However good a
batsman is, he can do little if no one can stay with him.
There was no time to question the newcomer. He must control his
curiosity until the fall of the next wicket.
"Man in," he said.
Billy Silver was in many ways a miniature edition of his brother, and
he carried the resemblance into his batting. The head of Blackburn's
was stylish, and took no risks. His brother had not yet developed a
style, but he was very settled in his mind on the subject of risks.
There was no tempting him with half-volleys and long-hops. His motto
was defence, not defiance. He placed a straight bat in the path of
every ball, and seemed to consider his duty done if he stopped it.
The remainder of the over was, therefore, quiet. Billy played
Kennedy's fastest like a book, and left the more tempting ones alone.
Challis's first over realised a single, Wayburn snicking him to leg.
The first ball of Kennedy's second over saw him caught at the wicket,
as Walton had been.
"Every _time_ a coconut," said Jimmy Silver complacently, as he
walked to the other end. "We're a powerful combination, Kennedy.
Where's Fenn? Does anybody know? Why doesn't he come in?"
Billy Silver, seated on the grass by the side of the crease, fastening
the top strap of one of his pads, gave tongue with the eagerness of
the well-informed man.
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