Mike

It was during the interval that day that Stone and Robinson, discussing the subject of cricket over a bun and ginger-beer at the school shop, came to a momentous decision, to wit, that they were fed up with Adair administration and meant to strike.  The immediate cause of revolt was early-morning fielding-practice, that searching test of cricket keenness.  Mike himself, to whom cricket was the great and serious interest of life, had shirked early-morning fielding-practice in his first term at Wrykyn.  And Stone and Robinson had but a luke-warm attachment to the game, compared with Mike’s.

As a rule, Adair had contented himself with practice in the afternoon after school, which nobody objects to; and no strain, consequently, had been put upon Stone’s and Robinson’s allegiance.  In view of the M.C.C. match on the Wednesday, however, he had now added to this an extra dose to be taken before breakfast.  Stone and Robinson had left their comfortable beds that day at six o’clock, yawning and heavy-eyed, and had caught catches and fielded drives which, in the cool morning air, had stung like adders and bitten like serpents.  Until the sun has really got to work, it is no joke taking a high catch.  Stone’s dislike of the experiment was only equalled by Robinson’s.  They were neither of them of the type which likes to undergo hardships for the common good.  They played well enough when on the field, but neither cared greatly whether the school had a good season or not.  They played the game entirely for their own sakes.

The result was that they went back to the house for breakfast with a never-again feeling, and at the earliest possible moment met to debate as to what was to be done about it.  At all costs another experience like to-day’s must be avoided.

“It’s all rot,” said Stone.  “What on earth’s the good of sweating about before breakfast?  It only makes you tired.”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Robinson, “if it wasn’t bad for the heart.  Rushing about on an empty stomach, I mean, and all that sort of thing.”

“Personally,” said Stone, gnawing his bun, “I don’t intend to stick it.”

“Nor do I.”

“I mean, it’s such absolute rot.  If we aren’t good enough to play for the team without having to get up overnight to catch catches, he’d better find somebody else.”

“Yes.”

At this moment Adair came into the shop.

“Fielding-practice again to-morrow,” he said briskly, “at six.”

“Before breakfast?” said Robinson.

“Rather.  You two must buck up, you know.  You were rotten to-day.”  And he passed on, leaving the two malcontents speechless.

Stone was the first to recover.

“I’m hanged if I turn out to-morrow,” he said, as they left the shop. “He can do what he likes about it.  Besides, what can he do, after all?  Only kick us out of the team.  And I don’t mind that.”

“Nor do I.”

“I don’t think he will kick us out, either.  He can’t play the M.C.C. with a scratch team.  If he does, we’ll go and play for that village Jackson plays for.  We’ll get Jackson to shove us into the team.”

“All right,” said Robinson.  “Let’s.”

Their position was a strong one.  A cricket captain may seem to be an autocrat of tremendous power, but in reality he has only one weapon, the keenness of those under him.  With the majority, of course, the fear of being excluded or ejected from a team is a spur that drives.  The majority, consequently, are easily handled.  But when a cricket captain runs up against a boy who does not much care whether he plays for the team or not, then he finds himself in a difficult position, and, unless he is a man of action, practically helpless.

Stone and Robinson felt secure.  Taking it all round, they felt that they would just as soon play for Lower Borlock as for the school.  The bowling of the opposition would be weaker in the former case, and the chance of making runs greater.  To a certain type of cricketer runs are runs, wherever and however made.

The result of all this was that Adair, turning out with the team next morning for fielding-practice, found himself two short.  Barnes was among those present, but of the other two representatives of Outwood’s house there were no signs.

Barnes, questioned on the subject, had no information to give, beyond the fact that he had not seen them about anywhere.  Which was not a great help.  Adair proceeded with the fielding-practice without further delay.