Fifth Night in Camp

And then Sharpe himself was brought down into the mud. "I ain't got the ball, Slats," he growled. "An' if you've tackled me just 'cause I'm an officer, I can put you on double duty, and don't you forget it!"

Cooper had been running ahead towards the kettle as well, with the Hussar on the other side. Cooper along the left side, the Hussar along the right. They met, they passed. But this time the exchange did not happen even if it may have seemed so. Around towards his lordship now. Each coming from his side, and each in such a posture that it seemed that they were hiding the ball.

Harris was not particularly concerned with whether the hussar had the ball or not. He had not yet paid him back for that fist full of mud, and so he ran straight at him as soon as he turned towards the goal - the kettle. If he had the ball, that would be extra satisfaction. Arms outstretched, hair caked in mud, he caught the hussar round the waist and pushed him sideways to the ground, where the men's feet had turned earth to mud.

Cooper turned around when he saw the Hussar go down, himself coming inches to doing a full stretch at the abrupt change of direction. He went for the ball which the Hussar still held when he crashed into the mud.

Willoughby had landed on the ground and rolled, then stopped. Debt muddily repaid.

" The ball!" Cooper snatched it from the youth and went for the kettle.

The ball had come back into the middle of the pitch, now clearly in the possession of Cooper, who hesitated for just one fraction of a second at the sight of the Colonel between him and the kettle. Edrington took advantage of that to whisk the ball out of his hands and throw it to Carty, running in from the flank.

Carty caught sight of the Colonel in his peripheral vision and changed the direction of his run, catching the ball without breaking pace and clutching it tight to his chest so that he would not lose his grip on the muddy, slipperly prize.

Perkins tried to lunge for his friend again, but the mud was too slippery and he fell. "Sims! Sims!" he yelled.

Willoughby watched as Sims and Slattery , the later giving a hasty apology to Sharpe, before breaking into a run, went after their fellow Carty. While Slattery broke away keeping a chance that the boy would try passing the ball again, Sims went straight for the lad.

Sims was on his tail - Carty feinted to the right and lunged to the left, not stopping to see if Sims had managed to stop his run in time, or had slipped over in the mud.

Edrington had started after the boy with the ball, in case he needed to pass it on. He jinked to avoid Willoughby, and jumped clear as Perkins fell right in front of him.

Slattery used the moment to close in on the boy, Sims making a bigger turn so that he didn't loose time with falling. The two men exchanging roles of the hunter much in the same way as hounds chasing a fox.

Willoughby was getting up slowly, and Cooper was turning his head from looking at where Carty was going to what other possibilities the boy head with the ball.

Sims was still following him, but at an angle - Slattery was closing in from the other direction. Carty kept on running, almost towards Slattery, and then lunged sharply to the side at the last moment.

His crash had winded him, and Perkins gasped as he pushed himself up on his hands and knees. The dusk was growing purpled and it was becoming difficult to see. Where was his team? Still, it was always a good idea to run after other people who were running. Someone gave him an arm - good old Cooper - and then they were off again after the crowd, Perkins still panting to regain his breath.

Slattery was close enough that he lunged for the boy, grasping out with his hand for Carty's shoulder to slow him enough that Sims could come and wrestle the ball out of the boy's hands. That is ofcourse, if his hand made contact with the boy.

Sims closed in on the boy, but would have avoided coliding with his team mate in either case. Willoughby had walked to the kettle, and remained there much in hopes that the ball would be gotten and ofcourse it could then be thrown right there. It was getting dark by now, which made the game itself harder.

[OOC - going now, so if you need, you can move me about anyplace you wish!]

Sims passed the ball to Perkins who in turn tried to pass it to Willoughby, realizing his mistake a second too late when he saw that the dark shape ahead of him was not the hussar but His Lordship the colonel. "Nooo! Thorne, stop him!" he cried in despair, but it was too late to correct the error.

Edrington caught the ball which Perkins had passed to him and gave a quick grin, bright in the muddy face. "Thank you," he said courteously and then avoided the rush from another rifleman and clasped the ball to his chest. There was still Willoughby to be avoided, positioning himself by the kettle.

"Over there, Mícheál, to the colonel!" Maggie shouted to a confused looking Carty. It was hard for anyone to see anyone else by now, but Carty's team was obviously going to win. "Come on Perkins, get after him, run!"

He saw a figure approaching, but could not right tell it was lord Edrington. He did figure that it was not a man on their side, for otherwise Perkins would not have sounded his cry for help. So doing then his best to bring the man down, he had gone for the weist of his lordship, above which the ball had been held. "..You, here!" He wanted to call out to the man who was Cooper to get over, but not knowing his name, really prevented him to do so.

"Cooper, Cooper! Go on! Help the hussar!"

By now Maggie had been joined by Jenny Ross, who was screaming with excitement and laughter. "Mícheál, Mícheál, run man! To the kettle!"

The hussar had caught him round the waist, but Edrington's forward movement carried him another couple of paces, while he raised the ball and, as he stumbled threw it towards the kettle and the group around it.

They splashed into the mud, the hussar in part cushioning the fall. One down, and the ball was back in the game! Now if only Cooper or Perkins or perhaps Sims were going to get their butts over fast enough to snatch and score. He was torn between offering the man he had down a hand and help him up - once he himself could get to his feet - or to pursue the ball, that had again not held an owner to its name.

Before a decision could be made, he was still on the ground and thus..

"Sorry, sir." He spoke looking up at lord Edrington, only now recognising him, though in part he doubted his action would have been different should he have known with whom he was dealing.

Harris saw the Hussar in the mud again, having brought down the Colonel this time, and the ball bouncing free. Two of the other team - Cooper and Perkins - were just making a move towards it, and Harris, already covered in mud thanks to Willoughby, ran three steps and threw himself onto the ball, rolling away to the left with it, in the general direction of the kettle.

"Come on, Harris!"

Edrington got to his feet. It was getting darker now, and it was hard to distinguish friend from foe - or rather, of course, those on one team rather than the other. He thought it was Harris rolling with the ball between him and the kettle, and the mop of dirty-fair hair - dirty literally now - was probably the lieutenant.