"Rather," said Jim; "it would never do to miss it, especially as Newcome is playing against us. The worst of it is, as we are both engaged, there will be no one to pilot you about."

"I shall be very glad," said Reader--though, if truth must be told, his politeness cost him an effort--"if your uncle and aunt will let me. I'm almost as great a stranger, though, in the town as they are."

"You are very kind, sir," said Jim's aunt, who had been long since gained over by the enemy. "We shall be most pleased to have your escort. Eh, my love? Besides, we shall help to keep you out in the fresh air for once. But, James," she said, "I can't get over you and Mr Newcome being opponents in this match and yet such friends."

Every one laughed at this, and Charlie confided to the good lady his fixed determination of breaking her nephew's legs before the day was out--a purpose which, from the speaker's point of view, she could not help admitting was a laudable one.

Thus the breakfast ended very satisfactorily for everyone except the uncle, who had at last discovered the trap into which he had let himself fall, from which, however, he could not with grace free himself.

Three hours later the two worthies, having seen many of the sights of Cambridge with the advantage of Reader's escort, found themselves with some hundreds of other spectators on the field in which the notable football-match of Cambridge _versus_ Sandhurst was immediately about to begin.

Jim Halliday's uncle and aunt could hardly have denied that the thirty young men, half of them in blue jerseys and half in red, who were now strolling out onto the ground, were as fine a body of youths as one could easily encounter in the course of a long day's march. The picture of health and physique, they seemed almost like some of those heroes of old beside whom poor everyday man was wont to shrink into insignificance. Among the blues towered Jim, among the reds Charlie, two by no means the least n.o.ble-looking of the company.

"How well James looks in that dress, my love!" said the aunt.

"My love" could hardly dispute the fact, so he said nothing; but in his secret heart he began to doubt whether he had not taken an exaggerated view of the demoralising nature of athletic sports.

Play was soon ordered, and then amidst breathless silence the ball shot upward, propelled by the vigorous kick of the Sandhurst captain.

It is not my purpose to follow in all its details the famous match of which I was that day spectator. My muse has other things to sing of besides rallies and charges, scrimmages and drop kicks, touch-downs and pa.s.sings. To me the game was chiefly interesting as it was interesting to Jim Halliday and Charlie Newcome; but as during the first part of the match both these worthies were what they would call "out of it"--that is, on outpost duty--I found the company I was in better worth studying than the ups and downs of the football.

When the game first began the two good people gazed in silent astonishment. It always takes some time to understand the humour of a football-match from outside, and Jim's uncle and aunt consequently for a time could make nothing out of the constant succession of charges and scrimmages of which they were witnesses. Presently, however, with the aid of their own observation and the remarks of people around them, they came to appreciate the sport better, and grew proportionately interested. After a time the interest grew to excitement and excitement found relief in speech.

"There's that little red-haired fellow got it again!" exclaimed the aunt; "see how he runs!"

"Wait a bit!" cried the uncle; "that fellow there will catch him--no, he hasn't--just look at him; there's smartness for you! Ah! he's down!"

"But another of the blues has got the ball!" cried the aunt, starting on tiptoe. "Well, to be sure! five onto one! what a shame!"

And so they kept up a running commentary on the fortunes of the game, much to George's amus.e.m.e.nt and that of those near us. Now and then the uncle appeared suddenly to recollect himself, and would come out with a grunt of disapproval. Once, for instance, when by a sort of common impulse the whole of the players engaged in one of the scrimmages fell to the ground, he was hardy enough to e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e--

"Disgraceful!"

"Hold your tongue, my love," broke in his wife; "you know very well you'd like to be in it yourself if you were a boy. _I_ would!"

After that the uncle, whatever he thought, said nothing.

The sides appeared to be very evenly matched; so much so, that when "half-time" was called neither had gained the least advantage.

Just as the sides were changing over, preparing to renew the contest, a man came running up to where our party stood and called out,--

"Will anyone lend me a watch? Mine has stopped." This man was the timekeeper for Cambridge, and indeed was no other than Clarke's friend, one of the breakfast-party that morning.

"Here is one!" cried George, recognising him and unfastening me from his ribbon-chain. The next moment I was hurrying towards the goals in my borrower's hands.

I had now nothing for it but to attend closely to the game, for the old gentleman and lady were too far away for me to be able to observe them any further.

The ball was started again, and I had the satisfaction of seeing that both Jim and Charlie were in new posts, which promised a better chance of sport.

And so it happened.

Hardly had the first scrimmage been formed when Jim was seen slipping out of it with the ball under his arm, making straight for the Sandhurst goal. He was quickly stopped, however, and after a desperate encounter the ball got free and rolled out of the crush towards where Charlie stood.

He, not waiting to pick it up, went at it with a flying kick. Up flew the ball, amid cheers and shouts, right over the heads of the players, and had it not been for the prompt.i.tude of the Cambridge "backs" it might have got behind their goal. And now, as if every one knew the time was getting short, the play became harder than ever. Many a time did I catch sight of my two Randlebury friends in the thick of the fight, sometimes hand to hand, sometimes separated by a living wall of humanity, but always doing their work, and straining for the one object.

The time went on. The man who held me looked at me now oftener than he had done hitherto; and presently, when I pointed to five minutes to four, he cried out to a player near him, "Five minutes more."

That player was Charlie Newcome, and I saw his face flush as of old, and knew he at any rate intended to make the most of the brief time remaining.

But two of the minutes were gone before his chance came. Then there was a cry, and all eyes turned towards him, for there came the ball flying straight to where he stood. In a moment he had it, and started to run.

It was a desperate chance, but Charlie was ready for desperate deeds.

Shout rose on shout, and cheer on cheer, as first one, then another of the enemy was overturned or dodged. The more he achieved, the less his enemies ventured against him, and he dashed through their "forwards" and between their "quarter-backs." Next moment, with a mighty swoop, their "half-back" fell to the earth.

And now there are but two men to pa.s.s, and one of these is Jim Halliday.

The avenging host follows in hot haste behind, but the issue of the fight lies with these two. See the grin of joy on Jim's face as he throws away his cap, and watches his dear enemy advance! It was as if a trumpet-call had suddenly sounded in the ears of two old chargers, and to them that moment the world was all contained in the s.p.a.ce which severed them. Straight as an arrow rushed Charlie, firm as a rock waited Jim. Nor had he long to wait. With a bound and a howl his enemy leapt at him, and next moment the two were locked in an embrace the shock of which even I could distinctly hear. Oh, shades of Randlebury I did your school every turn out two finer men than this pair of struggling, straining, rival friends! The collision occurred close to the goal-line, and a moment afterwards a cry of "Maul!" proclaimed that they had in their struggle crossed the line, and that consequently (in accordance with the law of the game) the contest for the ball must be decided by these two alone, without aid or hindrance from the breathless friends and foes who stood round. A fair field and no favour! A ring was formed, and as my heart beat rapidly on towards the critical moment, these two strained every nerve to get the advantage for his side before "time" should be called.

"Bravo, our man!" cried one. "Stick to it, Newcome!" shouted others.

"Now you have it, Halliday!" called out a third. Never was duel before the walls of Troy more desperate. The crowd burst in onto the field and thronged round, foremost among whom Jim's aunt's voice was heard crying out shrilly,--

"Well, I never, it's James and Mr Newcome, my love. How hot they are!"

It was evident the contest in which the two youths were engaged was one not destined to end before time was up. I pointed to within half a minute of the fated hour--and it would take far longer than that for even so powerful a champion as Jim to wrest the ball from Charlie's defiant grasp. The timekeeper turned away from the rivals and held me up. On went my hand, and on went the struggle.

"Now, Newcome; one tug more?"

"Bravo, our man! You'll do it yet!"

"Time's up! No side!"

Then rose those two from the earth, and immediately the astonished Jim felt himself embraced before the whole mult.i.tude by his aunt.

"Well, James, and how do you feel after it all?"

"Hungry," replied Jim.

So ended the famous match. After that Jim had no more trouble from his uncle and aunt on the subject of athletics, which they were fain to admit were a branch of science beyond their comprehension.

Charlie started that same night for London, with the intention of making one more effort to help Tom Drift at all hazards. I, meanwhile, was restored to the possession of my lawful owner, who returned to his studies in the "Mouse-trap"; sitting up all night, I am sorry to say, to make up for the loss of the day.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

HOW GEORGE READER WENT UP FOR HIS FINAL EXAMINATION AND LEFT ME BEHIND HIM.

"Old man, you're overdoing it!"

These words were uttered by Jim Halliday, one evening two years after the events related in our last chapter, to his friend George Reader, as the two sat together in Jim's rooms at Saint George's.