He had not
thought there was much fun in it until the house-master unfolded its
possibilities, but he took over the whistle fairly sanguine.
"I'll do my best, sir," said Gus, in conclusion; "and if they stone me
off the Acres----"
"I'll bury my reputation as a prophet under the missiles."
In one thing Todd was certainly right. When he found Hargon's _v_.
Sharpe's pitch and told the assembled twenty-two--rather diffidently, I
must own--that he was the deputy referee, they did gasp.
"Show us your whistle, Gus," said Higgins, Hargon's captain, doubtfully.
Gus held it up, with a genial and childlike smile.
"Got the rules in your pocket, too, I suppose."
"I have," said Todd--"for reference. But I know _now_, Higgins, that
goal-keepers cannot take more than two steps with the ball, and----"
Sharpe's lot guffawed at Todd's neat little thrust at Higgins's little
failing as a goal-keeper.
"But don't you worry, Hig; I'll see you through all right. Three-quarter
each way, I suppose?"
Todd gave his whole mind to the refereeing, and soon warmed to business.
He found that there was heaps more fun in it than he had bargained for,
and as he was a sharp, quick, and clever youth he came out of the ordeal
with flying colours. He made mistakes, naturally, but momentous issues
depended on none of them, and he felt he had not done so badly when
Higgins, at half-time, spoke to him as one in authority to another. But
Palmer, the captain of Sharpe's lot--the beaten side--put the coping
stone to a pleasant afternoon by asking Gus to referee for them against
Merishall's.
Pages:
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115