THE HONOUR OF THE GAME

Waikato Times, Volume 113, Issue 18950, 20 May 1933, Page 15 (Supplement)

THE HONOUR OF THE GAME

The long arm of Coincidence is sometimes only the Anger of Provldenoe In the pie. He held out his hand and gripped that of the little man and dragged him forward.

"Woodhams I” said he. The other shook his hand with aeliberate solemnity and at last he said: "This is the day I have been waiting for. All that I said Is oomlng true. You are picked for the oounty at Cunningham contributed a little gulp. "Yes, I know," he said, “I know. But there’s something else. Stanley—he's playing on the other side. almost forgotten and now he s Woodhams creased his face Into a contented smile. "I know. And I am here. You see this coat. lam very, very fond of It. It means that my mission is to see fair L play My opportunity has. come. lam “very well satisfied: I have been-an umpire ever since I left Greymmster. Eantley will bowl to you, but I I shall be holding the scales of justice, and If he bowls from my end ' “Perhaps he won’t," said Cunningham alertly. "Providence has arranged this day, •aid the lltle'man, "and I do not believe that Providence would have gone to all this trouble If a Utle thing like that were to Interfere. There’s something In me that seems to say ho s going to bowl from my end—and we shall see." . Woodlmms was right, and when at last Cunningham came out Into the sunshine to bat, Santley was bowling from the pavilion end, and beside Ills crease there stood the unconquered figure of the little man who loved fair plav. He could not guess what Santley'had felt when he had found him .landing there, but he thought that it must have been as severe a shock as & blow with a bottle upon tne back of the head. Now Cunningham looked UP the pitch and saw them, and at last he met Santley’s eye. Santley was looking at him tensely, twisting and turning the ball In hla hands as If Impatient for the came to recommence, tnd as Cunningham took his guard, the last words of the little man came back to him. "Stand up to him with all your heart. Don’t think about getting lilt. If vou do get hit, that’s better than getting out. Just set your teeth and play to every ball, and, if you hav e to duck, don’t worry. I shall be watching and I shall see that the play Is Now Santley was starting his run and his arm was swinging about his ■houlder. Cunningham saw the red ball leave bis hand and in the passing , of a second he had the answer to his Santley’s hatred lived. He was plaving upon the past. ine ball swung ‘ down upon Cunningham directly at ills legs .and, just as lie always had done in matches, Santley made a quick gesture of regret. •Cunningham stepped aside, ancl stood ready for the next. He felt now a •little like the nigger at a fair who pokes his head through the curtain and offers himself as a cockshy. Dalis teemed to come at him one after the other, always upon the leg side, and always dangerous, and he jerked away every time and stood ready again In waiting for the next, Then it was lover and he had his breathing-space; but Santley came on again with dark «ves glinting and his thin lips lightly ehut, and now the little man, watching with Inscrutable eyes, oould see the old nervous tension coming back Into Hie youngster’s eyes In the form of terror, a fear Hint to many might 6eem Incredible but which was as real «s another man’s fear of cats, or Hie dreadful memory that makes a man home from the wars jump aside at the sound of a droning car, curiously like

the coming of !l shell. Cunningham was remembering, and ho could not Uccp tiie colour from coming and going in his eliceks; the little man grew ready for a decision. The boy had been gradually moving before his wicket all unthinkingly, and at. any moment, now Snntley would sling down another llereo hall towards his " legs, and Cunningham'? strung nerves would jump and lie would miss it

Woociliams stood grimly beside Uio wicket nnrl looked ahead, lie was up egninst the Sant leys, and I lie' Santloys would rise just as before and crush him lie had no shadow of doubt that thev could do it. They would lie. of him and their word would count more <lata, his. There would not he any Ivfss. y e xt year his name would not be upon tho 'list of umpires. That was oil They had rolihed him of his ambition. 'They had driven him from the school lie had grown to love, lie

A CRICKET STORY

(By Hylton Cleaver.)

(Continued from last week.)

stood now on the very edge of the cricket world. One other blew and he would be out of It. Cricket had been his life and hts love and he would be shouldered Into the cold. He did not even know what he would And to do. He would be a broken man, and all he needed to do to save himself would be to give Cunningham "Out" when the moment came. It would be true enough. Cunningham would be out. Already he was hiding the wicket with his legs. He, the watching Spirit of Fair Play, had only to lift his hand and Cunningham would have to go. But there was something else. If he sent Cunningham out, Cunningham would not play cricket again. The story of his schooldays would repeat Itself. "He tried to squeeze me out of the game and he s won." That was what Cunningham would say, and he would be lost to England. He, Ben Woodhams, was all that stood between the honour and dishonour of the game. un

Quite suddenly Tt had happened. Santley had let go a vicious ball directly at Cunningham’s legs, and the boy had missed It and met it with bis pads. Santley had turned with his hands upraised and was appealing. For the fraction of a second the little man hesitated. Standing there in the light of day It seemed a very hard thing to believe that this moment meant so very much to him for the rest of his life. But he was ready, and for the sake of the fair name of the game he gave his answer. He stood looking straight in front of him and he shook his head and said; "Not Out!"

There was a moment's utter silence. He saw Cunningham at his wicket looking dazedly up the pitch. ‘ He felt the dark eyes of Santley burning into his soul. Then, presently, the game had recommenced, and confldence was coming back to Cunningham. He began to make scoring strokes. Over succeeded over. He was stolidly playing himself in for a long and creditable innings. Santley tried again. Balls hurtled past Cunningham’s face and missed by Inches, and then came another unexpectedly at his legs, and again the appeal, but the little man who was on the edge of the cricket world, and who would have to pay the price, stood stolidly at the wicket and shook his head.

"Not Out I" His voice was quiet but it was uncommonly level. Once more he had ills chance. Santley was pale with anger. Again the appeal sounded threateningly in his ears, but he would not give In. He shook his head doggedly and said again "Not Out." The last ball of his Over Santley pitched viciously at the young Palairet’s face; but Cunningham ducked, and another bowler began the attack all over again. But Cunningham stood now with the colour coming back again into his cheeks, scoring all round the wicket, and playing as lie had never played before. The darkest hour of his cricket life had gone, lie had won through, and his fear was suddenly dispelled. The likelihood of his meeting Santley again was small. He had already gone half-way to his century. His foot was Inside the door of County Cricket and he would be asked Inßlde to stay. (To be concluded next week.)