You're too much in luck to come out with a duck," answered Montagu.

"You see I've already become the Homer of your triumphs, and vaticinate in rhyme." And now it was Eric's turn to go in.

It was long since he had stood before the wicket, but now he was there, looking like a beautiful picture as the sunlight streamed over him, and made his fair hair shine like gold.

In the triumph of success his sorrows were flung to the winds, and his blue eyes sparkled with interest and joy.
He contented himself with blocking Duncan's balls until his eye was in; but then, acquiring confidence, he sent them flying right and left.

His score rapidly mounted, and there seemed no chance of getting him out, so that there was every probability of his carrying out his bat.
"Oh, _well_ hit! _well_ hit! A three'r for Eric," cried Wildney to the scorer; and he began to clap his hands and dance about with excitement at his friend's success.
"Oh, well hit! well hit in--deed!" shouted all the lookers on, as Eric caught the next ball half-volley, and sent it whizzing over the hedge, getting a sixer by the hit.
At the next ball they heard a great crack, and he got no run, for the handle of his bat broke right off.
"How unlucky!" he said, flinging down the handle with vexation.