"I don't owe you a shilling."

"Oh yes, you do, sir. Don't he, Mr Burr junior?"

"No," I said; "and if you ever have the impudence to say so again, I'll tell Bob Hopley to give you another thrashing."

The gipsy-looking fellow's dark eyes flashed.

"He'd better touch me again," he cried fiercely. "He'd better touch me again. Did you two see?"

"Yes, we saw," said Mercer. "I say, he did make you cry chy-ike."

"He'd better touch me again."

"He will," I said, "if you go hanging about after Polly Hopley."

"What, did he tell you that?"

"No," I said, "we knew well enough. Bob Hopley didn't say a word. Only called it poaching."

Magglin's manner changed directly, and in a snivelling, whining way he began,--

"Well, I can't help it, young gen'lemen. I'm 'bliged to go there, and nothing I can do's good enough for her. If I give her anything, she chucks it at me, because it aren't good enough."

"I should think not, indeed," said Mercer. "What decent girl's going to listen to such a ragged scaramouche as you are?"

"Well, I can't help it, young gen'lemen."

"Yes, you can. Go to work like a man, and grow respectable," I said.

"I should be ashamed to idle about as you do."

"Why, aren't you two always idling about?"

"No. We do our work first," I said.

"I say, Magg, here comes Bob Hopley!" cried Mercer mischievously.

The poacher gave a quick glance up the lane in the direction from which we had come, caught sight of the keeper's velveteen coat, and shot into the copse and was gone.

"I don't wonder at Bob thrashing him," I said.

"No," replied Mercer, as we went on. "I shall never deal with him again. If I want a bird or anything, I shall ask Bob Hopley. He's a man, he is. If you give him anything, he says, 'Thank-ye,' and if you don't, he never seems to mind. He knows boys haven't always got any money. I wish Magglin would go right away."

The conversation turned then upon the coming cricket match; after which we dropped in upon Lomax, and talked to him about boxing, and I pleased him very much by telling him how satisfied my uncle had been at the way I had learned to ride a horse; when, with his eyes twinkling, the old soldier took a letter from his chimney-piece, and opened it to show me my uncle's words, thanking him for the way he, an old soldier, had trained the son of a soldier, and enclosing a five-pound note.

"For a rainy day, Master Burr," he said. "I've clapped that in the bank."

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

If there was any one thing I dearly loved, it was a good game--a regular well-fought struggle--at cricket. Oddly enough, I used to like to be on the losing side, with the eleven who were so far behind that their fight was becoming desperate, and every effort had to be made to steal a run here and another there, slowly building up the score, with the excitement gradually increasing, and the weaker side growing stronger and more hopeful hour by hour, till, perhaps, by the clever batting of one boy, who has got well to work, and who, full of confidence, sets at defiance the best efforts in every change of bowler, the score is lifted right up to the winning-point, and he comes back to the tent with the bat over his shoulder, amidst the cheers of all the lookers-on.

I suppose I got on well with my education at Doctor Browne's. I know I got on well at cricket, for whenever a match was made up for some holiday, I was in so much request that both sides were eager to have me.

The Doctor had promised us a holiday to play the boys of a school at Hastings. They were to come over on an omnibus, and a tent was to be set up in our field, where, after the game, a high tea was to be provided for the visitors before they returned to Hastings in the evening.

I need hardly say that the day was looked forward to with the greatest eagerness, and that plans were made to give our visitors a thorough good thrashing.

Burr major, as captain of the eleven, rather unwillingly, I'm afraid, but for the sake of the credit of the school, selected Mercer and me for the match. I was to be wicket-keeper, and Mercer, from his clever and enduring running, and power to cover so much ground, was made long field off.

Burr major and Stewart were to bowl, with d.i.c.ksee as a change when necessary, for he had a peculiar knack and twist in handling a ball, and could puzzle good players by sending in an innocent-looking, slowly-pitched ball, which looked as if it was going wide, and, when it had put the batsman off his guard, and induced him to change his position, so as to send the ball flying out of the field, it would suddenly curl round and go right into the wicket.

All went well. We practised every evening, and again for an hour before breakfast each morning, and, as I warmed up to my task, I easily stopped all Stewart's or Burr major's swiftest b.a.l.l.s, and got to know how to deal with what Mercer called "old d.i.c.ksee's jerry sneaks." The tent came from Hastings the day before, and was set up ready, and the next day was to be the match.

But, as Burns says, "The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft a-gley." So it was here; our plans went very much "a-gley," for I awoke on the morning of the match with a headache, which I knew would completely upset me for the day.

I did not know then, but I know now, that it was Polly Hopley's fault, and that her turnovers and cake were far too rich to be eaten in quant.i.ty by two boys sitting up in bed, and going to sleep directly after, in spite of the crumbs and scales of crust. I just remember that I had a bad night, full of unpleasant dreams, all connected with the cricket match in some way. Now I was being horribly beaten; now I was running after the ball, which went on and on, far away into s.p.a.ce, and would not be overtaken, and it was still bounding away when I awoke with a start. Then I fell asleep again, and lay bound and helpless, as it seemed to me, with Burr major taking advantage of my position to come and triumph over me, which he did at first by sitting on my chest, and then springing up to go through a kind of war-dance upon me, while I stared up at him helplessly.

Then d.i.c.ksee came with his face all swollen up, as it was after the fight, but he was grinning derisively at me, and while Burr major seemed to hold me down by keeping one foot pressed on my chest, d.i.c.ksee knelt by my side, and began to beat my head with a cricket bat.

_Bang, bang! bang, bang_! Blows that fell with the regularity of the beats of a pendulum, and it seemed to me that he beat me into a state of insensibility, for both Burr major and he faded from my eyesight, though the blows of the bat were still falling upon my head when I awoke in the morning; that is to say, they seemed to be falling, and it was some minutes before I fully understood that I was suffering from a bad bilious headache.

"Now then, why don't you jump up?" said Mercer, as I lay with my eyes shut, and at this I got up slowly, began to dress, and then, feeling too giddy to stand, sat down by my bed.

"What's the matter?" cried Mercer.

"So ill. Head's so bad."

"Oh, that will be all right when you've had your breakfast. Mine aches too. Look sharp. It's ever so late."

I tried to look sharp, but I'm afraid I looked very blunt, and it took me a long time to get dressed and down-stairs, and out in the fresh morning air, where I walked up and down a bit, and then suffered myself to be led into the play-field to see what a splendid tent had been raised, with its canvas back close up to the hedge which separated the Doctor's grounds from the farm, with the intervening dry ditch, which always seemed to be full of the biggest stinging nettles I ever saw.

It was a glorious morning, the turf was short and beautifully level, the boys having joined hands the previous night to drag the great roller well over it. But the sunshine, the blue sky, and the delicious green of the hedges and trees were all nothing to me then, and I let Mercer chatter on about the chances of the other side, which, as far as I was concerned, promised to be excellent.

The breakfast-bell rang, and we went in, but that morning meal did not fulfil Mercer's prophecy and carry off my ailment, for I could not touch a bit.

"Oh, you are a fellow!" cried my comrade. "Well; perhaps you are right.

My father says it's best not to eat and drink when you have a bad headache. But look sharp and get well; the chaps will be over in good time."

By and by the news reached the captain of our eleven, and he came to me all smiles and civility, for all Burr major's ideas of revenge seemed to have died out, as I thought, because I never presumed upon my victory.

"Oh, I say, Burr junior," he cried, "this won't do! You must look sharp and get well."

"I want to," I replied dolefully; "but I'm afraid I shan't be able to play."

"But you must. If you don't, they'll be sure to beat us, and that would be horrid."

"You mustn't let them beat you," I said, wishing all the while that he would go, for my head throbbed more than ever, and varied it with a sensation as of hot molten lead running round inside my forehead in a way that was agonising.