“Warm!⁠—red hot⁠—scorching⁠—glowing. Played a match once⁠—single wicket⁠—friend the colonel⁠—Sir Thomas Blazo⁠—who should get the greatest number of runs.⁠—Won the toss⁠—first innings⁠—seven o’clock a.m. ⁠—six natives to look out⁠—went in; kept in⁠—heat intense⁠—natives all fainted⁠—taken away⁠—fresh half-dozen ordered⁠—fainted also⁠—Blazo bowling⁠—supported by two natives⁠—couldn’t bowl me out⁠—fainted too⁠—cleared away the colonel⁠—wouldn’t give in⁠—faithful attendant⁠—Quanko Samba⁠—last man left⁠—sun so hot, bat in blisters, ball scorched brown⁠—five hundred and seventy runs⁠—rather exhausted⁠—Quanko mustered up last remaining strength⁠—bowled me out⁠—had a bath, and went out to dinner.”

“And what became of what’s-his-name, Sir?” inquired an old gentleman.

“Blazo?”

“No⁠—the other gentleman.”

“Quanko Samba?”