All round the ground the crowd had broken up wildly shouting, some going towards the pavilion, but others, headed by a detachment from Adams’s, streaming out on to the pitch. The two boys ran towards the pavilion, dodging the first few of these, but both were caught and carried in starfishwise. Then again and again, first Maddox alone, then both together, they had to come out on to the balcony, while the house and school generally shouted itself hoarse for this entrancing finish. Indeed, the honours were fairly divided, for if Maddox’s batting had saved the situation to-day, the situation would have been impossible to save if it had not been for David’s bowling yesterday. Then by degrees the crowd dispersed, and the shouting died, and the two sat for a while there, the happiest pair perhaps in all England, blunt and telegraphic with each other. “David, you little devil,” said Frank. “Frightful cheek, your hitting that four. Second ball you received, too.” David gave a cackle of laughter. “Don’t rub it in,” he said. “I apologised. Juicy shot, too. I say, Tomlin sent you down an over of corkers after that.” “Nearly spewed with anxiety,” said Frank. “Absolute limit of an over.” “Wicked fellow, Tomlin,” quoth David. “Glad I didn’t get any of them.” “So’m I, damn glad. Else——” “Of course nobody can bat except yourself,” said David. “You can’t, anyhow.” “But we’ve won.” “Have we really? Don’t interrupt. I should have added that you can bowl.” “You can’t,” said David, getting level. “No, filthy exercise. I’ll take you down to bathe, if you don’t bar washing, and then I’ll take you to school shop, and you may eat all there is. Lucky I’m flush.” “Right oh, thanks awfully,” said David. “But you won’t be flush long.” They got up to go, but at the door Maddox paused. “Best of all the days I’ve had at school, David,” he said. “Same here,” said David. School bathing did not begin for another hour, but Maddox had the sixth-form privilege of bathing whenever he chose, and Adams, whom they ran to catch up on their way down, gave David leave to go with him. He had dutifully and delightedly watched every ball of the match, and had helped to carry David into the pavilion as there was no chance of assisting at the entry of Maddox. “Yes, by all means, yes, you—you blest pair of sirens,” he said, quoting from the Milton Ode which was to be sung at concert at the end of the term. “And take care of David, Jonathan, and don’t let him sink from being top-heavy with pride. We shall want him to bowl next year.” They trotted on for a little, in order to arrive at the bathing-place in the greatest possible heat. “I say, wasn’t that ripping of him?” said David. “Didn’t know he knew we were pals.” “Jolly cute,” observed Maddox. “But how did he know? We don’t go about together in public. Lord, here’s the Head coming. Lucky I’ve got leave.”