Lieutenant Boyle, who captained the team, was at his wits' end to find a suitable substitute. 'Have any of you men played this game?' he asked, going up to a group of seamen belonging to the Belligerent who had come to watch. 'Parkins hasn't turned up. We want a forward badly.'
Pincher, seizing the opportunity, stepped forward before any one else had a chance of answering. 'I've played at 'ome, sir,' he said, reddening at his own temerity. 'I used to be on the right wing.'
Boyle seemed rather surprised. 'You!' he said. 'Can you run? D' you know how to dribble and shoot?'
'Yessir.'
The officer looked at him for a moment without replying. He seemed rather doubtful.
''E's orl right, sir,' chipped in Billings, who happened to be present. ''E's pretty nippy on 'is feet. I've seen 'im kickin' the ball abart.'
The lieutenant looked up with a laugh. 'All right, Billings; we'll take him on your recommendation.—Martin, rush across to the pavilion and borrow some gear. Hurry up about it; we're late already.'
Pincher, overjoyed and very proud of himself, flew off like the wind, and presently reappeared clad in full regalia, yellow shirt and all. It was his first really important match; but he felt he was on his mettle, and played well, almost brilliantly. At any rate, he shot two goals; whereat the 'Belligerents' howled themselves hoarse, raised cheers for 'young Pincher,' and wished to treat him with much beer at the end of the game. It was the first time in his life he had ever received adulation, and he was a proud man. His play had undoubtedly helped to win the match.
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