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Hughes, Thomas, 1822-1896

"Tom Brown's School Days"

Won't you two come up
to young Brooke, after locking-up, by the School-house fire, with "Old
fellow, wasn't that just a splendid scrummage by the three trees?" But
he knows you, and so do we. You don't really want to drive that
ball through that scrummage, chancing all hurt for the glory of the
School-house, but to make us think that's what you want--a vastly
different thing; and fellows of your kidney will never go through more
than the skirts of a scrummage, where it's all push and no kicking. We
respect boys who keep out of it, and don't sham going in; but you--we
had rather not say what we think of you.
Then the boys who are bending and watching on the outside, mark them:
they are most useful players, the dodgers, who seize on the ball the
moment it rolls out from amongst the chargers, and away with it across
to the opposite goal. They seldom go into the scrummage, but must have
more coolness than the chargers. As endless as are boys' characters, so
are their ways of facing or not facing a scrummage at football.
Three-quarters of an hour are gone; first winds are failing, and weight
and numbers beginning to tell. Yard by yard the School-house have been
driven back, contesting every inch of ground. The bull-dogs are the
colour of mother earth from shoulder to ankle, except young Brooke, who
has a marvellous knack of keeping his legs.


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