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on Dixon who was always as cool as a cucumber in a

"Give Jem a bit of the long handle, Tom!'3 baulcd
someone in the Beer Tent, while he marched
serenely toward the wicket, pausing for a confidential
word with Noakes who was still looking a. bit crest-
fallen after the recent catastrophe. Dixon was a
stylish left-hander and never worried much about-
playing himself in. Bishop was well aware of this,
and he at once arranged an extra man in the out-
field for him. Sure enough, the second ball he received
was lifted straight into the long-offss hands. But the
sun was in the fielder's eyes and he misjudged the
flight of the catch. The Beer Tent exulted vocifer-
ously. Dixon then set about the bowling and the score
mounted merrily. He was energetically supported by
Ned Noakes. But when their partnership had added
over fifty, and they looked like knocking off the runs,
Noakes was caught in the slips off a bumping ball
and the situation instantly became serious again.

Realizing that I was next in but one, 1 went off in
a fluster to put my pads on, disregarding Aunt
Evelyn's tremulous "I do so hope you'll do well,
dear". By the time I had arrived on the olhcr side
of the ground, Amos Hickmott, the wheelwright's
son, had already caused acute anxiety. After survi-
ving a tigerish appeal for "leg-before", he had as
near as a toucher run Dixon out in a half-witted
endeavour to escape from the bowling. My palsied
fingers were still busy with straps and buckles when
what sounded to me like a deafening crash warned
me that it was all over with Hickmott We still
wanted seven runs to win when I wandered weakly in
the direction of the wicket. But it was thC'Cnd of an
over, and Dixon had the bowling. When I arrived