The atmosphere in the carriage became charged with optimism. It seemed a simple thing to defeat a side which was practically a Ripton "A" team. The centre three-quarters were there still, it was true, but Allardyce and Drummond ought to be able to prevent the halves ever getting the ball out to them. The team looked on those two unknown halves as timid novices, who would lose their heads at the kick-off. As a matter of fact, the system of football teaching at Ripton was so perfect, and the keenness so great, that the second fifteen was nearly as good as the first every year. But the Wrykyn team did not know this, with the exception of Allardyce, who kept his knowledge to himself; and they arrived at Ripton jaunty and confident. Keith, the Ripton captain, who was one of the centre three-quarters who had made so many holes in the Wrykyn defence in the previous term, met the team at the station, and walked up to the school with them, carrying Allardyce's bag. "You seem to have lost a good many men at Christmas," said Allardyce. "We were reading the _Sportsman_ in the train. Apparently, you've only got ten of your last term's lot. Have they all left?" The Ripton captain grinned ruefully. "Not much," he replied. "They're all here. All except Dunn. You remember Dunn? Little thick-set chap who played half. He always had his hair quite tidy and parted exactly in the middle all through the game." "Oh, yes, I remember Dunn. What's he doing now?" "Gone to Coopers Hill. Rot, his not going to the Varsity. He'd have walked into his blue." Allardyce agreed. He had marked Dunn in the match of the previous term, and that immaculate sportsman had made things not a little warm for him. "Where are all the others, then?" he asked. "Where's that other half of yours? And the rest of the forwards?" "Mumps," said Keith. "What!" "It's a fact. Rot, isn't it? We've had a regular bout of it. Twenty fellows got it altogether. Naturally, four of those were in the team. That's the way things happen. I only wonder the whole scrum didn't have it." "What beastly luck," said Allardyce. "We had measles like that a couple of years ago in the summer term, and had to play the Incogs and Zingari with a sort of second eleven. We got mopped." "That's what we shall get this afternoon, I'm afraid," said Keith. "Oh, no," said Allardyce. "Of course you won't." And, as events turned out, that was one of the truest remarks he had ever made in his life. * * * * *