"Well, as a matter of fact"
Jan had not the heart to state the fact outright.
"I thought Norgate had got Sandham's place?"
"Well, so he had. I couldn't help it, Evan! I really couldn't. But now Norgate has got measles, too, and you've simply got to come in instead. You will, Evan! Of course you will; and I'll bowl twice as well for having you on the side. I simply hated leaving you out. But there's life in the old dog yet, and I'll let 'em know it, and so will you!"
He penetrated deeper into the dusky den; his hand flew out spasmodically. There was not another living being to whom he would have made so demonstrative an advance; but he had just described himself more aptly than he knew. Evan always awakened the faithful old hound in Jan, as Jerry Thrale had stirred the lion in him, Haigh the mule, and sane Bob Heriot the mere man. So we all hit each other in different places. But it was only Evan who had found Jan's softest spot, and therefore only Evan who could hurt him as he did without delay.
"Oh, all right, I'll play! Anything to oblige, I'm sure! But there's nothing to shake hands about, is there?"
So history repeated and exaggerated itself. But it was a long time before Jan thought of that. And then he was not angry with himself, as he had been four years before; he was far too hurt to be angry with anybody at all. And in that old dog, for one, there was very little life that day.
He went through the preliminary forms of office, which generally caused him visible embarrassment, with a casual unconcern even less to be admired; but it was almost the fact that Jan only realised he had lost the toss when he found himself as mechanically leading his men into the
