the directors of the walsbridge football club had been badly "caught out". they ran hither and thither in perspiring helplessness, wondering vainly how to deal with the crowd, which swamped all their turnstiles, and leaned its weight in threatening bulk against the creaking wooden gates. such a throng to see a schoolboys' match had never entered into their calculations. their turnstile men couldn't take the money fast enough.
an urgent telephone message brought extra police, and the directors themselves took off their coats and took on the admission-money at the same time. thus they packed the ground, with the result that every tree and house-roof in the neighbourhood was speedily black with the excluded spectators.
such a multitude would have cheered the hearts of an adult club, but it was more than a little unnerving to some of the schoolboy players. particularly awe-struck were arkness and osbody, who had brought spring-rattles and tin trumpets with them, intending to make a cheerful din under the blue sky of a spring day. instead, they were bidden to the captain's presence, and coolly told to slip their quaking limbs into the shirts and knickers made ready for them.
"oh, i say, it's not the first of april, forge," robin ventured to say, pathetically. "you—you're pulling our legs, aren't you?"
"i shall faint straight away," chattered osbody, looking white enough to justify what he said.
"buck up, youngsters," said dick. "don't get stage-fright. you'll fall into your stride after a bit."
"but—but it's so—so awfully unexpected," robin stammered. "w-w-why are we p-p-playing, forge?"
"because i wish you to, kid," answered dick. "isn't that enough?"
robin pulled himself together and somehow conjured up a smile.
"it's enough for me," he replied. "i'll stick it out till i'm carried off the field on a shutter."
"you'll both be as right as rain," said dick encouragingly. "i'll look after you, so don't worry."
his reassuring manner masked nervousness, nevertheless. the fellows were inclined to take offence at the watering down of the team by the inclusion of juniors, and dick was amazed to find them saying nasty and disheartening things to osbody and arkness.
"give the youngsters a chance, chaps," he said. "be sportsmen!"
none of them cared to continue baiting the kids after that, for dick had a straight way with him which made defiance of his will an uncomfortable business. ennis, who had said nothing at all, had the good grace to go on the opposite tack by cheering the youngsters up, an example which lyon and some others followed, and the team generally felt lighter in heart when a better feeling prevailed. to start divided amongst themselves would be like making a present of the match to st. cuthbert's.
outside the dressing-room dick was hailed by "chuck" smithies, very quietly dressed, for him, in navy blue, and quite obviously relishing an excellent cigar.
"one of the clinking brand which came from your sporting aunt, sonny," he said. "oh, i guessed it was she! is she here? no? sorry—i'd have liked to thank her personally. i don't usually attend these games, laddie, but i determined to come here with clean hands. haven't booked a single bet on the match. what a crowd! no village idiot or tomfool mascot about on this occasion, i trust? good! then go in and chew their ears off."
"chewing the ears off" st. cuthbert's would have been easier if they had left bessingham out of the team. but the octopus was there again in all his might, heart-and-soul in the game from the kick-off, bringing fox after fox within uncomfortable range of his long legs, and brushing aside robin arkness's plucky attentions as he would have swept a fly from his forehead.
the great crowd made delighted noises as bessingham coolly broke up every attack, and they laughed good-naturedly at osbody's ludicrous attempts to get somewhere near the ball. the wily cuthbertian forwards made rings round the lad, who, in desperation, lunged blindly at the ball, and kicked it the wrong way. taken by surprise, lyon tried to intercept it, but only succeeded in turning it out of the reach of ennis, who had the mortification of watching it bob into the goal at the top corner. lyon and osbody between them had scored for st. cuthbert's in the first ten minutes of the game, and that one luckless goal might all too probably settle the ownership of the cup.
thus early, then, had dick's insistence on his own way brought humiliation to foxenby. clowes would never have made such a glaring error as to kick towards his own goal on a still afternoon like this. clowes would never have let the cuthbertians cross the half-way line, of course. but then, clowes didn't happen to be there. he had preferred the fleshpots of egypt to the county schools' cup, and to blame the captain for his absence was short-sighted and unfair.
blame him they did, all the same. why had he left harwood at home? furthermore, with reserve players to choose from who were bigger and brawnier by far, why did the obstinate beggar insist on including two scuttling juniors, both of whom were trembling like leaves now under the hypnotic influence of the octopus?
fortunate beyond words was it that lyon proved himself, for the remainder of that scrappy half, almost as great a full-back as the octopus. he was unjust to himself to take bitter blame for putting the ball through his own goal, but the remembrance of that smarting reverse spurred him into a dazzling exhibition of defensive play. the cuthbertian forwards could never get round him. he was full-back and centre-half combined, kicking and heading with splendid accuracy, keeping ennis's hands idle for half-an-hour, smothering every shot in the locker of st. cuthbert's helpless forward-line.
"they'd never have scored in a blue moon if osbody hadn't managed it for them," groaned lake, at half-time.
dick levelled a straight look at the grumbling forward. "remember the proverb about people in glass-houses, lake," he answered. "we haven't shown much scoring form ourselves."
as though to pile on misfortune, clowes and broome turned up by a later train—full of useless apologies, of course, but seemingly rather glad of the important difference which their absence from the side had made.
"i think, forge, if you were to put it fairly to the octopus, he would consent to us going on instead of arkness and osbody," said broome.
"don't make childish suggestions, broome," said dick. "and please don't flatter yourselves, either of you, that i'd take you on if i could. better a willing pair of juniors than a couple of slacking seniors."
having sent this well-deserved shaft home, dick took arkness and osbody quietly aside, and spoke to them also for their good, but in a very different way.
"do you know," he said, "i think we're all three a jolly sight more polite to bessingham than we need be. we rot round him too much, and help him to become the darling of the crowd. has it struck either of you that st. cuthbert's are playing a deal worse, on the whole, than they did last time, when you two were spectators?"
"why, yes," agreed robin. "they peppered ennis with shots then—he's a looker-on to-day."
"exactly, kid. now there's a golden chance for you two to come right into the limelight if you'll only take a friendly tip from me. i want you to forget you're footballers, and to try to fancy that you're nurses spoon-feeding me and meynard—he'll catch forward passes up with his raking stride, never fear. stop thinking for yourselves—become feeding-machines pure and simple. are you game?"
"rather!" the two juniors cried, in delighted agreement.
"that's good. you two are keen rivals, i know, but you both rather admire each other, and i want you to realize this afternoon that you're pulling together in a great cause—for the honour and glory of foxenby, to wit. come, now, shake hands on it!"
out shot the hand of robin hood, and the leader of the squirms grasped it eagerly.
"bravo!" cried the captain, as he turned to lead his men on to the field again. "follow me, boys. we're all going out to the very last ounce this half!"
