“Out!  Bailey has given him out.  Do you see, Tom?” cries Arthur.  “How foolish of them to run so hard.”

“Well, it can’t be helped; he has played very well.  Whose turn is it to go in?”

“I don’t know; they’ve got your list in the tent.”

“Let’s go and see,” said Tom, rising; but at this moment Jack Raggles and two or three more came running to the island moat.

“O Brown, mayn’t I go in next?” shouts the Swiper.

“Whose name is next on the list?” says the captain.

“Winter’s, and then Arthur’s,” answers the boy who carries it; “but there are only twenty-six runs to get, and no time to lose.  I heard Mr. Aislabie say that the stumps must be drawn at a quarter past eight exactly.”

“Oh, do let the Swiper go in,” chorus the boys; so Tom yields against his better judgment.

“I dare say now I’ve lost the match by this nonsense,” he says, as he sits down again; “they’ll be sure to get Jack’s wicket in three or four minutes; however, you’ll have the chance, sir, of seeing a hard hit or two,” adds he, smiling, and turning to the master.

“Come, none of your irony, Brown,” answers the master.  “I’m beginning to understand the game scientifically.  What a noble game it is, too!”

“Isn’t it?  But it’s more than a game.  It’s an institution,” said Tom.

“Yes,” said Arthur—­“the birthright of British boys old and young, as habeas corpus and trial by jury are of British men.”

“The discipline and reliance on one another which it teaches is so valuable, I think,” went on the master, “it ought to be such an unselfish game.  It merges the individual in the eleven; he doesn’t play that he may win, but that his side may.”

“That’s very true,” said Tom, “and that’s why football and cricket, now one comes to think of it, are such much better games than fives or hare-and-hounds, or any others where the object is to come in first or to win for oneself, and not that one’s side may win.”

“And then the captain of the eleven!” said the master; “what a post is his in our School-world! almost as hard as the Doctor’s—­requiring skill and gentleness and firmness, and I know not what other rare qualities.”

“Which don’t he may wish he may get!” said Tom, laughing; “at any rate he hasn’t got them yet, or he wouldn’t have been such a flat to-night as to let Jack Raggles go in out of his turn.”

“Ah, the Doctor never would have done that,” said Arthur demurely.  “Tom, you’ve a great deal to learn yet in the art of ruling.”

“Well, I wish you’d tell the Doctor so then, and get him to let me stop till I’m twenty.  I don’t want to leave, I’m sure.”

“What a sight it is,” broke in the master, “the Doctor as a ruler!  Perhaps ours is the only little corner of the British Empire which is thoroughly, wisely, and strongly ruled just now.  I’m more and more thankful every day of my life that I came here to be under him.”