He happened to meet Mike going to school next morning, and unburdened his soul to him. It chanced that Bob and he had had another small encounter immediately after breakfast, and Burton felt revengeful.
"I say," said Burton, "I'm jolly glad you're playing for the first against Geddington."
"Thanks," said Mike.
"I'm specially glad for one reason."
"What's that?" inquired Mike, without interest.
"Because your beast of a brother has been chucked out. He'd have been playing but for you."
At any other time Mike would have heard Bob called a beast without active protest. He would have felt that it was no business of his to fight his brother's battles for him. But on this occasion he deviated from his rule.
He kicked Burton. Not once or twice, but several times, so that Burton, retiring hurriedly, came to the conclusion that it must be something in the Jackson blood, some taint, as it were. They were all beasts.
Mike walked on, weighing this remark, and gradually made up his mind. It must be remembered that he was in a confused mental condition, and that the only thing he realised clearly was that Bob had pulled him out of an uncommonly nasty hole. It seemed to him that it was necessary to repay Bob. He thought the thing over more fully during school, and his decision remained unaltered.
On the evening before the Geddington match, just before lock-up, Mike tapped at Burgess's study door. He tapped with his right hand, for his left was in a sling.
"Come in!" yelled the captain. "Hullo!"
"I'm awfully sorry, Burgess," said Mike. "I've crocked my wrist a bit."
"How did you do that? You were all right at the nets?"
"Slipped as I was changing," said Mike stolidly.
"Is it bad?"
"Nothing much. I'm afraid I shan't be able to play to-morrow."
"I say, that's bad luck. Beastly bad luck. We wanted your batting, too. Be all right, though, in a day or two, I suppose?"
"Oh, yes, rather."
"Hope so, anyway."
"Thanks. Good-night."
"Good-night."
And Burgess, with the comfortable feeling that he had managed to combine duty and pleasure after all, wrote a note to Bob at Donaldson's, telling him to be ready to start with the team for Geddington by the 8.54 next morning.
CHAPTER XVI
AN EXPERT EXAMINATION
Mike's Uncle John was a wanderer on the face of the earth. He had been an army surgeon in the days of his youth, and, after an adventurous career, mainly in Afghanistan, had inherited enough money to keep him in comfort for the rest of his life. He had thereupon left the service, and now spent most of his time flitting from one spot of Europe to another. He had been dashing up to Scotland on the day when Mike first became a Wrykynian, but a few weeks in an uncomfortable hotel in Skye and a few days in a comfortable one in Edinburgh had left him with the impression that he had now seen all that there was to be seen in North Britain and might reasonably shift his camp again.
Coming south, he had looked in on Mike's people for a brief space, and, at the request of Mike's mother, took the early express to Wrykyn in order to pay a visit of inspection.
His telegram arrived during morning school. Mike went down to the station to meet him after lunch.
Uncle John took command of the situation at once.
"School playing anybody to-day, Mike? I want to see a match."
"They're playing Geddington. Only it's away. There's a second match on."
"Why aren't you-Hullo, I didn't see. What have you been doing to yourself?"
"Crocked my wrist a bit. It's nothing much."
"How did you do that?"
"Slipped while I was changing after cricket."
"Hurt?"
"Not much, thanks."
"Doctor seen it?"
"No. But it's really nothing. Be all right by Monday."
"H'm. Somebody ought to look at it. I'll have a look later on."
Mike did not appear to relish this prospect.
"It isn't anything, Uncle John, really. It doesn't matter a bit."
"Never mind. It won't do any harm having somebody examine it who knows a bit about these things. Now, what shall we do. Go on the river?"
"I shouldn't be able to steer."
"I could manage about that. Still, I think I should like to see the place first. Your mother's sure to ask me if you showed me round. It's like going over the stables when you're stopping at a country-house. Got to be done, and better do it as soon as possible."
It is never very interesting playing the part of showman at school. Both Mike and his uncle were inclined to scamp the business. Mike pointed out the various landmarks without much enthusiasm-it is only after one has left a few years that the school buildings take to themselves romance-and Uncle John said, "Ah yes, I see. Very nice," two or three times in an absent voice; and they passed on to the cricket field, where the second eleven were playing a neighbouring engineering school. It was a glorious day. The sun had never seemed to Mike so bright or the grass so green. It was one of those days when the ball looks like a large vermilion-coloured football as it leaves the bowler's hand. If ever there was a day when it seemed to Mike that a century would have been a certainty, it was this Saturday. A sudden, bitter realisation of all he had given up swept over him, but he choked the feeling down. The thing was done, and it was no good brooding over the might-have-beens now. Still-And the Geddington ground was supposed to be one of the easiest scoring grounds of all the public schools!
"Well hit, by George!" remarked Uncle John, as Trevor, who had gone in first wicket for the second eleven, swept a half-volley to leg round to the bank where they were sitting.
"That's Trevor," said Mike. "Chap in Donaldson's. The fellow at the other end is Wilkins. He's in the School House. They look as if they were getting set. By Jove," he said enviously, "pretty good fun batting on a day like this."
Uncle John detected the envious note.
"I suppose you would have been playing here but for your wrist?"
"No, I was playing for the first."