TIBERIUS SMITH
and with a mighty o-o-o-of of satisfaction strained the collection to his bosom. When he discarded them over our heads they lay very still and their captain had to call in the substitutes.
"‘Great game!' I panted, in the breathing-space allowed by the Kinackers' retreat to the rum-keg.
"‘Got to keep moving, or they'll bag us yet,' bawled Tib. And our boys—now digging up a sulky streak, began beckoning energetically with their steel arms for their rivals to mix it up again, instead of waiting for our signals. You see, sir, we were in a tight place—we didn't dare leave our breastworks, and the squad was unwieldy to handle. The game, too, was vastly different from the merry practice in the corral, and the whole bunch were disgusted because their usual honorarium of fish was not forthcoming. Tib and I realized our lives depended on their keeping together, and we both worked overtime to tickle their vanity. But what saved us was the ball. Each nine-foot warrior had been taught to centre his or her whole soul on that trifle, and true to their training they obeyed orders and refused to desert their colors.
"‘They're coming!' I warned, as the mob of round forms waddled to a right-about face and cantered forward.
"‘Keep close to Rudolph,' cautioned Tib. And then, 'Centre! 4-11-44!' The numerals meant
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