“Nothing much,” said Burgess, with a forced and grisly calm. “Only that, as far as I can see, we shall play Ripton on Saturday with a sort of second eleven. You don’t happen to have got sacked or anything, by the way, do you?” “What’s happened now?” “Neville-Smith. In extra on Saturday. That’s all. Only our first- and second-change bowlers out of the team for the Ripton match in one day. I suppose by to-morrow half the others’ll have gone, and we shall take the field on Saturday with a scratch side of kids from the Junior School.” “Neville-Smith! Why, what’s he been doing?” “Apparently he gave a sort of supper to celebrate his getting his first, and it was while coming back from that that Wyatt got collared. Well, I’m blowed if Neville-Smith doesn’t toddle off to the Old Man after school to-day and tell him the whole yarn! Said it was all his fault. What rot! Sort of thing that might have happened to any one. If Wyatt hadn’t gone to him, he’d probably have gone out somewhere else.” “And the Old Man shoved him in extra?” “Next two Saturdays.” “Are Ripton strong this year?” asked Bob, for lack of anything better to say. “Very, from all accounts. They whacked the M.C.C. Jolly hot team of M.C.C. too. Stronger than the one we drew with.” “Oh, well, you never know what’s going to happen at cricket. I may hold a catch for a change.” Burgess grunted. Bob went on his way to the nets. Mike was just putting on his pads. “I say, Mike,” said Bob. “I wanted to see you. It’s about Wyatt. I’ve thought of something.” “What’s that?” “A way of getting him out of that bank. If it comes off, that’s to say.” “By Jove, he’d jump at anything. What’s the idea?” “Why shouldn’t he get a job of sorts out in the Argentine? There ought to be heaps of sound jobs going there for a chap like Wyatt. He’s a jolly good shot, to start with. I shouldn’t wonder if it wasn’t rather a score to be able to shoot out there. And he can ride, I know.” “By Jove, I’ll write to father to-night. He must be able to work it, I should think. He never chucked the show altogether, did he?” Mike, as most other boys of his age would have been, was profoundly ignorant as to the details by which his father’s money had been, or was being, made. He only knew vaguely that the source of revenue had something to do with the Argentine. His brother Joe had been born in Buenos Ayres; and once, three years ago, his father had gone over there for a visit, presumably on business. All these things seemed to show that Mr. Jackson senior was a useful man to have about if you wanted a job in that Eldorado, the Argentine Republic.