Nothing dangerous, of course. Be all right in a month or so. Stop his playing. Rather a pity. Much longer before half-time?'     

       'No. I was just going to blow the whistle when this happened.'     

       The injured warrior was carried off, and the referee blew his whistle for half-time.     

       'I say, Charteris,' said MacArthur, 'who the deuce am I to put half instead of Graham?'     

       'Rogers used to play half in his childhood, I believe. But, I say, did you       ever see such a scrag? Can't you protest, or something?'     

       'My dear chap, how can I? It's on our own ground. These Bargee beasts are visitors, if you come to think of it. I'd like to wring the chap's neck who did it. I didn't spot who it was. Did you see?'     

       'Rather. Their secretary. That man with the beard. I'll get Prescott to mark him this half.'     

       Prescott was the hardest tackler in the School. He accepted the commission cheerfully, and promised to do his best by the bearded one.     

       Charteris certainly gave him every opportunity. When he threw the ball out of touch, he threw it neatly to the criminal with the beard, and Prescott, who stuck to him closer than a brother, had generally tackled him before he knew what had happened. After a time he began to grow thoughtful, and when there was a line-out went and stood among the three-quarters. In this way much of Charteris's righteous retribution miscarried, but once or twice he had the pleasure and privilege of putting in a piece of tackling on his own account. The match ended with the enemy still intact, but considerably shaken. He was also rather annoyed. He spoke to Charteris on the subject as they were leaving the field.     

       'I was watching you,' he said, apropos of nothing apparently.     

       'That must have been nice for you,' said Charteris.     

       'You wait.'     

       'Certainly. Any time you're passing, I'm sure—'     

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