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The eventful day arrived, and a glorious day it was. The sun shone brightly, and there was a slight cool breeze. Redbank cricket ground was charmingly situated. The pavilion was small, but there were several large trees growing at the back which afforded ample shade. The ground was level and well-kept, and the pitch had much care bestowed upon it. It was a great day at Redbank when this return match with Fairfield College was to be played. Flushed with the triumph of their previous victory, the Fairfield lads were eager for the fray, and had invited many friends to come and witness their further triumph. The captain of the Fairfield eleven, Harold Simpson, was almost as popular at Fairfield as Edgar Foster was at Redbank. The two captains had a mutual liking for each other, although each one was determined to beat the other in the great game they were about to play.

Edgar Foster lost the toss, and, as the ground was in such good order, Harold Simpson elected to send his men in first.

‘They are a strong batting team,’ said Edgar to his father. ‘It will take us some time to get rid of them.’