It was an unpleasant episode, but fortunately the object of such misplaced and ugly hilarity scarcely seemed to notice the outrage. Mr. Bumpus was not lacking in courage. After a few more groans and sighs, and a final rubbing of that part of him that had been injured, he placed himself in preparation to receive the next ball. The spectators loudly applauded him, and the bowler, perhaps unwilling to risk another misadventure, moderated his delivery. Mr. Bumpus struck the ball lightly, and it sped away through the slips. A fielder darted after it, but there was ample time for a run. "Come on!" shouted Mr. Bumpus, and started to puff and blow his way down the pitch.
But the Clockwork man paid not the slightest heed to the command. He remained, statuesque, a figure of gross indifference. Mr. Bumpus pulled himself up sharply, mid-way between the two wickets; his red face was a study in bewilderment. He slid a few paces, cast one imploring glance in the direction of the Clockwork man, and then rushed desperately back to his own crease. But he was too late; his wicket had been put down.
Etiquette plays an important part in the noble game of cricket. It may be bad form to refuse an obvious run; but to complain of your partner in public is still worse. Besides, Mr. Bumpus was too aghast for speech, and his stomach still pained him. He walked very slowly and with great dignity back to the pavilion, and his annoyance was no doubt amply soothed by the loud cheers that greeted his return. Gregg came out to meet him, with a rather shamefaced smile upon his features.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, "our recruit seems to be a little awkward. I don't think he quite understands."
"He can hit," said Mr. Bumpus, mopping his brow, "but he's certainly an eccentric sort of individual. I called to him to run, and apparently he did not or _would_ not hear me."
Gregg caught hold of Arthur Withers, who was just going out to bat. "Look here," he said, "just tell our friend that he must run. I don't think he quite grasps the situation."
"No," said Arthur, slowly, "I don't think he does. He's rather a peculiar sort of person. I--I--spoke to him. He--he--says he's a clockwork man."
"Oh," said Gregg, and his face became blank. "Anyhow, just tell him that he must run when he's called."