The Gladiators
you feel cold water down your back, and then he said something absurd about 'the cold gray dawn of the morning after.' I knew he couldn't make more of a fool of himself than he had done, so I said no more and let it rip. There was a scrum the next minute on our line, and our forwards got possession and heeled it out—against instructions of course. Our half, Powell, was picking up the ball when the Linnet rushed up, bashed him in the jaw with the flat of his hand; seized the ball; handed off the visitors' half in his old festive way; feinted to pass to his wing; doubled in, beating the centre; was threatened by their full-back; and then passed to Wood, his wing man. My hat!" He stopped for breath.
"Well?" said I, concealing gracefully how very Greek this all was to me.
"Well, you know what Wood is. He can do his hundred yards in a fifth of a second outside even time, and none of the Gladiators could touch him. He had a clear run in of three-quarters the length
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