Burr Junior Part 59

"But what are we to do for a wicket-keeper?"

"You must take my place," I said feebly. "You are the best wicket-keeper we have."

"No," he cried frankly, "you are; but I think I'm the best bowler."

"Well, you will be obliged to keep wicket to-day," I said, with a groan.

"I shall never be able to stir, I'm sure."

"Well, you do look precious mouldy," he cried. "It's a nuisance, and no mistake. I suppose we must make s.h.i.+ft, then?"

"Yes; let d.i.c.ksee and Hodson bowl all the time."

"And I can put Senna on now and then for an over or two."

"I can't bowl well enough," said Mercer.

"Oh yes, you can when you like," said Burr major. "And, I say," he cried, taking out his watch, "it's getting close to the time."

Mercer's eyes glistened as the watch was examined, and it seemed to me that my companion sighed as the watch was replaced.

Just then Hodson came up.

"How is he?"

"Too bad to play, he says. Isn't it beastly?"

"Do you mean it, Burr junior?"

"Yes," I said. "I'm very, very queer. I couldn't play."

"You ain't shamming, are you?"

"Look at me and see," I replied faintly, and directly after I felt a cool hand laid on my burning forehead.

"There's no gammon about it," said Hodson. "We must do the best we can.

Look sharp, Senna."

"Yes," said Burr major; "he'll have to take a turn at the bowling."

"I shan't play if Frank Burr don't," said Mercer stoutly.

"What?" cried the two boys together.

"You must put some one else on instead of me; I've got a headache too."

"Oh, I say," cried Hodson, and he and Burr both tried hard to shake Mercer's sudden resolution. I too tried, but it was of no use; he grew more stubborn every minute; and after Burr major had again referred to his watch, the two lads went off together, disappointed and vexed.

"You might have gone and played with them, Tom," I said.

"I know that," he replied; "but I wasn't going without you. I'm going to stop and talk."

"No, no, don't," I said. "I only want to be quiet till--Oh, my head, my head!"

"Why, Burr junior, what's this?" cried Mr Hasnip, coming up and speaking cheerily. "Bad headache? not going to play?"

"No, sir, I feel too ill."

"Oh, come, this is a bad job. Hi, Rebble!"

The latter gentleman came up.

"Here's Burr junior queer. Does he want a doctor, do you think?"

Mr Rebble looked at me attentively for a few moments, and then said quietly,--

"No; only a bilious headache, I should say. Go and lie down for an hour or two, my lad, and perhaps it will pa.s.s off."

I gladly crawled up to our dormitory, took off my jacket and boots, and lay down on the bed, when I seemed to drop at once into a doze, from which I started to find Mercer seated by the window looking out.

"Better?" he said, as I stirred.

"Better! No; I feel very ill. But what are you doing here?"

"Come to sit with you," he said stolidly.

Just then there was a burst of cheering, and the crunching noise made by wheels.

"Here they are," cried Mercer excitedly. "Oh, I say, I do wish you were better! I should like to lick those Hastings chaps."

"Then why don't you go?" I said pettishly. "Go and bowl."

"Shan't, without you," was the only reply I could get, and I lay turning my head from side to side, trying to find a cool spot on the pillow, to hear every now and then a shout from the field, and then a burst of plaudits, or cries of, "Well run!"

"Bravo!"

"Well fielded!" and more hand-clapping, all borne faintly in at the window, where Mercer sat with his arms folded, gazing out, but unable to see the field from where he was.

After a time I once more dropped off into a doze and woke again with a start, under the impression that I had been asleep all day.

My head was not quite so bad, and, after lying still, thinking, and listening to the shouts from the cricket-field, I said weakly,--

"Have they nearly done, Tom?"

"Done! No, of course not."

"What time is it?"

"Don't know. Haven't got a watch."