Mike
slammed it back, and mid on, whose heart was obviously not in the thing,
failed to stop it.
"Get to them, Jenkins," said Mr. Downing irritably, as the ball came
back from the boundary. "Get to them."
"Sir, please, sir--"
"Don't talk in the field, Jenkins."
Having had a full pitch hit for six and a half volley for four, there
was a strong probability that Mr. Downing would pitch his next
ball short.
The expected happened. The third ball was a slow long hop, and hit the
road at about the same spot where the first had landed. A howl of
untuneful applause rose from the watchers in the pavilion, and Mike,
with the feeling that this sort of bowling was too good to be true,
waited in position for number four.
There are moments when a sort of panic seizes a bowler. This happened
now with Mr. Downing. He suddenly abandoned science and ran amok. His
run lost its stateliness and increased its vigor. He charged up to the
wicket as a wounded buffalo sometimes charges a gun. His whole idea now
was to bowl fast.
When a slow bowler starts to bowl fast, it is usually as well to be
batting, if you can manage it.
By the time the over was finished, Mike's score had been increased by
sixteen, and the total of his side, in addition, by three wides.
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