“Fine scrum,” said Clowes. “Yes. Quick in the open, too, which is always good business. I wish they’d beat Seymour’s.”
“Oh, we ought to be all right, whichever wins.”
Appleby’s did not offer any very serious resistance to the Donaldson attack. They were outplayed at every point of the game, and, before half-time, Donaldson’s had scored their thirty points. It was a rule in all in-school matches—and a good rule, too—that, when one side led by thirty points, the match stopped. This prevented those massacres which do so much towards crushing all the football out of the members of the beaten team; and it kept the winning team from getting slack, by urging them on to score their thirty points before half-time. There were some houses—notoriously slack—which would go for a couple of seasons without ever playing the second half of a match.
Having polished off the men of Appleby, the Donaldson team trooped off to the other game to see how Seymour’s were getting on with Day’s. It was evidently an exciting match. The first half had been played to the accompaniment of much shouting from the ropes. Though coming so early in the competition, it was really the semi-final, for whichever team won would be almost certain to get into the final. The school had turned up in large numbers to watch.
“Seymour’s looking tired of life,” said Clowes. “That would seem as if his fellows weren’t doing well.”
“What’s been happening here?” asked Trevor of an enthusiast in a Seymour’s house cap whose face was crimson with yelling.
“One goal all,” replied the enthusiast huskily. “Did you beat Appleby’s?”
“Yes. Thirty points before half-time. Who’s been doing the scoring here?”
“Milton got in for us. He barged through out of touch. We’ve been pressing the whole time. Barry got over once, but he was held up. Hullo, they’re beginning again. Buck up, Sey-mour’s.”
His voice cracking on the high note, he took an immense slab of vanilla chocolate as a remedy for hoarseness.
“Who scored for Day’s?” asked Clowes.
“Strachan. Rand-Brown let him through from their twenty-five. You never saw anything so rotten as Rand-Brown. He doesn’t take his passes, and Strachan gets past him every time.”
“Is Strachan playing on the wing?”
Strachan was the first fifteen full-back.
“Yes. They’ve put young Bassett back instead of him. Sey-mour’s. Buck up, Seymour’s. We-ell played! There, did you ever see anything like it?” he broke off disgustedly.
The Seymourite playing centre next to Rand-Brown had run through to the back and passed out to his wing, as a good centre should. It was a perfect pass, except that it came at his head instead of his chest. Nobody with any pretensions to decent play should have missed it. Rand-Brown, however, achieved that feat. The ball struck his hands and bounded forward. The referee blew his whistle for a scrum, and a certain try was lost.
From the scrum the Seymour’s forwards broke away to the goal-line, where they were pulled up by Bassett. The next minute the defence had been pierced, and Drummond was lying on the ball a yard across the line. The enthusiast standing by Clowes expended the last relics of his voice in commemorating the fact that his side had the lead.
“Drummond’ll be good next year,” said Trevor. And he made a mental note to tell Allardyce, who would succeed him in the command of the school football, to keep an eye on the player in question.
The triumph of the Seymourites was not long lived. Milton failed to convert Drummond’s try. From the drop-out from the twenty-five line Barry got the ball, and punted into touch. The throw-out was not straight, and a scrum was formed. The ball came out to the Day’s halves, and went across to Strachan. Rand-Brown hesitated, and then made a futile spring at the first fifteen man’s neck. Strachan handed him off easily, and ran. The Seymour’s full-back, who was a poor player, failed to get across in time. Strachan ran round behind the posts, the kick succeeded, and Day’s now led by two points.
After this the game continued in Day’s half. Five minutes before time was up, Drummond got the ball from a scrum nearly on the line, passed it to Barry on the wing instead of opening up the game by passing to his centres, and Barry slipped through in the corner. This put Seymour’s just one point ahead, and there they stayed till the whistle blew for no-side.