The Magpies became impatient, and perhaps a little bit anxious. When Dick pushed the ball away a foot or two they cheered ironically, crying, "Well hit!" "Nearly a boundary!" etc., and advised him in sarcastic tones to run it out. Dick grinned. He was enjoying himself immensely, and had no objection to any amount of chaff. As the game proceeded, a magnetic influence seemed to pervade the air. A deep hush fell over the field; the spectators were afraid to turn their eyes from the wicket a second. Jim had the ball again, and was playing like a professional. Twelve, ten, eight to win! A beautiful drive all along the ground reduced the required number to four, and the Deanery boys burst into a roar of cheering. Mr. Holmore’s eyes brightened, and he turned with a smile to the St. Paul’s master, who stood near him. "Well, Hudson, we shall give you a fright, at least," he remarked. "It looks as if we shall have to give you the shield," replied Mr. Hudson ruefully. Another cheer announced that two more runs had been knocked off; and then, from the very last ball of the over, Jim made it a tie. The excitement was too intense for the Deanery boys even to cheer; they held their breath and waited. What would Dicky do? Mr. Laythorne, who was watching through his field-glass, sighed dolefully. "The strain’s too much for him," he said. "He’s trembling fearfully. He’ll lose his head and throw his wicket away." Alas! there was a good deal of truth in the young class-master’s words. It was not in Dick’s nature to stand for long poking quietly at the ball as he had been doing. His fingers tingled as they closed round bat, and he longed to hit out at something. Temple saw the youngster’s state and took his measures accordingly. He placed his men with great care for a catch, and then sent down a tempting slow. Dick blocked it, and a second of the same sort. Not a bit discouraged, Temple gave him a third; and this time, as the master had prophesied, Dick lost his head. His friends groaned when they saw his bat go up, and decided it would be only a question of caught or stumped. Dicky afterwards confessed it should have been one or the other. "I couldn’t stand it any longer, and that’s the truth," said he. "I forgot all about the shield, and just went for the ball with all my might." Jim declared his chum shut his eyes before hitting out; but be that as it may, the ball travelled through the air towards the boundary. Travers, the Magpie stationed in that part, ran along the edge of the field in a gallant attempt to bring off a fine catch; but he missed the ball by a hair’s-breadth, and the coveted shield passed into the possession of the Deanery for the next twelve months. "I congratulate you," said the master of St. Paul’s, turning to Mr. Holmore. "It has been a splendid fight, and you deserved to win."