boy. The balls come down the pitch; the Demon's shoulders and chest widen; the great knotted arms go up crash!
But there were still some hard nuts to be cracked in the Wraxby team, and one soon appeared in Partridge, the captain. Over after over went by, and the score rapidly increased: "Thirty up!" "Forty up!" "Fifty up!" Two more wickets were taken; but Partridge seemed to have fairly got his eye in, and gave the home team as much leather-hunting as Oaks had provided for the visitors.
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