"It’s bound to come to the Deanery," declared Tompkins, who was himself still struggling with the mysteries of long division. "The only question is, Who’s to get it?" Then the talk turned to the great cricket match fixed for the next day, which was to decide the possession of the challenge shield for the following year. St. Paul’s held it, but the Deanery intended having a good try to wrest it from their near and dear rivals. "Hartland’s in fine form," said one. "You should have seen him hit at practice yesterday. If he comes off we ought to stand a chance." "And the Angel’s bowling a treat! I don’t think the ’Magpies’" (as the St. Paul’s boys were called) "will do much with his curly ones." "He bowled the inspector out before school, didn’t he?" They were still laughing at the recollection of Dick’s mishap when Simpson, the reserve man of the team, came up, trying, but with poor success, to look sorry. "Heard the news, you fellows?" he asked. "Hartland’s cricked his leg and won’t be able to play." The boys gazed at one another blankly, hoping against hope that the news was not true. "There he is," cried one suddenly; and sure enough there he was, leaning on his chum’s arm, and hobbling slowly across the playground. They crowded around him eagerly, asking more questions than could be answered in a week. "What’s the matter, Jim?" "Can’t you play?" "Are you hurt?" "Hurt!" cried Dick scornfully. "Of course not! He is doing this just for fun, you silly duffers." "It isn’t much," exclaimed Jim, "and I’ll play to-morrow if I can stand. We’ll have that shield yet." "Anyhow," said Dick, with a laugh, "if Jim can’t turn out, we have Simpson to fall back on," at which the Deanery boys shook their heads doubtfully. They had no very high opinion of Simpson’s powers. "I’m awfully sorry," said Dick ruefully, as the two chums went up the road. "There’ll be no practice for you this afternoon, at all events." "No," agreed Jim. "I’d better lie by till the morning. Never mind, old chap; it wasn’t your fault; and besides, I shall be all right. Mother will see to that, I’m glad the match is to-morrow. We’ll have a good try for the shield, and then peg away for the scholarship." "Won’t the Magpies get their monkey up if we pull off both? What a beastly nuisance! There’s Temple coming!" Temple was the captain of the St. Paul’s team—a tall, nice-looking lad, immensely proud of his school, and noted for playing the game like a true sportsman. "Hullo, Hartland!" he cried; "crippled? I say, that’s hard lines on the Deanery. I wonder if the committee would put the game off for a week?" "No, no," said Jim; "it isn’t much. I shall turn up in the morning." "You’re a brick, Temple," exclaimed Dick, "and a jolly good sort, though you are a Magpie. ’Pon my word, I’m half sorry we’re going to take that shield from you."