microscope. His fingers were as clever as his tongue.

It was not long after Rupert got his new shirt and cap that a very sad
thing happened.

We were playing cricket one day as usual. It was very hot, and I was
mixing some lemon-kali at the canal, and holding up the mug to tempt
Weston over, who was on the other side with his proboscis among the
water-plants collecting larvae. Rupert was batting, and a new fellow,
who bowled much more swiftly than we were accustomed to, had the ball.
I was straining my ears to catch what Weston was shouting to me
between his hands, when I saw him start and point to the cricketers,
and turning round I saw Rupert lying on the ground.

The ball had hit him on the knee and knocked him down. He struggled
up, and tried to stand; but whilst he was saying it was nothing, and
scolding the other fellows for not going on, he fell down again
fainting from pain.

"The leg's broken, depend upon it," said Bustard-Plaster; "shall I run
for my father?"

I thanked him earnestly, for I did not like to leave Rupert myself.
But Johnson Major, who was kicking off his cricketing-shoes, said,
"It'll take an hour to get round. I'll go. Get him some water, and
keep his cap on. The sun is blazing." And before we could speak he was
in the canal and swimming across.

I went back to the bank for my mug, in which the lemon-kali was
fizzing itself out, and with this I got some water for Rupert, and at