Fantasy Football Challenge - Football Fanatics Library

Fantasy Football Challenge - Library of Books for Football Fanatics

Fantasy Football Challenge presents
The Triple Alliance

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himself." "Oh! is that the 'coffee-mill'?" exclaimed the prefect, laughing. "Well, look here! If you're late, I'll see whoever's on duty, and tell him about the breakdown, and see if I can get you off." "Oh, thanks awfully!" chorused the small boys. "I've half a mind to say I wouldn't," continued Acton, looking round as he put his foot on the step of his machine, and nodding his head at Diggory. "I owe you a grudge for not telling me what I wanted to know about my young brother's love-letter." The football captain was as good as his word: he got the Triple Alliance excused the "impot" which would otherwise have been awarded them for arriving at the school half an hour late, and the only misfortune which resulted from their eventful excursion was that Jack Vance had to expend a further portion of his postal order in paying Jobling for repairing the broken chain. The day, however, did not close without another incident happening to one of the voyagers, which, though trifling in itself, proved, as it were, the shadow of coming events which were destined to seriously affect the well-being and happiness of all the Ronleigh boys. Crossing the quadrangle soon after tea, Diggory saw something bright lying on the gravel; it proved to be a silver match-box with the letters C. T. engraved on the front. He took it with him into the school-room, and holding it up as the boys were assembling at their desks for preparation, asked if any one knew who was the owner. "Yes, I do," answered young Fletcher: "it's Thirsty's; I've seen it often." Preparation of the next day's work having ended, Diggory's attention was occupied for a time in discussing with Carton the merits of some foreign stamps. Just before supper, however, he remembered the match-box, and hurried away to restore it to its rightful owner. Thurston was evidently at home, for a prolonged shout of laughter and the clamour of several voices reached Diggory's ears as he approached the study. As he knocked at the door the noise suddenly ceased, there was a moment's silence, and then a murmur in a low tone, followed by a scuffling of feet and the overturning of a chair. "Who's there? you can't come in!" shouted the owner of the den. "I don't want to," answered Diggory, through the keyhole. "I've brought your match-box that I picked up in the 'quad.'" "Oh, it's only a kid," said the voice of Fletcher senior; and the next instant the door was unlocked by Thurston, who opened it about six inches, and immediately thrust his body into the aperture, as though to prevent the possibility of the visitor getting any sight of the interior of the room. "Oh, thanks; you're a brick," he said, taking the box, and immediately closed the door and turned the key. Diggory was retracing his steps along the passage, wondering what could be the object of all this secrecy, when he nearly ran into the school captain. "Hullo, young man!" said the latter, "where have you been?" "To Thurston's study." "What have you been there for?" demanded Allingford sharply, with a sudden change in his tone and manner. "Only to give him his match-box that I picked up in the 'quad.'" The captain eyed the speaker narrowly, as though half inclined to doubt the truth of this explanation; then, apparently satisfied with the honest expression of the small boy's face, told him to get down to supper. The latter wandered off, wondering more than ever what could have been the object of the private gathering in Thurston's study which he had just interrupted. "It's what I told you before," remarked Carton, when Diggory chanced to mention what had happened. "Thirsty's going to the dogs, and I believe big Fletcher's got a lot to do with it. Allingford can't interfere with them as long as they keep to themselves. I don't know what they do, but I shouldn't be surprised if there is a rare old kick-up one of these fine days." Mischief certainly was brewing, and the "kick-up" came sooner than even Carton himself expected. CHAPTER XII. THE WRAXBY MATCH. Wednesday, the twenty-fourth of July, saw the whole of Ronleigh College in a state of bustle and excitement. The near approach of the holidays was sufficient in itself to put every one in high spirits, while, in addition to this, the afternoon was to witness the chief cricket contest of the season--the annual match against Wraxby Grammar School. During the hour before dinner the ground itself was a scene of brisk activity: the school colours flew at the summit of the flagstaff; the boundary flags fluttered in the breeze; a number of willing hands, under the direction of Allingford, put a finishing touch to the pitch with the big roller, while others assisted in rigging up the two screens of white canvas in line with the wickets. "I do hope we lick them," said little "Rats" to Jack Vance as they stood by the pavilion, watching Oaks mixing some whiting for the creases; "we _must_ somehow or other." "Why?" "Why? because they've beaten us now three times running; and the last time when our chaps went over to Wraxby and got licked at footer their captain asked Ally if in future we should like to play a master! Such rot!" continued the youthful "Rats," boiling with wrath; "as if we couldn't smash them without! Look here, I'd give--I'd give sixpence if we could win!" and with this burst of patriotic enthusiasm the speaker hurried away to join Maxton, who, with an old sprung racquet in one hand and the inside of an exploded cricket-ball in the other, was calling to him from the adjoining playing field to "Come and play tip and run, and bring something that'll do for a wicket." The feelings expressed by "Rats" as regards the result of the match were shared by the whole school, and by none more so than the members of the Third Form. "The Happy Family" turned up to a man, and encamped _en masse_ upon the turf within twenty yards of the pavilion. Bibbs was the last to arrive on the scene of action, and did so with a bag of sweets in one hand, a book in the other, and a piece of paper, pinned by some joker to the tail of his coat, bearing the legend, "Please to kick me"--a request which was immediately responded to in a most hearty and generous fashion by all present. Kicking the unfortunate Bibbs afforded every one such exquisite

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