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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Left Guard Gilbert, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Left Guard Gilbert
+
+Author: Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+Illustrator: E. C. Caswell
+
+Release Date: July 29, 2008 [EBook #26149]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEFT GUARD GILBERT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LEFT GUARD GILBERT
+
+
+
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
+
+          LEFT END EDWARDS
+          LEFT TACKLE THAYER
+
+[Illustration: "Well, come on! How did it happen?" (Page 14)]
+
+
+
+
+Left Guard Gilbert
+
+BY
+
+RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
+
+AUTHOR OF
+
+          LEFT END EDWARDS,
+          FULL-BACK FOSTER, Etc.
+
+ILLUSTRATED BY
+
+E. C. CASWELL
+
+          GROSSET & DUNLAP
+          PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
+
+          COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY
+          DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC.
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+  CHAPTER                                         PAGE
+
+      I THE BOY FROM KANSAS                         1
+
+     II IN NUMBER SIX                              11
+
+    III AMY HOLDS FORTH                            21
+
+     IV THE FIRST GAME                             35
+
+      V DON GOES TO THE SECOND                     46
+
+     VI THE SEARCH OF ADVENTURE                    58
+
+    VII FIGHTING FIRE                              71
+
+   VIII COACHING THE TACKLES                       85
+
+     IX THE WIDTH OF A FINGER                     103
+
+      X TIM EXULTS AND EXPLAINS                   118
+
+     XI MR. BRADY FORGETS                         128
+
+    XII THE JOKE ON MR. MOLLER                    139
+
+   XIII SOUTHBY YIELDS                            155
+
+    XIV WALTON WRITES A NOTE                      166
+
+     XV A PROPOSITION                             177
+
+    XVI DON VISITS THE DOCTOR                     186
+
+   XVII DROPPED FROM THE TEAM                     195
+
+  XVIII "GOOD-BYE, TIMMY!"                        206
+
+    XIX FRIENDS FALL OUT                          216
+
+     XX AMY APPEARS FOR THE DEFENCE               231
+
+    XXI THE DOCTOR TELLS A STORY                  247
+
+   XXII COACH ROBEY IS PUZZLED                    260
+
+  XXIII CROSS-EXAMINATION                         268
+
+   XXIV "ALL READY, BRIMFIELD?"                   277
+
+    XXV TIM GOES OVER                             289
+
+   XXVI LEFT GUARD GILBERT                        300
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+  "WELL, COME ON! HOW DID IT HAPPEN?" (PAGE 14)           _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                                 FACING
+                                                                   PAGE
+
+  FINALLY, DON WAS UNCEREMONIOUSLY YANKED UP AND THROUGH            90
+
+  "WILL YOU UNLOCK THAT DOOR?" DEMANDED DON ANGRILY                224
+
+  THE RUNNER SMASHED INTO SIGHT, WILD-FACED FOR AN INSTANT BEFORE
+     HE PUT HIS HEAD DOWN AND CHARGED IN                           306
+
+
+
+
+LEFT GUARD GILBERT
+
+
+
+
+LEFT GUARD GILBERT
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE BOY FROM KANSAS
+
+
+"HOLD up!"
+
+Coach Robey, coatless, vestless, hatless, his old flannel trousers held
+up as by a miracle with the aid of a leather strap scarcely deserving
+the name of belt, pushed his way through the first squad players. The
+Brimfield Head Coach was a wiry, medium-sized man of about thirty, with
+a deeply-tanned face from which sharp blue eyes looked out under whitish
+lashes that were a shade lighter than his eyebrows and two shades
+lighter than his sandy hair. As the afternoon was excessively hot, even
+for the twenty-first day of September and in proximity to Long Island
+Sound, Mr. George Robey's countenance was bathed in perspiration and the
+faded blue silk shirt was plastered to his body.
+
+"That was left half through guard-tackle, wasn't it? Then don't put the
+ball in your arm, St. Clair. You ought to know better than that. On
+plays through the line hold it against your stomach with both hands. How
+long do you think you'd keep that ball in your elbow after you hit the
+line? Someone would knock it out in about one second! Now try it again
+and think what you're doing. All right, Carmine. Same play."
+
+The panting and perspiring backs crouched once more, Carmine shrilly
+called his signals, Thayer and Gafferty plunged against an imaginary foe
+as Thursby shot the ball back and St. Clair, hugging the pigskin
+ecstatically with wide-spread fingers, trotted through the hole,
+stopped, set the ball on the grass and wiped his streaming face with the
+torn sleeve of a maroon jersey.
+
+"All right," said the coach. "That will do for today. In on the trot,
+everyone!"
+
+The first squad, exhaling a long, deep sigh of relief as one man, set
+their faces toward the gymnasium and trotted slowly off, their
+canvas-clad legs _swish-swashing_ as they met. Coach Robey walked
+further down the sun-baked field to where the nearer of the remaining
+four squads was at work.
+
+"Oh, put some pep into it, McPhee!" called the coach as he approached.
+"You all look as if you were asleep! Come on now! Wake up! Jones, get up
+there. You're away out of position. That's better. Now then, Quarter!
+Hold up! What's your down?"
+
+"Third, sir, and four to go."
+
+"All right. Show me what you're going to do with it. Head up, Martin!
+Look where you're going."
+
+"36--27--43--86!" grunted the quarter-back. "36----"
+
+"Signal!" cried Gordon, at right half.
+
+McPhee straightened, cast a withering look at the half-back, wiped the
+perspiration from the end of his sun-burnt nose and repeated:
+
+"36--27--43----"
+
+Gordon shifted his feet, and--
+
+"Hold up!" barked the coach. "Gordon, don't give the play away. Shifting
+your feet like that makes it a cinch for the other fellow. Get your
+position now and hold it until the ball's passed. All right. Once more,
+Quarter."
+
+"36--27--43--86!" wailed McPhee. "36--27----"
+
+The pigskin shot into his waiting hands, Gordon leaped forward, took it
+at a hand-pass and ran out behind his line, left half in advance, turned
+sharply in and set the ball down.
+
+"First down!" called McPhee. "Sturges over."
+
+"Hold up! Try a forward pass, McPhee. You're on the ten yards and it's
+third down. Get into this, you ends. Put some pep into it!"
+
+"Signal! Martin back! 37--32--14--71--Hep!" The backs jumped to the left
+one stride. "37--32----"
+
+Back flew the ball to the full-back, right end shot out and down the
+field across the mythical last line, the defence surged against the
+imaginary enemy and Martin, poising the ball at arm's length, threw over
+the line to Lee.
+
+"All right," commented the coach. "That'll be all for today. Trot all
+the way in, fellows."
+
+Five minutes later the field was empty of the sixty-odd boys who had
+reported for the second day's practice and the sun was going down behind
+the tree-clad hill to the west. In the gymnasium was the sound of
+rushing water, of many voices and of scraping benches. Mr. Robey wormed
+his way through the crowded locker-room to where Danny Moore, the
+trainer, stood in the doorway of the rubbing-room in talk with Jim
+Morton, this year's manager of the team. Morton was nineteen, tall, thin
+and benevolent looking behind a pair of rubber-rimmed spectacles.
+
+"Did you put them on the scales, Dan?" asked the coach.
+
+"Sure, the first, second and third, sir. Some of 'em dropped a good
+three pounds today. By gorry, I feel like I'd dropped that much meself!"
+
+"It certainly is warm. Look here, Jim, is this all we get to work on?
+How many were out today?"
+
+"Sixty-two, Coach. That's not bad. I suppose there'll be a few more
+dribble along tomorrow and the next day."
+
+"Well, they look pretty fair, don't you think? Some of the new fellows
+seem to have ideas of football. All the last year fellows on hand?"
+
+"All but Gilbert. He hasn't shown up. I don't know why, I'm sure."
+
+"Better look him up," said the coach. "Gilbert ought to make a pretty
+good showing this year, and we aren't any too strong on guards."
+
+"Gilbert rooms with Tim Otis, I think," replied Morton. "Oh, Tim! Tim
+Otis!"
+
+A light-haired boy of seventeen, very straight, and very pink where an
+enormous bath-towel failed to cover him, wormed his way to them.
+
+"Say, Tim, what's the matter with Gilbert?" asked Morton. "Isn't he
+coming out?"
+
+Tim Otis shrugged a pair of broad, lean shoulders. "He hasn't got here
+yet, Morton. I don't know what's happened. He wrote me two weeks ago
+that he'd meet me at the station in New York yesterday for the
+three-fifty-eight, but he wasn't there and I haven't heard a word from
+him."
+
+"Probably missed his connection," suggested Morton. "He lives out West
+somewhere, doesn't he?"
+
+"Yes, Osawatomie, Kansas."
+
+"It probably takes a good while to get away from a place with a name
+like that," said Mr. Robey drily. "Well, when he shows up, Otis, tell
+him to get a move on if he wants a place."
+
+"Yes, sir, I will. I'm pretty certain he will be along today some time.
+I wouldn't be surprised if he was here now."
+
+"All right. By the way, Otis, how do you feel at right half? Seem
+strange to you?"
+
+"No, sir, I don't notice it. I did play right, you know, two years ago
+on the second. Seems to me it's easier to take the ball from that
+position, too."
+
+"Well, don't try the fool trick your side-partner did today," said Mr.
+Robey, smiling. "Putting the ball under your elbow for a line plunge is
+a fine piece of business for a fellow who's been playing three years!"
+
+Tim laughed. "I guess he did that because it was just practice, sir. He
+knows a lot better than to do it in scrimmage."
+
+"I hope so. Well, hurry Gilbert along, will you? If he doesn't get out
+here inside of a few days he won't find much of a welcome, I'm afraid.
+I'm not going to keep positions open for anyone this year, not with the
+first game coming along in four days!"
+
+"Don't you worry, Mr. Robey," replied Tim, with a chuckle and a flash of
+white teeth. "I'll have him out here the first day he shows up, even if
+I have to lug him all the way. Don't think I'll have to, though, for you
+couldn't keep Don from playing football unless you tied him up!"
+
+"Nice chap," commented Morton, nodding at Tim as the latter returned to
+his bench. "Awfully clean-cut sort."
+
+"A fine lad," agreed Danny Moore, and Mr. Robey nodded thoughtfully.
+
+"I don't believe we're going to miss Kendall and Freer as much as I
+thought," he said after a moment. "Otis looks to me like a fellow who
+will stand a lot of work and grow on it. Well, I'm going to get a shower
+and get out of this sweat-box. As soon as you get time, Jim, I wish
+you'd catalogue the players the way we did last year and let me have
+the list. You know how Black did it, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I'll have the list ready for you tomorrow."
+
+"Good! Got a towel I can use, Dan? I haven't brought any yet. Thanks."
+The coach nodded and sought a place to disrobe. The trainer's gaze
+followed him until he was lost to sight beyond the throng.
+
+"I wonder will he put it over again this year," he mused.
+
+"Surest thing you know," asserted Morton. "Think I'm going to have the
+team licked the year I'm manager, Danny? Not so you'd notice it!"
+
+"Well, between you and him," chuckled Danny, "I've no doubt you'll turn
+out a fine team. Say, he's the lad that can do it, though, now ain't he?
+Four years he's been at it, and it's fifty-fifty now, ain't it?"
+
+"Yes, we lost the first two years and won last year and the year before.
+It was Andy Miller's team that started the ball rolling for us. No one
+could have won those first two years, anyhow, Danny. Robey had to start
+at the bottom and build up the whole thing. We hadn't been playing
+football here for several years before that. It takes a couple of years
+at the least to get a foundation laid. If we win this year we'll have
+something to boast of. No other team ever beat Claflin three times
+running."
+
+"Maybe we won't either. I'm hoping we do, though. Still and all, it
+don't do to win too many times. You get to thinking you can't lose, d'ye
+see, and the first thing anyone knows you're all shot to pieces. I've
+seen it happen, me boy."
+
+"Oh, I dare say, Danny, but don't let's start the losing streak until
+next year. I want to manage a winning team. Well, so long. See about
+some cooler weather tomorrow, will you?"
+
+"I will so," replied the little trainer gravely. "I'll start
+arrangements to once."
+
+Meanwhile Tim Otis, again arrayed in grey flannels and a pair of tan,
+rubber-soled shoes rather the worse for a hard summer, was on his way
+along the Row to the last of the five buildings set end to end on the
+brow of the hill. As he swung in between Wendell and Torrence--the
+gymnasium stood behind Wendell, and, save for the Cottage, as the
+principal's residence was called, was the only building out of
+alignment--he saw the entrances to dormitories and Main Hall thronged
+with youths who evidently preferred the coolness of outdoors to the heat
+of the rooms, while others were seated on the grass along the walk. It
+almost seemed that the entire roster of some one hundred and eighty
+students was before him. He answered many hails, but declined all
+inducements to tarry, keeping on his way past Main Hall and Hensey until
+Billings was reached. There he turned in and tramped to the right along
+the first floor corridor to the open door of Number 6, a room on the
+back of the building that looked out upon the tennis courts and, beyond,
+the football and baseball fields. From the fact that no sound came from
+the room, Tim decided that Don Gilbert had, after all, and in spite of
+what Tim called a "hunch," failed to arrive. But when he entered his
+mistake was instantly apparent. A maroon-coloured cushion hurtled toward
+him, narrowly missing the green shade of the droplight on the study
+table and, thanks to prompt and instinctive action on the part of Tim,
+sailed on, serene and unimpeded, into the corridor. Whereupon Tim
+uttered a savage whoop of mingled joy and vengeance and, traversing the
+length of the room in four leaps, hurled himself upon the occupant of
+the window-seat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+IN NUMBER SIX
+
+
+FOR a long minute confusion and the noise of battle reigned supreme.
+Then, in response to a sudden yelp of pain from Don, Tim drew off,
+panting and grinning. Don was extending a left hand, funereally wrapped
+in a black silk handkerchief, further along the window-seat and away
+from the scene of action.
+
+"Hello!" said Tim. "What's the matter with that?"
+
+"Hurt it a little," replied Don.
+
+"Well, I supposed you had, you idiot! How? Hit it against your head?"
+
+The other smiled in his slow fashion. "We had a sort of a wreck coming
+on. Out in Indiana somewhere. I got this. That's why I'm behind time."
+
+"I'm beastly sorry, old man! I didn't notice the crêpe. Did I hurt it
+much!"
+
+"No. I yelled so you wouldn't. Preparedness, you know. Safety first and
+so on. It isn't much. How's everything here?"
+
+Tim seated himself at the other end of the seat, took his knees in his
+hands, and beamed.
+
+"Oh, fine! Say, I'm tickled to death to see your ugly mug again, Don.
+You aren't a bit handsomer, are you?"
+
+"I've been told I was. Trouble with you is, you don't recognise manly
+beauty when you see it."
+
+"Oh, don't I?" Tim twirled an imaginary moustache. "I recognise it every
+time I look in the glass! Well, how are you aside from the bum fist?"
+
+"Great! I've just had a séance with Josh. I tried to register and sneak
+by, but Brooke wouldn't have it that way. 'Er, quite so, Gilbert, quite
+so, but I--er--think you had better see Mr. Fernald.' So I did, and Josh
+read me the riot act. Thought for awhile he was going to send me home
+again."
+
+"But didn't you tell him your train was wrecked?"
+
+"Yes, but he didn't believe in it much. Thought I was romancing, I
+guess. Got a railway guide and showed me how I might have got here on
+time just the same. Maybe he's right, but I couldn't figure it out in
+Cincinnati. Besides, I didn't get away with much of anything besides
+pajamas and overcoat and shoes, and so I had to refit. That lost me the
+first connection and then I got held up again at Pittsburg. So here I
+am, the late Mr. Gilbert."
+
+"Josh is an idiot," said Tim disgustedly. "Didn't he see your hand? How
+did he think you did that if you weren't in a wreck?"
+
+"Oh, I kept that in my pocket and I guess he didn't notice it. He came
+around all right in the end, though. We parted friends. At least, I
+did."
+
+"Well, what about that?" Tim nodded at the injured hand. "How'd you cut
+you, burn you?"
+
+"Yes. Things got on fire."
+
+"You're the most vivid descriptionist I ever listened to! Come across
+with the sickening details. How did it happen? I didn't see anything
+about it in the papers."
+
+"Probably wasn't on the sporting page," replied Don gravely.
+
+"Oh, dry up and blow away! Wasn't it in the papers?"
+
+"Cincinnati papers had it. I haven't read the others. It wasn't much of
+a wreck really. Engineer killed, fireman scalded, about twenty
+passengers injured more or less. Several considerably more. Express
+messenger expected to pass out. Just a nice, cosy little wreck with
+no--no spectacular features, as you might say."
+
+"Well, come on! How did it happen?"
+
+"Freight train taking a siding and went to sleep at it. Our engine
+bumped the other engine and they both went smash. Hot coals and steam
+and so on got busy. It was about five in the morning. Just getting
+lightish. Everyone snuggled up in bed. _Biff! Wow!_ I landed out on the
+floor on my hands and knees. Everyone yelled. Car turned half over and
+sat that way. Doors got jammed. We beat it out by the windows. I was a
+Roman Senator with a green berth curtain wrapped about me. Afterwards I
+sneaked back and pulled out my shoes and overcoat. Always sleep with my
+shoes under my pillow, you see. Good idea, too. If I hadn't had them
+there I'd never have got them. Couldn't get my bag out. Car was on fire
+by that time. Three others, too. They saved all but the one I was in and
+the express and baggage cars. After awhile a wrecking train came and
+then a lot of us walked to a village about a mile and a half away and
+had breakfast and went on to Cincinnati about noon."
+
+"Gee! But, still, you know, I don't see how you got burned."
+
+"Well, things were pretty hot. Some of them got burned a lot worse than
+I did. Had to pull some of them out the windows and through the roofs.
+Women, too. Lucky thing our car had only two in it. Two women, I mean.
+Things were fairly busy for awhile."
+
+"Must have been. The engineer was killed straight off, eh?"
+
+"Ours was. The other one managed to jump. Firemen got off all right,
+too. The other fireman. Ours got caught and scalded like the dickens.
+Saw the engineer myself." Don frowned and shuddered. "Nasty mess he was,
+too, poor fellow. Let's talk about something else. I don't like to
+remember that engineer."
+
+"Too bad! But, say, you were lucky, weren't you? You might have been
+killed, I suppose."
+
+"Might have, maybe. Didn't come very near it, though. First wreck I ever
+saw and don't want to see any more. Funny thing, though, I didn't mind
+it at all until I was on the train going to Cincinnati. Excitement, I
+suppose. Then I came near keeling over, honest! What do you know about
+that, Timmy?"
+
+"I guess anyone would have. How bad is your burn?"
+
+"Not bad. Hurts a bit, though. It's the inside of the fingers and the
+palm. It'll be all right in a few days, I guess. Doctor chap said I'd
+have to have it dressed every day for awhile."
+
+"But, Great Scott, Don, what about football?"
+
+"I've thought of that. Nothing doing for a week or so, I guess. Rotten
+luck, eh?"
+
+"Beastly! And Robey was telling me only half an hour ago to hurry you
+up. Said you'd have to come right out if you wanted a place. Still, when
+he understands what the trouble is----"
+
+"I'll see him tonight, I guess. Who's playing guard, Tim?"
+
+"Joe Gafferty, left; Tom Hall, right. Walton and Pryme and Lawton are
+all after places. Walton's been doing good work too, I think."
+
+"All the fellows back?"
+
+"Every last one. Remember Howard, who played sub half-back for the
+second last year? He's showing great form. Still, you can't tell much
+yet. There's to be scrimmage tomorrow. We play Thacher Saturday, you
+know. Sort of quick work and I don't believe we'll be anywhere near
+ready for them."
+
+"Thacher's easy. We beat them 26 to 3 last year."
+
+"Twenty-three to three."
+
+"Twenty-six."
+
+"Twenty-three. Bet you!"
+
+"I don't bet, Timmy. Know I'm right, though. Anyway, Thacher's easy.
+Tell me the news."
+
+"Oh, there isn't anything startling. We had the usual polite party at
+Josh's last night. Shook hands with the new chaps and told 'em how
+tickled we were to see them. Ate sandwiches and cake and lemonade
+and--by the way, we've got a new master; physics; Moller his name is;
+Caleb Moller, B.A. Quite a handsome brute and a swell dresser. Comes
+from Lehigh or one of those Southern colleges, I believe."
+
+"Lehigh's in Pennsylvania, you ignoramus."
+
+"Is it?" answered Tim untroubledly. "All right. Let it stay there.
+Anyhow, Caleb is some cheese."
+
+"Where's Rollinson gone?"
+
+"Don't know what happened to Rollo. Draper said he heard he'd gone to
+some whopping big prep school up in New Hampshire or somewhere."
+
+"Or some other Southern school," suggested Don soberly.
+
+"Dry up! And, say, get a move on. It's nearly time for eats and I'm
+starved."
+
+"Timmy, I never saw the time you weren't starved. All right. I'm sort of
+hungry myself. Haven't had anything since about ten o'clock this
+morning. Ran out of money. Got here with eight cents in my pocket. That
+and my tuition check. I'd have cashed that if I could have and had a
+dinner. I was sure hungry!"
+
+"Well, wash your dirty face and hands," said Tim, "and come along. Oh,
+say, Don, wait till you see the classy Norfolk suit I've got. I enticed
+dad into Crook's when we struck the city; told him I had to have some
+hankies and ties, you know. Then I steered him up against this here
+suit, and this here suit made a hit with him right away. If he could
+have got into it himself he'd have walked out in it. It's sort of green
+with a reddish thread wandering carelessly through it. It's some
+apparel, take it from me."
+
+"Maybe I will if it fits me," responded Don.
+
+"Will what?"
+
+"Take it from you."
+
+"Gee, but you're bright! Getting wrecked's put an edge on you, sonny.
+I'm afraid that suit wouldn't fit you, though, Don. You've grown about
+an inch since Spring, haven't you? You're beastly fat, too."
+
+"I am not," denied Don, good-humouredly indignant. "I've kept in strict
+training all summer. What you think is fat is good hard muscle, Timmy.
+Feel of that arm if you don't believe it."
+
+"Yes, quite village-blacksmithy."
+
+"Quite _what_?"
+
+"Village-blacksmithy. 'The muscles of his mighty arms were strong as
+iron bands,' or something like that. Get out of the way and let me wash
+up."
+
+Don retired to his dresser and passed the brushes over his brown hair
+and snugged his tie up a bit. The face that looked back at him from the
+mirror was not, perhaps, handsome, although it by no means merited Tim's
+aspersions. There was a nice pair of dark brown eyes, rather slumberous
+looking, a nose a trifle too short for perfection and a mouth a shade
+too wide. But it was a good-tempered, pleasant face, on the whole,
+intelligent and capable and matching well the physically capable body
+below, a body of wide shoulders and well-knit muscles and a deep chest
+that might have belonged to a youth of eighteen instead of seventeen.
+Compared with Tim Otis, who was of the same age, Don Gilbert suffered on
+only two counts--quickness and vivacity. Tim, well-muscled, possessed a
+litheness that Don could never attain to, and moved, thought and spoke
+far more quickly. In height Don topped his friend by almost a full inch
+and was broader and bigger-boned. They were both, in spite of
+dissimilarity, fine, manly fellows.
+
+Tim, wiping his hands after ablutions, turned to survey Don with a
+quizzical smile on his good-looking face. And, after a moment's
+reflective regard of his chum's broad back, he broke the silence.
+
+"Say, Don," he asked, "glad to get back?"
+
+Don turned, while a slow smile crept over his countenance.
+
+"_Su-u-re_," he drawled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+AMY HOLDS FORTH
+
+
+BRIMFIELD ACADEMY is at Brimfield, and Brimfield is a scant thirty miles
+out of New York City and some two or three miles from the Sound. It is
+more than possible that these facts are already known to you; if you
+live in the vicinity of New York they certainly are. But at the risk of
+being tiresome I must explain a little about the school for the benefit
+of those readers who are unacquainted with it. Brimfield was this Fall
+entering on its twenty-fifth year, a fact destined to be appropriately
+celebrated later on. The enrollment was one hundred and eighty students
+and the faculty consisted of twenty members inclusive of the principal,
+Mr. Joshua L. Fernald, A.M., more familiarly known as "Josh." The course
+covers six years, and boys may enter the First Form at the age of
+twelve. Being an endowed institution and well supplied with money under
+the terms of the will of its founder, Brimfield boasts of its fine
+buildings. There are four dormitories, Wendell, Torrence, Hensey and
+Billings, all modern, and, between Torrence and Hensey, the original
+Academy Building now known as Main Hall and containing the class rooms,
+school offices, assembly room and library. The dining hall is in
+Wendell, the last building on the right. Behind Wendell is the
+gymnasium. Occupying almost if not quite as retiring a situation at the
+other end of the Row, is the Cottage, Mr. Fernald's residence. Each
+dormitory is ruled over by a master. In Billings Mr. Daley, the
+instructor in modern languages, was in charge at the period of this
+story, and since it was necessary to receive permission before leaving
+the school grounds after supper, Don and Tim paused at Mr. Daley's study
+on the way out. Don's knock on the portal of Number 8 elicited an
+instant invitation to enter and a moment later he was shaking hands with
+the hall master, a youngish man with a pleasant countenance and a manner
+at once eager and embarrassed. Mr. Daley was usually referred to as
+Horace, which was his first name, and, as he shook hands, Don very
+nearly committed the awful mistake of calling him that! After greetings
+had been exchanged Don explained somewhat vaguely the reason for his
+tardy arrival and then requested permission to visit Coach Robey in the
+village after supper.
+
+"Yes, Gilbert, but--er--be back by eight, please. I'm not sure that Mr.
+Robey isn't about school, however. Have you inquired?"
+
+"No, sir, but Tim says he isn't eating in hall yet, and so----"
+
+"Ah, in that case perhaps not. Well, be back for study hour. If you're
+going to supper I'll walk along with you, fellows." Mr. Daley closed his
+study door and they went out together and, as they trod the flags of the
+long walk that passed the fronts of the buildings, Mr. Daley discoursed
+on football with Tim while Don replied to the greetings of friends. They
+parted from the instructor at the dining hall door and sought their
+places at table, Don's arrival being greeted with acclaim by the other
+half-dozen occupants of the board. Once more he was obliged to give an
+account of himself, but this time his narrative was considered to be
+sadly lacking in detail and it was not until Tim had come to his
+assistance with a highly coloured if not exactly authentic history of
+the train-wreck that the audience was satisfied. Don told him he was an
+idiot. Tim, declining to argue the point, revenged himself by stealing a
+slice of Don's bread when the latter's attention was challenged by Harry
+Westcott at the farther end of the table.
+
+Westcott, who was one of the editors of the school monthly, _The
+Review_, had developed the journalistic instinct to a high degree of
+late and had visions of a thrilling story in the November issue. But Don
+utterly refused to pose as a hero of any sort. The best Harry could get
+out of him was the acknowledgment that he had seen several persons
+removed from the wreck and had helped carry one to the relief train
+later. That wasn't much to go on, and, subsequently, Harry regretfully
+abandoned his plan.
+
+After supper Don and Tim walked down to the village and Don had a few
+minutes of talk with the coach. Mr. Robey was sympathetic but annoyed.
+Although he didn't say so in so many words he gave Don to understand
+that he had failed in his duty to the school and the team in allowing
+himself to become concerned in a train-wreck. He didn't explain just how
+Don could have avoided it, and Don didn't think it worth while to
+inquire.
+
+"You have that hand looked after properly and regularly, Gilbert," he
+said, "and watch practice until you can put on togs. Losing a week or so
+is going to handicap you. No doubt about that. And I'm not making any
+promises. But you keep your eyes open and maybe there'll be a place for
+you when you're ready to work. It's awfully hard luck, old chap. See you
+tomorrow."
+
+Don went back to school through the warm dusk slightly cast down,
+although he had previously realised that football would be beyond him
+for at least a week. It is sometimes one thing to acknowledge a fact
+oneself and another to hear the same fact stated by a second person.
+There's a certain finality about the latter that is convincing. But if
+Don was downcast he didn't show it to his companion. Don had a way of
+concealing his emotions that Tim at once admired and resented. When Tim
+felt blue--which was mighty seldom--he let it be known to the whole
+world, and when he felt gay he was just as confiding. But Don--well, as
+Tim often said, he was "worse than an Indian!"
+
+After study they sallied forth again, arm in arm, and went down the Row
+to Torrence and climbed the stairs to Number 14. As the door was half
+open knocking was a needless formality--especially as the noise within
+would have prevented its being heard--and so Tim pushed the portal
+further ajar and entered, followed by Don, on a most animated scene.
+Eight boys were sprawled or seated around the room, while another, a
+thin, tall, unkempt youth with a shock of very black hair which was
+always falling over his eyes and being brushed aside, was standing in a
+small clearing between table and windows balancing a baseball bat,
+surmounted by two books and a glass of water, on his chin. So interested
+was the audience in this startling feat that the presence of the new
+arrivals passed unnoted until the juggler, suddenly stepping back,
+allowed the law of gravity to have its way for an instant. Then his
+right hand caught the falling bat, the two books crashed unheeded to the
+floor and his left hand seized the descending tumbler. Simultaneously
+there was a disgruntled yelp from Jim Morton and a howl of laughter from
+the rest of the audience. For the juggler, while he had miraculously
+caught the tumbler in mid-air, had not been deft enough to keep the
+contents intact and about half of it had gone into the football
+manager's face. However, everyone there except Morton applauded
+enthusiastically and hilariously, and Larry Jones, sweeping his
+offending locks aside with the careless and impatient grace of a violin
+virtuoso, bowed repeatedly.
+
+"Great stuff," approved Amory Byrd, rescuing his books from the floor.
+"Do it again and stand nearer Jim."
+
+"If he does it again I'm going into the hall," said Morton disgustedly,
+wiping his damp countenance on the edge of Clint Thayer's bedspread.
+"You're a punk juggler, Larry."
+
+"All right, you do it," was the reply. Larry proffered the bat and
+tumbler, but Morton waved them indignantly aside.
+
+"I don't do monkey-tricks, thanks. Gee, my collar's sopping wet!"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," called someone. "You'll be going to bed soon.
+Say, Larry, do that one with the three tennis balls."
+
+"Isn't room enough. I know a good trick with coins, though. Any fellow
+got two halves?"
+
+Groans of derision were heard and at that moment someone discovered the
+presence of Don and Tim and Larry's audience deserted him. When the
+new-comers had found accommodations, such as they were, conversation
+switched to the all-absorbing subject of football. Most of the fellows
+assembled were members of the first or second teams: Larry Jones was a
+substitute half; Clint Thayer was first-choice left tackle; Steve
+Edwards, sprawled on Clint's bed, was left end and this year's captain;
+the short, sturdy youth in the Morris chair was Thursby, the centre; Tom
+Hall, broad of shoulders, was right guard; Harry Walton, slimmer and
+rangier, with a rather saturnine countenance, was a substitute for that
+position. Jim Morton was, as we know, manager, and only Amory--or
+"Amy"--Byrd and Leroy Draper, the tow-headed, tip-nosed youth sharing
+the Morris chair with Thursby, were, in a manner of speaking,
+non-combatants.
+
+But being a non-combatant didn't prevent Amy Byrd from airing his views
+and opinions on the subject of football, and that he was now doing.
+"Every year," he protested, "I have to hear the same line of talk from
+you chaps. It's wearying, woesomely wearying. Now, as a matter of fact,
+every one of you knows that we've got the average material and that
+we'll go ahead and turn out an average team and beat Claflin as per
+usual. The only chance for argument is what the score will be. You
+fellows like to grouse and pretend every fall that the team's shot full
+of holes and that the world is a dark, dreary, dismal place and that
+winning from Claflin is only a hectic dream. For the love of lemons,
+fellows, chuck the undertaker stuff and cheer up. Talk about something
+interesting, or, if you must talk your everlasting football, cut out the
+sobs!"
+
+"Oh, dry up, Amy," said Tom Hall. "You oughtn't to be allowed to talk.
+Someone stuff a pillow in his mouth. No one has said we were shot full
+of holes, but you can't get around the fact that we've lost a lot of
+good players and----"
+
+"Oh, gee, he's at it again!" wailed Amy. "Yes, Thomas darling, you've
+lost two fellows out of the line and two out of the backfield and
+there's nothing to live for and we'd better poison ourselves off before
+defeat and disgrace come upon us. All is lost save honour! Ah, woe is
+me!"
+
+"Cut it out, Amy," begged Edwards. "You don't know anything about
+football, you idiot."
+
+"Two in the line and two in the backfield is good," jeered Tim. "We've
+lost Blaisdell and Innes and Tyler----"
+
+"Never was any good," interpolated Amy.
+
+"And Roberts and Marvin----"
+
+"Carmine's better!"
+
+"And Kendall and Harris!" concluded Tim triumphantly.
+
+"Never mind, Timmy, you've still got me!" replied Amy sweetly. "Gee, to
+hear you rave you'd think the whole team had graduated!"
+
+"So it has, practically!"
+
+"Ah, yes, and I heard the same dope this time last year. We'd lost
+Miller and Sawyer and Williams and--and Milton and a dozen or two more
+and there wasn't any hope for us! And all we did was to go ahead and
+dodder along and beat Claflin seven to nothing! Not so bad for a
+lifeless corpse, what?"
+
+Steve Edwards laughed. "Well, maybe we do talk trouble a good deal about
+this time of year. It's natural, I guess. You lose fellows who played
+fine ball last year and you can't see just at first how anyone can fill
+their places. Someone always does, though. That's the bully part of it.
+I dare say we'll manage to dodder along, as Amy calls it, and rub it
+into old Claflin as we've been doing."
+
+"First sensible word I've heard tonight," said Amy approvingly. "I
+wouldn't kick so much if I only had to hear this sort of stuff
+occasionally, but I'm rooming with the original crêpe-hanger! Clint sobs
+himself to sleep at night thinking how terribly the dear old team's shot
+to pieces. If I remark in my optimistic, gladsome way, 'Clint, list how
+sweetly the birdies sing, and observe, I prithee, the sunlight gilding
+yon mountain peak,' Clint turns his mournful countenance on me and
+chokes out something about a weak backfield! Say, I'm gladder every day
+of my life that I stayed sane and----"
+
+"Stayed _what_?" exclaimed Jim Morton incredulously.
+
+"And didn't become obsessed with football mania!"
+
+"Where do you get the words, Amy?" sighed Clint Thayer admiringly.
+
+"Amy's the original phonograph," commented Tim. "Only he's an
+improvement on anything Edison ever invented. You don't have to wind Amy
+up!"
+
+"No, he's got a self-starting attachment," chuckled Draper.
+
+"Returning to the--the original contention," continued Amy in superb
+disdain of the low jests, "I'll bet any one of you or the whole kit and
+caboodle of you that we beat Claflin again this year. Now make a noise
+like some money!"
+
+"Amy, we don't bet," remarked Tom Hall. "At least, not with money.
+Betting money is very wrong. (Amy sniffed sarcastically.) But I'll wager
+a good feed for the crowd that we have a harder time beating Claflin
+this year than we had last. And I'll----"
+
+"Oh, piffle! I don't care whether you have to work harder to do it or
+not. I say you'll do it! Hard work wouldn't hurt you, anyway. You're a
+lot of loafers. All any of you do is go out to the field and strike an
+attitude like a hero. Why----"
+
+Cries of expostulation and threats of physical violence failed to
+disturb the irrepressible Amy.
+
+"Tell you what I'll do, you piffling Greeks, I'll blow you all off to a
+top-hole dinner at the Inn if Claflin beats us. There's a sporting
+proposition for you, you undertakers' assistants!"
+
+"Yah! What do we do if she doesn't?" exclaimed Walton.
+
+Amy surveyed him coldly. He didn't like Harry Walton and never attempted
+to disguise the fact. "Why, Harry, old dear, you'll just keep right on
+squandering your money as usual, I suppose. But I don't want you to
+waste any on me. This is a one-man wager."
+
+"No, it isn't," said Leroy Draper, "I'm in on it, Amy. I'll take half of
+it."
+
+"All right, Roy. But our money's safe as safe! This bunch of grousers
+won't get fat off us, old chap!"
+
+"Say," said Walton, who had been trying to get Amy's attention for a
+minute, "what's the story about my squandering my money? Anybody seen
+you being careless with yours, Amy?"
+
+"Not that I know of. I'm not careless with it; I'm careful. But being
+careful with money is different from having it glued to your skin so you
+have to have a surgical operation before----"
+
+"Oh, cut it, Amy," said Tim.
+
+"I spend my money just as freely as you do," returned Walton hotly.
+"You talk so much with your face----"
+
+"Let it go at that, Harry," advised Tom Hall soothingly. "Amy's just
+talking."
+
+"That's all," agreed Amy sweetly. "Just talking. You're the original
+little spendthrift, Harry. I'm going to write home to your folks some
+time and warn 'em. Hold on, you chaps, don't hurry off. The night is
+still in its infancy. Wait and watch it grow up. Steve! _Sit down!_"
+
+"Thanks, I've got to be moseying along," replied Captain Edwards. "It's
+pretty near ten. I think it would be a rather good idea if we had a rule
+that football men were to be in their rooms at a quarter to ten all
+during the season."
+
+"I can see that you're going to be one of these here martinets you read
+about," said Tim with a sigh. "Steve, remember you were young once
+yourself."
+
+"He never was!" declared Amy with decision. "Steve was grown-up when he
+was quite young and he's never got over it. Thank the Fates _I_ don't
+have to be bossed by him! Are you all leaving? Clint, count the spoons
+and forks! Come again, everyone. I've got lots more to say. Good-night,
+Don. Glad to see you back again, old sober-sides. Sorry about that fin
+of yours. Be careful with him, Tim. You know how it is with the dear
+old team. We need every man we can get. Hold on, Harry! Did you drop
+that quarter? Oh, I beg pardon, it's only a button. That's right, Thurs,
+kick the chair over if it's in your way. We don't care a bit about our
+furniture. For the love of lemons, Larry, don't grin like that! Think of
+the team, man! Remember your sorrows! Good-_night_!"
+
+Half-way to Billings Don broke the silence.
+
+"Fellows are funny, aren't they?" he murmured.
+
+"Funny? How do you mean?" asked Tim.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," replied Don after a thoughtful moment.
+"They're--they're so different, I guess."
+
+"Who's different from who?"
+
+"Everyone," answered Don, smothering a yawn.
+
+Tim viewed him in the radiance of the light over the doorway with
+profound admiration. "Don, you're a brilliant chap! Honest, sometimes I
+wonder how you do it! Doesn't it hurt?"
+
+Don only smiled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE FIRST GAME
+
+
+DON sat on the bench and watched the game with Thacher School. With him
+were nearly a dozen other substitutes, but they, unlike Don, were in
+football togs and might, in fact probably would, get into the game
+sooner or later. There was no such luck for Don so long as his hand
+remained swathed in bandages, and he was silently bewailing his luck. At
+his right sat Danny Moore, chin in hand and elbow in palm, viewing the
+contest from half-closed eyes. The trainer was small and red of hair and
+very freckled, and he was thoroughly Irish and, in the manner of his
+race, mightily proud of it. Also, he was a clever little man and a good
+trainer.
+
+An attempted forward pass by the visitors grounded and the horn squawked
+the end of the first period. Danny turned his beady green eyes on Don.
+"Likely you're wishin' yourself out there with the rest of 'em, boy," he
+said questioningly.
+
+Don nodded, smiled his slow smile and shook his head. "I guess I won't
+get into it for a week yet. Doc says this hand has got to do a lot of
+healing first. He has a fine time every day pulling and cutting the old
+skin off it. Guess he enjoys it so much he will hate to have it heal. I
+should think, Danny, that if I had a heavy glove, sort of padded in the
+palm, I might play a little."
+
+"Sure, I'll fix you up something real nate," replied Danny readily.
+"Nate an' scientific, d'ye see? An' so soon as the Doc says the word you
+come to me an' I'll be having it ready for you."
+
+"Will you? Thanks, Danny. That's great! I would like to get back to
+practice again. I'm afraid I'll be as stiff and stale as anything if I
+stay out much longer."
+
+"Go easy on your eating, lad, and it'll take you no time at all to catch
+up with the rest of 'em. Spread this hand for me while I see the shape
+of it. What happened to your finger there?"
+
+"I broke it when I was a little kid, playing baseball."
+
+"Sure, whoever set it for you must have been cross-eyed," said the
+trainer, drily. "'Tis a bum job he did."
+
+"Yes, it's a little crooked, but it works all right."
+
+"You'd have hard work gettin' your engagement ring over that lump, I'm
+thinking. It's a fortunate thing you're not a girl, d'ye mind."
+
+Don laughed. "Engagement rings go on the other hand, don't they, Danny?"
+
+"Faith, I don't know. Bad luck to him, he's done it again!"
+
+"Who? What?" asked Don startledly.
+
+"Jim Morton. That's twice today he's spilled most of the water from the
+pail. Well, I'll have to go an' fill it, I suppose."
+
+Danny went off to get the water bucket and the teams lined up again near
+the visitors' twenty-five yard line. Coach Robey had put in a somewhat
+patched-up team today. Captain Edwards was at left end, Clint Thayer at
+left tackle, Gafferty at left guard, Peters at centre, Pryme at right
+guard, Crewe at right tackle, Lee at right end, Carmine at quarter, St.
+Clair and Gordon at half and Martin at full. It was not the best line-up
+possible, but it was so far handling the situation fairly
+satisfactorily. The practice of the last two days had developed one or
+two strains and proved more than one of the first-choice fellows far
+below condition. Tim Otis was out for a day or two with a twisted knee
+and Tom Hall with a lame shoulder. Thursby had developed an erratic
+streak the day before and was nursing his chagrin further along the
+bench. Holt, the best right end, was in trouble with the faculty, and
+Rollins, full-back, had pulled a tendon in his ankle. A full team of
+second- and third-string players were having signal work on the practice
+gridiron.
+
+In the stands a fairly good-sized gathering of onlookers was applauding
+listlessly at such infrequent times as the maroon-and-grey team gave it
+any excuse. Thus far, however, exciting episodes had been scarce. The
+weather, which was enervatingly warm, affected both elevens and the
+playing was sluggish and far from brilliant. The Brimfield backs, with
+the exception of Carmine, who was always on edge, conducted themselves
+as if they were at a rehearsal, accepting the ball in an indifferent
+manner and half-heartedly plunging at the opposing line or jogging
+around the ends. As the first half drew to a close both goal lines were
+still unthreatened and from all indications would remain so for the rest
+of the contest. A slight thrill was developed, though, just before the
+second period came to an end when a Thacher half-back managed to get
+away outside Crewe and romped half the length of the field before he was
+laid low by Carmine. After that there was an exchange of punts and the
+teams trotted off to the gymnasium.
+
+Don left the bench with the others, but did not follow them to the
+dressing room. Instead, he strolled down the running track and across to
+the practice field, where Tim was superintending the signal practice.
+Don joined him and followed the panting, perspiring players down the
+field. Tim's conversation was rather difficult to follow, since he
+continually interrupted himself to instruct or admonish the toilers.
+
+"I feel like a slave-driver, pushing these poor chaps around in this
+heat. How's the game going? No score? We must be playing pretty punk, I
+guess. What sort of a team has--Jones, you missed your starting signal
+again. For the love of mud, keep your ears open!--Thacher must be as bad
+as we are. Who's playing in my place? Gordon? Is he doing anything?--Try
+them on that again, McPhee, will you? Robbins, you're supposed to block
+hard on that and not let your man through until the runner's got into
+the line.--I could have played today all right, but that idiot, Danny,
+wouldn't let me. My knee's perfectly all right."
+
+"Then why do you limp?" asked Don innocently.
+
+"Force of habit," said Tim. "What time is it?"
+
+Don consulted his silver watch and announced a quarter to four.
+
+"Thank goodness! That'll do, fellows. You'd better get your showers
+before you try to see that game. If Danny catches you over there the way
+you are he will just about scalp you! By the way, McPhee, you saw what I
+meant about that end-around play, didn't you? You can't afford to slow
+up the play by waiting for your end to get to you. He's got to be in
+position to take the pass at the right second. Otherwise they'll come
+through on you and stop him behind the line. There ought to be
+absolutely no pause between Smith's pass to you and your pass to
+Compton, or whoever the end is. You get the ball, turn quick, toss it to
+the end and fall in behind him. It ought to be almost one motion. Of
+course, I know you fellows were pretty well fagged today, but you don't
+want to let your ends think they can take their time on that play, old
+man, for it's got to be fast or it's no earthly good. Thus endeth the
+lesson. Come on, Don, and we'll go over and add the dignity of our
+presence to that little affair."
+
+They reached the bench just as the two teams trotted back and
+Brimfield's supporters raised a faint cheer. Don imagined that there was
+a little more vim in the way the maroon-and-grey warriors went into the
+field for the second half and the results proved him right.
+
+It was the home team's kick-off, and after Captain Edwards, in the
+absence of Hall, had sped the ball down to Thacher's twenty yards and a
+Thacher player had sped it back to the thirty, Brimfield settled down to
+business. Probably Coach Robey's remarks in the interim had been
+sufficiently caustic to get under the skin. At all events Brimfield
+forced Thacher to punt on third down and then almost blocked the kick.
+As it was, the ball hurtled out of bounds near the middle of the field
+and became Brimfield's on her forty-eight. Two plunges netted five
+yards, and then St. Clair, returning to form, ripped his way past tackle
+on the left and fought over two white lines before he was halted. Gordon
+and Martin made it first down in three tries and Carmine worked the left
+end for four more. Thacher stiffened then, however, and after two
+ineffectual plunges St. Clair punted and Brimfield caught on her goal
+line and ran back a dozen yards, Lee, right end, missing his tackle
+badly and Steve Edwards being neatly blocked off. But Thacher found the
+going even harder than her opponent had and in a moment she, too, was
+forced to punt.
+
+This time it was St. Clair who caught and who, eluding both Thacher
+ends, ran straight along the side line until he was upset near the
+enemy's thirty-five yards. As he went down he managed to get one foot
+over the line and the referee paced in fifteen yards, set the ball to
+earth and waved toward the Thacher goal.
+
+Martin faked a forward pass and the ball went to Gordon for a try at
+right tackle. Thayer and Gafferty opened a fine hole there and Gordon
+romped through and made eight before the Thacher secondary defence
+brought him down. Martin completed the distance through centre. From the
+twenty-four yards to the ten the ball went, progress, however, becoming
+slower as the attack neared the goal. On a shift that brought Thayer to
+the right side of the line, St. Clair got around the short end for three
+and Martin added two more, leaving the pigskin on the five-yard line. It
+was third down and Martin went back to kick. But after a moment's
+hesitation Carmine changed his signals and the ends stole out toward the
+side lines. Thacher proceeded to arrange her forces to intercept a
+forward pass and again Carmine switched. The ends crept back and Martin
+retired to the fifteen-yard line and patted the turf. Carmine knelt in
+front of him and eyed the goal. Then the signals came again, and with
+them the ball, and it was Martin who caught it and not Carmine. Two
+steps to the right, a quick heave, a frenzied shouting from the
+defenders of the goal, a confused jostling, and Captain Edwards, one
+foot over the line, reached his arms into the air, pulled down the
+hurtling pigskin, tore away from one of the enemy, lunged forward and
+went down under a mass of bodies, but well over the goal line.
+
+Brimfield found her enthusiasm then, and her voice, and cheered loudly
+and long, only ceasing when Carmine walked out with the ball under his
+arm and flung himself to the turf opposite the right hand goal post.
+Thursby, hustled in by Coach Robey, measured distance and direction,
+stepped forward and, as the line of Thacher warriors swept forward with
+upstretched hands, swung his toe against the ball and sent it neatly
+across the bar.
+
+With the score seven to nothing against her, Thacher returned to the
+fray with a fine determination, but, when the teams had changed places
+after the kick-off and the last period had begun, she speedily found
+that victory was not to be her portion. Mr. Robey sent in nearly a new
+team during that last ten minutes and the substitutes, fresh and eager,
+went at it hammer-and-tongs. Thacher enlisted fresh material, too, but
+it couldn't stop the onslaught that soon took the ball down the field to
+within close scoring distance of her goal. That Brimfield did not add
+another touchdown was only because her line, overanxious, was twice
+found off-side and penalised. Even then the ball went at last to within
+six inches of the goal line and it was only after the nimble referee had
+dug into the pile-up like a terrier scratching for a bone in an ash-heap
+that the fact was determined that Thacher had saved her bacon by the
+width of the ball. She kicked out of danger from behind her goal and
+after two plays the final whistle blew.
+
+It was a very hot and very weary crowd of fellows who thronged the
+dressing room in the gymnasium five minutes later and, above the swish
+of water in the showers, shouted back and forth and discussed the game
+from as many angles as there had been participants. Possibly Brimfield
+had no very good reason for feeling proud of her afternoon's work, for
+last year she had defeated Thacher 26 to 3. That game, however, had
+taken place two weeks later in the season, when the Maroon-and-Grey was
+better off in the matter of experience, and so perhaps was not a fair
+comparison. At all events, Brimfield liked the way she had "come back"
+in that third period and liked the way in which the substitutes had
+behaved, and displayed a very evident inclination to pat herself on the
+back.
+
+Tim, who had haled Don into the gymnasium on the way back to hall, tried
+his best to convince all those who would listen to him that they had
+played a perfectly punk game and that nothing but the veriest fluke had
+accounted for that score. But they called him a "sore-head" and laughed
+at him, and even drove him away with flicking towels, and he finally
+gave it up and consented to accompany Don back to Billings, limping a
+trifle whenever he thought no one was looking.
+
+Don missed Tim at supper, for the training tables started that evening
+and Tim went off to one of them with his napkin ring and his own
+particular bottle of tomato catsup, leaving his chum feeling forlornly
+"out of it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+DON GOES TO THE SECOND
+
+
+LIFE at Brimfield Academy settled down for Don into the accustomed
+routine. The loss of one day made no difference in the matter of
+lessons, for with Tim's assistance--they were both in the Fifth Form--he
+easily made up what had been missed. They were taking up German that
+year for the first time and Don found it hard going, but he managed to
+satisfy Mr. Daley after a fashion. Don was a fellow who studied hard
+because he had to. Tim could skim his lessons, make a good showing in
+class and remember enough of what he had gone over to appear quite
+erudite. Don had to get right down and grapple with things. He once said
+enviously, and with as near an approach to an epigram as he was capable
+of, that whereas Tim got his lessons by inhaling them, he, Don, had to
+chew them up and swallow them! But when examination time came Don's
+method of assimilation showed better results.
+
+The injured hand healed with incredible slowness, but heal it did, and
+at last the day came when the doctor consented to let his impatient
+pupil put on the padded arrangement that the ingenious Danny Moore had
+fashioned of a discarded fielder's glove and some curled hair, and Don
+triumphantly reported for practice. His triumph was, however,
+short-lived, for Coach Robey viewed him dubiously and relegated him to
+the second squad, from which Mr. Boutelle was then forming his second
+team. "Boots" was a graduate who turned up every Fall and took charge of
+the second or scrub team. It was an open secret that he received no
+remuneration. Patriotism and sheer love of the game were the inducements
+that caused Mr. Boutelle to donate some two months of time and labour to
+the cause of turning out a second team strong enough to give the first
+the practice it needed. And he always succeeded. "Boutelle's Babies," as
+someone had facetiously termed them, could invariably be depended on to
+give the school eleven as hard a tussle as it wanted--and sometimes a
+deal harder. Boots was a bit of a driver and believed in strenuous work,
+but his charges liked him immensely and performed miracles of labour at
+his command. His greeting of Don was almost as dubious as had been Coach
+Robey's.
+
+"Of course I'm glad to have you, Gilbert, but the trouble is that as
+soon as we've got you nicely working Mr. Robey will take you away.
+That's a great trick of his. He seems to think the purpose of the second
+team is to train players for the first. It isn't, though. He gives me
+what he doesn't want every year and I do my best to make a team from it,
+and I ought to be allowed to keep what I make. Well, never mind. You do
+the best you can while you're with us, Gilbert."
+
+"Maybe he won't have me this year," said Don dejectedly. "He seems to
+think that being out for a couple of weeks has queered me."
+
+"Well, you don't feel that way about it, do you?"
+
+"No, sir, I'm perfectly all right. I've watched practice every afternoon
+and I've been doing a quarter to a half on the track."
+
+"Hm. Well, you've got a little flesh that will have to come off, but it
+won't take long to lose it this weather. Sit down a minute." They were
+in front of the stand and Mr. Boutelle seated himself on the lower tier
+and Don followed his example. "Let me see, Gilbert. Last year you played
+left guard, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And if I remember aright your chief difficulty was in the matter of
+weight."
+
+"I'm twelve pounds heavier this fall, air."
+
+"Yes, but some of that'll come off, I guess. However, that doesn't
+matter. You were getting along pretty well at the last of the season, I
+remember. Who's ahead of you on the first?"
+
+"Well, Gafferty's got the first choice, I guess. And then there's Harry
+Walton."
+
+"You can beat Walton," said Boots decisively. "Walton lacks head. He
+can't think things out for himself. You can. What you'll have to do this
+year, my boy, is speed up a little. It took you until about the middle
+of the season to find your pace. Remember?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I know."
+
+"Well, you won't stay with us long, as I've said, and so I'm not going
+to build you into the line, Gilbert. I've got some good-looking guard
+material and I can't afford to work over you and get dependent on you
+and then have Robey snatch you away about the middle of the fall. That
+won't do. But I'll tell you what we will do, Gilbert. We'll use you
+enough to bring you around in form slowly. You'll play left guard for
+awhile every day. But what I want you to really do is to help with the
+others. You've been at it two years now and you know how the position
+ought to be played and you've got hard common-sense. I'll put the guard
+candidates in your hands. See what you can do with them. There's a
+couple of likely chaps in Kirkwell and Merton, and there are two or
+three more after positions. You take them in charge, Gilbert, and show
+me what you know about coaching. What do you say?"
+
+"Why, Mr. Boutelle, I--I don't know that I can show anyone else what to
+do. I can play the position myself after a fashion, but--well, I guess
+it's another thing to teach, isn't it?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It is if you go into it with the idea that it is, but
+don't do that. Play the position as it ought to be played, tell the
+others why, call them down when they make mistakes, pat them on the back
+when they do right. Just forget that you're trying to teach. If a fellow
+came to you and said: 'Gilbert, I want to play guard but I don't know
+how, and I wish you'd tell me how you do it,' why, you wouldn't have any
+trouble, would you?"
+
+"N-no, sir, I guess not," replied Don a trifle doubtfully.
+
+"Well, there you are. Try it, anyway. You'll get on all right. I'll be
+right on hand to dig the spurs in when your courage fails." Mr.
+Boutelle smiled. "We're going to have a dandy second team this fall, my
+boy. We've got nothing to build on, only a lot of green material, and
+that's the best part of it. I don't care how inexperienced the material
+is if it's willing to learn and has the usual number of arms and legs
+and such things and a few ounces of grey matter in the cranium. Well,
+here we go. Nothing today but passing and punting, I guess. Sure your
+hand's all right?"
+
+"Yes, sir, thanks. I don't really need this contrivance; it's awfully
+clumsy; but Doc said I'd better wear it for a few days."
+
+"Best to be on the safe side. I'll have you take one squad of these
+chaps, I guess, and I'll give the other to Lewis. You know the usual
+stuff, Gilbert. Rest 'em up now and then; they're soft and the weather's
+warm. But work 'em when they're working. Any fellow who soldiers gets
+bounced. All out, second squad!"
+
+There wasn't anything that afternoon but the sort of drudgery that tries
+the enthusiasm of the tyro: passing the ball in circles, falling on it,
+catching it on the bound and starting. Don was surprised to discover how
+soft he was in spite of his daily exercise on the cinders. When the
+hour's practice was over he was just about as thankful as any of the
+puffing, perspiring youths around him. Considering it afterward, Don was
+unable to view the material with the enthusiasm Mr. Boutelle had
+displayed. To him the thirty-odd boys who had reported for the second
+team were a hopeless lot, barring, of course, a few, not more than four
+in all, who had had experience last season. In another week Mr. Robey
+would make a cut in the first squad and the second would find itself
+augmented by some ten or twelve cast-offs. But just now the second squad
+looked to Don to be a most unlikely lot. When he confided all this to
+Tim that evening the latter said:
+
+"Don't you worry, old man. Boots will make a team out of them. Why, he
+could make a football team out of eleven clothing store dummies!
+Sometimes I think that Boots ought to be head coach instead of Robey.
+I've got nothing against Robey, either. He's a bit of a 'miracle man'
+himself, _but_ for building a team out of nothing Boutelle has him both
+shoulders to the mat!"
+
+"I don't believe Boots would want to coach the first," replied Don.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I don't know. He's sort of--well, he kind of likes to--Oh, I don't
+know."
+
+"Very clearly explained, Donald."
+
+"Well, Boots, if he was a soldier, would be the sort that would want to
+lead a charge where the odds were against him. See what I mean?"
+
+"You mean he has a hankering for the forlorn chance business? Maybe so.
+That's not a bad name for the second, is it? The Forlorn Chances! I
+guess you've got him dead to rights, though. Boots is for the under dog
+every time. I guess coaching the first and having his pick of the
+players wouldn't make any sort of a hit with Boots. It would be too
+tame. Boots likes to take three discarded veterans, two crips and a
+handful of green youngsters and whittle them into a bunch that will make
+us sweat and toil to score on. And, what's more, he does it! Bet you
+anything, Don, this year's second will be every bit as good as last
+year's."
+
+"I won't take it, because I think so myself," laughed Don. "I can't see
+how he's going to do it, Tim, but something tells me he will!"
+
+"Oh, with you to coach the guards it will be no trick at all," said Tim,
+grinning.
+
+Don smiled thinly. "I'll make an awful mess of it, I guess," he
+muttered.
+
+"Not you, boy!" and Tim slapped him encouragingly on the back. "You'll
+blunder right ahead to glory, same as you always do. You'll make hard
+work of it and all that, but you'll get there. Don, you're exactly like
+the porpoise--no, the tortoise in the fable. You don't look fast, old
+man, but you keep on moving ahead and saying nothing and when the hares
+arrive you're curled up on the finish line fast asleep. Tortoises can't
+curl up, though, can they? And, say, what the dickens _is_ a tortoise,
+anyway? I always get tortoises and porpoises mixed."
+
+"A porpoise is a fish," replied Don gravely. "And a tortoise is a land
+turtle. But they're both anthropoids."
+
+"Are they?" asked Tim vaguely. "All right. Here, what are you grinning
+at? Anthropoids nothing! An anthropoid is a monkey or--or something."
+
+"You're an anthropoid yourself, Timmy."
+
+"Meaning I'm a monkey?"
+
+"Not at all. Here, look it up." And Don shoved a dictionary across the
+table. Tim accepted it suspiciously.
+
+"All right," he said, "but if it's what I think it is you'll have to
+fight. Anthesis, anthropocosmic----Say, I'm glad you didn't call me
+that! Here it is. Now let's see. 'Anthropoid, somewhat like a human
+being in form or other characteristics'! Something like---- You wait
+till I get you in the tank again! 'Something like a human being'! For
+two cents I'd lay you on the bed and spank you with that tennis racket!"
+
+"I've got two cents that say you can't do it," replied Don.
+
+"Well, I could if there wasn't so much of you," grumbled Tim. "Now shut
+up and let me stuff awhile. Horace has been eyeing me in a way I don't
+like lately. How's your German going?"
+
+"Not very well. It's a silly language, I think. But I guess I'll get the
+hang of it after awhile. What I want to know is why they can't make
+their letters the way we do."
+
+"Because they're afraid someone might be able to read the plaguy stuff.
+Tell you what we'll do, Don."
+
+"What'll we do?"
+
+"We'll go for a swim in the tank after study. Will you?"
+
+Don winked slowly. "Not after that threat, thanks."
+
+"I won't touch you, honest to goodness, Don! Did you learn to swim any
+better this Summer?"
+
+"Where would I learn?" asked the other. "There's no place to swim out my
+way, unless it's the river."
+
+"Well, don't the rivers in Kansas contain water?"
+
+"Yes, sometimes! Winter, usually. If you'll promise not to grab me when
+I'm not looking I'll go. I hate the taste of that tank water, Tim."
+
+"You ought to know how to swim, old man. Never mind, Mr. Conklin will
+get hold of you this Winter and beat it into you."
+
+"I can swim now," replied Don indignantly.
+
+"Oh, yes, you can swim like a hunk of lead! The last time I saw you try
+it you did five strokes and then got so elated that you nearly drowned
+yourself trying to cheer! I could teach you in three lessons if you'd
+let me."
+
+"Much obliged, but nothing doing, Timmy. I'd as lief drown by myself as
+have you hold my head under water."
+
+"That was just a joke, Don. I won't ever do it again. I wanted you to
+get used to the water, you see."
+
+"I don't mind getting used to it outside, but I hate to fill up with it,
+Tim. It tastes very nasty. You may be a good teacher, but I don't like
+your methods."
+
+"Well, we'll go and have a dip, anyway," laughed Tim. "It'll set us up
+and refresh us after our arduous stuffing."
+
+"If you don't cut out the chatter there won't be any stuffing," warned
+Don. "It's almost half-past now. And I've got three solid pages of this
+rot to do. Dry up, like a good pal."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE SEARCH OF ADVENTURE
+
+
+BY that time Brimfield had played her second game and lost it, 6 to 14,
+to Canterbury High School. Canterbury was not considered very formidable
+and Brimfield usually had little trouble with her. But this year things
+had gone wrong from the start of the game to the finish, wrong, that is,
+from Brimfield's point of view. Fumbling had been much in evidence and
+poor judgment even more. Carmine had worked like a Trojan at
+quarter-back for two periods, but had somehow failed to display his
+usually good generalship, and McPhee, who had taken his place at the
+beginning of the second half, while he ran the team well, twice dropped
+punts in the backfield, one of which accounted for Canterbury's second
+touchdown and goal. Oddly enough, it was the veterans who failed most
+signally to live up to expectations, and of all the veterans Tom Hall
+was the worst offender. Possibly Tom's shoulder still bothered him, but
+even that couldn't have accounted for all his shortcomings. Crewe, who
+played tackle beside Tom, was not a very steady man, and Tom's errors
+threw him off his game badly, with the result that, until Coach Robey
+put Pryme in for Tom in the third period, Canterbury made a lamentable
+number of gains at the right of the Brimfield line. Even Tim Otis,
+usually undisturbed by anything short of an earthquake, was affected by
+the playing of the others and finally had what he called a "brain-storm"
+in the third period, getting the signals twisted and being thrown back
+for an eight-yard loss. That misadventure bothered him so that he was
+heartily glad when Gordon was rushed in a few minutes later.
+
+The team took the beating to heart and the school at large was disposed
+to indulge in sarcasm and bitterness. Only Coach Robey seemed
+undisturbed. He lavished no praise, you may be sure, but, on the other
+hand, neither did he utter any criticism after the contest was over.
+Instead, he laid off more than half the line-up on Monday and Tuesday,
+and, since the weather continued almost unseasonably warm, the rest was
+just what the fellows needed. Wednesday's practice went with a new snap
+and vim and those who broiled in the afternoon sun and watched it found
+grounds for hope.
+
+It was on Wednesday that Don began his connection with the second team,
+and by then the injured hand was so well along that he was able to
+discard the glove. Three days of kindergarten work followed, with, on
+Saturday, a short signal drill. The first team journeyed away that
+afternoon to play Miter Hill School, and Don would have liked very much
+to have gone along. But Boots put his charges through a good, hard hour
+and a half of work, and Don had all he could attend to at home. Just
+before supper he did, however, walk down to the station and meet Tim
+when the team arrived home. Tim, who seemed remarkably fresh for a youth
+who had played through the most of four ten-minute periods, scorned the
+coach and he and Don footed it back.
+
+"Twenty to nothing, my boy," said Tim exultantly. "They never had a
+look-in. It was some game, believe me, dearie! And I want to tell you,
+too, that Miter Hill is fifty per cent better than Canterbury ever
+thought of being!"
+
+"That's fine," said Don. "What sort of a game did you play?"
+
+"Me? Oh, I was the life of the party. Got off two nice little runs, one
+for thirty and the other for forty-five yards. Got a touchdown the
+second time. I wouldn't have, though, if Steve hadn't paced me most the
+way down and put the quarter out. Old Steve played like a whirlwind
+today. We all did, I guess. There was only one fumble, and that wasn't
+anyone's fault. Holt got a forward pass and a Miter Hill chap plunged
+into him and just about knocked the breath out of him and he let go of
+the ball."
+
+"Twenty to nothing? Three touchdowns, then."
+
+"Yep, and Rollins only missed one goal. Rollins scored once, I scored
+once and Steve took over the last one."
+
+"Forward pass?"
+
+"No, end-around. It went off great, too. We were way back on the
+eighteen yards, I think it was, and we worked the fake forward pass
+play, with Steve taking the ball from Carmine. We fooled them finely.
+They never got onto it at all until Steve was over the line. Some of the
+fellows who were doing so much grousing last week ought to have come
+along today and seen some real football. Robey was as pleased as
+anything. You could tell that because he looked sort of cross and told
+us how bad we were!"
+
+"Wish I'd seen it," mourned Don.
+
+"It was some game, all right, all right! We're going to have a modest
+celebration this evening; just Tom Hall and Clint Thayer and Hap Crewe,
+maybe, and yours truly. Better come along. Will you?"
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"Oh, just down to the village. We'll leave the window open."
+
+"You'll get nabbed if you try that," demurred Don. "Better not, Tim."
+
+"Well, we may be back by ten. No harm in having a way open in case
+something delays us, though. We'll have a little feed at the Inn, you
+know, and----"
+
+"Don't be a chump," growled Don. "You're in training and you know mighty
+well Robey won't stand for any funny-business."
+
+"What Robey doesn't know isn't going to hurt him," replied Tim
+untroubledly. "And he won't know anything about this because he's off
+for home on the seven o'clock train. Tom heard him tell Steve he
+wouldn't be back until Monday noon."
+
+"Yes, but someone will see you and Robey'll hear of it. And then you'll
+get the dickens from him and be hauled up to the office. Better not risk
+it, Timmy."
+
+"Gee, you're worse than Mr. Poe's crow! Or was it a raven? What's the
+difference, anyhow? Now don't tell me they're both anthropeds or pods,
+or whatever it is, because I'm onto you as a disseminator of knowledge!
+I never got even with you yet for calling me 'something like a human
+being'."
+
+"I'll take it back, then; you aren't. But, just the same, Tim, I wish
+you'd cut out the celebration."
+
+"You're all the time interfering with my innocent pleasures," protested
+Tim. "Why, bless you, dearie, we aren't going to cut-up. We're merely
+going to stroll quietly to the village, trolling a song, mayhap, and
+look in the windows."
+
+"That'll take you a long time," Don laughed. "There are only half a
+dozen."
+
+"Wrong. A fellow opened a watchmaker's emporium next door to the post
+office t'other day and has a most fascinating window. It has four alarm
+clocks, three pairs of cuff-links and a chronometer in it! Oh, it's
+swell! Do you realise, Don, that slowly but surely our little village is
+taking on the--the semblance of a metropolis? All we want is a movie
+palace!"
+
+"Let's start one. They say there's a lot of money in them."
+
+"Bet there is! We've got three or four at home, and they're peaches.
+Full every minute, too. I went a lot last Summer; had filmitis, I
+guess. But how about the party? Will you come along?"
+
+"No, thanks."
+
+"Oh, come on, Don! Have a heart! Be one of our merry gang."
+
+"I'd rather not, thank you. I like Josh well enough, but I don't like to
+stand on the carpet and hear him say 'Until further notice, Gilbert.'
+Nothing doing, Tim!"
+
+And Don remained adamant the rest of the way to school and while they
+made a hurried toilet and rushed to dining hall in an effort to reach it
+before the food gave out.
+
+The team members received an ovation that evening when they entered the
+dining hall. It seemed as if the school wanted to make up for its
+unkindness of a week before. Some few of the fellows, recalling
+sarcastic comments overheard, were inclined to be haughty and
+unforgiving, but eventually they melted. Don, now at the second
+training-table, presided over by Mr. Boutelle, saw that Coach Robey's
+chair was vacant, which fact bore out Tim's statement that the coach had
+gone home over Sunday. But, even granting that, Don didn't approve of
+Tim's celebration, for, as he very well knew, after a football victory
+fellows were very likely to be carried away by their enthusiasm and to
+forget such trifling things as rules and regulations. He determined to
+try again to dissuade Tim after supper.
+
+But Tim, who was in a very cheerful and expansive mood, refused to be
+dissuaded. Instead, he turned the tables and begged so hard for Don to
+come with him that Don finally relented. After all, there was no harm in
+the excursion if they got permission and were back in hall by ten
+o'clock. And it was a wonderfully pleasant, warm evening, much too fine
+an evening to spend indoors, and--well, secretly, Don wanted some fun as
+much as any of them, perhaps!
+
+Permission was easily obtained and at seven they met Tom Hall and Clint
+Thayer in front of Torrence. Crewe failed them, but Tim said it didn't
+matter; that there were only four "Three Musketeers" anyhow! So they set
+off for the village in high spirits, through a warm, fragrant,
+star-lighted evening, with no settled plan of action in mind save to do
+about as they liked for the succeeding three hours. Clint Thayer had a
+strip of plaster across the saddle of his nose, which gave him a
+strangely benign expression. Tom walked a bit stiffly and confessed to
+"a peach of a shin," which probably meant something quite different from
+what it suggested. Only Tim, of the three first team fellows, had
+emerged unscathed, and he referred to the fact in an unpleasantly
+superior manner which brought from Tom Hall the remark that it was easy
+enough to get through a game without any knocks if you didn't do
+anything! Whereupon Tim flicked him across the cheek with an imaginary
+glove, the challenge was issued and accepted and the two fought an
+exciting duel with rapiers--as imaginary as the glove--on the sidewalk,
+feinting, thrusting, parrying, until Clint cried "The guard! The guard!"
+and they all raced down the road to the nearest lamp-post, where Tim
+insisted on looking to his wounds. To hear him tell it, he was as full
+of holes as a sieve, while, on the same authority, Tom was a dead man.
+Tom denied being dead, but Tim insisted and refused to pay any heed to
+him all the rest of the way to the village on the ground that, being
+dead, Tom had no business to talk.
+
+But when they reached what Tim called "the heart of the city" Tom was
+allowed to come to life again. The heart of the city consisted of the
+junction of two village streets whereon were located the diminutive town
+hall, the post office, a fire house and five stores. They began with the
+druggist's, ranging themselves in front of one of the two windows and
+pretending to be overwhelmed with the beauty and magnificence of the
+goods displayed.
+
+"What beautiful soap," exclaimed Tom. "I never saw such beautiful soap,
+fellows. Pink and green and white! Looks almost good enough to wash
+with, doesn't it?"
+
+"And get on to the lovely toilet set in the green velvet box," begged
+Tim awedly. "Scissors and brushes and little do-funnies and----"
+
+"I'm going to buy a bottle of that hair-grower," announced Don. "I want
+to raise a beard."
+
+"Let's get a bottle and present it to Uncle Sim," suggested Clint. Uncle
+Sim was Mr. Simkins, the Greek and Latin instructor, and was noticeably
+bald. The others chuckled and thought very well of the suggestion until
+Tom discovered that the price, as stated on the label, was one whole
+dollar. They had, they decided, better uses for what little money they
+carried. Eventually they went inside, and sat on stools in front of the
+small soda fountain and drank gaily-coloured concoctions which,
+according to Tim, later, sounded better than they tasted. Having
+exhausted the amusement to be derived from the drug store, they went to
+the fire house next door and, pressing their noses against the glass,
+debated what would happen if an alarm was rung in. There was a box
+beside the doors, a most tempting red box and Tim eyed it longingly
+until Don led him gently but firmly away from temptation.
+
+In the small store across the street they examined all the books and
+magazines displayed on the counters, which didn't take long, as
+literature was not a large part of the stock. Tim spent ten cents for a
+football guide, explaining that he had always wanted to know some of the
+rules of that game! Don bought some candy and Clint a bag of peanuts,
+although the others protested that if they ate truck they'd spoil their
+appetites for real food. The force of the protest was somewhat marred by
+the actions of the protestants, who helped themselves liberally to the
+contents of the two bags.
+
+There was a convenient fence a few steps along the street and they
+perched themselves on the top rail and consumed the peanuts and candy
+and watched the "rush of the great city," to again quote the poetic Tim.
+During the next twenty minutes exactly eight carriages and four
+automobiles entered their range of vision; and at that Clint insisted
+that they had counted one automobile twice. He accused it of going
+around the block in order to add to the confusion. Possibly some three
+dozen people passed within sight, although that may have been a too
+liberal estimate. Tom at last declared that he couldn't stand the
+excitement any longer; that his brain reeled and his eyes ached; and
+that he was going to find a quiet spot far from the dizzy whirl. So they
+adjourned to the grocery and butcher shop and talked learnedly of loins
+and shoulders and ribs. And Clint dragged what he alluded to as a
+"brisket" into the conversation to the confusion of the others, who had
+never heard of it and didn't believe in it anyway. Tom said Clint meant
+"biscuit" and that this wasn't a bakery. Then he caught sight of some
+rather pathetic and unseasonable radishes and, having a passion for
+radishes, went in and purchased four bunches. That outlay led to an
+expenditure for salt, and as a large, round pasteboard carton of it was
+the least they could buy, they retreated down the street to the Inn
+porch, trickled the salt along the top of the railing, drew up chairs
+and consumed the radishes at their leisure. All, that is, save Tim. Tim
+didn't like radishes, called them "fire-crackers" and pretended to be
+deeply disgusted with his companions for eating them.
+
+When the radishes were consumed they invaded the Inn and assaulted the
+water tank in force. Then, as there were practically no sights left to
+be viewed, they went back to their chairs and, as Tom had it, waited
+for inspiration. Don was for trolleying over to the shore, having a dip
+in the ocean and returning to school in good time. But Tim pointed out
+that the trolley line was a good half-mile distant, that he had not
+filled himself with radishes and was consequently quite famished for
+food and favoured remaining within easy distance of the Inn so that, in
+case he grew faint, he could reach sustenance. Don's motion was
+defeated. In view of what eventually occurred, that was, perhaps,
+unfortunate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+FIGHTING FIRE
+
+
+"THIS," said Tim presently, "is a bit dull, if you ask me. I came out
+for some excitement. Let's do something."
+
+"What?" asked Clint, yawning loudly.
+
+"Let's eat."
+
+The others groaned.
+
+"That's all right for you chaps, but I'm getting hungry," Tim asserted.
+"I thought we were going to have a feed. They'll be closing this place
+up the first thing we know. How about a rarebit, fellows?"
+
+"Oh, let's wait awhile," said Don. "Let's take a walk and get up an
+appetite."
+
+"Walk!" jeered Tim. "Gee, I've walked enough. And there's nothing the
+matter with my appetite right now. Tell you what----" Tim paused. An
+automobile was stopping in front of the Inn. The headlights suddenly
+dimmed and the single occupant, a tall man in a light overcoat, got out,
+walked up the path, ascended the steps and passed into the house. "Now,
+who's he?" asked Tim. "Say, I wish he'd loan us his car for awhile."
+
+"Run in and ask him," suggested Tom. "He looked kind."
+
+"Maybe he'd give us a ride if we asked him," pursued Tim. "It's a peach
+of a car; foreign, I guess."
+
+"It's a Mercy Dear," said Tom.
+
+"Or a Fierce Sorrow," hazarded Clint.
+
+"Bet you it's a Cheerless," said Don, "or a Backhard."
+
+"Don't care what it is," persisted Tim. "I want a ride in it."
+
+"Let's go down and stand around it with our fingers in our mouths," said
+Tom, with a chuckle. "Perhaps he will take pity on us and ask us in."
+
+"Or we might open the door for him," offered Don.
+
+At that moment Clint, who had left his chair to lean across the railing
+and gaze past the end of the porch, interrupted with an exclamation.
+"Say, fellows, what's that light over there?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"Fire, by jingo!" cried Tim.
+
+"That's what!" agreed Tom. "Say, you don't suppose it's the school, do
+you?"
+
+"Of course not! The school's over that way. Besides, that fire's away
+off; maybe two miles. Come on!" And Clint started for the steps.
+
+"Wait!" called Tim. "I want to see the engine come out. Bet you it's a
+fine sight! Anyway, we can't foot it two miles."
+
+"Maybe it isn't that far," said Don. "Fires look further than they are
+sometimes."
+
+"Yes, and nearer, too," replied Tim. "Think we ought to run over and
+tell them about it?"
+
+But that question was speedily answered by the sudden clanging of a gong
+inside the fire house, followed by the sound of running footsteps and,
+an instant later, the wild alarm of the shrill-tongued bell in the
+little belfry.
+
+"My word!" exclaimed Tom. "I didn't know there were so many folks in the
+town!" Already a small-sized crowd had gathered in front of the fire
+house, some fifty yards up the street. The doors rolled open and a
+figure pushed through the throng and loped across the street and
+disappeared. The bell clanged on and on. Don and Clint and Tom made a
+dash for the steps. Tim slid over the railing. But before any of them
+had more than reached the sidewalk the tall owner of the automobile
+catapulted himself down the steps, hailing them as he came.
+
+"Where is it, boys?" he shouted.
+
+"Over there," answered Clint, pointing. But the glow in the sky was
+scarcely visible from the sidewalk and they all swarmed back to the
+porch again.
+
+"I see," said the man. "Some farm house, I guess. They'll know at the
+fire house." He sprang down the steps again, the boys streaming after
+him. He was already in the car when Tim asked breathlessly: "You going,
+sir?"
+
+"Sure! Want to come? Pile in, then. There are some packages in there.
+Look out for them."
+
+Clint had already put his foot down hard on something that, whatever it
+might be, was never meant to be walked on, but he made no mention of the
+fact. The car leaped forward, swung to the right, stopped with a jerk
+six inches from a lamp-post, backed, straightened out and careened along
+to the fire house. All was excitement there. Men were rushing into the
+building and rushing out again, agitatedly donning rubber coats and
+hats. Speculation was rife. A score of voices argued as to the location
+of the fire. The throng swayed back and forth. The man in the car
+demanded information as he drew up at the curb and a dozen answers were
+flung at him. Then a small, fat man ran up and leaned excitedly across
+the front of the auto. "Hello, Mr. Brady!" he panted. "You going out
+there?"
+
+"Yes, but I've got a load, Johnson. Where is it?"
+
+"Don't no one seem to know. Jim Cogswell knows, but he's gone for the
+horses."
+
+"Look out! Here they come!" "Get that auto out of the way there!" "Stand
+aside, everyone!" "Get a move on, Jim!" A lean little man in his shirt
+sleeves suddenly appeared leading two jogging horses, while a third
+horse trotted along behind. The crowd scampered aside and the horses
+beat a tattoo on the floor as they wheeled to their places. Mr. Brady
+jumped from his seat, pushed his way through the crowd as it closed in
+again about the doorway and disappeared. Tim whooped with delight.
+
+"What did I tell you?" he demanded. "Didn't I say it would be a great
+sight? Gee, I haven't had such a good time since I had the measles!"
+
+Mr. Brady reappeared, scrambled back to his seat and slammed the door
+behind him. "Jim says it's Corrigan's barn," he said. "Sit tight, boys!"
+The car leaped forward once more, took the first corner at twenty miles
+an hour, took the next at thirty and then, in the middle of a firm, hard
+road, simply roared away into the starlit darkness, the headlights
+throwing a great white radiance ahead. Tim, on the front seat, whipped
+off his cap and stuffed it into his pocket. Behind, the three boys
+huddled themselves low in the wide seat while the wind tore past them.
+
+"Must be going ninety miles an hour!" gasped Clint.
+
+"Suppose we bust something!" said Tom awedly.
+
+Don braced his feet against the foot-rail. "Let it bust!" he answered
+exultantly.
+
+That was a memorable ride. Tim owned afterward that he thought he had
+ridden fast once or twice before, but that he was mistaken. "I watched
+that speedometer from the time we turned the second corner," he
+declared, "and it never showed less than fifty-three and was generally
+around sixty! If I hadn't been so excited I'd been scared to death!"
+
+Now and then one of the boys behind looked back along the road, but if
+anyone was following them the fact wasn't apparent. Almost before they
+were conscious of having travelled any distance the car topped a slight
+hill at a dizzy speed and the conflagration was in sight. A quarter of a
+mile distant a big barn was burning merrily. The car slowed down at the
+foot of the descent, swung into a lane and pitched and careened toward
+the burning structure. Other buildings were clustered about the barn and
+a good-sized white dwelling house stood in dangerous proximity. Between
+house and barn, standing out black against the orange glow of the fire,
+was a group of women and children, while a few men, not more than a
+half-dozen it seemed, were wandering hither and thither in the radiance.
+A horse with trailing halter snorted and dashed to safety as the
+automobile turned from the lane and came to a stop under an apple tree.
+
+"Far as we go!" shouted Mr. Brady. "Come on, boys, and lend a hand!"
+
+The lights dimmed, the engine stopped and the occupants of the car
+scrambled out and ran up the lane. "They can't save that barn," panted
+Mr. Brady, "but they'd ought to save the rest of them."
+
+A man attired principally in a pair of overalls and a flannel shirt and
+carrying an empty bucket advanced to meet them.
+
+"Is the engine coming?" he asked listlessly.
+
+"They hadn't started when I left," answered Mr. Brady, "and I guess you
+needn't look for them for fifteen or twenty minutes. Got any water handy
+when it does come?"
+
+"I've got a tank full up there, and there's a pond behind the house. But
+I don't know's they can do anything. Looks to me like everything's bound
+to go. Well, I got insurance."
+
+"Got plenty of buckets?" asked Mr. Brady, peeling off his coat. "How
+many men are here?"
+
+"About six or seven, I guess. Yes, there's buckets enough, but the
+heat's so fierce----"
+
+"Animals all out?"
+
+"There's some pigs down there. We tried to chase 'em out, but the plaguy
+things wouldn't go. We got the horses and cows out and a couple o'
+wagons. All my hay's done for, though. And there's a heap o' machinery
+in there----"
+
+"Well, we can save the other buildings, can't we?" asked Mr. Brady
+impatiently. "Get your buckets and your men together, Corrigan. Here are
+five of us, and we can make a line and keep the roofs wet down until the
+engine comes, I guess. Send the women for all the pails and things
+you've got. Get a hustle on, man!"
+
+Mr. Corrigan hesitated a moment and then trotted away. The water supply
+was contained in a wooden tank set some ten feet above ground, and high
+beyond that, dimly discernible through the cloud of smoke, the spectral
+arms of a wind-mill revolved imperturbably. Mr. Brady, followed by the
+boys, went on around to the further side of the burning building. It was
+a huge hip-roofed structure. One end, that nearest the house, was
+already falling, and the tons of crackling hay in the mows glowed like a
+furnace. The heat, even at the foot of the wind-mill, a hundred feet or
+more away, was almost intolerable. A row of one-story buildings ran
+along one side of the barn, so near that the flying sparks blew over
+rather than on to them. Several other detached structures stood at
+greater distances. Mr. Brady, surveying the scene, shook his head
+doubtfully.
+
+"Guess he's right," he said. "There's not much use trying to save those
+nearer buildings. We couldn't stay on those roofs a minute. I guess the
+chief danger will be from sparks lighting on the house and that creamery
+there. Things are mighty dry."
+
+Four or five men dangling empty buckets, one of them Mr. Corrigan's son
+and the others neighbours, came up and asked about the fire department
+and Mr. Brady repeated what he had told the older man. "What we've got
+to do," he continued, "is to keep the roof on the house and the dairy
+wet. Those sparks are flying all over them. What's that small building
+over there?"
+
+"That's the ice-house, Mr. Brady."
+
+"Well, we won't bother about that. How many are there of us?"
+
+"Six, I guess," said one of the men, but another corrected him.
+
+"Old Man Meredith and Tom Young just drove in," he announced. "That
+makes eight of us, and there's five of you----"
+
+"Well, come on, then," Mr. Brady interrupted briskly. "You fellows get
+your pails full and look after the dairy. Get on the roof, a couple of
+you, and keep it wet down. The rest can lug water. Got a ladder handy?
+All right. Somebody fetch it in a hurry. Hold on! Isn't there water in
+the dairy?"
+
+"Yes, sir, plenty of it."
+
+"Then fill your buckets inside and hand them up to the men on the roof.
+I'll take my gang and go over to the house."
+
+The following half-hour was a busy time for the four boys. Mr. Brady and
+Don stood precariously athwart the ridge of the house roof while Tim and
+Clint and Tom, later assisted by others, filled buckets in the kitchen,
+raced up two flights of stairs and a short ladder--often losing half of
+their burden on the way--and passed them through a skylight to those
+outside. A dozen times the dry shingles caught fire under the rain of
+sparks, but Mr. Brady, climbing along the ridge like a cat, tossing
+buckets of water with unerring precision, kept the fire at bay. It was
+warm work for all. On the roof the heat of the fire was unpleasantly
+apparent, while in the house it was stiflingly close and the work of
+carrying the pails up and down stairs soon had the three boys in a fine
+perspiration and badly off for breath!
+
+When the engines arrived, heralded by loud acclaim from the onlookers,
+who had by then multiplied remarkably, the barn was merely a huge pyre
+of glowing hay and burning timbers, only one far corner remaining erect.
+The piggery and adjoining buildings were ablaze in several places. The
+creamery roof had caught once or twice, but each time the flames had
+been subdued. If the engine and hose-cart and two carriages bearing
+members of the volunteer fire department had been slow in arriving, at
+least the fire-fighters got to work expeditiously and with surprisingly
+little confusion. Don, pausing for a moment in his labour of passing
+buckets to look down, decided that Brimfield had no cause to be ashamed
+of its department. In a jiffy the hose-cart was rattling across the
+yard--and, incidentally, some flower beds--in the direction of the pond
+behind the house, and a moment or two later the engine was pumping
+vigorously and a fine stream of water was wetting down the roofs of the
+threatened structures. Axes bit into charring timbers, sparks flew,
+enthusiastic, rubber-clad firemen dashed here and there, shouting
+loudly, the audience cheered and the worst was over!
+
+With the collapse of the remaining section of barn wall the danger from
+sparks was past, and, emptying one final bucket, Mr. Brady, followed by
+a very wet, very tired and very warm Don, crept back through the
+skylight and joined the others below. Mr. Brady rescued his coat, led
+the way to the kitchen pump and drank long and copiously, setting an
+example enthusiastically emulated by the boys. Tim declared that if he
+drank as much as he wanted there wouldn't be enough water left to put
+out the fire with!
+
+"Well, boys," said Mr. Brady, finally setting down the dipper and
+drawing a long breath, "I guess we did pretty well for amateurs, eh? I
+don't know whether we get any thanks, for I've a suspicion that Corrigan
+would have been just as pleased if everything had gone. From the way he
+talked when we got here I guess he wanted the insurance more'n he did
+the buildings!" Mr. Brady chuckled. "Well, we put one over on him in
+that case, eh? Want to stick around much longer? I guess most of the
+fun's over; unless they're going to serve some of that roast pig!"
+
+"They got the pigs out," chuckled Tim. "They were running around here
+awhile ago like crazy. About twenty of them, big and little, squealing
+and getting between people's feet. Those pigs had the time of their
+lives!"
+
+"Well, then, suppose we start along home?" said Mr. Brady. "You fellows
+ready?"
+
+They agreed that they were. The remains of the barn were already
+blackening, and, while the firemen, evidently determined to make the
+most of the occasion, were still swinging axes and pouring water on the
+already extinguished and well-soaked buildings, there was no danger of
+further trouble. Mr. Corrigan, surrounded by a group of sympathetic
+neighbours, was cataloguing his losses and Mr. Brady called to him as
+they passed.
+
+"Good-night, Corrigan! Sorry for you, but you've saved your house
+anyway!"
+
+"Yes, sir, Mr. Brady. I'm greatly obliged to you, sir, and them young
+fellers, too. It's a bit of a loss, sir, but there's pretty good
+insurance."
+
+"That's fortunate. Good-night!" Mr. Brady chuckled as they went on into
+the darkness of the orchard. "Bet you he's downright peeved with us,
+boys, for wetting that roof down! I happen to know that he's been
+losing money on this place for five years and been trying to sell it for
+a twelvemonth."
+
+"You don't suppose," began Tom, "that he--er--that he----"
+
+"Set the fire? Well, I'd rather not suppose about that. As there's no
+evidence against him we'd better give him the benefit of the doubt, I
+guess."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+COACHING THE TACKLES
+
+
+THE ride back was far less exciting. Mr. Brady drove the big car
+leisurely and conversed with Clint, who had succeeded to the seat of
+honour in front. Mr. Brady, it appeared, had a poultry farm some
+distance on the other side of Brimfield. He seemed a trifle surprised
+and pained when he discovered that Clint had never heard of the Cedar
+Ridge Poultry Farm, and at once issued an invitation to visit it.
+
+"You come over some time and I'll show you some stock that'll open your
+eyes. Bring your friends along. Tell the conductor on the trolley where
+you want to go and he'll set you down right at my gate. You can't miss
+it, though, anyhow, for I've got nearly a quarter of a mile of houses
+there. Silver Campines are my specialty. Raise a few White Wyandottes,
+too. You wouldn't think to look at me that the doctors came mighty near
+giving me up ten or eleven years ago, eh? Did, though. That was just
+after I finished college. They said the only thing would save me was
+hiking out to Colorado or Arizona or New Mexico. Some said one place and
+some said another. Seeing that they couldn't decide, I settled the
+question myself. Came out here, bought ten acres of land--I've got
+nearly forty now--and lived in a tent one Summer while my house was
+building. Doctors said it wouldn't do, but I fooled them. Slept out of
+doors every night, worked like a slave fourteen hours a day and put on
+flesh right from the start. I'm not what you'd call fat now, I guess,
+but you ought to have seen me then! An old chap I had putting up my
+first chicken house told me he could work me in nicely for a roosting
+pole! Went back to one of the doctors three years ago and had him look
+me over. He had to admit that I was a pretty healthy specimen. You could
+see that he was downright peeved about it, though!" Mr. Brady chuckled.
+"Then I settled the matter to my own satisfaction by taking out some
+life insurance. When I got my policy I stopped worrying about my health.
+You drop over some afternoon and let me show you how to live like a
+white man and make a little money, too. There's no life like it, and I
+wouldn't go back to the city if they gave me the Ritz-Carlton to live
+in!"
+
+[Illustration: Finally, Don was unceremoniously yanked up and through]
+
+Clint responded that he and the others would like very much to visit
+Cedar Ridge some day, but that just now they were all pretty busy in
+the afternoons with football. That struck a responsive chord and Mr.
+Brady harked back to his school and college days when he, too, had
+fondled the pigskin. "I wasn't much of a player, though," he
+acknowledged. "I was sort of tall and puny-looking and not very strong.
+Still, I did get into my school team in my senior year and played on my
+freshman team in college. The next year I had to give it up, though. I'd
+like to come over some day and see you fellows play. I've always been
+intending to. I haven't seen a real smashing football game for years.
+That's funny, too, for I can remember the time when I used to think that
+if I could get on my 'varsity eleven I'd die happy." He laughed as he
+swept the searchlights around a corner. "A man's ambitions change, don't
+they? Now what I want to do is to raise the champion egg producer. I'm
+going to do it, too, before long."
+
+And Clint quite believed it. Any man, he told himself, who could take
+command of a situation as Mr. Brady had that evening, and who could make
+enough money in the poultry business to own a three-thousand dollar
+automobile was capable of anything!
+
+When they approached the town Mr. Brady swung off to the left,
+explaining that he would take the boys up to the school. There was a
+moment of silence and then Clint protested weakly. "Shucks," was the
+reply, "it won't take five minutes longer, and after the way you fellows
+have worked tonight you don't deserve to have to walk home!"
+
+"Well, then--then I guess you'd better let us out at the corner," said
+Tim. "We'd hate to wake up the masters, Mr. Brady."
+
+"Oh, that's it, eh?" Mr. Brady laughed loudly. "Stayed out too late,
+have you?"
+
+"I'm afraid we have, sir," said Clint. "We're supposed to be in hall
+before ten and it's long after that now. If you'll let us out at the
+corner of the grounds we can sort of sneak around back and maybe get in
+without being seen. Faculty's beastly strict about outstaying leave."
+
+The car crossed the railroad track and presently pulled up quietly in
+the gloom of the trees along the road and the four boys noiselessly
+descended, shook hands, promised to pay a visit some day to Cedar Ridge
+and stole off to the right through the darkness. A moment later the tiny
+red light of the automobile vanished from sight. Tim called a halt at
+the wall. "You'd better bunk out with us tonight, Clint," he whispered.
+"We'll beat it around back of the gym and get in the shadows of the
+buildings. Say, Don, you're sure we left that window unlatched?"
+
+"Of course we did! It hasn't been closed for a week."
+
+"Then forward, my brave comrades! If anyone sees us we'd better scatter
+and hide out for awhile."
+
+They climbed over a stone wall and made their way through a grove
+adjoining the school grounds, keeping close to the boundary fence. It
+was as dark as pitch in the woods and every now and then one or another
+would walk into a tree or fall over a root. Don's teeth were chattering
+like castanets, for the night had grown cooler and a little breeze was
+blowing from the west, and his clothing was still far from dry. They
+crept past the back of the Cottage very cautiously, for there were
+lights upstairs and down, and breathed easier when the black bulk of the
+gymnasium loomed before them and they could crawl over the fence and
+drop back into school ground. From the corner of the gymnasium to
+Billings was a long distance, and looked just now longer than it ever
+had before. Also, in spite of the fact that there was no moon, the night
+was surprisingly light and Tim scowled disapprovingly at the stars as
+they paused for an instant at the corner of the building to get their
+breaths.
+
+"Keep low," advised Tim, "and make for Torrence. Then we'll stay close
+to the walls of the buildings. You want to see if there's a window open
+in Torrence, Clint?"
+
+"No, I'll stay with you fellows. I'd probably walk into a chair or a
+table and someone would take me for a burglar."
+
+"Come on, then. Haste to yon enfolding darkness!"
+
+They "hasted," and a second or two after were creeping, doubled up lest
+their heads show above the darkened windows and arouse unwelcome
+curiosity, along the rear of Torrence. Then they raced across the space
+dividing Torrence from Main Hall and repeated the proceedings until,
+finally, they were under the windows of Number 6 Billings. Both were
+open at the bottom and their doubts and tribulations were at an end.
+Clint was assisted in first, Tom followed and then Tim and, finally, Don
+was unceremoniously yanked up and through.
+
+"Eureka!" breathed Tim. "Can you make it to your room, Tom? If you don't
+want to risk it you can bunk out here on the window-seat or somewhere."
+
+"You may have half of my bed," offered Don. But Tom was already removing
+his shoes.
+
+"If Horace hears me," he whispered, "he's got better ears than I think
+he has. Good-night, fellows. We had a bully time, even if we didn't get
+that rarebit!"
+
+Tim groaned hollowly. "There! Now you've gone and reminded me that I'm
+starved to death!"
+
+"Shut up," warned Don. "Don't forget that Horace's bedroom is right
+there." He nodded toward the wall. "Beat it, Tom, and don't fall over
+your feet!"
+
+The door opened soundlessly, closed again and Tom was gone. They
+listened, and, although the transom was slightly open, not a creak or a
+shuffle reached them. "He's all right," whispered Tim. "Me for bed,
+fellows. Want to come in with me, Clint, or will you luxuriate on the
+window-seat?"
+
+"Window-seat, thanks. Got a coat or something?"
+
+Tim pulled a comforter from the closet shelf and tossed it to him, and
+quietly and quickly they got out of their clothes and sought their
+couches. Ten minutes later three very healthy snores alone disturbed the
+silence of Number 6.
+
+The next morning Clint joined the others and walked unobtrusively along
+the Row with them in the direction of Wendell and breakfast, but when he
+reached Torrence he quite as unobtrusively slipped through the doorway
+and sought his room to repair his appearance and relieve the anxiety of
+Amory Byrd. And that seemed to conclude the adventure for all hands, and
+Don, for one, was extremely thankful that they had escaped detection and
+the punishment which would have certainly followed. But that Sunday
+afternoon, while on his way to Torrence to recover a book which Leroy
+Draper had borrowed in the Spring and neglected to return, he fell in
+with Harry Walton and made the disconcerting discovery that he had
+congratulated himself too soon. Don had no particular liking for Walton,
+although he by no means held him in the disdain that Amy Byrd and some
+others did, and he was a little surprised when Harry fell into step
+beside him.
+
+"Have a good time last night?" asked Harry with an ingratiating leer.
+
+"Last night?" echoed Don vacantly. He remembered then that Lawton roomed
+in Number 20 Billings, directly above Number 6. "What about last night?"
+
+Harry winked meaningly and chuckled. "Well, I guess there was a party,
+wasn't there? I noticed you got home sort of late."
+
+"Did I? What makes you think that?"
+
+"I happened to be looking out my window, Don. It was sort of hot and I
+wasn't sleepy. Who were the other fellows?"
+
+"Other fellows? I guess you didn't see any others, Walton."
+
+Harry's saturnine countenance again wreathed itself with a growing grin.
+"Didn't, eh? All right. I probably imagined them."
+
+"Maybe you were asleep and dreamed it," said Don gravely. "Guess you
+must have, Walton."
+
+"Oh, I'm not going to talk, Don. You needn't be afraid of that."
+
+"I'm not," responded the other drily. "Well, I'm going in here. So long,
+Walton."
+
+"Bye, Don. I'm mum."
+
+Don nodded and entered Torrence, but on the way upstairs he frowned
+disgustedly. He didn't believe for an instant that Walton would
+deliberately get them into trouble, but he might talk so much that the
+facts would eventually work around to one of the masters. Don wished
+that almost any fellow he knew save Walton had witnessed that entry by
+the window of Number 6. Later, when he returned from his visit to Roy
+Draper, without the book, by the way, since it had mysteriously
+disappeared, he recounted his conversation with Walton to Tim. Tim
+didn't let it bother him any, however.
+
+"Harry won't give us away. Why should he? Besides, if he did he would
+know mighty well that I'd spoil his brunette beauty!"
+
+"Well, he may tell it around and Horace or somebody'll hear it. That's
+all I'm worrying about."
+
+"Don't worry, Donald. Keep a clear conscience and you'll never know what
+worry is. That's my philosophy."
+
+Don smiled and dismissed the matter from consideration.
+
+On Monday he had his first try at coaching the second team tackles and
+found that, after all, he got on fairly well. There were four candidates
+for the positions and two of them, Kirkwell and Merton, promised well.
+Kirkwell, in fact, had already had a full season of experience on the
+second. Merton was a graduate from his last year's hall team. The other
+two, Brace and Goodhugh, were novices and had everything to learn, and
+it was with them that Don laboured the hardest. Monday's practice ended
+with a ten-minute scrimmage between two hastily selected teams, and
+Don, for the first time that fall, played in his old position of left
+guard. Merton, who opposed him, found that he still had much to learn.
+
+On Tuesday, after a long and grilling tackling practice at the dummy,
+Coach Boutelle announced his line-up for the scrimmage against the first
+team, and Don was disappointed to find that Kirkwell and not he was down
+for left guard. The right guard position went to Merton. Don, with Mr.
+Boutelle and a half-dozen of the more promising substitutes, followed
+their team about the field, Boots criticising and driving and Don
+breaking in with hurried instructions to the guards. The first team had
+no trouble in piling up four touchdowns that afternoon, even though
+three regulars were still out of the line-up. Between the short periods
+Don coached Kirkwell and Merton again, and Kirkwell, who was a decent
+chap but fancied himself a bit, was inclined to resent it.
+
+"Chop it off, Gilbert," he said finally. "Give a fellow a chance to use
+his own brains a little. I'm no greenhorn, you know. I played guard all
+last year on this team."
+
+"I know you did," answered Don. "And I don't say you can't play your
+position all right. But the best of us make mistakes, and Boots has told
+me to look out for them and try and correct them. I'd a lot rather be
+playing than doing this, Kirkwell, but while I am doing it I'm going to
+do it the best I know how. A fellow who isn't in the game sees a lot the
+player doesn't, and when----"
+
+"Oh, all right. Only don't tell me stuff I know as well as I know my
+name, Gilbert. Don't nag."
+
+"Sorry. I'll try not to. But you see what I mean about that stiff-arm
+business, don't you? Don't get out of position when you're not sure
+where the play's coming, Kirkwell. Stiff-arm your man and hold him off
+until you see what's doing. Then you can play him right or left or shove
+him back. Once or twice you waited too long to find out where the play
+was coming and you didn't hold your man off. Get me?"
+
+"Yes, but we don't all play the position the same way, you know. What's
+the good of sparring with your man when you've got to find where the
+play's coming? You can't watch the ball and your opponent too, can you?"
+
+"It doesn't sound reasonable," said Don, "but you can! You watch Hall do
+it, if you don't believe me. Maybe you don't actually look two ways at
+once, Kirkwell, but you can watch your man and locate the play at the
+same time. I suppose it comes with practice."
+
+"I'd like to see you do it," replied Kirkwell aggrievedly.
+
+"Watch Hall do it. He's the best guard around here. I'm not setting up
+as an example."
+
+"You talk like it," muttered Kirkwell. But Merton, who had been a silent
+audience, stepped in to Don's support.
+
+"Gilbert's only trying to help us, Ned. Quit grousing. Come on; time's
+up."
+
+In spite of mutinous objections Kirkwell profited by Don's advice and
+instruction and soon showed an improvement in his defensive playing. It
+didn't appear that day, for Kirkwell was replaced by Don before the
+second period was more than a few minutes old, while Merton gave way to
+Goodhugh. Don's advent considerably strengthened the left of the second
+team's line and more than once during his brief presence there he had
+the satisfaction of outwitting Tom Hall and once got clear through and
+smeared a play well behind the first team's line.
+
+Boots cut his squad from day to day and on Friday only some eighteen
+candidates remained. Brace went with the discard. Between parting with
+Brace and Goodhugh, Don, when consulted, chose to sacrifice the former.
+Possibly young Brace suspected Don's part in his release, for, for some
+time after that, he viewed Don with scowls.
+
+Don's hand was now entirely healed, although the scars still showed,
+and, according to the doctor, would continue to show for a long time.
+Mr. Boutelle used Don at right guard during some portion of every
+scrimmage game against the first, a fact which caused Kirkwell a deal of
+anxiety. Kirkwell had from the first, and not unreasonably, resented
+Don's appearance with the second team squad. Don had been, as every
+fellow knew, slated for the first team, and Kirkwell thought it was
+unfair of him to drop back to the second and "try to do him out of his
+place." Feeling as he did, it isn't surprising that he took more and
+more unkindly to Don's teaching. It took all of Don's good nature at
+times to prevent an open break with Kirkwell. Once the latter accused
+Don of trying to "ball him up" so that he would play poorly and Don
+would get the position. The next day, though, he made an awkward apology
+for that accusation and was quite receptive to Don's criticisms and
+instructions. But Don's task was no easy one and it grew harder as the
+season progressed and the second team, especially as to its linemen,
+failed to develop the ability Mr. Boutelle looked for. Don more than
+once was on the point of resigning his somewhat thankless task, but Tim
+refused to sanction it, and what Tim said had a good deal of influence
+with Don.
+
+"Well, then," he said moodily, "I hope Kirkwell will break something and
+get out of it."
+
+"Tut, tut," remonstrated Tim. "Them's no Christian sentiments."
+
+"I do, though. Or, anyway, I hope something will happen to let me out of
+it. Boots said he was afraid Robey would take me on the first, but I
+don't see any chance of it."
+
+"I don't see why he doesn't, though," mused Tim. "Your hand's all right
+now and you're playing a corking good game. You can work all around any
+guard he's got except, maybe, Tom. Tom's rather a bit above the average,
+if you ask me. Neither Walton nor Pryme amounts to a whole lot."
+
+"Robey's been playing Walton a good deal lately," said Don. "I wouldn't
+be surprised if he put him in ahead of Gafferty before long."
+
+"There isn't a lot to choose between them, I guess," answered Tim.
+"Gafferty's no earthly good on offence. Wait till we run up against
+Benton tomorrow. Those huskies will show Gafferty up finely. And maybe
+some more of us," Tim added with a chuckle.
+
+"Oh, well----" began Don, vaguely, after a minute.
+
+But Tim interrupted. "Know what I think? I think Robey means to take you
+on the first later and is letting you stay with Boots just so you'll get
+fined down and speeded up a bit. You know you're still a little slow,
+Donald."
+
+"I am?" Don asked in genuine surprise. "I didn't know it. How do you
+mean, slow, Tim?"
+
+Tim leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together behind his
+head. "Every way, Donald. I'm telling you this for your own good,
+dearie. I thought you realised it, though, or I'd have said it before.
+You start slow and you don't get up steam until the play's about over.
+If it wasn't that you're an indecently strong chap we'd get the jump on
+you every time. We do, as it is, only it doesn't do us much good,
+because you're a tough chap to move. Now you think it over, Don. See if
+you can't ginger up a bit. Bet you anything that when you do Robey'll
+have you yanked off that second team in no time at all!"
+
+"I'm glad you told me," said Don, after a moment's consideration. "I
+thought I was doing pretty well this fall. I know well enough it was
+being all-fired slow that kept me off the first last fall, but I surely
+thought I'd picked up a whole lot of speed. I'll have to go back to
+practising starts, I guess."
+
+"Oh, never mind the kindergarten stuff, old man. Just put more jump into
+it. You'll find you can do it all right, now that you know about it.
+Why, I'll bet you'll be performing like a Jack rabbit before the
+season's over!"
+
+"Like a jackass, more likely," responded Don ruefully.
+
+"No, for a jackass, dearie, doesn't take a hint."
+
+"Well, but I don't believe I _can_ play any faster, Tim. If I could I'd
+be doing it, wouldn't I? Just naturally, I mean."
+
+"Never mind the conundrums, Don. You try it. If you do I'll be willing
+to guarantee you a place on the first."
+
+"I guess your guarantee wouldn't cut much ice," objected Don, with a
+laugh. Then he sobered and added: "Funny game, though, me coaching
+Kirkwell and Merton and Goodhugh. Looks as if I was the one needed the
+coaching."
+
+"Sure. We all need it. No one's perfect, Don, although, without
+boasting, I will say that I come pretty near it."
+
+"You come pretty near being a perfect chump, if that's what you mean."
+
+Tim shook his head. "It isn't at all what I mean. Now cut out the
+artless prattle and let me find some sense in this history stuff--if
+there is any!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE WIDTH OF A FINGER
+
+
+AT chapel the next morning Mr. Fernald, the principal, after the usual
+announcements had been made, lifted a newspaper from the table at his
+side and ran his eyes over an item there. "I have here," he said, "a
+copy of this week's Brimfield _Times_, which tells of an incident of
+which I had not learned. In telling of a fire on Saturday night last
+which destroyed a barn and damaged other buildings on the farm of Mr.
+William Corrigan, some three miles from the village, the _Times_ makes
+mention of the valuable assistance of a Mr. Grover Brady and four boys
+of this school. According to the _Times_, Mr. Brady and four boys dashed
+to the scene in a high-powered automobile, organised a bucket brigade
+and saved"--Mr. Fernald consulted his authority again--"saved the
+dwelling house from the devouring element. The metaphor is that of the
+paper. Possibly the _Times_ is misinformed with regard to the heroic
+young firemen, although I hope not. I should be very pleased to
+discover that they were really Brimfieldians. If they were, if they are
+before me at this moment, I trust they will signify the fact by standing
+up. I'm sure we'd all like to know their identity and give them
+well-deserved applause. Now then, will the modest heroes kindly reveal
+themselves?"
+
+Silence ensued, a silence broken only by a few whispers and some
+shuffling of feet. Every fellow's eyes searched the room, or, at least,
+that is true of almost every fellow. Tim smiled innocently and
+expectantly at the principal, Clint studied the back of the head in
+front of him most interestedly, Don observed the scar in his hand
+absorbedly and Tom grinned because Steve Edwards was whispering from the
+side of his mouth: "Why don't you get up, you bloomin' hero, why don't
+you get up?" Harry Walton was smiling that knowing smile of his and
+doing his best to catch Don's eye. And Don somehow knew it and didn't
+dare look toward him.
+
+"I'm disappointed," said Mr. Fernald after a minute. "Either the paper
+is mistaken or the fellows are over-modest. Well, if they won't speak
+for themselves perhaps someone else will volunteer to wrest them from
+the obscurity they so evidently court. How about that, boys? Anyone know
+who the heroes are?"
+
+Again silence for an instant, and then, in various parts of the room,
+the sudden moving of seats or tramping of feet as though someone was
+about to get up. But no one did, and some of the younger boys in front
+began to titter nervously. Mr. Fernald smiled and laid the Brimfield
+_Times_ back on the table.
+
+"No heroes amongst us, eh? Well, doubtless if any of you had been there
+you'd have performed quite as well as these unknown young gentlemen did.
+I like to think so. Dismissed."
+
+"Do you think he suspects us?" asked Tom as he ranged himself beside Tim
+on the way out. "Gee, I thought once he was looking right at me!"
+
+"That's what it is to have a guilty conscience," replied Tim, in a
+virtuous tone. "Of course he doesn't suspect. If he did he'd have named
+us, sure as shooting. The funny part of it is that he hasn't thought
+about what time the fire was! Maybe the paper didn't say. If he knew
+that he'd probably be a sight more anxious to find us!"
+
+"I was scared stiff that Harry Walton would blab. I didn't dare look at
+him."
+
+"Harry doesn't know you were with us. He recognised Don, or says he did,
+and he naturally thinks I was along, but he doesn't know who the other
+two were. If he opens his mouth I'll brain him."
+
+"I guess he won't. He's a sort of a pup, but he isn't mean enough for
+that. Gee, but it almost ruined my appetite for breakfast!"
+
+"Even if Josh did find out," said Tim as they turned into Wendell, "he
+wouldn't do much to us, I guess. It wasn't our fault the fire was late
+in getting started, and the paper calls us heroes----"
+
+"I don't believe it does. That's some of Josh's nonsense. I'm going to
+get a copy of the _Times_ and see what it does say."
+
+"Take my advice and let the _Times_ alone," advised Tim. "Why, I
+wouldn't be seen with a copy of it in my possession! It would be
+circumstantial evidence, or corroborative evidence or something horrid,
+and I'd get pinched for sure. You keep away from the _Times_, dearie."
+
+There was a good deal of interested speculation as to the identity of
+the four youths who had participated in the rescue of Farmer Corrigan's
+dwelling, but the general opinion was to the effect that the local paper
+had erred. One fellow made the suggestion in Don's hearing that if
+faculty would look it up and see who had leave of absence Saturday night
+they might spot the chaps. Don sincerely hoped the idea wouldn't occur
+to Mr. Fernald!
+
+But interest in the matter soon waned, for Brimfield was to play Benton
+Military Academy that afternoon and what sort of a showing she would
+make against that very worthy opponent was a far more absorbing subject
+for speculation. Benton had been defeated handily enough last year, but
+reports from the military academy this Fall led Brimfield to expect a
+hard contest. And her expectations were fulfilled.
+
+Benton brought at least a hundred neatly uniformed rooters along and the
+field took on a very gallant appearance. The visitors seemed gaily
+confident of victory and from the time they marched into the field and
+took their places in the stand until the kick-off there was no cessation
+of the songs and cheers from the blue-clad cohorts. Coach Robey started
+his best men in that game and, as was quickly proved, needed to. The
+first period was a bitterly contested punting duel in which Rollins,
+and, later, St. Clair came off second best. But the difference in the
+kicking of the rival teams was not sufficient to allow of much
+advantage, and the first ten-minute set-to ended without a score. In
+fact, neither team had been at any time within scoring distance of the
+other's goal line. When play began again Benton changed her tactics and
+started a rushing game that for a few minutes made headway. But a fumble
+cost her the ball and a possible score on the Maroon-and-Grey's
+twenty-yard line and the latter adopted the enemy's plan and banged at
+the soldiers' line for fair gains. A forward pass brought the spectators
+to their feet and gained twenty-two yards for Brimfield, Steve Edwards
+being on the receiving end of a very pretty play. But Benton stiffened
+presently and Brimfield was forced to kick.
+
+That kick spelled disaster for Brimfield. Rollins dropped back to near
+his own thirty yards and sent a remarkable corkscrew punt to Benton's
+twenty. It was one of the prettiest punts ever seen on the Brimfield
+gridiron, for it was so long that it went over the quarter-back's head,
+so high that it enabled the Maroon-and-Grey ends to get well down under
+it and was nicely placed in the left-hand corner of the field. The
+Benton quarter made no effort to touch it while it was bounding toward
+the goal line, for with both Edwards and Holt hovering about him a
+fumble might easily have resulted, and it was only when the pigskin had
+settled down to a slow, toppling roll and it was evident that it did not
+mean to go over the line that the Benton quarter seized it. What
+happened then was little short of a miracle. Both Captain Edwards and
+Holt took it for granted that the quarter-back meant to drop on the ball
+and call it down, and, since there was no necessity to smother the
+opponent, each waited for the other to tackle and hold him. But the
+first thing anyone knew the Benton quarter had the ball in his hands,
+had squirmed somehow between Edwards and Holt and was speeding up the
+middle of the field!
+
+Between him and the fifty-yard line friend and foe were mingled, and to
+win through seemed a preposterous undertaking. And yet first one and
+then another of the enemy was passed, team-mates formed hasty
+interference for the runner and, suddenly, to the consternation of the
+Brimfield stand, the quarter, with the ball snuggled in the crook of his
+left elbow, was out of the mêlée, with a clear field before him and two
+Benton players guarding his rear. Crewe made a desperate effort to get
+him near the thirty-yard line, but the interference was too much for
+him, and after that, although Brimfield trailed the runner to the goal
+line and over, there was no doubt as to the result. And when the Benton
+quarter deposited the ball squarely between the posts and laid himself
+down beside it friend and foe alike arose from their seats and cheered
+him long and loudly. Never had a more spectacular run been made there,
+for not only had the quarter practically traversed the length of the
+field, but had eluded the entire opposing eleven.
+
+Benton deserved to secure the odd point by kicking goal, but
+goal-kicking was the quarter-back's business and he was far too tuckered
+to try, and so the player who did make the attempt failed miserably, and
+Benton had to be satisfied with those six points. Probably she was, for
+she cheered madly and incessantly while the period lasted and then spent
+the half-time singing triumphant paeans. And those military academy
+chaps could sing, too! Brimfield, a bit chastened, listened and
+applauded generously and only found her own voice when the
+Maroon-and-Grey warriors trotted back again.
+
+Carmine had given place to McPhee at quarter and Holt to Cheep at right
+end. Otherwise Brimfield's line was the same as in the first half.
+McPhee opened his bag of tricks soon after play began and double-passes
+and delayed-passes and a certain fake plunge at guard with quarter
+running wide outside the drawn-in end made good gains and took the ball
+down the field with only one halt to Benton's twenty-three yards. There
+the military academy team solved a fake-kick and St. Clair was laid low
+behind his line. Rollins made up the lost distance and a little more
+besides, and finally, with the ball on Benton's nineteen yards on fourth
+down, Captain Edwards called for a try-at-goal and Rollins dropped back
+to the thirty. Fortunately the Maroon-and-Grey forwards held back the
+plunging enemy in good style, Rollins had all the time he wanted, the
+pigskin dropped neatly over the bar, and the score-board figures
+proclaimed 6 to 3.
+
+Benton kicked off and once more Brimfield started up the field, St.
+Clair, Tim Otis and Rollins banging the line from end to end and Edwards
+varying the monotony by sweeping around behind and launching himself off
+on wide runs. But the advance slackened near the middle of the field and
+an attempted forward pass was captured by Benton. That play brought the
+ten-minute period to an end.
+
+Benton tried the Brimfield centre and got through for four yards, hit it
+again and made three and placed the ball on the home team's forty-yard
+line. Time was called for Brimfield and Danny Moore trotted on to
+administer to Gafferty. The left guard was soon on his feet again,
+although a trifle unsteady, it seemed, and Benton, with three yards to
+gain, swung into the other side and pushed a half-back through for the
+distance. Carmine replaced McPhee and Holt went back to end position.
+Benton once more thrust at Gafferty and, although the secondary defence
+plugged the hole, went through for two yards. Time was again called and
+this time the trainer led Joe Gafferty off the field, the latter
+protesting bitterly, and Harry Walton was hurried in. Benton tried a
+forward pass and made it go for a small gain and then, on third down,
+got past Thayer and reached the eighteen before Carmine tipped up the
+runner. Across the gridiron, Benton's supporters yelled mightily and a
+second touchdown looked imminent.
+
+Benton fumbled and recovered for a two-yard loss and then sent that
+heroic quarter up the field to try a drop kick. It looked easy enough,
+for the ball was near the twenty-eight yards and in front of the right
+hand goal post. Captain Edwards implored his men to block the kick and
+comparative quiet fell over the field. Back shot the ball and the
+quarter's foot swung at it, but the left side of the Benton line
+crumbled and Hall and Crewe flung themselves into the path of the ball.
+Four seconds later it was snuggled under Tim Otis's chest near the
+thirty-five yards, for Tim had followed the forwards through and
+trailed the bouncing pigskin up the field.
+
+That misadventure seemed to take the heart out of the visitors, and when
+Brimfield, with new courage and determination, smashed at her line she
+fell back time and again. Substitutes were sent in lavishly, but
+although the right side of the Benton line stiffened for awhile, the
+left continued weak. Coach Robey sent in Compton to replace Steve
+Edwards and, later, Howard for St. Clair. With the best part of five
+minutes left, Brimfield hoped to put over a winning touchdown, and the
+backs responded gallantly to Carmine's demands. Near the enemy's
+forty-yard line Rollins threw a neat forward to Holt and the latter
+raced along the side of the field for a dozen yards before he was forced
+over the line. That took the ball to Benton's twenty-one. Two tries at
+the line netted but six yards and Compton took the pigskin on an
+end-around play and just made the distance.
+
+Brimfield hammered the enemy's left wing and reached her five-yard line
+in three downs, but Benton, fiercely determined, her feet on the last
+line mark, was putting up a strong defence. Tom Hall, captain pro tem.,
+and Carmine consulted. A forward pass might succeed, and if it did would
+win the game, but Benton would be watching for it and neither Holt nor
+Compton was a brilliant catcher of thrown balls. A goal from the field
+would only tie the score, but it seemed the wisest play. So Rollins
+dropped back to the twenty and stretched his arms. But Benton was sure a
+forward was to result and when the ball went back her attempts to block
+the kick were not very enthusiastic. That was fortunate for Brimfield,
+for Thursby's pass had been short and Rollins had to pick the ball from
+the turf before he could swing at it. That delay was almost his undoing,
+since the Benton forwards were now trickling through, and it was only by
+the veriest good fortune that the ball shot between them from Rollins's
+toe and, after showing an inclination to pass to the left of the goal
+and changing its mind in mid-air, dropped over the bar barely inside the
+post. Brimfield cheered and the 3 on the board changed to 6. Coach Robey
+called Rollins and Tim Otis out, replacing them with Martin and Gordon.
+Brimfield kicked off once more and, with a scant minute and a half to
+play, the Maroon-and-Grey tried valiantly to add another score.
+
+Carmine caught on his twenty and took the ball to the thirty-six before
+he was stopped, and Brimfield cheered wildly and danced about in the
+stand. Plugging the line would never cover that distance to the farther
+goal line and so Carmine sent Gordon off around the left end. But Gordon
+couldn't find the hole and was run down for no gain. A forward pass,
+Carmine to Compton, laid the ball on the forty-eight yards. Howard slid
+off right tackle for six and, on a fake-kick play, Martin ran around
+left end for seven more. Brimfield shouted imploringly from the stand
+and, across the field, Benton cheered incessantly, doggedly, longing for
+the whistle.
+
+The Benton team used all allowable methods to waste time. The timekeeper
+hovered nearby, his eyes darting from the galloping hand of his watch to
+the players. "Twenty-nine seconds," he responded to Tom Hall's question.
+Carmine clapped his hands impatiently.
+
+"Signals now! Make this good! Left tackle over! 27--57--88--16! Hep!
+27--57--88----"
+
+The backs swung obliquely to the right, Carmine dropped from sight, his
+back to the line, Benton's left side was borne slowly away, fighting
+hard, and confusion reigned. Then Carmine whirled around, sprang,
+doubled over, through the scattered right side of the enemy's line,
+challenged only by the end, who made a desperate attempt at a tackle but
+failed, and, with only the opposing quarter between him and the goal
+line, raced like the wind. About him was a roaring babel of sound,
+voices urging him on, shouts of dismay, imploring shrieks from behind.
+Then the quarter was before him, crouching with out-reached hands, a
+strained, anxious look on his dirt-streaked face.
+
+They met near the twenty-yard line. The Benton quarter launched himself
+forward. Carmine swung to the left and leaped. A hand groped at his
+ankle, caught, and Carmine fell sprawling to the turf. But he found his
+feet like a cat, wrenched the imprisoned ankle free and went staggering,
+stumbling on. Again he fell, on the five-yard line, and again the Benton
+quarter dived for him. But Carmine was not to be stopped with the line
+only five short yards away. He wrested himself to his feet again, the
+arms of the Benton quarter squirming about his knees, plunged on a
+stride, dragging the enemy with him, found his legs locked firmly now,
+struggled desperately and then flung himself sidewise toward the last
+white streak. And as he fell his hands, clasping the ball, reached
+forward and a whistle blew.
+
+It was said afterward that a half-inch decided that touchdown. And the
+half-inch was on the wrong side of the line! Carmine wept frankly when
+he heard the decision and Tom Hall had to be held away from the referee,
+but facts were facts and Carmine had lost his touchdown and Brimfield
+the victory by the width of a finger!
+
+Benton departed joyously, cheering and singing, and Brimfield tried hard
+to be satisfied with a drawn game. But she wasn't very successful, and
+for the next few days the referee's decision was discussed and derided
+and regretted.
+
+What sorrow Don felt was largely mitigated when, after supper that
+evening, Steve Edwards found him in front of Billings. "You come to us
+Monday, Don," said the captain. "Robey told me to tell you. Joe
+Gafferty's got a rib caved in and is out of it for a fortnight at least.
+Get Tim to coach you up on the signals. Don't forget."
+
+As though he was likely to!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+TIM EXULTS AND EXPLAINS
+
+
+WHEN Don told Tim the latter insisted on performing a triumphal dance
+about the room to the tune of "Boola." When Don squirmed himself loose
+Tim continued alone until the droplight was knocked to the floor at the
+cost of one green shade. Then he threw himself, panting but jubilant, on
+his bed and hilariously kicked his feet in air. Don observed him with a
+faint smile.
+
+"You wooden Indian, you!" exclaimed Tim, sitting up and dropping his
+feet to the floor with a crash. "There you stand like a--a graven image,
+looking as though you'd just received an invitation to a funeral! Cheer,
+you idiot! Make a noise! Aren't you tickled to death?"
+
+"You bet I am!" replied Don.
+
+"Well, do something, then! You ought to have a little of my Latin
+temperament, Don. You'd be a heap easier to live with. If it was I who
+had just been waited on humbly by the first team captain and invited to
+join the eleven I'd--I'd make a--a noise!"
+
+"What do you think you've been doing?" laughed Don. "You'll have Horace
+in here in a minute. Steve says you're to coach me on the signals."
+
+"Tomorrow!" Tim waved his hand. "Time enough for that, Don. Just now it
+behooves us to celebrate."
+
+"How?" asked Don.
+
+Tim thought long and earnestly. Finally, "Let's borrow Larry Jones's
+accordion and serenade Josh!" he said.
+
+"Let's not. And let's not go to a fire, either! Think of something
+better, Timmy."
+
+"Then we'll go out and bay at the moon. I've got to do something! By the
+time Joe's got his busted rib mended you'll have that left guard
+position nailed to the planks, Don."
+
+"How about Walton?" asked Don dubiously.
+
+"A fig for Walton! Two figs for him! A whole box of figs! All you've got
+to do is speed up a bit and----"
+
+"Suppose I can't?"
+
+"Suppose nothing! You've _got_ to! If you don't you'll have me to fight,
+Donald. If you don't cinch that position in just one week I--I'll take
+you over my knee and spank you with a belt! Come on over to Clint's
+room. Let us disseminate the glorious tidings. Let us----"
+
+"I'd rather learn the signals," said Don. "There's only tonight and
+tomorrow, you know."
+
+Tim appealed despairingly to the ceiling with wide-spread hands.
+"There's no poetry in his soul," he mourned, "no blood in his veins!" He
+faced Don scornfully. "Donald P. Gilbert is your name, my son, and the P
+stands for Practical. All right, then, draw up a chair and let's have it
+over. To think, though, that I should have to sit indoors a night like
+this and teach signals to a wooden-head! I wooden do it for anyone else.
+Ha! How's that! Get a pad and a pencil and try to look intelligent."
+
+"All right? Mark 'em down, then. Starting at the left, number your holes
+1, 3, 5, 7, 8, 6, 4, 2. Got that? Number your left end 1, the next man
+3, the next 5. Omit centre. Right guard 6, right tackle 4, right end 2.
+Now, your backfield. Quarter 0, left half 7, right half 8, full-back 9."
+
+"Gee, that's hard to remember," murmured Don.
+
+"And hard to guess," answered Tim. "Now, your first number, unless it's
+under thirty, is a fake. If it's under thirty it means that the next
+number is the number of a play. Over thirty, it means nothing. Your
+second digit of your second number is your runner. The second digit of
+the third number is the hole. The fourth number, as you doubtless
+surmise, is also a fake. Now, then, sir! 65--47--23--98! What is it?"
+
+"Left half between end and tackle."
+
+"On the left. Correct. 19--87--77--29?"
+
+"I don't know. Nineteen calls for a numbered play."
+
+"Right again, Mr. Gilbert, your performance is startling! The pity of it
+is, though, that about the time you get these signals pat Robey'll
+change them for the Claflin game. So far we've only got eight numbered
+plays, and they aren't complicated. Want to go into them tonight?"
+
+"No, I guess not. I'd rather get these holes and players sort of fixed
+in my mind first. We'll go over the plays tomorrow, if you don't mind."
+
+"It will break my heart, but I'll do it for you. Now will you come over
+to Clint's?"
+
+"I'd rather not, Tim. You go. I want to mull over these signals."
+
+Presently, having exhausted his vocabulary on his room-mate, Tim went.
+Don settled his head in his hands and studied the numbered diagram for
+the better part of an hour. Don was slow at memorising, but what was
+once forced into his mind stayed there. A little before ten o'clock he
+slipped the diagram under a box in a bureau drawer and went to bed with
+a calm mind, and when Tim returned riotously a few minutes later Don was
+sleeping peacefully.
+
+On Monday, in chapel, Don and the "heroes" of Farmer Corrigan's
+conflagration had another shock, and Don, for one, wondered when he was
+to hear the last of that affair. "Since last week," said Mr. Fernald
+drily, "when I requested the four boys who helped to put out a fire at
+the Corrigan farm to make themselves known to an admiring public, I have
+gained an understanding of their evident desire to conceal their
+identities. I am forced to the conclusion that it was not altogether
+modesty that kept them silent. The fire, it appears, did not break out
+until nearly half-past nine. Consequently the young gentlemen were
+engaged in their heroic endeavours at a time when they should have been
+in their dormitories. I have not yet found out who they were, but I am
+making earnest efforts to do so. Meanwhile, if they wish to lighten the
+consequences of their breach of school regulations, I'd earnestly advise
+them to call and see me. I may add that, in view of the unusual
+circumstances, had they made a clean breast of the affair I should have
+dealt very leniently with them. That is all, I think. Dismissed."
+
+None of the culprits dared to so much as glance at the others on the way
+out of the hall, but afterward, when breakfast was over, they gathered
+anxiously together in Number 6 Billings and discussed the latest
+development with lowered voices, like a quartette of anarchists
+arranging a bomb party.
+
+"He's right up on his ear," said Clint gloomily. "If he gets us now he
+will send us all packing, and don't you doubt it!"
+
+"Piffle!" This from Tim, the least impressed of the four. "Probation is
+all we'd get. Didn't the paper say we were heroes?"
+
+"No, it didn't," answered Tom shortly. "And I wish that paper was in
+Halifax!"
+
+"Might as well be fired as put on pro," said Clint. "It would mean no
+more football this year for any of us. My word, wouldn't Robey be mad!"
+
+"Wouldn't I be!" growled Tom. "Look here, do you really suppose he's
+trying to find out who we were, or was that just a bluff to scare us
+into 'fessing up!"
+
+"Josh isn't much of a bluffer," observed Don judiciously. "What he says
+he means. What I don't savvy is why he hasn't found out already. Every
+hall master has a record of leaves."
+
+"Yes, but it was Saturday night and I'll bet half the school had leave,"
+said Tim. "I dare say, though, that if any fellows are suspected we're
+amongst 'em, Don. Being on the first floor, Josh knows we could sneak in
+easily. Still, he can't prove it on us."
+
+"I'm not so sure," replied Don thoughtfully. "Suppose he asked Mr.
+Brady?"
+
+A dismayed silence ensued until Tom laughed mirthlessly.
+
+"That's one on us," he said. "We never thought of that. Maybe he has
+asked Brady already."
+
+"Brady doesn't know our names," said Tim. "You didn't tell him, did you,
+Don?"
+
+"No, he didn't ask. But he could easily describe us so that Josh would
+recognise us, I guess."
+
+"That's the trouble with being so plaguy distinguished looking," mourned
+Tim. "Seems to me, fellows, that there's just one thing to be did, and
+did sudden."
+
+"You mean warn Mr. Brady?" asked Clint.
+
+"Exactly, my discerning young friend. Maybe the horse is stolen----"
+
+"What horse?" asked Tom perplexedly.
+
+"Merely a figure of speech, Tom. I was about to observe when so rudely
+interrupted----"
+
+"Oh, cut out the verbiage," growled Tom.
+
+"That possibly it was too late to lock the stable door," continued Tim,
+"but we'd better do it, just the same. Let's see if he has a telephone."
+
+"Of course he has," said Clint, "but I don't think it would be safe to
+call him up. We'd better see him. Or write him a letter."
+
+"He wouldn't get a letter until tomorrow, maybe," objected Don. "One of
+us had better beat it over to his place as soon as possible and ask him
+to keep mum."
+
+"I can't go," said Tom. "I've got four recits this morning and Robey
+would never let me off practice."
+
+"I don't believe any of us will do much work this afternoon," said Tim.
+"I'll go if Robey'll let me cut. I wish someone would come along,
+though. It's a dickens of a trip to make alone. You come, Clint."
+
+"I will if I can. We'll ask Robey at dinner. What shall we say to this
+Brady man?"
+
+"Just tell him what's doing and ask him to forget what we looked like if
+Josh writes to him or calls him up or anything. Brady's a good old
+scout, I'll bet," added Tim with conviction. "Maybe we'd better buy a
+setting of eggs to get on the good side of him."
+
+"Don't be a chump," begged Tim. "I don't call this a comedy situation,
+if you do, Tim. I'd certainly hate to get on pro and have to drop
+football!"
+
+"Don't be a chump," begged Tom. "I don't say it's a comedy, but there's
+no use weeping, is there? What's done is done, and we've got to make the
+best of it, and a laugh never hurt anyone yet."
+
+"Well, then, let's make the best of it," answered Tom peevishly.
+"Talking doesn't do any good."
+
+"Neither does grouching," said Tim sweetly. "You leave it all to Clint
+and me, Tom. We're a swell pair of fixers. If we can get to Brady before
+Josh does we're all right. And it's a safe wager Josh hasn't asked Brady
+yet, for if he had he'd be on to us. There's the nine o'clock bell,
+fellows, and I've got a recit. See you later. Hope for the best, Tom,
+and fear the worst!"
+
+Tim seized his books and dashed out, followed more leisurely by Clint.
+Tom remained a few minutes longer and then he, too, took his departure,
+still filled with forebodings. Don, left to himself, drew a chair to
+the table and began to study. Truth, however, compels me to state that
+what he studied was not his German, although he had a recitation coming
+in forty minutes, but two sheets of buff paper torn from a scratch-pad
+and filled with writing interspersed with numerals and adorned with
+strange diagrams, in short, Tim's elucidation of the eight numbered
+plays which up to the present comprised Brimfield's budget of tricks. It
+can't be said that Don covered himself with glory in Mr. Daley's German
+class that morning or that the instructor was at all satisfied, but Don
+had the secret satisfaction of knowing that stored away in the back of
+his brain was a very thorough knowledge of the Brimfield football signal
+code and of Mr. Robey's special plays.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+MR. BRADY FORGETS
+
+
+THAT afternoon Don's knowledge stood him in good stead, for with more
+than half the first-string players excused from practice, his services
+were called on at the start, and, with McPhee and Cotter running the
+squad, the signal drill was long and thorough. Harry Walton viewed Don's
+advent with disfavour. That was apparent to Don and anyone else who
+thought of the matter, although he pretended a good-natured indifference
+that wasn't at all deceiving. Don more than once caught his rival
+observing him with resentment and dislike, and, remembering that Harry
+Walton had been a witness of his unconventional return to hall that
+night, he experienced misgivings. Of course, Harry wouldn't "peach,"
+but--well, Don again wished anyone rather than Harry had stumbled on the
+secret.
+
+But he didn't have much time for worrying about that matter, for Coach
+Robey went after them hard that day. In the practice game with the
+second team Don started at left guard and played the position until
+within a few minutes of the whistle. Then Harry Walton, who had been
+disgruntledly adorning the bench, took his place. He didn't look at Don
+as he accepted the latter's head-guard, but Don was well aware that
+Harry felt anything but good-will for him. Naturally enough, Harry had,
+Don reflected, expected to step into Gafferty's place without opposition
+when news of the extent of the latter's injury had become known, and it
+was undoubtedly a big disappointment to him to discover that he had to
+fight a new opponent. Don could sympathise with Harry, for he had
+endured disappointments himself during his brief football career, but it
+is difficult to sympathise very enthusiastically when the subject of
+your sympathy shows his dislike for you, and Don metaphorically shrugged
+his shoulders as he trotted up to the gymnasium.
+
+"It isn't my fault," he said to himself. "I didn't bust Joe Gafferty's
+rib and I'm not responsible for Robey's taking me on the first team.
+Walton will just have to make the best of it."
+
+Don couldn't flatter himself that he had played that afternoon with
+especial brilliancy, although he had managed to hold his end up fairly
+well. The fact was that he had been so intent on getting speeded into
+his performance that he had rather skimped the niceties of line-play.
+And he wasn't at all certain that he had shown any more speed than
+usual, either. He awaited Mr. Robey's appearance in the locker-room with
+some apprehension, certain that if he had erred badly he would soon
+learn of it. When the coach did arrive at the tail of the procession of
+panting players and said his say without once singling out Don for
+special attention, the latter was relieved. He couldn't, he told
+himself, have done so very badly, after all!
+
+Tom walked back to Billings with Don to learn the result of Tim's and
+Clint's embassy to the Cedar Ridge Poultry Farm, for the two had
+obtained leave of absence from Mr. Robey and had set forth on their
+journey the minute a three o'clock recitation was finished. Tim wasn't
+in Number 6 when they reached it, but he and Clint tramped in soon
+after, dusty and weary but evidently triumphant. Tim narrated their
+experiences.
+
+"Missed the three-fifty car, just as I told Clint we would if he didn't
+hustle----"
+
+"I had to find a cap to wear, didn't I?" interpolated Clint.
+
+"Well, we found the place all right, fellows, and, say, it's some
+poultry farm, believe me, dearies! Isn't it corking, Clint?"
+
+Clint grunted assent, stretching tired legs across the floor.
+
+"There's about a thousand acres of it, I guess, and a mile of red
+chicken houses and runs, or whatever you call 'em. How many hens and
+things did he tell us he had, Clint?"
+
+"Eighteen hundred, I think. Maybe it was eighteen thousand. I don't
+remember. All I know is there were chickens as far as you could see, and
+then some."
+
+"Never mind the descriptive matter," urged Tom. "What did he say? Had
+Josh been at him? Did he promise----"
+
+"I'm coming to that, dearie. When we found him he was doing something to
+that car of his in a cute little garage. And, say, it's an
+eight-cylinder Lothrop, and a regular jim-dandy! Well, he took us into
+his house first----"
+
+Tom groaned in despair.
+
+"----And fed us on crackers and cake and ginger ale. Say, he's got a
+peach of a bungalow there; small but entire; and a cute little Jap who
+cooks and looks after things for him. Well, then he took us out and
+showed us around the place. Chickens! Gee, I didn't know there were so
+many in the world! And we saw the incubators and the--what you call
+them--brooders, and----"
+
+"For the love of mud!" exclaimed Tom. "Can't you get down to dots? _Is
+it all right or isn't it?_"
+
+Tim smiled exasperatingly. "Then he showed us----"
+
+Tom arose to his feet and took a step toward him.
+
+"It's all right," said Tim hurriedly. "Everything, Thomas! We told him
+what was up and how we didn't want Josh to find out it was us who
+attended Mr. Corrigan's fire party and asked him if he would please not
+remember what we looked like if Josh asked him. And he said----"
+
+"He laughed," interrupted Clint, and chuckled himself.
+
+"That's right! He laughed a lot. 'You're a little bit late,' he said.
+'Mr. Fernald called me up by telephone nearly a week ago, fellows, and
+wanted to know all about it.' 'You didn't tell him?' I yelped. 'No, I
+couldn't,' he said. 'You see, you hadn't told me your names, and it was
+pretty dark that night and somehow or other I just couldn't seem to
+recall what you looked like! Mr. Fernald sounded considerably
+disappointed and like he didn't quite believe me, but that can't be
+helped.' Say, fellows, I wanted to hug him! Or--or buy an egg or
+something! Honest, I did! He's all right, what?"
+
+"He's a corker!" said Tom, sighing with relief. "You don't suppose
+Corrigan or any of the others there that night would remember us, do
+you?"
+
+"Not likely. Mr. Brady didn't think so, anyway."
+
+"Then it's all to the merry!" cried Tom. "Gee, but that's a load off my
+mind!"
+
+"Off your what?" asked Tim curiously.
+
+"It's all right if Harry Walton keeps quiet," said Don. "If he gets to
+talking----"
+
+"If he does I'll beat him up," said Tim earnestly. "But he won't. He
+wouldn't be such a snip, in the first place, and he wouldn't dare to in
+the second."
+
+"N-no, I guess not," agreed Don. But his tone didn't hold much
+conviction. "Only, if----"
+
+"I'll tell you fellows one thing," announced Tom vehemently.
+
+"Don't strain yourself," advised Tim.
+
+"And that," continued the other, scowling at the interruption, "is that
+no one gets me into any more scrapes until after the Claflin game!"
+
+"Gee, to hear you talk," exclaimed Tim indignantly, "anyone would think
+we'd tied you up with a rope and forcibly abducted you! Who's idea was
+it, anyway, to go to the village that night?"
+
+"Yours, if you want to know! I don't say I didn't go along willingly
+enough, Tim. What I do say is--_never again_! Anyway," he added, "not
+until football's over!"
+
+Morgan's School, which had defeated Brimfield the year before, 6 to 3,
+came and departed. Brimfield took the visitor's measure this time, and,
+although she only scored one touchdown and failed to kick goal, the
+contest was far less close and interesting than the score would suggest.
+Brimfield played the opponents to a standstill in the first half and
+scored just before the end of it. In the third quarter Coach Robey began
+substituting and when the last ten minutes started the Maroon-and-Grey
+had only three first-string fellows in her line-up. The substitutes
+played good football and, while not able to push the pigskin across
+Morgan's line, twice reached her fifteen yards and twice tried and
+narrowly missed a goal from the field.
+
+On the whole it could not be said that Brimfield's performance that
+blustery Saturday afternoon was impressive, for she was frequently
+caught napping on the defensive, showed periods of apathy and did more
+fumbling, none of which resulted disastrously, than she should have.
+Tim Otis had a remarkably good day and was undeniably the best man in
+the backfield for the home team. Carmine played a heady, snappy game,
+and Don, who played the most of three quarters at left guard, conducted
+himself very well. Don's work was never of the spectacular sort, but at
+his best he was a steady and thoroughly reliable lineman and very
+effective on defence. He was still slow in getting into plays, a fact
+which made him of less value than Joe Gafferty on attack. Even Harry
+Walton showed up better than Don when Brimfield had the ball. But
+neither Gafferty nor Walton was as strong on defence as Don.
+
+Walton had been very earnestly striving all the week to capture the
+guard position, but the fact that Don had been played through most of
+the Morgan's game indicated that the latter was as yet a slight
+favourite in Coach Robey's estimation. During the week succeeding the
+Morgan's game the two rivals kept at it nip and tuck, and their
+team-mates looked on with interest. At practice Mr. Robey showed no
+favour to either, and each came in for his full share of criticism, but
+when, the next Saturday, the team journeyed away from home and played
+Cherry Valley, it was again Don who started the game between Thayer and
+Thursby and who remained in the line-up until the fourth period, by
+which time Brimfield had piled up the very satisfactory score of
+twenty-six points. In the final five minutes Cherry Valley managed to
+fool the visitors and get a forward pass off for a gain that placed the
+ball on Brimfield's fourteen yards, and from there her drop-kicker put
+the pigskin over the cross-bar and tallied three points. The game was
+uninteresting unless one was a partisan, and even then there were few
+thrills. Brimfield played considerably better than in the Morgan's game
+and emerged with no more important damages than a wrenched ankle, which
+fell to the share of Martin, who had taken Rollins's place in the last
+period.
+
+Joe Gafferty came back to practice the following Monday, but was missing
+again a day or two later, and the school heard with some dismay that
+Joe's parents had written to Mr. Fernald and forbidden Joe to play any
+more football that year. Joe was inconsolable and went around for the
+next week or so looking like a lost soul. After that he accepted the
+situation and helped Mr. Boutelle coach the second. That second had by
+that time been shaken together into a very capable and smooth-running
+team, a team which was giving the first more and more trouble every
+day. Coach Robey had again levied on it for a player, taking Merton to
+the first when Gafferty was lost to him, and again Mr. Boutelle growled
+and protested and, finally, philosophically shrugged his shoulders. A
+week later Merton was released to the second once more and Pryme, who
+had been playing at right guard as a substitute for Tom Hall, was tried
+out on the other side of centre with good results. Pryme's advent as a
+contender for the left guard position complicated the battle between Don
+and Harry Walton, and until after the Southby game the trio of
+candidates indulged in a three-cornered struggle that was quite pretty
+to watch.
+
+Unfortunately for Don, that struggle for supremacy threatened to affect
+his class standing, for it occupied so much of his thought that there
+was little left for study. When, however, the office dropped a hint and
+Mr. Daley presented an ultimatum, Don realised that he was taking
+football far too seriously, and, being a rather level-headed youth, he
+mended his ways. He expected, as a result, to find himself left behind
+in the race with Walton and Pryme, but, oddly enough, his game was in no
+degree affected so far as he could determine. In fact, within a few days
+the situation was simplified by the practical elimination of Pryme as a
+contender. This happened when, just before the Southby game, Tom Hall,
+together with eight other members of Mr. Moller's physics class went on
+probation, and Pryme was needed at right guard.
+
+I have mentioned Tom's probation very casually, quite as if it was a
+matter of slight importance, but you may be sure that the school viewed
+it in no such way. Coming as it did little more than a fortnight before
+the big game, it was looked on as a dire catastrophe, no more and no
+less; and the school, which had laughed and chuckled over the incident
+which had caused the catastrophe, and applauded the participants in it,
+promptly turned their thumbs down when the effect became known and
+indignantly dubbed the affair "silly kid's play" and blamed Tom very
+heartily. How much of the blame he really deserved you shall judge for
+yourself, but the affair merits a chapter of its own.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE JOKE ON MR. MOLLER
+
+
+AMY BYRD started it.
+
+Or, perhaps, in the last analysis, Mr. Moller began it himself. Mr.
+Moller's first name was Caleb, a fact which the school was quick to
+seize on. At first he was just "Caleb," then "Caleb the Conqueror," and,
+finally, "The Conqueror." The "Conqueror" part of it was added in
+recognition of Mr. Moller's habit of attiring himself for the class room
+as for an afternoon tea. He was a new member of the faculty that fall
+and Brimfield required more than the few weeks which had elapsed since
+his advent to grow accustomed to his grandeur of apparel. Mr. Caleb
+Moller was a good-looking, in fact quite a handsome young man of
+twenty-five or six, well-built, tall and the proud possessor of a
+carefully trimmed moustache and Vandyke beard, the latter probably
+cultivated in the endeavour to add to his apparent age. He affected
+light grey trousers, fancy waistcoats of inoffensive shades, a frock
+coat, grey gaiters and patent leather shoes. His scarf was always
+pierced with a small black pearl pin. There's no denying that Mr. Moller
+knew how to dress or that the effect was pleasing. But Brimfield wasn't
+educated to such magnificence and Brimfield gasped loudly the first time
+Mr. Moller burst on its sight. Afterward it laughed until the novelty
+began to wear off. Mr. Moller was a capable instructor and a likeable
+man, although it took Brimfield all of the first term to discover the
+latter fact owing to the master's dignified aloofness. Being but a scant
+eight years the senior of some of his pupils, he perhaps felt it
+necessary to emphasise his dignity a little. By the last of October,
+however, the school had accepted Mr. Moller and was, possibly, secretly
+a little proud to have for a member of its faculty one who possessed
+such excellent taste in the matter of attire. He was universally voted
+"a swell dresser," and not a few of the older fellows set themselves to
+a modest emulation of his style. There remained, however, many
+unregenerate youths who continued to poke fun at "The Conqueror," and of
+these was Amy Byrd.
+
+It isn't beyond the bounds of reason that jealousy may have had
+something to do with Amy's attitude, for Amy was "a swell dresser"
+himself and had a fine eye for effects of colour. Amy's combinations of
+lavender or dull rose or pearl-grey shirts, socks and ties were
+recognised masterpieces of sartorial achievement. The trouble with Amy
+was that when the tennis season was over he had nothing to interest
+himself in aside from maintaining a fairly satisfactory standing in
+class, and I'm sorry to say that Amy didn't find the latter undertaking
+wildly exciting. He was, therefore, an excellent subject for the
+mischief microbe, and the mischief microbe had long since discovered the
+fact. Usually Amy's escapades were harmless enough; for that matter, the
+present one was never intended to lead to any such unfortunate results
+as actually attended it; and in justice to Amy it should be distinctly
+stated that he would never have gone into the affair had he foreseen the
+end of it. But he couldn't see any further into the future than you or
+I, and so--yes, on the whole, I think it may be fairly said that Amy
+Byrd started it.
+
+It was on a Tuesday, what time Amy should have been deep in study, that
+Clint Thayer, across the table, had his attention wrested from his book
+by the sound of deep, mirthful chuckles. He glanced over questioningly.
+Amy continued to chuckle until, being bidden to share the joke or shut
+up, he took Clint into his confidence. Clint was forced to chuckle some
+himself when he had heard Amy through, but the chuckles were followed by
+earnest efforts to dissuade his friend from his proposed scheme.
+
+"He won't stand for it, Amy," Clint protested. "He will report the lot
+of you to Josh and you'll be in a peck of trouble. It would be terribly
+funny, all right, but you'd better not try it."
+
+"Funny! My friend, it would be excruciating! And I certainly am going to
+have a stab at it. Let's see who will go into it. Steve Edwards--no,
+Steve wouldn't, of course. Tom Hall will, I'll bet. And Roy Draper and
+Harry Wescott, probably. We ought to get as many of the fellows as we
+can. I wish you were in that class, Clint."
+
+"I don't. You're a chump to try such a trick, Amy. You'll get pro for
+sure. Maybe worse. I don't believe Moller can take a joke; he's too
+haughty."
+
+"Oh, rot! He will take it all right. Anyway, what kick can he have? We
+fellows have just as much right to----"
+
+"You'll wish you hadn't," said Clint. "See if you don't!"
+
+Clint's prophecy proved true, and Amy did wish he hadn't, but that was
+some days later, and just now he was far too absorbed in planning his
+little joke to trouble himself about what might happen as a result. As
+soon as study hour was over he departed precipitately from Number 14.
+Torrence and Clint saw no more of him until bedtime. Then his questions
+met only with more chuckles and evasion.
+
+The result did not appear until two days later, which brings our tale to
+the forenoon of that unlucky Thursday preceeding the Southby contest.
+Mr. Moller's class in Physics 2 met at eleven o'clock that morning.
+Physics was an elective course with the Fifth Form and a popular one,
+many of the fellows taking it only to fill out their necessary eighteen
+hours a week. Mr. Moller, attired as usual with artistic nicety, sat in
+his swivel chair, facing the windows, and drummed softly on the top of
+the desk with immaculate finger-tips and waited for the class to
+assemble.
+
+Had he been observing the arriving students instead of the tree-tops
+outside he might have noticed the peculiar fact that this morning, as
+though by common consent, the students were avoiding the first two rows
+of seats nearest the platform. But he didn't notice it. In fact, he
+didn't turn his head until the gong in the lower hall struck and,
+simultaneously, there sounded in the room the carefully-timed tread of
+many feet. Then "The Conqueror" swung around in his chair, felt for the
+black ribbon which held his tortoise shell glasses and, in the act of
+lifting the glasses to his well-shaped nose, paused and stared.
+
+Down the side aisle of the room, keeping step, grave of mien, walked
+nine boys led by the sober-countenanced Amy Byrd. Each was attired in as
+near an approach to Mr. Moller's style as had been possible with the
+wardrobes at command. Not all--in fact, only two--wore frock coats, and
+not all had been able to supply themselves with light grey trousers, but
+the substitutions were very effective, and in no case was a fancy
+waistcoat wanting. Wing collars encircled every throat, grey silk
+scarves were tied with careful precision, stick-pins were at the proper
+careless tilt, spats, some grey, some tan, some black, covered each
+ankle, a handkerchief protruded a virgin corner from every right sleeve
+and over every vest dangled a black silk ribbon. That only a few of them
+ended in glasses was merely because the supply of those aids to vision
+had proved inadequate to the demand. Soberly and amidst an appalling
+silence the nine exquisites paced to the front of the room and disposed
+themselves in the first two rows.
+
+Mr. Moller, his face extremely red, watched without word or motion. The
+rest of the class, their countenances too showing an unnatural
+ruddiness, likewise maintained silence and immobility until the last of
+the nine had shuffled his feet into place. Then there burst upon the
+stillness a snigger which, faint as it was, sounded startlingly loud.
+Whereupon pent up emotions broke loose and a burst of laughter went up
+that shook the windows.
+
+It seemed for a minute that that laughter would never stop. Fellows
+rolled in their seats and beat futilely on the arms of their chairs,
+gasping for breath and sobriety. And through it all Mr. Moller stared in
+a sort of dazed amazement. And then, when the laughter had somewhat
+abated, he arose, one hand on the desk and the other agitatedly
+fingering his black ribbon, and the colour poured out of his cheeks,
+leaving them strangely pallid. And Amy, furtively studying him, knew
+that Clint had been right, that Mr. Moller couldn't take a joke, or, in
+any event, had no intention of taking this one. Amy wasn't frightened
+for himself, in fact he wasn't frightened at all, but he did experience
+a twinge of regret for the others whom he had led into the affair. Then
+Mr. Moller was speaking and Amy forgot regrets and listened.
+
+"I am going to give you young gentlemen"--was it imagination on Amy's
+part or had the instructor placed the least bit of emphasis on the last
+word--"two minutes more in which to recover from your merriment. At the
+end of that time I shall expect you to be quiet and orderly and ready to
+begin this recitation." He drew his watch from his pocket and laid it on
+the desk. "So that you may enjoy this--this brilliant jest to the full,
+I'll ask the nine young gentleman in the front rows to stand up and face
+you. If you please, Hall, Stearns, Draper, Fanning, Byrd----"
+
+It was several seconds before this request was responded to. Then Amy
+arose and, one by one, the others followed and faced the room. Amy
+managed to retain his expression of calm innocence, but the others were
+ill at ease and many faces looked very sheepish.
+
+"Now, then," announced Mr. Moller quietly. "Begin, please. You have two
+minutes."
+
+A dismal silence ensued, a silence broken at intervals by a nervous
+cough or the embarrassed shuffling of feet. Mr. Moller calmly divided
+his attention between the class and the watch. Surely never had one
+hundred and twenty seconds ticked themselves away so slowly. There was a
+noticeable disinclination on the part of the students to meet the gaze
+of the instructor, nor did they seem any more eager to view the various
+and generally painful emotions expressed on the countenances of the
+nine. At last Mr. Moller took up his watch and returned it with its
+dangling fob to his pocket, and as he did so some thirty sighs of relief
+sounded in the stillness.
+
+"Time's up," announced the instructor. "Be seated, young gentlemen.
+Thank you very much." The nine sank gratefully into their chairs. "I am
+sure that we have all enjoyed your joke vastly. You must pardon me if,
+just at first, I seemed to miss the humour of it. I can assure you that
+I am now quite--quite _sympathique_. We are told that imitation is the
+sincerest flattery, and I accept the compliment in the spirit in which
+you have tendered it. Again I thank you."
+
+Mr. Moller bowed gravely and sat down.
+
+Glances, furtive and incredulous, passed from boy to boy. Amy heaved a
+sigh of relief. After all, then, Mr. Moller could take a joke! And for
+the first time since the inception of the brilliant idea Amy felt an
+emotion very much like regret! And then the recitation began.
+
+That would have ended the episode had not Chance taken a hand in
+affairs. Mr. Fernald very seldom visited a class room during
+recitations. One could count such occurrences on one hand and the result
+would have sufficed for the school year. And yet today, for some reason
+never apparent to the boys, Mr. Fernald happened in.
+
+Harry Westcott was holding forth when the principal's tread caught his
+attention. Westcott turned his head, saw and instantly stopped.
+
+"Proceed, Westcott," said Mr. Fernald.
+
+Westcott continued, stammeringly and much at random. Mr. Fernald quietly
+walked up the aisle to the platform. Mr. Moller arose and for a moment
+the two spoke in low tones. Then the principal nodded, smiled and turned
+to retrace his steps. As he did so his smiling regard fell upon the
+occupants of the two front rows. A look of puzzlement banished the
+smile. Bewilderment followed that. Westcott faltered and stopped
+altogether. A horrible silence ensued. Then Mr. Fernald turned an
+inquiring look upon the instructor.
+
+"May I ask," he said coldly, "what this--this quaint exhibition is
+intended to convey?"
+
+Mr. Moller hesitated an instant. Then: "I think I can explain it better,
+sir, later on," he replied.
+
+Mr. Fernald bowed, again swept the offenders with a glance of withering
+contempt and took his departure. Mr. Moller looked troubledly after him
+before he turned to Westcott and said kindly: "Now, Westcott, we will
+go on, if you please."
+
+What passed between principal and instructor later that day was not
+known, but the result of the interview appeared the next morning when
+Mr. Fernald announced in chapel that because they had seen fit to
+publicly insult a member of the faculty he considered it only just to
+publicly inform the following students that they were placed on
+probation until further notice. Then followed the names of Hall,
+Westcott, Byrd, Draper and five others. Mr. Fernald added that but for
+the intercession of the faculty member whom they had so vilely affronted
+the punishment would have been far heavier.
+
+Nine very depressed youths took their departure from chapel that
+morning. To Tom Hall, since the edict meant that he could not play any
+more football that season, unless, which was scarcely probable, faculty
+relented within a week or so, the blow was far heavier than to any of
+the others. Being on probation was never a state to be sought for, but
+when one was in his last year at school and had looked forward to ending
+his football career in a blaze of glory, probation was just about as bad
+as being expelled. In fact, for a day or two Tom almost wished that Mr.
+Fernald had selected the latter punishment. What made things harder to
+bear was the attitude of coaches and players and the school at large.
+After the first shock of surprise and dismay, they had agreed with
+remarkable unanimity that Tom had not only played the fool, but had
+proved himself a traitor, and they didn't fail to let Tom know their
+verdict. For several days he was as nearly ostracised as it was possible
+to be, and those days were very unhappy ones for him.
+
+Of course Tom was not utterly deserted. Steve Edwards stood by him
+firmly, fought public opinion, narrowly escaped a pitched battle with
+the president of the Sixth Form, worried Coach Robey to death with his
+demands that that gentler man intercede for Tom at the office and tried
+his best all the time to keep Tom's spirits up. Clint and Don and Tim
+and a few others remained steadfast, as did Amy, who, blaming himself
+bitterly for Tom's fix, had done everything he could do to atone.
+Following that edict in chapel, Amy had sought audience with Mr. Fernald
+and begged clemency for the others.
+
+"You see, sir," Amy had pleaded earnestly, "I was the one who started
+it. The others would never have gone into it if I hadn't just simply
+made them. Why----"
+
+Mr. Fernald smiled faintly. "You're trying to convince me, Byrd, that
+boys like Draper and Hall and Stearns and Westcott are so weak-willed
+that they allowed you to drag them into this thing against their better
+judgment and inclinations?"
+
+"Yes, sir! At least--perhaps not exactly that, Mr. Fernald, but I--I
+nagged them and dared them, you see, sir, and they didn't like to be
+dared and they just did it to shut me up."
+
+"It's decent of you, Byrd, to try to assume all the blame, but your
+story doesn't carry conviction. Even if it did, I should be sorely
+tempted to let the verdict stand, for I should consider boys who were so
+easily dragged into mischief badly in need of discipline. I do wish
+you'd tell me one thing, Byrd. How could a fellow, a manly, decent
+fellow like you, think up such a caddish trick? Wounding another man's
+feelings, Byrd, isn't really funny, if you stop to consider it."
+
+"I didn't mean to hurt Mr. Moller's feelings, sir," replied Amy
+earnestly. "We--I thought it would just be a--a sort of a good joke to
+dress like him, sir, and--and get a laugh from the class. I'm sorry. I
+guess it was a pretty rotten thing to do, sir. Only I didn't think about
+it that way."
+
+"I believe that. Since you've been here, Byrd, you've been into more or
+less mischief, but I've never known you to be guilty before of anything
+in such utterly bad taste. Unfortunately, however, I can't excuse you
+because you didn't think. You should have thought."
+
+"Yes, sir," agreed Amy eagerly, "and I don't expect to be excused, sir.
+I only thought that maybe you'd let up on the others if you knew how it
+all happened. I thought maybe it would do just as well if you expelled
+me, sir, and let the other fellows off easy. Tom Hall----"
+
+"I see. It's Hall who's worrying you, is it? You're afraid Hall's
+absence from the team may result disastrously! Possibly it will. If it
+does I shall be sorry, but Hall will have to take his medicine just like
+the rest of you. Perhaps this will teach you all to think a little
+before you act. No, Byrd, I shall have to refuse your offer. Expelling
+you would not be disciplining the rest, nor would it be an equitable
+division of punishment. The verdict must stand, my boy."
+
+Amy went sorrowfully forth and announced the result to Clint. "I think
+he might have done what I wanted," he complained a trifle resentfully.
+
+"You're an utter ass," said Clint with unflattering conviction. "What
+good would it do you to get fired in your last year?"
+
+"None, but if he'd have let the others off----"
+
+"Do you suppose that the others would have agreed to any such bargain?
+They're not kids, even if you try to make them out so. They went into
+the thing with their eyes open and are just as much to blame as you are.
+They wouldn't let you be the goat, you idiot!"
+
+"They needn't have known anything about it, Clint. Oh, well, I suppose
+there's no use fussing. I don't care about the others. It's Tom I'm
+sorry for. And the team, too. Pryme can't fill Tom's shoes, and we'll
+get everlastingly walloped, and it'll be my fault, and----"
+
+"Piffle! Tom's a good player, one of the best, but he isn't the whole
+team. Pryme will play the position nearly as well. I'm sorry for Tom,
+too, but he's the one who will have to do the worrying, I guess. Now you
+buck up and quit looking like a kicked cur."
+
+"If only the fellows didn't have it in for him the way they have,"
+mourned Amy. "Everyone's down on him and he knows it and he's worried to
+death about it. They're a lot of rotters! After the way Tom's worked on
+that team ever since he got on it! Why, he's done enough for the school
+if he never played another lick at anything! And I'll tell you another
+thing. Someone's going to get licked if I hear any more of this
+knocking!"
+
+"You'll have to lick most of the school then," replied Clint calmly.
+"Try not to be a bigger chump than nature made you, Amy. You can't blame
+the fellows for being a bit sore at Tom. I am myself. Only I realise
+that he didn't mean to get into trouble with the office, and the rest of
+them don't, I reckon. It'll all blow over in a few days. Cheer up. A
+month from now you won't care a whoop."
+
+"If we're beaten by Claflin I'll get out of school," answered Amy
+dolefully.
+
+"All right, son, but don't begin to pack your trunk yet. We won't be."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+SOUTHBY YIELDS
+
+
+THE game with Southby Academy that week was played away from home. As a
+general thing Southby was not a formidable opponent and last year's
+contest had resulted in a 17 to 3 win for Brimfield. But this Fall
+Southby had been piling up larger scores against her opponents and her
+stock had risen. Consequently Brimfield, being deprived of Tom Hall's
+services at right guard and of Rollins's at full-back, journeyed off
+that morning more than a little doubtful of the result of the coming
+conflict. Most of the school went along, since Southby was easily
+reached by trolley and at a small outlay for fares, and Brimfield was
+pretty well deserted by one o'clock. Out of some one hundred and eighty
+students a scant forty remained behind, and of that two-score we can
+guess who nine were!
+
+The game started with Edwards at left end for Brimfield, Thayer at left
+tackle, Gilbert at left guard, Peters at centre, Pryme at right guard,
+Sturges at right tackle, Holt at right end, Carmine at quarter, St.
+Clair at left half, Otis at right half and Martin at full-back. Later
+on, toward the end of the second quarter, Thursby went in at centre, and
+in the fourth period several substitutes had their chances, amongst them
+Harry Walton.
+
+Walton had begun to realise that he was playing a losing game. Since
+Pryme had been shifted back to the right side of the line Don Gilbert
+had come more than ever to the fore and Harry had spent a deal more time
+with the substitute squad in practice and on the bench during scrimmage
+than he approved of. Harry had a very special reason for wanting to win
+that left guard position and to play in it during the Claflin game, and
+this afternoon, sitting on the side line with a dozen other blanketed
+substitutes and enviously watching Don in the coveted place, his brain
+evolved a plan that promised so well that by the time the second period
+had started he was looking almost cheerful. And that is saying a good
+deal, since Harry Walton's countenance very seldom expressed cheer.
+
+Southby showed her mettle within five minutes of the kick-off, when,
+getting the ball on a fumble on her forty-five yard line, she tore off
+thirty-three yards on a complicated double-pass play and then, ripped
+another down from the astonished adversary. On the Maroon-and-Grey's
+nine yards, however, her advance was halted, and after two downs had
+resulted in a loss, she sent her kicker back and placed a neat drop over
+the cross-bars, scoring three points before the stop-watch had ticked
+off six minutes of playing time.
+
+That score was apparently just what Brimfield needed to bring her to her
+senses, for the rest of the period was marked by brilliant defensive
+work on her part, followed toward the end of the twelve minutes by some
+equally good attacks. When the teams changed places Brimfield had the
+pigskin on Southby's thirty-eight yards with four to go on third down. A
+forward pass, Carmine to St. Clair, produced three of the required four
+and Martin slipped through between left guard and tackle for the rest.
+After that ten well-selected plays took the ball to the sixteen yards.
+But there Southby rallied, and Steve Edwards, dropping back as if to
+kick, tore off five more around the left end. A touchdown seemed
+imminent now, and the hundred or so Brimfield rooters shouted and
+cheered madly enough. But two plunges at the right of the Southby line
+were stopped for scant gain and, with Martin back, a forward pass to
+Holt missed that youth and fell plump into the hands of a Southby end,
+and it was Southby's ball on her eight yards when the dust of battle
+had cleared away.
+
+That was Brimfield's last chance to score in that half and when the
+whistle sounded Southby had the pigskin once more in her adversary's
+territory.
+
+So far the teams had proved evenly matched in all departments, with a
+possible slight superiority in punting belonging to the visitors. St.
+Clair and Martin divided the punting between them and together they
+managed to outmatch the efforts of the Southby kicker. In the line both
+teams were excellent on defence, and both showed similar weakness in
+attack. In Tom Hall's place Pryme had worked hard and had, on the whole,
+done all that was expected of him. But he wasn't Tom Hall, and no amount
+of coaching would make him Tom's equal that Fall. Pryme lacked two
+factors: weight and, more especially, experience. Southby had made some
+good gains through him in the first half and would have made more had
+not Peters and Sturges helped him valiantly. As to the backfields, a
+disinterested spectator would have liked the Brimfield players a bit the
+better, less perhaps for what they actually accomplished that day than
+for what they promised. Even with Rollins out, the Maroon-and-Grey backs
+showed a fine and consistent solidarity that was lacking in the
+opponents. Coach Robey was a believer in team-play as opposed to the
+exploitation of stars, while Southby, with a remarkable half-back in the
+person of a blonde-haired youth named Elliston, had built her backfield
+about one man. As a consequence, when Elliston was smothered, as was
+frequently the case, since Southby's opponents naturally played for him
+all the time, the play was stopped. Today Captain Edwards had displayed
+an almost uncanny ability to "get" Elliston when the play was in his
+direction, and so far the blonde-haired star had failed to distinguish
+himself save in that one thirty-three-yard gambol at the beginning of
+the contest. What might happen later was problematical, but so far
+Brimfield had solved Elliston fairly well.
+
+A guard seldom has an opportunity to pose in the limelight, and so you
+are not to hear that Don pulled off any brilliant feats that afternoon.
+What he did do was to very thoroughly vindicate Mr. Robey's selection of
+him for Gafferty's position by giving an excellent impersonation of a
+concrete block on defence and by doing rather better than he had ever
+done before when his side had the ball. Don had actually speeded up
+considerably, much as Tim had assured him he could, and while he was
+still by no means the snappiest man in the line, nor was ever likely to
+be, he was seldom far behind his fellows. For that matter the whole line
+of forwards was still much slower than Mr. Robey wanted them at that
+time of year, and Don showed up not badly in comparison. After all, what
+is needed in a guard is, first and foremost, fighting spirit, and Don
+had that. If he was a bit slower to sense a play, a little later in
+getting into it, at least when he did start he started hard and tackled
+hard and always played it safe. In the old days when a guard had only
+his small territory between centre and tackle to cover, Don would have
+been an ideal player for the position, but now, when a guard's duties
+are to free-lance, so to speak, from one end of the line to the other
+and to get into the play no matter where it comes, Don's qualifications
+were more limited. A guard in these amazing times is "soldier and sailor
+too," and Don, who liked to deal with one idea at a time, found it a bit
+confusing to have to grapple with a half-dozen!
+
+Brimfield returned to the battle at the beginning of the second half
+highly resolved to take no more fooling from her opponent. Fortune
+ordered it that the south goal should fall to her portion and that a
+faint but dependable breeze should spring up between the halves. That
+breeze changed Coach Robey's plans, and the team went on with
+instructions to kick its way to within scoring distance and then batter
+through the line at any cost. And so the spectators were treated to a
+very pretty punting exhibition by both teams, for, wisely or unwisely,
+Southby accepted the challenge and punted almost as often as her
+adversary. That third period supplied many thrills but no scoring, for
+although Brimfield did manage to get the ball on Southby's
+twenty-five-yard line when a back fumbled, the advantage ended there.
+Two rushes failed, a forward pass grounded and when St. Clair tried to
+skirt his own left end he was pulled down just short of his distance and
+Southby soon punted out of danger.
+
+When time was called both teams made several substitutions. Don yielded
+his place to Harry Walton, Crewe went in at right tackle and McPhee took
+Carmine's position at quarter. With the advantage of the wind no longer
+hers, Brimfield abandoned the kicking game and used her backfield for
+all it was worth. From the middle of the field to Southby's thirty yards
+she went without much difficulty, St. Clair, Martin and Tim Otis
+carrying the ball for short but consistent gains. But at the thirty
+Southby braced and captured the pigskin on downs by a matter of inches.
+It was then that Elliston repeated. Following two attempts at Pryme's
+position, which yielded a scant four yards, Elliston got away around
+Steve Edwards's end and, with some good interference for the first ten
+or twelve yards, passed the whole field except McPhee and was only
+brought down by that player after he had run to Brimfield's twenty-six
+yards.
+
+Southby's adherents cheered wildly and demanded a touchdown, and it
+looked for awhile as though their team was to give them what they asked
+for. Southby twice poked a back through the centre of the
+maroon-and-grey line and then tore off ten yards around Clint Thayer,
+Steve Edwards being put wholly out of the play. Then, however, Brimfield
+dug her cleats and held the enemy, giving a very heartening exhibition
+of stubborn defence, and again Southby decided that half a loaf was
+better than none and tried a field-goal. She ought never to have got it,
+for the left side of her line was torn to ribbons by the desperate
+defenders. But she did, nevertheless, the ball in some miraculous manner
+slipping through the upstretched hands and leaping bodies and just
+topping the bar.
+
+Those three added points seemed to spell defeat for Brimfield, and many
+of her supporters in the stand conceded the victory to Southby then and
+there. But the team refused to view the matter in that light and came
+back fighting hard. With only some seven minutes of the twelve left,
+McPhee opened the line when Southby had finally been forced to punt from
+her twelve yards and St. Clair had caught on his forty-five, and started
+a series of direct-pass plays that, coming as they did on the heels of
+an afternoon of close-formation plays, confused the enemy until the ball
+had been planted near her thirty-five yards. Brimfield fought
+desperately then, closing her line again and sending Edwards off on an
+end-around run that took the pigskin eight yards nearer the last white
+mark.
+
+It was then that St. Clair really showed what was in him. Four times he
+took the ball and four times he plunged, squirming, fighting, through
+the Southby centre and, with the Brimfield shouts cheering him on, put
+the leather down at last on Southby's eighteen. Otis got three off left
+tackle and McPhee tried the same end for no gain. Martin went back and,
+faking a kick, threw forward to Edwards, who romped to the nine yards
+before he was smothered. It was fourth down then, with less than a yard
+to go, and St. Clair was called on. A delayed-pass did the business and
+Southby was digging her toes into her seven yards. Martin slid off right
+tackle for two, bringing the ball nearly in front of goal, and the
+defenders again fell back.
+
+Carmine was sent in again for McPhee and Lawton took Pryme's place.
+Carmine evidently brought instructions, for Captain Edwards fell back to
+kicking position after the conference, and the ball was passed to him.
+But with only five to go and three downs to do it in a drop-kick was not
+likely, especially as three points would still leave Brimfield beaten,
+and so Southby disregarded the bluff. But if a kick was out of the
+question a forward pass was not, and it was a forward pass that Southby
+set herself for. And so, with her ends drawn out and her backs spread,
+the touchdown came easily. For Steve faked a throw to the right, where
+Holt apparently waited, and then dashed straight ahead, the ball against
+his ribs, his head down and his feet flying, struck the hastily-formed
+massing of Southby's centre like a battering ram and literally tore his
+way through until, when he was at last pulled down, he was five yards
+over the line!
+
+Since Brimfield needed that goal badly, Rollins, in spite of bandages,
+was sent in for Martin, and, when Carmine had canted the ball to his
+liking, very calmly put it squarely between the uprights above the bar.
+
+The remaining minute and a half of play brought no results and Brimfield
+trotted off victor by the narrow margin of one point, while her
+adherents flowed across the field cheering and flaunting their banners
+in triumph.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+WALTON WRITES A NOTE
+
+
+THE Southby game was played on the sixth of November, a fortnight before
+the final contest with Claflin School, and practically marked the end of
+the preparatory season. Brimfield would meet her blue-legged rival with
+what plays she had already learned and the time for instruction was
+passed. The remaining two weeks, which held but ten playing days, would
+be devoted to perfecting plays already known, to polishing off the rough
+angles of attack and defence and to learning a new set of signals as a
+matter of precaution. Those ten days were expected to work a big
+improvement in the team. Whether they would or not remained to be seen.
+
+On the whole, Brimfield had passed through a successful season. She had
+played seven games, of which she had lost one, won five and tied one.
+Next week's adversary, Chambers, would in all likelihood supply a sixth
+victory, in which case the Maroon-and-Grey would face Claflin with a
+nearly clean slate. Claflin, on her part, had hung up a rather peculiar
+record that Fall. She had played one more game than Brimfield, had won
+four, lost one and tied three. She had started out strongly, had had a
+slump in mid-season and was now, from all evidence at hand, recovering
+finely. On comparative scores there was little to choose between the
+rivals. If any perceptible advantage belonged to Brimfield it was only
+because she had maintained a steadier pace.
+
+There was a lay-off for most of the first-string players on Monday, a
+fact which gave Harry Walton a chance to conduct himself very capably at
+left guard during the four ten-minute periods of scrimmage with the
+second. Don didn't go near the field that afternoon and so was saved any
+of the uneasiness which the sight of Walton's performance might have
+caused him. Rollins got back for a short workout and showed few signs of
+his injury. The second team, profiting by some scouting done by Coach
+Boutelle and Joe Gafferty on Saturday, tried out the Claflin formation
+and such Claflin plays as had been fathomed against the first team and
+made some good gains thereby until the second-string players solved
+them. On Tuesday Harry Walton disgruntledly found himself again
+relegated to the bench during most of the practice game and saw Don open
+holes in the second team's line in a style that more than once brought
+commendation from Coach Robey. Walton glowered from the bench until
+Cotter disgustedly asked if he felt sick. Whereupon Walton grinned and
+Cotter, with a sigh, begged him to scowl again!
+
+The first team presented its full strength that afternoon, and Mr.
+Boutelle's Claflin plays made little headway. With Rollins back in
+place, the first team scored almost at will during three periods, and
+even after an entirely new backfield was put in it continued to smash
+the second up very effectually. Mr. Boutelle scolded and raved and
+threatened, but all to scant purpose. The first got its plays off very
+smoothly, played low and hard and, for once, played together. The final
+score that day was the biggest ever piled up in a practice contest, 30
+to 3. Had Mr. Robey allowed Rollins to try goals from touchdowns it
+would have been several points larger.
+
+Tom Hall had so far carefully avoided the field, but today he appeared
+there and sat in the stand with Roy Draper and tried his best to be
+cheerful. But his best wasn't very good. Already the feeling against him
+had largely subsided, and the school, realising, perhaps, that Tom's
+loss to the team did not necessarily spell defeat for it, was inclined
+to be sorry for him. But Tom didn't realise that, since he still kept to
+himself and was suspicious of advances. He hadn't quarrelled with the
+school's verdict, but it had hurt him and, as he didn't like being hurt
+any more than most of us, he avoided the chance of it. In those days he
+stuck pretty close to his room, partly because the office required it
+and partly because he had no heart for mingling with his fellows. Roy
+Draper had to plead long and earnestly that afternoon to get him to the
+gridiron. As badly as he felt about losing his place on the team,
+however, Tom didn't begrudge Pryme his good fortune, and he was honestly
+pleased to see that the latter, in spite of his deficiencies, would
+doubtless fill the right guard position very capably in the Claflin
+game. He studied Pryme's work attentively that afternoon, criticised it
+and praised it and showed no trace of animosity.
+
+"He will do all right," he confided to Roy. "Crewe will help him a lot,
+and so will Thursby. If he could use his hands a bit better he'd be
+fine. He holds himself nicely, doesn't he? On his toes all the time. I
+hate to see a lineman play flat-footed. That's one trouble with Don
+Gilbert. Don's doing a heap better than he did last year, though. I
+guess he's every bit as good as Joe Gafferty. He's a regular whale on
+defence, isn't he? He's a queer chap, Don, but a mighty nice one."
+
+"Don," replied Roy in his somewhat didactic manner, "is the sort of
+fellow I'd pick out to be cast away on a desert island with. He isn't so
+scintillant, you know, but he'd wear forever."
+
+"That's him to a T." Tom chuckled. "They tell me Harry Walton is as mad
+as a hatter because Don butted in and grabbed that position away from
+him. Can't say I altogether blame him, either. That is, there's no use
+getting mad about it, but it is tough luck. Harry isn't a half-bad
+guard, either."
+
+"If he can play good football," answered Roy, "I'm glad to know it. I've
+always wondered what Walton was for."
+
+Tom laughed. "Oh, he isn't so bad, I guess. His manner's against him."
+
+"I've noticed it," said Roy drily. "Also his looks and his remarks and a
+number of other things. Larry Jones says he comes from the best sort of
+family."
+
+"A fellow's family doesn't prove anything, I guess."
+
+"Evidently not. There's the whistle. Let's go back." Presently Roy
+added, as they headed for Torrence: "I can quite understand why
+Walton's family sent him to school."
+
+"Why they sent him to school?" repeated Tom questioningly.
+
+"Yes, it was to get rid of him."
+
+"You've certainly got your little hammer with you," said Tom, with a
+smile. "What's Harry done to you?"
+
+"Not a thing. I wouldn't advise him to, either. I just don't like him,
+Tom. Can't stand being in the same room with him. Well, see you later,
+old chap. And, say, think over what I said about--you know."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," replied Tom, with a shrug of his broad
+shoulders. "Fellows can think what they like about me. I don't blame
+them. But you can't expect me to like it!"
+
+"I know, Tom, but they don't feel that way now. It was just for a day or
+two. I've heard a lot of fellows say lately that it's nonsense blaming
+you, Tom. So come out of your shell, like a sensible chap, and show that
+you don't feel any--any ill-will."
+
+"Well, I don't, I suppose. As for coming out of my shell, I'll be
+crawling out pretty soon. Don't bother about me, Roy. I'm feeling fine.
+So long."
+
+Perhaps what Tom really meant was that he was feeling a whole lot better
+than he had a few days before, for he certainly had not become quite
+reconciled to the loss of his position with the team. He was getting
+used to the idea, but he wasn't happy over it. When he squarely faced
+the fact that when Claflin came trotting onto the field on the twentieth
+he would be sitting in the grand stand instead of being out there in
+togs, his heart sank miserably and he hardly knew whether he wanted to
+kick something or get off in a corner and cry. At such moments the
+question of whether his school fellows liked him or detested him
+bothered little. If he could only play against Claflin, he assured
+himself, the school might hate him to its heart's content!
+
+Going on to Billings and his room, he considered what Roy had told him
+of the altered sentiment toward him, but somehow he didn't seem to care
+so much today. Watching practice had brought back the smart, and being
+liked or disliked seemed a little thing beside the bigger trouble.
+Still, he thought, if Roy was right perhaps he had better meet fellows
+half-way. There was no use in being a grouch. As a starter and in order
+to test the accuracy of Roy's statement, he decided that he would drop
+in on Carl Bennett, who roomed in Number 3. Bennett was a chap he
+rather respected and, while they had never been very close friends, Tom
+had seen a good deal of the other during the Fall. But Bennett was not
+in and Tom was making his way back to the stairs when the door of Number
+6 opened and Harry Walton came out. Perhaps it was Roy's dressing-down
+of that youth that prompted Tom to be more decent to him than usual. At
+all events, Tom stopped and hailed him and they conversed together on
+their way up the stairs. It wasn't until later that Tom, recalling
+Harry's grudge against Don, wondered what had taken him to the latter's
+room. Then he concluded that Harry had probably been calling on Tim, and
+thought no more of it. Just now he asked Harry how he was getting on
+with the team and was a little puzzled when Harry replied: "All right, I
+guess. Of course, Gilbert's got the call right now, but I'm going to
+beat him out before the big game. Did you see practice today?"
+
+"Yes. You fellows put up a great game, Harry."
+
+"I didn't get into it for more than ten minutes. Robey's playing Don
+Gilbert for all he knows." Harry laughed disagreeably. "Robey's a bit of
+a fox."
+
+"How's that!" Tom inquired.
+
+"Oh, he's sort of keeping me guessing, you see. Thinks I'll get worried
+and dig harder."
+
+"Huh. I see. You seem mighty certain of that place, Harry."
+
+"Sure, I'm certain. You just wait and see, old top." Harry nodded and
+entered his room across the hall, leaving Tom a trifle more sympathetic
+toward Roy's estimation of him. Walton certainly did have a disagreeable
+manner, he reflected.
+
+As a matter of fact, Harry hadn't been calling on anyone in Number 6 for
+the simple reason that he had found no one at home. Moreover, he had
+expected to find no one, for he had left Tim at the gymnasium and seen
+Don and Harry Westcott sitting in the window of the latter's room in
+Torrence as he passed. What he had done was leave a hastily scrawled
+note for Don on the table in there, a note which Don discovered an hour
+later and which at once puzzled and disturbed him.
+
+"Come up and see me after supper will you," the note read, with a superb
+disdain of punctuation, "I want to see you. Important. H. Walton."
+
+"What's he want to see you about?" asked Tim when Don tossed the note to
+him to read.
+
+"I don't know." Don frowned thoughtfully.
+
+"I hope he isn't going to make trouble about that old business."
+
+"What old business?" asked Tim carelessly, more interested in a set of
+bruised knuckles than anything else just then.
+
+"Why, you know Harry saw us climbing in the window that night."
+
+"Saw us climb--Well, what of it? That was years ago. Why should he want
+to make trouble about that? And how could he do it? I'd like to see him
+start anything with me."
+
+"Oh, well, I just happened to think of that."
+
+"More likely he's going to ask you to break a leg or something so he can
+get your place," chuckled Tim. "Don't you do it, Don, if he does. It
+doesn't pay to be too obliging. Ready for eats?"
+
+"In a minute." Don dropped the note and began his toilet, but he didn't
+speak again until they were on their way down the stairs. Then: "If it
+should be that," he remarked, "I wouldn't know whether to punch his head
+or laugh at him."
+
+"Don't take any chances," advised Tim grimly. "Punch his head. Better
+still, bring the glad tidings to me and let me do it. Why, if that idiot
+threatened to open his face about us I'd give him such a walloping that
+his own folks wouldn't recognise the remnants! Gee, but I'm hungry
+tonight! Toddle along faster and let's get there before Rollins and Holt
+and the rest swipe all the grub."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+A PROPOSITION
+
+
+DON sought Harry Walton's room soon after supper was over and found
+neither Harry nor his room-mate, Jim Rose, at home. He lighted the
+droplight, found a magazine several months old and sat down to wait. He
+had, however, scarcely got into a story before Harry appeared.
+
+"Hello," greeted the latter. "Sorry I was late. Had to stop at the
+library for a book." In proof of it he tossed a volume to the table. "I
+asked you to come up here, Gilbert, because I have a proposition to make
+and I thought you wouldn't want anyone around." Harry seated himself,
+took one knee into his clasped hands and smiled at the visitor. It was a
+peculiarly unattractive smile, Don decided.
+
+"Proposition?" Don frowned perplexedly. "What sort of a proposition,
+Walton?"
+
+"Well, I'll tell you. It's like this, Gilbert. You see, old man, you and
+I are fighting like the mischief for the left guard position and so far
+it's about nip-and-tuck, isn't it?"
+
+Don viewed the speaker with some surprise. "Is it?" he asked. "I thought
+I had rather the best of it, Walton."
+
+Harry smiled and shrugged. "That's only Robey's foxiness. I'm not saying
+he might not pick you for the place in the end, of course, but I stand
+just as good a show. Robey doesn't like to show his hand. He likes to
+keep you guessing. I'm willing to bet that if nothing happened he'd drop
+you next week and stick me in there. Of course you might get in for
+awhile in the Claflin game, if I got hurt, but I wouldn't advise you to
+bank much on that because I'm rather lucky about not getting hurt.
+Honestly, Gilbert, I don't really think you've got much of a chance of
+final selection."
+
+Don observed his host's countenance with some bewilderment. "Well," he
+said at last, "that may be so or not. What is it you want me to do?"
+
+"I'll tell you." Harry tried hard to look ingenuous, but only succeeded
+in grinning like a catfish. "It's this way. My folks are coming up for
+the Claflin game; father and mother and kid brother, you know. Well,
+naturally, I'd like to have them see me play. They think I'm going to,
+of course, because I've mentioned it once or twice in my letters. I'd
+feel pretty cheap if they came up here and watched me sitting on the
+bench all through the game. See what I mean, old man?"
+
+Don nodded and waited.
+
+"Well, so I thought that as your chance is pretty slim anyway maybe you
+wouldn't mind dropping out. I wouldn't ask you to if I really thought
+you had much chance, you know, Gilbert."
+
+"Oh! That's it? Well, I'm sorry if you're folks are going to be
+disappointed, Walton, but I don't feel quite like playing the goat on
+that account. You might just write them and sort of prepare them for the
+shock, mightn't you? Tell them there's a bare chance that you won't get
+into the fracas, you know. I would. It would soften the blow for them,
+Walton."
+
+Walton scowled. "Don't be funny," he said shortly. "I've given you the
+chance to drop out gracefully, Gilbert, and you're a fool not to take
+it."
+
+"But why should I drop out! Don't you suppose I want to play in the
+Claflin game just as much as you do?"
+
+"Perhaps you do, but you won't play in it any way you figure it. If you
+don't quit willingly you'll quit the other way. I'm giving you a fair
+chance, that's all. You've only got to make believe you're sick or play
+sort of rottenly a couple of times. That will do the trick for you and
+there won't be any other trouble."
+
+"Say, what are you hinting at?" demanded Don quietly. "What have you got
+up your sleeve?"
+
+"Plenty, Gilbert. I've got enough up my sleeve to get you fired from
+school."
+
+There was a moment of silence. Then Don nodded thoughtfully. "So that's
+it, is it?" he murmured.
+
+"That's it, old man." Harry grinned. "Think it over now."
+
+"What do you think you've got on me?" asked Don.
+
+"I don't think. I know that you and three other fellows helped put out
+that fire that night and that you didn't get back to hall until long
+after ten-thirty." Harry dropped his knee, thrust his hands into his
+pockets, leaned back in his chair and viewed Don triumphantly. "I don't
+want to go to faculty with it, Gilbert, although it's really my duty and
+I certainly shall if you force me."
+
+"Hm," mused Don. "But wouldn't faculty wonder why you'd been so long
+about it?"
+
+"Probably. I'd have to tell the truth and----"
+
+"I guess that would hurt," interpolated the other drily.
+
+"And explain that I'd tried to shield you fellows, but that my
+conscience had finally prevailed." And Harry grinned broadly. "Josh
+wouldn't like it, but he wouldn't do anything to me. What he'd do to
+you, though, would be a plenty, Gilbert. It would be expulsion, and you
+know that as well as I do."
+
+"Yes, I do." Don dropped his gaze to his hands and was silent a moment.
+Then: "Of course you've thought of what it would mean to you, Walton? I
+wouldn't be likely to keep you out of it, you know."
+
+Harry shrugged. "Fellows might talk some, but I'd only be doing my duty.
+As long as my conscience was clear----"
+
+"You're a dirty pup, Walton," said Don, "and if I wasn't afraid of
+getting the mange I'd give you the beating you deserve."
+
+"Calling names won't get you anything, Gilbert. I'm not afraid of
+anything you could do to me, anyway. I may be a pup, but I'm where I can
+make you sit up and beg, and I'm going to do it."
+
+"You think you are," said Don contemptuously. "Let me tell you now that
+I'd rather be fired a dozen times than make any bargains with a common
+skunk like you!"
+
+"That means you want me to go ahead and tell Josh, does it?"
+
+"It means that you can do anything you want to, Walton." Don stood up.
+"But if you do go to faculty with the story you'll get the worst licking
+you ever had or heard of, and fellows will make it so unpleasant here
+for you that you won't stay much longer than I do. Now _you_ think it
+over!"
+
+"What fellows say or think won't hurt me a mite, thank you, and I'm not
+afraid of you or any of your friends, Gilbert. Wait a minute now. We're
+not through yet."
+
+"I am, thanks," replied Don, moving toward the door.
+
+"Oh, no you're not. You may feel heroic and all that and too mad to give
+in just now, but you're not considering what it will mean if you make me
+squeal to faculty. Why, we wouldn't have a ghost of a show with
+Claflin!"
+
+"I thought you considered yourself quite as good a guard as me, Walton,"
+answered Don.
+
+"I do, old man. But I don't think I'm able to take the places of all the
+other fellows who would be missing from the team."
+
+Don turned, with his hand on the door-knob, and stared startledly.
+"What do you mean by that?" he asked.
+
+"I thought that would fetch you," chuckled Harry. "I mean that you're
+not the only one who would quit the dear old school, Gilbert. You
+haven't forgotten, I suppose, that there were three other fellows mixed
+up in the business?"
+
+"No, but faculty would have to know more than I'd tell them before
+they'd find out who the others were."
+
+"Oh, you wouldn't have to tell them, old man."
+
+"Meaning you would? You don't know, Walton."
+
+"Don't I, though? You bet I do! I know every last one of them!"
+
+"You told me----"
+
+"Oh, I let you think I didn't, Gilbert. No use telling everything you
+know."
+
+"I don't believe it!" But, in spite of the statement, Don did believe it
+and was trying to realise what it meant. .
+
+"Don't be a fool! Why wouldn't I know? If I could see you why couldn't I
+see Clint Thayer and Tim Otis and Tom Hall? You were all as plain as
+daylight. Of course, Tom's out of it, anyway, but I guess losing a left
+tackle and a right half-back a week before the game would put rather a
+dent in our chances, what? And that's just what will happen if you make
+me go to Josh with the story!"
+
+"You wouldn't!" challenged Don, but there was scant conviction in his
+tone. Harry shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Oh, I'd rather not. I don't want to play on a losing team, and that's
+what I'd be doing, but you see I've sort of set my heart on playing
+right guard a week from Saturday, Gilbert, and I hate to be
+disappointed. Hate to disappoint my folks, too."
+
+"They must be proud of you!"
+
+"They are, take it from me." Harry's smile vanished and he looked ugly
+as he went on. "Don't be a fool, Gilbert! You'd do the same thing
+yourself if you had the chance. You're playing the hypocrite, and you
+know it. I've got you dead to rights and I mean to make the most of it.
+If you don't get off the team inside of two days I'll go to Josh and
+tell him everything I know. It isn't pretty, maybe, but it's playing
+your hand for what there is in it, and that's my way! Now you sit down
+again and just think it all over, Gilbert. Take all the time you want.
+And remember this, too. If I keep my mouth shut you've got to keep yours
+shut. No blabbing to Tim Otis or Clint Thayer or anyone else. This is
+just between you and me, old man. Now what do you say?"
+
+"The thing's as crazy as it is rotten, Walton! How am I to get off the
+team without having it look funny?"
+
+"And how much do I care whether it looks funny or not? That's up to you.
+You can play sick or you can get out there and mix your signals a few
+times or you can bite Robey in the leg. I don't give a hang what you do
+so long as you do it, and do it between now and Saturday. That's right,
+sit down and look at it sensibly. Mull it over awhile. There's no
+hurry."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+DON VISITS THE DOCTOR
+
+
+"WHAT did Walton want of you?" asked Tim a half-hour later, when the
+occupants of Number 6 were settled at opposite sides of the table for
+study.
+
+"Walton?" repeated Don vaguely. "Oh, nothing especial."
+
+"Nothing especial? Then why the mysterious summons? Did he make any
+crack about that little escapade of ours?"
+
+"He mentioned it. Shut up and let me get to work, Tim."
+
+"Mentioned it how? What did he say? Any chance of beating him up? I've
+always had a longing, away down deep inside me, Donald, to place my fist
+violently against some portion of Walton's--er--facial contour. Say,
+that's good, isn't it? Facial contour's decidedly good, Don."
+
+"Fine," responded the other listlessly.
+
+Tim peered across at him under the droplight. "Say, you look as if you'd
+lost a dozen dear friends. Anything wrong? Look here, has Walton been
+acting nasty?"
+
+"Don't be a chump, Tim. I'm all right. Or, anyway, I'm only sort
+of--sort of tired. Dry up and let me stuff."
+
+"Oh, very well, but you needn't be so haughty about it. I don't want to
+share your secrets with dear Harry. Everyone to his taste, as the old
+lady said when she kissed the cow."
+
+Tim's sarcasm, however, brought no response, and presently, after
+growling a little while he pawed his books over and dropped the subject,
+to Don's relief, and silence fell. Don made a fine pretence of studying,
+but most of the time he couldn't have told what book lay before him.
+When the hour was up Tim, who had by then returned to his usual
+condition of cheerful good nature, tried to induce Don to go over to
+Hensey to call on Larry Jones, who, it seemed, had perfected a most
+novel and marvellous trick with a ruler and two glasses of water. But
+Don refused to be enticed and Tim went off alone, gravely cautioning his
+room-mate against melancholia.
+
+"Try to keep your mind off your troubles, Donald. Think of bright and
+happy things, like me or the pretty birds. Remember that nothing is ever
+quite as bad as we think it is, that every line has a silver clouding
+and that--that it's always dawnest before the dark. Farewell, you old
+grouch!"
+
+Don didn't have to pretend very hard the next day that he was feeling
+ill, for an almost sleepless night, spent in trying to find some way out
+of his difficulties, had left him hollow-eyed and pale. Breakfast had
+been a farce and dinner a mere empty pretence, and between the two meals
+he had fared illy in classes. It was scarcely more than an exaggeration
+to tell Coach Robey that he didn't feel well enough to play, and the
+coach readily believed him and gave him over to the mercies of Danny
+Moore.
+
+The trainer tried hard to get Don to enumerate some tangible symptoms,
+but Don could only repeat that he was dreadfully tired and out of sorts.
+"Eat anything that didn't agree with you?" asked Danny.
+
+"No, I didn't eat much of anything. I didn't have any appetite."
+
+"Sure, that was sensible, anyway. I'll be after giving you a tonic, me
+boy. Take it like I tell you, do ye mind, keep off your feet and get a
+good sleep. After breakfast come to me in the gym and I'll have a look
+at you."
+
+Don took the tonic--when he thought of it--ate a fair supper and went
+early to bed, not so much in the hope of curing his ailment as because
+he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He slept pretty well, but was
+dimly conscious of waking frequently during the night, and when morning
+came felt fully as tired as when he had retired. Breakfast was beyond
+him, although Mr. Robey, his attention drawn to Don by Harry Walton's
+innocent "You're looking pretty bum, Gilbert," counselled soft boiled
+eggs and hot milk. Don dallied with the eggs and drank part of the milk
+and was glad to escape as soon as he could.
+
+Danny gave him a very thorough inspection in the rubbing room after
+breakfast, but could find nothing wrong. "Sure, you're as sound as Colin
+Meagher's fiddle, me boy. Where is it it hurts ye?"
+
+"It doesn't hurt anywhere, Danny," responded Don. "I'm all right, I
+suppose, only I don't feel--don't feel very fit."
+
+"A bit fine, you are, and I'm thinking you'd better lay off the work for
+today. Be outdoors as much as you can, but don't be tiring yourself out.
+Have you taken the tonic like I told ye?"
+
+"I've taken enough of the beastly stuff," answered Don listlessly.
+
+Danny laughed. "Sure, it's the fine-tasting medicine, lad. Keep at it.
+And listen to me, now. If you want to play agin Claflin, Donny, you do
+as I'm tellin' you and don't be thinkin' you know more about it than I
+do. Sure, Robey won't look at ye at all, come a week from tomorrow, if
+you don't brace up."
+
+"Oh, I'm all right, Danny, thanks. Maybe if I rest off today I'll be
+fine tomorrow."
+
+"That's what I'm tellin' you. See that ye do it."
+
+That afternoon he watched practice from the bench without getting into
+togs and saw Harry Walton play at left guard. He would much rather have
+remained away from the field, but to have done so might, he thought,
+have looked queer. Coach Robey was solicitous about him, but apparently
+did not take his indisposition very seriously. "'Take it easy, Gilbert,"
+he said, "and don't worry. You'll be all right for tomorrow, I guess.
+You've been working pretty hard, my boy. Better pull a blanket over your
+shoulders. This breeze is rather biting. Can't have you laid up for
+long, you know."
+
+Harry Walton performed well that afternoon, playing with a vim and dash
+that was something of a revelation to his team-mates. Tim was evidently
+troubled when he walked back to hall with Don after practice. "For the
+love of mud, Don," he pleaded, "get over it and come back! Did you see
+the way Walton played today? If he gets in tomorrow and plays like that
+against Chambers Robey'll be handing him the place! What the dickens is
+wrong with you, anyway?"
+
+"I'm just tired," responded Don.
+
+"Tired!" Tim was puzzled. "What for? You haven't worked since day before
+yesterday. What you've got is malaria or something. Tell you what we'll
+do, Don; we'll beat it over to the doctor's after supper, eh?"
+
+But Don shook his head. "Danny's tonic is all I need," he said. "I dare
+say I'll be feeling great in the morning."
+
+"You dare say you will! Don't you feel sure you will? Because I've got
+to tell you, Donald, that this is a plaguy bad time to get laid off,
+son. If you're not a regular little Bright Eyes by Monday Robey'll can
+you as sure as shooting!"
+
+"I wouldn't much care if he did," muttered Don.
+
+"You wouldn't much---- Say, are you crazy?" Tim stopped short on the
+walk and viewed his chum in amazement. "Is it your brain that's gone
+back on you? Don't you _want_ to play against Claflin?"
+
+"I suppose so. Yes, of course I do, but----"
+
+"Then don't talk like a piece of cheese! You'll come with me to the
+doctor after supper if I have to drag you there by one heel!"
+
+And so go he did, and the doctor looked at his tongue and felt his pulse
+and "pawed him over," as Don put it, and ended by patting him on the
+back and accepting a nice bright half-dollar--half-price to Academy
+students--in exchange for a prescription.
+
+"You're a little nervous," said the doctor. "Thinking too much about
+that football game, I guess. Don't do it. Put it out of your mind. Take
+that medicine every two hours according to directions on the bottle and
+you'll be all right, my boy."
+
+Don thanked him, slipped the prescription in a pocket and headed for
+school. But Tim grabbed him and faced him about. "You don't swallow the
+prescription, Donald," he said. "You take it to a druggist and he gives
+you something in a bottle. That's what you swallow, the stuff in the
+bottle. I'm not saying that it mightn't do you just as much good to eat
+the paper, but we'd better play by the rules. So come on, you
+lunk-head."
+
+"Oh, I forgot," murmured Don.
+
+"Of course you did," agreed the other sarcastically. "And, look here, if
+anyone asks you your name, it's Donald Croft Gilbert. Think you can
+remember that? Donald Croft----"
+
+"Oh, dry up," said Don. "How much will this fool medicine cost me?"
+
+"How much have you got?"
+
+"About eighty cents, I think."
+
+"It'll cost you eighty cents, then. Ask me something easier. I don't
+pretend to know how druggists do it, but they can always look right
+through your clothes and count your money. Never knew it to fail!"
+
+But it failed this time, or else the druggist counted wrong, for the
+prescription was a dollar and Tim had to make up the balance. He
+insisted on Don taking the first dose then and there, so that he could
+get in another before bedtime, and Don meekly obeyed. After he had
+swallowed it he begged a glass of soda water from the druggist to take
+the taste out of his mouth, and the druggist, doubtless realising the
+demands of the occasion, stood treat to them both. On the way back Tim
+figured it that if they had only insisted on having ice-cream sodas they
+would have reduced the price of the medicine to its rightful cost. Don,
+though, firmly insisted that it was worth every cent of what he had paid
+for it.
+
+"No one," he said convincedly, "could get that much nastiness into a
+small bottle for less than a dollar!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+DROPPED FROM THE TEAM
+
+
+WHETHER owing to Danny Moore's tonic, the doctor's prescription or a
+good night's rest, Don awoke the next morning feeling perfectly well
+physically, and his first waking moments were cheered by the knowledge.
+Then, however, recollection of the fact that physical well-being was
+exactly what wasn't required under the circumstances brought quick
+reaction, and he jumped out of bed to look at himself in the mirror
+above his dresser in the hope of finding pale cheeks and hollow eyes and
+similar evidences of impending dissolution. But Fate had played a sorry
+trick on him! His cheeks were not in the least pale, nor were his eyes
+sunken. In short, he looked particularly healthy, and if other evidence
+of the fact was needed it was supplied by Tim. Tim, when Don turned
+regretfully away from the glass, was sitting up and observing him with
+pleased relief.
+
+"Ata boy!" exclaimed Tim. "Feeling fine and dandy, aren't you? I guess
+that medicine was cheap at the price, after all! You look about a
+hundred per cent better than you did yesterday, Donald."
+
+Don started to smile, caught himself in time and drew a long sigh. "You
+can't always tell by a fellow's looks how he's really feeling," he
+replied darkly.
+
+"Oh, run away and play! What's the matter with you? You've got colour in
+your face and look great."
+
+"Too much colour, I'm afraid," said Don, shaking his head
+pessimistically. "I guess--I guess I've got a little fever."
+
+Tim stared at him puzzledly. "Fever? What for? I mean---- Say, are you
+fooling?"
+
+"No. My face is sort of hot, honest, Tim." And so it was, possibly the
+consciousness of fibbing and the difficulty of doing it successfully was
+responsible for the flush. Tim pushed his legs out of bed and viewed his
+friend disgustedly.
+
+"Don, you're getting to be one of those kleptomaniacs--no, that isn't
+it! What's the word? Hydrochondriacs, isn't it? Anyway, whatever it is,
+you're it! You've got so you imagine you're sick when you aren't. Forget
+it, Donald, and cheer up!"
+
+"Oh, I'll be all right, thanks," responded the other dolefully. "I
+guess I'm lots better than I was."
+
+"Of course you are! Why, hang it, man, you've simply got to be O. K.
+today! If you're not Robey'll can you as sure as shooting! Smile for the
+gentleman, Don, and then get a move on and come to breakfast."
+
+"I don't think I want any breakfast, thanks."
+
+"You will when you smell it. Want me to start the water for you?"
+
+"If I was a hydrochondriac I wouldn't want any water, would I?"
+
+"Hypochondriac's what I meant, I guess. Hurry up before the mob gets
+there."
+
+Tim struggled into his bath-robe and pattered off down the corridor,
+leaving Don to follow at his leisure. But, instead of following, Don
+seated himself on the edge of his bed and viewed life gloomily. If Tim
+refused to believe in his illness, how was he to convince Coach Robey of
+it? He might, he reflected, rub talcum on his face, but he was afraid
+that wouldn't deceive anyone, the coach least of all. And, according to
+his bargain with Harry Walton, he must sever his connection with the
+team today. If he didn't Walton would go to the principal and tell what
+he had witnessed from his window that Saturday night, and not only he,
+but Tim and Clint as well, would suffer. And, still worse, the team
+would be beaten by Claflin as surely as--as Tim was shouting to him from
+the bathroom! He got up and donned his bath-robe and set off down the
+corridor with lagging feet, so wretched in mind by this time that it
+required no great effort of imagination to believe himself ailing in
+body.
+
+To his surprise--and rather to his disgust--he found himself intensely
+hungry at breakfast and it was all he could do to refuse the steak and
+baked potato set before him. Under the appraising eye of Mr. Robey, he
+drank a glass of milk and nibbled at a piece of toast, his very soul
+longing for that steak and a couple of soft eggs! Afterward, when he
+reported to Danny, the trainer produced fresh discouragement in him.
+
+"Fine, me boy!" declared the trainer. "You're as good as ever, aren't
+you? Keep in the air all you can and go light with the dinner."
+
+"I--I don't feel very fit," muttered Don.
+
+"Get along with you! You're the picture of health! Don't be saying
+anything like that to Mr. Robey, or he might believe it and bench you.
+Run along now and mind what I tell you. Game's at two-fifteen today."
+
+It was fortunate that Don had but two recitations that morning, for he
+was in no condition for such unimportant things. His mind was too full
+of what was before him. At dinner it was easy enough to obey Danny's
+command and eat lightly, for he was far too worried to want food. The
+noon meal was eaten early in order that the players might have an hour
+for digestion before they went to the field. Chambers came swinging up
+to the school at half-past one, in all the carriages to be found at the
+station, while her supporters trailed after on foot. The stands filled
+early and, by the time the Chambers warriors trotted on to the gridiron
+for their practice, looked gay and colourful with waving pennants.
+
+Don kept close to Tim from the time dinner was over until they reached
+the locker-room in the gymnasium. Tim was puzzled and disgusted over his
+chum's behaviour and secretly began to think that perhaps, after all, he
+was not in the condition his appearance told him to be. Don listlessly
+dragged his playing togs on and was dressed by the time Coach Robey came
+in. He hoped that the coach would give him his opportunity then to
+declare his unfitness for work, but Mr. Robey paid no attention to him.
+He said the usual few words of admonition to the players, conferred with
+Manager Morton and the trainer and disappeared again. Captain Edwards
+led the way out of the building at a few minutes before two and they
+jogged down to the field and, heralded by a long cheer from the stand,
+took their places on the benches. It was a fine day for football, bright
+and windless and with a true November nip in the air.
+
+Chambers yielded half the gridiron and Coach Robey approached the bench.
+"All right, first and second squads," he said cheerfully. "Try your
+signals out, but take it easy. Rollins, you'd better try a half-dozen
+goals. Martin, too. How about you, Gilbert? You feeling all right?"
+
+Don felt the colour seeping out of his cheeks as the coach turned toward
+him, and there was an instant of silence before he replied with lowered
+eyes.
+
+"N-no, sir, I'm not feeling very--very fit. I'm sorry."
+
+"You're not?" Mr. Robey's voice had an edge. "Danny says you're
+perfectly fit. What's wrong?"
+
+"I--I don't know, sir. I don't feel--well."
+
+A number of the players still within hearing turned to listen. Mr. Robey
+viewed Don with a puzzled frown. Then he shrugged impatiently.
+
+"You know best, of course," he said shortly, "but if you don't work
+today, Gilbert, you're plumb out of it. I can't keep your place open for
+you forever, you know. What do you say? Want to try it?"
+
+Don wished that the earth under his feet would open up and swallow him.
+He tried to return the coach's gaze, but his eyes wandered. The first
+time he tried to speak he made no sound, and when he did find his voice
+it was so low that the coach impatiently bade him speak up.
+
+"I don't think it would be any good, sir," replied Don huskily. "I--I'm
+not feeling very well."
+
+There was a long silence. Then Mr. Robey's voice came to him as cold as
+ice. "Very well, Gilbert, clean your locker out and hand in your things
+to the trainer. Walton!"
+
+"Yes, sir?"
+
+"Go in at left guard on the first squad." Mr. Robey turned again to Don.
+"Gilbert," he said very quietly, "I don't understand you. You are
+perfectly able to play, and you know it. The only explanation that
+occurs to me is that you're in a funk. If that's so it is a fortunate
+thing for all of us that we've discovered it now instead of later.
+There's no place on this team, my boy, for a quitter."
+
+Coach and players turned away, leaving Don standing alone there before
+the bench. Miserably he groped his way to it and sat down with hanging
+head. His eyes were wet and he was horribly afraid that someone would
+see it. A hand fell on his shoulder and he glanced up into Tim's
+troubled face.
+
+"I heard, Don," said Tim. "I'm frightfully sorry, old man. Are you sure
+you can't do it!"
+
+Don shook his head silently. Tim sighed.
+
+"Gee, it's rotten, ain't it? Maybe he didn't mean what he said, though.
+Maybe, if you're all right Monday, he'll give you another chance.
+I'm--I'm beastly sorry, Don!"
+
+The hand on his shoulder pressed reassuringly and drew away and Tim
+hurried out to his place. Presently Don took a deep breath, got to his
+feet and, trying his hardest to look unconcerned but making sorry work
+of it, skirted the stand and retraced his steps to the gymnasium. His
+one desire was to get out of sight before any of the fellows found him,
+and so he pulled off his togs as quickly as he might, got into his other
+clothes, made a bundle of his suit and stockings and shoes and left them
+in the rubbing-room where Danny could not fail to find them and then
+hurried out of the building and through the deserted yard to Billings
+and the sunlit silence and emptiness of his room.
+
+There was very little consolation in the knowledge that he had done only
+what was right. Martyrdom has its drawbacks. He had lost his position
+with the team and had been publicly branded a quitter. The fact that his
+conscience was not only clear but even approving didn't help much. Being
+thought a quitter, a coward, hurt badly. If he could have got at Harry
+Walton any time during the ensuing half-hour it would have gone hard
+with that youth. After a time, though, he got command of his feelings
+again and, since there was nothing better to do, he seated himself at
+the window and watched as much of the football game as was visible from
+there. Once or twice he was able to forget his trouble for a brief
+moment.
+
+Chambers put up a good game that day and it was all the home team could
+do to finally win out by the score of 3 to 0. For two periods Chambers
+had Brimfield virtually on the run, and only a fine fighting spirit that
+flashed into evidence under the shadow of her goal saved the latter from
+defeat. As it was, luck took a hand in matters when a poor pass from
+centre killed Chambers's chance of scoring by a field-goal in the second
+quarter.
+
+Brimfield showed better work in the second half and twice got the ball
+inside the visitor's twenty-yard line, once in the third period and
+again shortly before the final whistle blew. The first opportunity to
+score was lost when Carmine called for line-plunges to get the pigskin
+across and Howard, who was playing in St. Clair's position because of a
+slight injury to the regular left half, fumbled for a four-yard loss.
+Chambers rallied and took the ball away a minute later. In the fourth
+period dazzling runs outside of tackles by Tim Otis and hard
+line-plugging by Rollins and Howard took the ball from Brimfield's
+thirty-five to the enemy's twenty-five. There a forward pass
+grounded--Chambers had a remarkable defence against that play--and, on
+third down, Rollins slid off left tackle for enough to reach the twenty.
+But with only one down remaining and time nearly up, a try-at-goal was
+the only course left, and Rollins, standing squarely on the thirty-yard
+line, drop-kicked a scanty victory.
+
+In some ways that contest was disappointing, in others encouraging.
+Team-play was more in evidence than in any previous game and the
+maroon-and-grey backfield had performed prodigiously. And the plays had,
+as a general thing, gone off like clock-work. But there were weak places
+in the line still. Pryme, at right guard, had proved an easy victim for
+the enemy and the same was true, in a lesser degree, of Harry Walton, on
+the other side of centre. And Crewe, at right tackle, had allowed
+himself to be boxed time after time. It might be said for Crewe,
+however, that today he was playing opposite an opponent who was more
+than clever. But the way in which Chambers had torn holes in Brimfield's
+first defence promised poorly for next Saturday and the spectators went
+away from the field feeling a bit less sanguine than a week before. "No
+team that is weak at both guard positions can hope to win," was the
+general verdict, and it was fully realised that Claflin's backs were
+better than Chambers's. For a day or two there was much talk of a
+petition to the faculty asking for the reinstatement of Tom Hall, but it
+progressed no further than talk. Josh, it was known, was not the kind to
+reverse his decision for any reason they could present.
+
+And yet, although the weekly faculty conference on Monday night had no
+written petition to consider, the subject of Tom's reinstatement did
+come before it and in a totally unprecedented manner.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+"GOOD-BYE, TIMMY!"
+
+
+TIM found a dejected and most unsatisfactory chum when he got back to
+the room after the Chambers game that Saturday afternoon. All of Tim's
+demands for an explanation of the whole puzzling affair met only with
+evasion. Don was not only uncommunicative, but a trifle short-tempered,
+a condition quite unusual for him. All Tim could get from him was that
+he "felt perfectly punk" and wasn't going to try to change Mr. Robey's
+decision.
+
+"I'm through," he said. "I don't blame Robey a bit. I'm no use on the
+team as I am. He'd be foolish to bother with me."
+
+"Well, all I can say," returned Tim, with a sigh of exasperation, "is
+that the whole thing is mighty funny. I guess there's more to it than
+you're telling. You look like thirty cents, all right enough, but I'll
+wager anything you like that you could go out there and play just as
+good a game as ever on Monday if Robey would let you and you cared to
+try. Now couldn't you!"
+
+"I don't know. What does it matter, anyhow? I tell you I'm all through,
+and so there's no use chewing it over."
+
+"Oh, all right. Nuff said." Tim walked to the window, his hands thrust
+deep in his pockets, and, after a minute's contemplation of the
+darkening prospect without, observed haltingly: "Look here, Don. If you
+hear things you don't like, don't get up on your ear, eh?"
+
+"What sort of things?" demanded the other.
+
+Tim hesitated a long moment before he took the plunge. Then: "Well, some
+of the fellows don't understand, Don. You can't altogether blame them, I
+suppose. I shut two or three of them up, but there's bound to be some
+talk, you know. Some fellows always manage to think of the meanest
+things possible. But what fellows like that say isn't worth bothering
+about. So just you sit snug, old man. They've already found that they
+can't say that sort of thing when I'm around."
+
+"Thanks," said Don quietly. "What sort of things do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, anything."
+
+"You mean that they're calling me a quitter?"
+
+"Well, some of them heard Robey get that off and they're repeating it
+like a lot of silly parrots. I called Holt down good and hard. Told him
+I'd punch his ugly face if he talked that way again."
+
+"Don't bother," said Don listlessly. "I guess I do look like a quitter,
+all right."
+
+"Piffle! And, hang it all, Robey had no business saying that, Don! He
+couldn't really believe it."
+
+"Why couldn't he? On the face of it, Tim, I'd say that I looked a whole
+lot like a quitter."
+
+"But that's nonsense! Why would you or any fellow want to quit just
+before the Claflin game? Why, all the hard work's done with, man! Only a
+little signal practice to go through with now. Why would you want to
+quit? It's poppycock!"
+
+"Well, some fellows do get cold feet just before the big game. We've
+both known cases of it. Look at----"
+
+"Yes, I know what you're going to say, but that was different. He never
+had any spunk, anyway. Nobody believed in him but Robey, and Robey was
+wrong, just as he is about you. Anyway, all I'm trying to say is that
+there's no use getting waxy if some idiot shoots off his mouth. The
+fellows who really count don't believe you a--a quitter. And the whole
+business will blow over in a couple of days. Look how they talked about
+Tom at first!"
+
+"They didn't call him a quitter, though. They were just mad because he'd
+done a fool thing and lost the team. I wouldn't blame anyone for
+thinking me a--a coward, and I can't resent it if they say it."
+
+"Can't, eh? Well, I can!"
+
+Don smile wanly. "Thought you were telling me not to, Tim."
+
+Tim muttered. There was silence for a minute in the twilit room. Then
+Tim switched on the lights and rolled up his sleeves preparatory to
+washing. "The whole thing's perfectly rotten," he growled, "but we'll
+just have to make the best of it. Ten years from now----"
+
+"Yes, but it isn't ten years from now that troubles me," interrupted Don
+thoughtfully. "It--it's right this minute. And tomorrow and the next
+day. And the day after that. I've a good mind to----"
+
+"To what?" demanded Tim from behind his sponge.
+
+"Nothing. I was just--thinking."
+
+"Well, stop it, then. You weren't intended to think. You always do
+something silly when you get to thinking. Wash up and come on to
+supper."
+
+"I'm not going over tonight," answered Don. "I'm not hungry. And,
+anyway, I don't feel quite like facing it yet."
+
+"Now, look here," began Tim severely, "if you're going to take it like
+that----"
+
+"I'm not, I guess. Only I'd rather not go to supper tonight. I am
+through at the training-table and I funk going back to the other table
+just now. Besides, I'm not the least bit hungry. You run along."
+
+Tim observed him frowningly. "Well, all right. Only if it was me I'd
+take the bull by the horns and see it through. Fellows will talk more if
+you let them see that you give a hang."
+
+"They'll talk enough anyway, I dare say. A little more won't matter."
+
+"I just hope Holt gets gay again," said Tim venomously, shying the towel
+in the general direction of the rack and missing it by a foot. "Want me
+to bring something over to you?"
+
+"No, thanks. I don't want a thing."
+
+"We-ell, I guess I'll beat it then." Tim loitered uncertainly at the
+door. "I say, Donald, old scout, buck up, eh?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I'll be all right, Timmy. Don't you worry about me. And--and
+thanks, you know, for--for calling Holt down."
+
+"Oh, that!" Tim chuckled. "Holt wasn't the only one I called down
+either." Then, realising that he had not helped the situation any by the
+remark, he tried to squirm out of it. "Of course, Holt was _the_ one,
+you know. The others didn't really _say_ anything, or--or mean
+anything----"
+
+Don laughed. "That'll do, Tim. Beat it!"
+
+And Tim, red-faced and confused, "beat it."
+
+For the next five minutes doors in the corridor opened and shut and
+footfalls sounded as the fellows hurried off to Wendell. But I doubt if
+Don heard the sounds, for he was sunk very low in the chair and his eyes
+were fixed intently on space. Presently he drew in his legs, sat up and
+pulled his watch from his pocket. A moment of speculation followed. Then
+he jumped from the chair as one whose mind is at last made up and went
+to his closet. From the recesses he dragged forth his bag and laid it
+open on his bed. From the closet hooks he took down a few garments and
+tossed them beside the bag and then crossed to his dresser and pulled
+open the drawers. Don had decided to accept Coach Robey's title. He was
+going to quit!
+
+There was a train at six-thirty-four and another at seven-one for New
+York. With luck, he could get the first. If he missed that he was
+certain of the second. The dormitory was empty, it was quite dark
+outside by now and there was scarcely a chance of anyone's seeing him.
+If he hurried he could be at the station before Tim could return from
+supper. Or, even if he didn't get away until the seven-one train, he
+would be clear of the hall before Tim could discover his absence and
+surmise the reason for it. To elude Tim was the all-important thing, for
+Tim would never approve and would put all sorts of obstacles in his way.
+In fact, it would be a lot like Tim to hold him back by main force!
+Don's heart sank for a moment. It was going to be frightfully hard to
+leave old Timmy. Perhaps they might meet again at college in a couple of
+years, but they would not be likely to see each other before that time,
+and even that depended on so many things that it couldn't be confidently
+counted on.
+
+Don paused in his hurried selection of articles from the dresser drawers
+and dropped into a chair at the table. But, with the pad before him and
+pen in hand, he shook his head. A note would put Tim wise to what was
+happening and perhaps allow him to get to the station in time to make a
+fuss. No, it would be better to write to him later; perhaps from New
+York tonight, for Don was pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to get a
+through train before morning. So, with another glance at his watch, he
+began to pack again, throwing things in every which-way in his feverish
+desire to complete the task and leave the building before Tim got back.
+He came across a scarf that Tim had admired and laid it back in the top
+drawer. It had never been worn and Tim should have it. And as he hurried
+back and forth he thought of other things he would like Tim to have.
+There was his tennis racket, the one Tim always borrowed when Don wasn't
+using it, and a scarf-pin made of a queer, rough nugget of opal matrix.
+He would tell Tim he was to have those and not to pack them with the
+other things. The thought of making the gifts almost cheered him for
+awhile, and, together with the excitement of running away, caused him to
+hum a little tune under his breath as he jammed the last articles in the
+bag and snapped it shut.
+
+It was sixteen minutes past now. He would, he acknowledged, never be
+able to make the six-thirty-four, with that burden to carry. But the
+seven-one would do quite as well, and he wouldn't have to hurry so. In
+that case, then, why not leave just a few words of good-bye for Tim? He
+could put the note somewhere where Tim wouldn't find it until later;
+tuck it, for instance, under the bed-clothes so that he would find it
+when he pulled them down. He hesitated a moment and then set his bag
+down by the door, dropped his overcoat and umbrella on the bed and
+seated himself again at the table. Tim was never known to take less than
+a half-hour for supper and he still had a good ten minutes' leeway:
+
+          "Dear Timmy [he wrote hurriedly], I'm off. It's no
+          use sticking around any longer. Fellows aren't
+          going to forget as soon as you said and I can't
+          stay on here and be thought a quitter. So I'm
+          taking the seven-one to New York and will be home
+          day after tomorrow. I wish you would pack my
+          things up for me when you get time. There isn't
+          any great hurry. I've got enough for awhile.
+          You're to keep the racket and the blue and white
+          tie and the opal matrix pin and anything else you
+          like to remember me by. Please do this, Tim. I'll
+          write from home and tell you about sending the
+          trunk. I'm awfully sorry, Tim, and I'm going to
+          miss you like anything, but I shan't ever come
+          back here. Maybe we will get together again at
+          college. I hope so. You try, will you? Good-bye,
+          Tim, old pal. We've had some dandy times together,
+          haven't we? And you've been an A1 chum to me and I
+          wish I wasn't going off without saying good-bye to
+          you decently. But I've got to. So good-bye, Timmy,
+          old man. Think of me now and then like I will of
+          you. Good-bye.
+
+                                      "Your friend always,
+                                                      "DON."
+
+That note took longer to write than he had counted on, and when he got
+up from the table and looked at his watch he was alarmed to find that it
+was almost half-past six. He folded the paper and tucked it just under
+the clothes at the head of Tim's bed, took a last glance about the room,
+picked up coat and umbrella and turned out the light. Then he strode
+toward the door, groping for his bag.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+FRIENDS FALL OUT
+
+
+TIM didn't enjoy supper very much that evening. The game had left him
+pretty weary of body and mind, and on top of that was Don and his
+trouble, and try as he might he couldn't get them out of his thoughts.
+Mr. Robey was not at table; someone said he had gone to New York for
+over Sunday; and so Tim didn't have to make a pretence of eating more
+than he wanted. And he wanted very little. A slice of cold roast beef,
+rather too rare to please him, about an eighth of one of the inevitable
+baked potatoes, a few sips of milk and a corner of a slice of toast as
+hard as a shingle, and Tim was more than satisfied. Tonight he was not
+especially interested in the talk, which, as usual after a game, was all
+football, and didn't see any good reason for sitting there after he had
+finished and listening to it. All during his brief meal he was on the
+alert for any mention of Don's name, and more than once he glared,
+almost encouragingly, at Holt. But Holt had already learned his lesson
+and was doing very little talking, and none at all about Don. Nor was
+the absent player's name mentioned by anyone at that table, although
+what might be being said of him at the other Tim had no way of knowing.
+He stayed on a few minutes after he had finished, eyeing the apple-sauce
+and graham crackers coldly, and then asked Steve Edwards to excuse him.
+
+"Off his feed," remarked Carmine as Tim passed down the dining hall on
+his way out. "First time I ever saw old Tim have nerves."
+
+"It's Don Gilbert, probably," said Clint Thayer. "They're great pals.
+Tim's worried about him, I guess."
+
+"What do you make of it, Steve?" asked Crewe, helping himself to a third
+slice of meat.
+
+"What is there to make of it?" asked Steve carelessly. "The chap's all
+out of shape, I suppose. I don't know what his trouble is, but I guess
+he's a goner for this year."
+
+"It's awfully funny, isn't it?" asked Rollins. "Gilbert always struck me
+as an awfully plucky player."
+
+"Has anyone said he isn't?" inquired Clint quietly.
+
+"N-no, no, of course not!" Rollins flushed. "I didn't mean anything like
+that, Clint. Only I don't see----"
+
+"He hasn't been looking very fit lately," offered Harry Walton. "I
+noticed it two or three days ago. Too bad!"
+
+"Yes, you're feeling perfectly wretched about it, I guess," said big
+Thursby drily, causing a smile around the table. Walton shrugged and
+rewarded the speaker with one of his smiles that were always
+unfortunately like leers.
+
+"Oh, I can feel sorry for him," said Walton, "even if I do get his
+place. Gilbert gave me an awfully good fight for it."
+
+"Oh, was there a fight?" asked Thursby innocently. "I didn't notice
+any."
+
+Thursby got a real laugh this time and Harry Walton joined in to save
+his face, but with no very good grace.
+
+"If anyone has an idea that Don Gilbert is scared and quit for that
+reason," observed St. Clair, "he'd better keep it to himself. Or,
+anyhow, he'd better not air it when Tim is about. He nearly bit my head
+off in the gym because I said that Don was a chump to give up like this
+a week before the Claflin game. Tim flared up like--like a gasoline
+torch and wanted to fight! I didn't mean a thing by my innocent remark,
+but I had the dickens of a time trying to prove it to Tim! And he almost
+jumped into you, too, didn't he, Holt?"
+
+"Yes, he did, the touchy beggar! You all heard what Robey said, and----"
+
+"I didn't hear," interrupted Steve, "and----"
+
+"Why, he said----"
+
+"And, as I was about to remark, Holt, I don't want to. And it will be
+just as decent for those who did hear to forget. Robey says lots of
+things he doesn't mean or believe. Perhaps that was one of them. I'm for
+Don. If he says he's sick, he is sick. You've all seen him play for two
+years and you ought to know that there isn't a bit of yellow anywhere in
+his make-up."
+
+"That's so," agreed several, and others nodded, Holt amongst them.
+
+"I didn't say he was a quitter, Steve. I was only repeating what Robey
+said, and Tim happened to hear me. Gee, I like Don as well as any of
+you. Gee, didn't I play a whole year with him on the second?"
+
+"Gee, you did indeed!" replied Crewe, and, laughing, the fellows pushed
+back their chairs and left the table.
+
+Tim didn't hurry on his way along the walk to Billings, for he was
+earnestly trying to think of some scheme that would take Don's mind off
+his trouble that evening. Perhaps he could get Don to take a good, long
+walk. Walking always worked wonders in his own case when, as very
+infrequently happened, he had a fit of the blues. Yes, he would propose
+a walk, he told himself. And then he groaned at the thought of it, for
+he was very tired and he ached in a large number of places!
+
+Only a few windows were lighted in Billings as he approached it, for
+most of the fellows were still in dining hall and the rule requiring the
+turning out of lights during absence from rooms was strictly enforced.
+Only the masters were exempted, and Tim noticed as he passed Mr. Daley's
+study that the droplight was turned low by one of those cunning dimming
+attachments which Tim had always envied the instructor the possession
+of. Tim would have had one of those long ago could he have put it to any
+practical use. He passed through the doorway and down the dimly lighted
+corridor, the rubber-soled shoes which he affected in all seasons making
+little sound. He was surprised to see that no light showed through the
+transom of Number 6, and he paused outside the door a moment. Perhaps
+Don was asleep. In that case, it would be just as well to not disturb
+him. But, on the other hand, he might be just sitting there in the dark
+being miserable. Tim turned the knob and pushed the door open.
+
+The light from the corridor and the fact that Don had stopped startledly
+at the sound of the turning knob prevented an actual collision between
+them. Tim, pushing the door slowly shut behind him, viewed Don
+questioningly. "Hello," he said, "where are you going?"
+
+"For a walk," replied Don.
+
+"Why the coat and umbrella? And--oh, I see!" Tim's glance took in the
+bag and comprehension dawned. "So that's it, eh?"
+
+There was an instant of silence during which Tim closed the door and
+leaned against it, hands in pockets and a thoughtful scowl on his face.
+Finally:
+
+"Yes, that's it," said Don defiantly. "I'm off for home."
+
+"What's the big idea?"
+
+"You know well enough, Tim. I--I'm not going to stay here and be--be
+pointed out as a quitter. I'm----"
+
+"Wait a sec! What are you doing now but quitting, you several sorts of a
+blind mule? Think you're helping things any by--by running away? Don't
+be a chump, Donald."
+
+"That's all well enough for you. It isn't your funeral. I don't care
+what they say about me if I don't have to hear it. I'm sorry, Tim,
+but--but I've just got to do it. I--there's a note for you in your bed.
+I didn't expect you'd be back before I left."
+
+"I'll bet you didn't, son!" said Tim grimly. "Now let me tell you
+something, Don. You're acting like a baby, that's what you're doing!
+It's all fine enough to say that you don't care what fellows say as long
+as you don't hear it, but you don't mean it, Don. You would care. And so
+would I. If you don't want them to think you a quitter, for the love of
+mud don't run away like--like one!"
+
+"I've thought of all that, Tim, but it's the only thing to do."
+
+"The only thing to do, your grandmother! The thing to do is to stick
+around and show folks that you're _not_ a quitter. Don't you see that
+getting out is the one thing that'll make them believe Robey was right?"
+
+"Oh, I dare say, but I've made up my mind, Tim. I'm going to get that
+seven-one train, old man, and I'll have to beat it. If you want to walk
+along to the station with me----"
+
+"And carry your bag?" asked Tim sweetly. He turned the key in the lock
+and then dropped it in his pocket. Don took a stride forward, but was
+met by Tim's challenging frown. "There's no seven-one train for you
+tonight, Donald," said Tim quietly, "nor any other night. Put your bag
+down, old dear, and hang your overcoat back in the closet."
+
+[Illustration: "Will you unlock that door?" Demanded Don angrily]
+
+"Don't act like a silly ass," begged Don. "Put that key back and let me
+out, Tim!"
+
+"Yes, I will--like fun! The only way you'll get that key will be by
+taking it out of my pocket, and by the time you do that the seven-one
+train will be half-way to the city."
+
+"Please, Tim! You're not acting like a good chum! Just you think----"
+
+"That's just what I am acting like," returned Tim, stepping past the
+other and switching on the lights. "And you'll acknowledge it tomorrow.
+Just now you're sort of crazy in the head. I'll humour you as much as
+possible, Donald, but not to the extent of letting you make a perfect
+chump of yourself. Sit down and behave."
+
+"Tim, I want that key," said Don sternly.
+
+Tim shrugged. "Can't have it, Don, unless you fight for it. And I'm not
+sure you'd get it then. Now look here----"
+
+"You've no right to keep me here!"
+
+"I don't give a hang whether I've got the right or not. You're going to
+stay here."
+
+"There are other trains," said Don coldly. "You can't keep that door
+locked forever."
+
+"I don't intend to try, but it'll stay locked until the last train
+tonight has whistled for the crossing back there. Make up your mind to
+that, son!"
+
+Don looked irresolutely from Tim to the door and back again. He didn't
+want to fight Tim the least bit in the world. He wasn't so sure now that
+he wanted to get that train, either. But, having stated his purpose, he
+felt it encumbent on him to carry it out. Then his gaze fell on the
+windows and he darted toward them.
+
+But Tim had already thought of that way of escape and before Don had
+traversed half the distance from door to windows Tim had planted himself
+resolutely in the way. "No you don't, Donald," he said calmly. "You'll
+have to lick me first, boy, and I'm feeling quite some scrappy!"
+
+"I don't want to lick you," said Don irritably, "but I mean to get that
+train. You'd better either give up that key or stand out of my way,
+Tim."
+
+"Neither, thanks. And, look here, if we get to scrapping Horace will
+hear us and then you won't get away in any case. Be sensible, Don, and
+give it up. It can't be done, old man."
+
+"Will you unlock that door?" demanded Don angrily.
+
+"No, confound you, I won't!"
+
+"Then I'm going out by the window!"
+
+"And I say you're not." Tim swiftly peeled off his coat. "Anyway, not in
+time to get that train."
+
+Don dropped his bag to the floor and tossed overcoat and umbrella on his
+bed. "I've given you fair warning, Tim," he said in a low voice. "I
+don't want to hurt you, but you'd better stand aside."
+
+"I don't want to get hurt, Don," replied the other quietly, "but if you
+insist, all right. I'm doing what I'd want you to do, Don, if I went
+crazy in the head. You may not like it now, but some day you'll tell me
+I did right."
+
+"You're acting like a fool," answered Don hotly. "It's no business of
+yours if I want to get out of here. Now you let me pass, or it'll be the
+worse for you!"
+
+"Don, will you listen to reason? Sit down calmly for five minutes and
+let's talk this thing over. Will you do that?"
+
+"No! And I won't be dictated to by you, Tim Otis! Now get out of the
+way!"
+
+"You'll have to put me out," answered Tim with set jaw. "And you're
+going to find that hard work, Donald. We're both going to get horribly
+mussed up, and----"
+
+But Tim didn't finish his remark, for at that instant Don rushed him.
+Tim met the onslaught squarely and in a second they were struggling
+silently. No blows were struck. Don was bent only on getting the other
+out of the way and making his escape through the open window there,
+while Tim was equally resolved that he should do nothing of the sort. In
+spite of Don's superior weight, the two boys were fairly equally
+matched, and for a minute or two they strained and tussled without
+advantage to either. Then Tim, his arms wrapped around Don's body like
+iron bands, forced the latter back a step and against a chair which went
+crashing to the floor. Don tore at the encircling arms, panting.
+
+"I don't--want to--hurt you," he muttered, "but--I will--if you
+don't--let go!"
+
+There was no answer from Tim, but the grip didn't relax. Don worked a
+hand under the other's chin and tried to force his head back. Tim gave a
+little and they collided with the window-seat, stumbled and slid
+together to the floor, Don on top. For a moment they writhed and
+thrashed and then Don worked his right arm loose, slowly tore Tim's
+left hand away and held it down to the floor.
+
+"Let go or I'll punch you, Tim," he panted.
+
+"Punch--ahead!"
+
+Don strained until he felt Tim's other hand giving, and then, with a
+sudden fling of his body, rolled clear and jumped to his feet. But Tim
+was only an instant behind him and, panting and dishevelled, the two
+boys confronted each other, silent.
+
+"I'm going out there," said Don after a moment.
+
+Tim only shook his head and smiled crookedly.
+
+"I am, Tim, and--and you mustn't try to stop me this time!"
+
+"I've--got to, Don!"
+
+"I'm giving you fair warning!"
+
+"I know."
+
+Don took a deeper breath and stepped forward. "Don't touch me!" he
+warned. But Tim was once more in his path, hands stretched to clutch and
+hold. "Out of my way, Tim! Fair warning!" Don's face was white and his
+eyes blazing.
+
+"No!" whispered Tim, and crouched.
+
+Then Don went on again. Tim threw himself in the way, a fist shot out
+and Tim, with a grunt, went back against the pillows and slipped
+heavily to the floor.
+
+Don's hands fell to his sides and he stared bewilderedly. Then, with a
+groan, he dropped to his knees and raised Tim's head from the floor.
+"Gee, but I'm sorry, Timmy!" he stammered. "I didn't mean to do it,
+honest! I was crazy, I guess! Timmy, are you all right!"
+
+Tim's eyes, half-closed, fluttered, he drew a deep breath and his head
+rolled over against Don's arm.
+
+"Timmy!" cried Don anxiously. "_Timmy!_ Don't you hear me! I didn't hit
+you awfully hard, Timmy!"
+
+Tim sighed. "What--time is it?" he murmured.
+
+"Time? Never mind the time. Are you all right, Tim?"
+
+Tim opened his eyes and grinned weakly. "Hear the birdies sing, Don! It
+was a lovely punch! Help me up, will you?"
+
+Don lifted him to the window-seat. "I'm horribly sorry, Tim," he said
+abjectedly. "I--I didn't know what I was doing, chum! I wish--I wish
+you'd hand me one, Tim! Go on, will you?"
+
+Tim laughed weakly. "It's all right, Donald. Just give me a minute to
+get my breath. Gee, things certainly spun around there for a second!"
+
+"Where'd I hit you?"
+
+"Right on the point of the jaw." Tim felt of the place gingerly. "No
+harm done, though. It just sort of--jarred me a bit. What time is it?"
+
+Don glanced at the tin alarm clock on his dresser. "Ten of seven," he
+answered. "What's that got to do with it?"
+
+"Well, you can't make the seven-one now, Donald, unless you fly all the
+way, can you?"
+
+"Oh!" said Don, rather blankly. "I--I'd forgotten!"
+
+"Good thing," muttered Tim. "Wish you'd forgotten before! If anyone ever
+tells you you're a nice good-natured, even-tempered chap, Don, don't you
+believe him. You send 'em to me!"
+
+"I didn't know I could lose my temper like that," replied the other
+shamefacedly. "Timmy, I'm most awfully sorry about it. You believe that,
+don't you?"
+
+"Sure!" Tim laughed. "But I'll bet you're not half as sorry as you would
+have been tomorrow if I'd let you go! Don, you're an awful ass, now
+aren't you?"
+
+Don nodded. "I guess I am, Timmy. And you're a--a brick, old man!"
+
+"Huh! Any more trains to New York tonight?"
+
+"There's one at twelve-something," answered Don, with a grin.
+
+"Thinking of catching it?"
+
+"Not a bit!"
+
+"All right then." Tim dug in his pocket and then tossed the door-key
+beside him on the cushion. "Better unpack your bag, you silly ass. Then
+we'll go out and get some air. I sort of need it!"
+
+Some three hours later Tim, tossing back his bed-clothes, exclaimed:
+"Hello! What have we here?"
+
+"That's just a note I wrote you," said Don hurriedly. "Hand it here,
+Tim."
+
+"I should say not! I'm going to read it!"
+
+"No, please, Tim! It's just about two or three things I was going to
+leave you! Hand it over, like a good chap!"
+
+"Something you were going to leave me?" said Tim as he let Don wrest the
+sheet of paper from him. "Oh, I see. Well,"--he felt carefully of the
+lump on his chin--"I guess you left me enough as it is, dearie!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+AMY APPEARS FOR THE DEFENCE
+
+
+PRACTICE on Monday was a wretched affair. To be sure, many of the
+fellows who had played in the Chambers game had been excused, but that
+didn't account for the fact that those who did take part went at their
+work as if half asleep. Both McPhee and Cotter failed to get any life
+into the first, and the second, while it, too, seemed to have taken part
+in the general slump, managed to score twice while the first was with
+difficulty wresting three touchdowns from its opponent. Mr. Robey
+shouted himself red in the face, Steve Edwards, who followed practice,
+pleaded and exhorted, and a stocky, broad-shouldered, bearded individual
+who made his appearance that afternoon for the first time frowned and
+shook his head, and all to small purpose. The players accepted scoldings
+and insults as a donkey accepts blows, untroubledly, apathetically, and
+jogged on at their own pace, guilty of all the sins of commission and
+omission in the football decalogue.
+
+There was much curiosity about the newcomer and many opinions as to his
+identity were hazarded on the bench that afternoon. It was quite evident
+that he was a football authority, for Coach Robey consulted him at times
+all during practice. And it was equally evident that they were close
+friends, since the stranger was on one occasion seen to smite the head
+coach most familiarly between the shoulders! But who he was and what he
+was doing there remained a secret until after supper. Then it became
+known that his name was Proctor, Doctor George G. Proctor, that he was a
+practising physician some place in the Middle West and that he was
+visiting Coach Robey. But that was unsatisfactory data and some
+enterprising youth hunted back in the football records and, lo, the
+mystery was explained. Eight years before "Gus" Proctor had played
+tackle on the Princeton eleven and in his junior and senior years had
+been honoured with a position on the All-American Team. Subsequently he
+had coached at a college in Ohio and had put said college on the map.
+Now, having stolen away from home to see Princeton and Yale play next
+Saturday, he was staying for a day or two with Mr. Robey. After that
+became generally known Doctor Proctor was gazed at with a new respect
+whenever he appeared on field or campus.
+
+Don and Tim went up to Number 12 that night after supper to call on Tom
+Hall. Tim was having hard work making Don face the music. If Don could
+have had his way he would have kept to himself, but Tim insisted on
+dragging him around. "Just keep a firm upper lip, Donald," he
+counselled, "and show the fellows that there's nothing in it. That's the
+only way to do. If you keep skulking off by yourself they'll think
+you're ashamed."
+
+"So I am," muttered Don.
+
+"You're not, either! You've done nothing to be ashamed of! Keep that in
+mind, you silly It. Now come along and we'll go up and jolly Tom a bit."
+
+Steve Edwards was not at home, but Amy Byrd was enthroned on the
+window-seat when they entered in response to Tom's invitation, and Amy
+had evidently been holding forth very seriously on some subject.
+
+"Don't mind us," said Tim. "Go ahead, Amy, and get it off your chest."
+
+"Hello," said Amy. "Hello, Don, old man. Haven't seen you for an age.
+Make yourselves at home. Never mind Tom, he's only the host. How did you
+like the practice today, Tim?"
+
+"I didn't see it, but I heard enough about it. It must have been
+fierce!"
+
+"It was perfectly punk," growled Tom. "I should think Robey would want
+to throw up his hands and quit!"
+
+"Did you see it, Don?" asked Amy.
+
+"No, I didn't go over. What was the trouble?"
+
+"Well, I'm no expert," replied Amy, taking his knees into his arms and
+rocking gently back and forth on the seat, "but I'd say in my ignorant
+way that someone had unkindly put sleeping-potions in the milk at
+training-table! The only fellow who seemed to have his eyes more than
+half open was McPhee. Mac showed signs of life at long intervals. The
+rest sort of stumbled around in their sleep. I think Peters actually
+snored."
+
+"Oh, we're going to get a fine old drubbing next Saturday," said Tom
+pessimistically. "And what a fine exhibition for that chap Proctor! I'll
+bet Robey could have kicked the whole team all the way back to the gym.
+He looked as though it would have done him a world of good to have a try
+at it!"
+
+"Oh, well, these things happen," said Tim cheerfully. "It's only a
+slump. We'll get over it."
+
+"Slump be blowed!" said Tom. "This is a fine time to slump, five days
+before the game!"
+
+"I know that, too, but there's no use howling about it. What we need,
+Tom, is to have you get back there at right guard, old man."
+
+"That's what I've been saying," exclaimed Amy earnestly. "I want Tom to
+go to Josh and ask him to let him play, but he won't. Says it wouldn't
+be any good. You don't know whether it would or not, Tom, until you try
+it. Look here, Josh doesn't want us to get beaten Saturday any more than
+we want it ourselves, and if you sort of put it up to him like that----"
+
+"I'd look well, wouldn't I?" laughed Tom. "Telling Josh that unless he
+let me off pro the team would get licked! Gee, that's some modest, isn't
+it?"
+
+"You don't have to put it like that," replied Amy impatiently. "Be--be
+diplomatic. Tell him----"
+
+"What we ought to do," interrupted Tim, "is get up a petition and have
+everyone sign it."
+
+"I thought of that, too," said Amy, "but this dunder-headed Turk won't
+stand for even that."
+
+"Why not, Tom?" asked Don.
+
+"Because."
+
+"And after that?" asked Amy sweetly.
+
+"Well, look here, you chaps." Tom scowled intently for a moment. "Look
+here. It's this way. Josh put a bunch of us on pro, didn't he? Well,
+what right have I to go and ask to be let off just because I happen to
+be a football man? You don't suppose those other fellows like it any
+better than I do, do you?"
+
+"Oh, forget that! I'm one of them, and I'm having the time of my life.
+It's been the making of me, Tom. I'm getting so blamed full of learning
+that I'll be able to loaf all the rest of the year; live on my income,
+so to say." And Amy beamed proudly.
+
+"That's all right," answered Tom doggedly, "but I don't intend to
+cry-baby. I'm just as much in it as any of you. If Josh wants to let us
+all off, all right, but I'm not going to ask for a--a special
+dispensation!"
+
+"You don't need to," said Tim. "Let the fellows do it. That has nothing
+to do with you. What's to keep us from going ahead and getting up a
+petition?"
+
+"Because I ask you not to," replied Tom simply. "It's only fair that we
+should all be punished alike."
+
+"But you're not," said Don.
+
+"We're not? Why aren't we?" asked Tom in surprise.
+
+"Because you're getting it harder than Amy and Harry Westcott and the
+others," answered Don quietly. "They aren't barred from any sport, and
+you are."
+
+"By Jove, that's a fact!" exclaimed Amy.
+
+"But--but we all got the same sentence," protested Tom.
+
+"I know you did, but"--Don smiled--"put it like this. I hate parsnips;
+can't bear them. Suppose you and I were punished for something we'd done
+by being made to eat parsnips three times a day for--for a month! You
+like them, don't you? Well, who'd get the worst of that? The sentence
+would be the same, but the--the punishment would be a heap worse for me,
+wouldn't it?"
+
+"'Father was right'!" said Tim.
+
+"Oh, father never spoke a truer word!" cried Amy, jumping up from the
+window-seat. "That settles it, Tom! Get some paper, Tim, and we'll write
+that petition this minute and I'll guarantee to get fifty signatures
+before ten o'clock!"
+
+"You'll do nothing of the sort," said Tom stubbornly. "Don talks like a
+lawyer, all right, but he's all wrong. And, anyway, I'm out of football
+and I'm going to stay out for this year. I've quit training and I
+probably couldn't play if Josh said I might. So that----"
+
+"Oh, piffle," said Amy. "Quit training! Everyone knows you never quit
+training, Tom. You could go out there tomorrow and play as good a game
+as you ever did. Don't talk like a sick duck!"
+
+"There's no reason why I should play, though. Pryme's putting up a bully
+game----"
+
+"Pryme is doing the best he knows how," said Tim, "but Pryme can't play
+guard as you can, Tom, and he never will, and you know it! Now have a
+grain of sense, won't you? Just sit tight and let us put this thing
+through. There isn't a fellow in school who won't be tickled to death to
+sign that petition, and I'll bet you anything you like that Josh will be
+just as tickled to say yes to it. Whatever you say about Josh Fernald,
+you've got to hand it to him for being fair and square, Tom."
+
+"Josh is all right, sure. I haven't said anything against him, have I?
+But I won't stand for any petition, fellows, so you might as well get
+that out of your heads. Besides, my being on the team or off it isn't
+going to make a half of one per cent's difference next Saturday."
+
+There was silence in the room for a moment. Then Amy went dejectedly
+back to the window-seat and threw himself on it at full length. "I think
+you might, Tom," he said finally, "if only on my account!"
+
+"Why on your account?" laughed Tom.
+
+"Because I'm the guy that got you all into the mess, that's why. And
+I've felt good and mean about it ever since. And now, when we think up a
+perfectly good way to--to undo the mischief I made, you act like a mule.
+Think what a relief it would be to my conscience, Tom, if you got off
+pro and went back and played against Claflin!"
+
+"I don't care a continental about your conscience, Amy. In fact I never
+knew before that you had one!"
+
+"I've got a very nice one, thanks. It's well-trained, too. It----" Amy's
+voice trailed off into silence and for the next five minutes or so he
+took no part in the conversation, but just laid on the cushions and
+stared intently at the ceiling. Then, suddenly, he thumped his feet to
+the floor and reached for his cap.
+
+"What time is it?" he demanded.
+
+"Most eight," said Tim. "We'd better beat it."
+
+"What time----" began Amy. Then he stopped, pulled his cap on his head
+and literally hurled himself across the room and through the door,
+leaving the others to gaze at each other amazedly.
+
+"Well, what's wrong with him?" gasped Tim.
+
+"He's got something in that crazy head of his," answered Tom uneasily.
+"Don't let him start that petition business, Tim, will you? I don't want
+to seem mean or anything, you know, but I'd rather let things be as they
+are. Come up again, fellows. And maybe today's showing doesn't mean
+anything, Tim, just as you said. We'll hope so, eh?"
+
+Faculty conferences took place on Monday evenings at half-past seven in
+the faculty meeting room in Main Hall. At such times, with the
+principal, Mr. Fernald, presiding at the end of the long table and all
+members of the faculty able to attend ranged on either side, all and
+sundry matters pertaining to the government of the school came up for
+discussion. The business portion of the conference was followed by an
+informal half-hour of talk, during which many of the students were
+subjected to a dissection that would have surprised them vastly had they
+known of it. Tonight, however, the executive session was still going on
+and Mr. Brooke, the secretary, was still making notes at the foot of the
+table, when there came a rap at the door.
+
+Mr. Fernald nodded to Mr. Brooke. "See who it is, please," he said.
+
+The secretary laid down his pen very carefully on the clean square of
+blue blotting-paper before him, pushed back his chair and opened the
+door a few inches. When he turned around his countenance expressed a
+sort of pained disapprobation. "It's Byrd, sir," announced Mr. Brooke in
+a low, shocked voice. "He says he'd like to speak to you."
+
+"Byrd? Well, tell him I'm busy," replied the principal. "If he wants to
+wait I'll see him after the conference. Although"--Mr. Fernald glanced
+at the clock--"it's only four minutes to eight and he'd better get back
+to his room. Tell him I'll see him at the Cottage at nine, Mr. Brooke.
+As I was saying," and Mr. Fernald faced the company again, "I think it
+would be well to arrange for a longer course this Winter. Last year, as
+you'll recall---- Eh? What is it?"
+
+"He says, sir, that it's a faculty matter," announced Mr. Brooke
+deprecatingly, "and asks to be allowed to come in for a minute."
+
+"A faculty matter? Well, in that case----All right, Mr. Brooke, tell him
+to come in."
+
+As Amy entered eight pairs of eyes regarded him curiously; nine, in
+fact, for Mr. Brooke, closing the door softly behind the visitor, gazed
+at him in questioning disapproval.
+
+"Well, Byrd, what can we do for you?" Mr. Fernald smiled, doubtless with
+the wish to dispel embarrassment. But he needn't have troubled about
+that, for Amy didn't look or act in the least embarrassed. "I'm afraid,"
+continued the principal, "that I can't offer you a chair, for we're
+rather busy just now. What was it you wanted to speak of?"
+
+"I guess it looks pretty cheeky, sir, for me to butt in here," replied
+Amy, with a smile, "but it's rather important, sir, and--and if
+anything's to be done about it it'll have to be done tonight."
+
+"Really? Well, it does sound important. Suppose you tell us about it,
+Byrd."
+
+"Thank you, sir." Amy paused, gathering his words in order. "It's this,
+Mr. Fernald: when we fellows were put on pro--probation, I mean, it was
+intended that we should all get the same punishment, wasn't it, sir?"
+
+"Let me see, that was the affair of---- Ah, yes, I recall it. Why, yes,
+Byrd, naturally it was meant to treat you all alike. What complaint have
+you?"
+
+"It isn't exactly a complaint, sir. But it's this way. There were nine
+of us altogether. It was my fault in the first place because I put them
+up to it. They'd never thought of it if I hadn't." Amy glanced at Mr.
+Moller. "It was a pretty silly piece of business, sir, and we got what
+we deserved. But--but none of us meant to--to hurt anyone's feelings,
+sir. It was just a lark. We didn't think that----"
+
+"We'll allow that, Byrd. Please get down to the purpose of this unusual
+visit," said Mr. Fernald drily.
+
+"Yes, sir. Well, eight of us it doesn't matter so much about. We aren't
+football men and being on probation doesn't cut so much--I mean it
+doesn't matter so much. But Tom Hall's a football man, sir, and it's
+different for him. This is his last year here and losing his place on
+the team was hard lines. That's what I'm trying to get at, sir. You
+meant that we were all to be punished the same, but we weren't. It's
+just about twice as hard on Tom as it is on the rest of us. You see
+that, sir, don't you?"
+
+There was a moment of silence and then Mr. Simkins coughed. Or did he
+chuckle? Amy couldn't tell. But the principal dropped his eyes and
+tapped his blotter with the tip of the pencil he held. At last:
+
+"That's a novel point of view, Byrd," he said. "There may be something
+in it. But I must remind you that the Law--and the faculty stands for
+the Law here--takes no cognisance of conditions existing--hem!" Mr.
+Fernald glanced doubtfully down the table. "Perhaps it should, though.
+We'll pass that question for the moment. What is it you suggest, Byrd?"
+
+"Well, sir, the team's in punk shape. It was awful today. It needs Tom,
+sir; needs him awfully. I don't say that we'll beat Claflin if he should
+play, Mr. Fernald, but I'm mighty sure we won't if he doesn't. And it
+seemed to me that maybe you and the other faculty members hadn't thought
+of how much harder you were giving it to Tom than to the rest of us, and
+that if you did know, realise it, sir, you'd maybe consider that he'd
+had about enough and let him off so he might play Saturday. The rest of
+us haven't any kick coming, sir. It's just Tom. And he doesn't know that
+I'm here, either. We tried to get him to let us petition faculty, but he
+wouldn't. He said he was going to take the same punishment as the rest
+of us."
+
+"Then he doesn't agree with your contention, Byrd?"
+
+"Oh, he sees I'm right, Mr. Fernald, but he--he's obstinate!"
+
+Mr. Fernald smiled, as did most of the others.
+
+"Byrd, I think you ought to take a law course," said the principal. "I
+might answer you as I started to by pointing out that it is no business
+of ours whether a punishment is going to hit one fellow harder than
+another; that just because it might should make that one fellow more
+careful not to transgress. But you've taken the wind out of my sails by
+getting me to testify that we intended the punishment to be the same for
+all. You've put us in a difficult place, Byrd. If we should lift
+probation in Hall's case it would seem that we had different laws for
+team members than for boys unconnected with athletics. You've made a
+very eloquent plea, but I don't just see----" Mr. Fernald hesitated.
+Then: "Possibly someone has some suggestion," he added, and it seemed to
+Amy that his gaze rested on Mr. Moller for an instant.
+
+At all events it was the new member of the faculty who spoke. "If I
+might, sir," he said hesitatingly, "I'd like to make the suggestion that
+probation be lifted from all. It seems to me that that would--would
+simplify things, Mr. Fernald."
+
+"Hm. Yes. Possibly. As the target of the extremely vulgar proceeding,
+Mr. Moller, the suggestion coming from you bears weight. Byrd, you'd
+better get to your studies. You'll learn our decision in the morning.
+Your action is commendable, my boy, and we'll take that into
+consideration also. Good-night."
+
+"Good-night, sir. Good-night, sirs. Thank you."
+
+Amy retired unhurriedly, unembarrassedly, and with dignity, as befitted
+one who had opened the eyes of Authority to the error of its ways!
+
+The next morning Mr. Fernald announced in chapel that at the request of
+Mr. Moller, and in consideration of good behaviour, the faculty had
+voted to lift probation from the following students: Hall----
+
+But just there the applause began and the other eight names were not
+heard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE DOCTOR TELLS A STORY
+
+
+TUESDAY, with the return of all first-string players to the line-up and
+the appearance of Tom Hall once more at right guard, practice went about
+a hundred per cent better, and those who turned out to watch it went
+back to the campus considerably encouraged. The showing of the team
+naturally had an effect on the spirit of the mass meeting that evening.
+Ever since the Southby game the school had been holding meetings and
+"getting up steam" for the Claflin contest, but they had been tame
+affairs in contrast with tonight's. Brimfield was football-crazy now,
+for the Big Game loomed enormous but four days away. Fellows read
+football in the papers, talked football and, some of them, dreamed
+football. The news from Claflin was read and discussed eagerly. The
+fortunes of the rival eleven were watched just as closely as those of
+the home team. When a Claflin player wrenched an ankle Brimfield gasped
+excitedly. When it was published that Cox, of the blue team, had dropped
+fourteen goals out of twenty tries from the thirty-five-yard line and
+at a severe angle, depression prevailed at Brimfield. The news that the
+Claflin scrubs had held the first to only one touchdown in thirty
+minutes of play sent Brimfield's spirits soaring! Fellows neglected
+lessons brazenly and during that week of the final battle there was a
+scholastic slump that would undoubtedly have greatly alarmed the faculty
+if the latter, rendered wise by experience, hadn't expected it.
+
+The first team players were excused from study hour subsequent to Monday
+in order that they might attend blackboard lectures and signal drills in
+the gymnasium. On Tuesday night, after an hour's session, and in
+response to public clamour, they filed onto the platform just before the
+meeting was to begin at nine-fifteen and, somewhat embarrassedly, seated
+themselves in the chairs arranged across the back. Mr. Fernald was
+there, and Mr. Conklin, the athletic director, and Coaches Robey and
+Boutelle, and Trainer Danny Moore, and Manager Morton and Childers,
+captain of the baseball team. And Steve Payne was at the piano. Also,
+sitting beside Mr. Robey, was Doctor Proctor.
+
+Childers, who was cheer leader that Fall, presided, and, after the
+assemblage had clapped and shouted "A-a-ay!" as each newcomer appeared
+on the platform, opened proceedings with the School Song. Then Mr.
+Fernald spoke briefly, Captain Edwards followed, each being cheered
+loudly and long, and Childers introduced Mr. Robey. "What we are all
+anxious to know tonight," said Childers, "is whether we're going to win
+next Saturday. Mr. Fernald has said that he _hopes_ we shall, Captain
+Edwards has said that he _thinks_ we shall, and now we're going to hear
+from the only one who _knows_! Fellows, a long cheer for Mr. Robey, and
+make it good! Are you all ready? Now then! One--two--three!"
+
+"Brimfield! Brimfield! Brimfield! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah,
+rah, rah! Brimfield! Brimfield! Brimfield! Robey!"
+
+When the cheering, and the shouting and clapping and stamping that
+followed for good measure, had quieted down, Mr. Robey said: "Fellows,
+Captain Childers is much too flattering. I'm not gifted with
+second-sight, even if he thinks so. I don't know any more than he does
+or you do whether we're going to win on Saturday. Like Mr. Fernald, I
+_hope_ we are and, like Captain Edwards, I _think_ we are." Cheers
+interrupted then. "But I don't want to make any prediction. I'll say one
+thing, though, and that is this: If the team plays the way it _can_
+play, if it makes full use of the ability that's in it, there's only one
+thing that can happen, and that's a Brimfield victory! I've got every
+reason to expect that the team _will_ do its utmost, and that is why I
+say that I think we'll win. We must remember that we're going up against
+a strong team, a team that in some ways has shown itself so far this
+season our superior. I don't say that the Claflin eleven is any better
+than ours. I don't _think_ so, not for a moment. Our team this Fall is
+as good as last year's team. We've had our little upsets; we always do;
+but we've come down to practically the eve of the game in good shape.
+Every fellow has done his best and, I am firmly convinced, is going to
+do a little better than his best on Saturday afternoon. And that little
+better is what will decide the game, fellows. After the coaches have
+done their part and the players have toiled hard and earnestly and
+enthusiastically, why then it all comes down to _fight_! And so it's
+fight that's going to win the game.
+
+"You fellows must do your part, though. You must be right back of the
+team, every minute--and let them know it. Cheering helps a team to win,
+no matter what anyone may say to the contrary. Only cheer at the right
+times, fellows. Just making a noise indiscriminately is poor stuff. But
+I don't need to tell you this, I guess, because your cheer leader knows
+what to do better than I do. But let the team know that you're right
+with them, backing them up all the time, fighting behind them, boosting
+them along! It counts, fellows, take my word for it!
+
+"And now there's one other thing I want to say before I make way for
+someone who can really talk. It's this, fellows. Don't forget the team
+that has helped us all season, the team that doesn't get into the
+limelight. And don't forget the coach, who has worked just as hard,
+perhaps a good deal harder, to develop that team than I've worked. I'm
+going to ask you to show your appreciation of the unselfish devotion of
+Coach Boutelle and one of the finest second teams Brimfield has ever
+had!"
+
+Mr. Robey bowed and retreated and Childers jumped to his feet.
+
+"A cheer for Coach Boutelle, fellows!" he shouted. "A long cheer and a
+whopper!" And, when it had been given lustily: "And now one for the
+second team!" he cried. "Everyone into it! One--two--three!" The
+enthusiasm was mounting high now, and, after the cheer had died away,
+there were demands for a song. "We want to sing!" proclaimed the
+meeting. "_We want to sing!_"
+
+Childers held up a hand. "All right, fellows! Just a minute, please!
+We've got a guest with us this evening, an honoured guest, fellows.
+Those of you who know football history know his name as well as you know
+the names of Heffelfinger and DeWitt and Coy and Brickley and--and many
+others in the Football Hall of Fame! I know you want to hear from him
+and I hope he will be willing to say a few words." Childers glanced at
+Doctor Proctor and the latter, smiling, shook his head energetically.
+"He says he will be glad to, fellows," continued Childers mendaciously,
+amidst laughter, "and so I'm going to call first for a cheer for--if the
+gentleman will pardon me--'Gus' Proctor, famous Princeton and
+All-America tackle, and after that we're going to listen very
+attentively to him. Now, then, everyone into this! A long cheer for
+Doctor Proctor!"
+
+"I'm an awfully poor speaker, fellows," began the doctor, when he had
+advanced to the front of the platform. "I appreciate this honour and if
+I don't do justice to the fine reputation your--your imaginative cheer
+leader has provided me with you must try to forgive me. Speaking isn't
+my line. If any of you would like to have a leg sawed off or something
+of that sort I'd be glad to do it free of charge just to prove
+that--well, that there's something I _can_ do fairly decently!
+
+"I saw your team practice yesterday and I thought then that perhaps an
+operation would benefit it. Then I saw it again today and discovered
+that my first diagnosis was wrong. Fellows, I call it a good team. I
+think you've got material there that's equal to any I've ever seen on a
+school team. Your coach says he won't prophesy as to your game on
+Saturday. I've known George Robey for ten years. He isn't a bad sort,
+take him all around, but he's a pessimist of the most pessimistic sort.
+He's the kind of chap who, if you sprang that old reliable one on him
+about every cloud having a silver lining, would shrug his shoulders and
+say, 'Humph! More likely nickel-plated!' That's the sort he is, boys.
+Now I'm just the opposite, and, at the risk of displeasing George, I'm
+going to tell you that, from what I've seen of the Brimfield football
+team in practice, I'm firmly convinced that it's going to win!"
+
+Loud and prolonged cheering greeted that prediction, and it was fully a
+minute before the speaker could proceed.
+
+"I've played the game in my day and I've coached teams, boys, and I
+think I've got a little of what your coach disclaimed. I mean a sort
+of--well, not second-sight, but a sort of ability to tell what a team
+will do from the looks of the players on it. In my profession we have to
+study human nature a lot and we get so we can classify folks after we've
+looked them over and watched them awhile. We make mistakes sometimes,
+but on the whole we manage fairly well to put folks in the classes they
+belong in. Doing that with the members of your team I find that almost
+without exception they class with the kind of fellows who _don't like to
+be beaten_! And when a fellow doesn't like to be beaten he isn't--not
+very often.
+
+"I think I can read in the faces I see here tonight a great deal of that
+same spirit, and if the team has it and you fellows behind the team have
+it, why, I wouldn't give a last year's plug-hat for Claflin's chances
+next Saturday!
+
+"Football," continued Doctor Proctor presently, "is a fine game. It's
+fun to play and it's a wonderful thing to train a fellow's body and
+mind. I've heard lots of folks object to it on various scores, but I've
+never heard an objection yet that carried any weight. More often than
+not those who run football down don't know the game. Why, if it did no
+more than teach us obedience and discipline it would be worth while. But
+it does far more than that. It gives us strong, dependable bodies, it
+teaches us to think--and think quick, and it gives us courage, physical
+and moral. I'm going to tell you of an incident that I witnessed only a
+few weeks since if you'll let me. I fear I'm taking up too much
+time----"
+
+There were cries of "No, no!" and "Go ahead!"
+
+"I'll try to be brief. Last Fall I was travelling on a train out my way,
+to be exact some eighty miles west of Cincinnati, when we had an
+accident. A freight train was slow about taking a side track and we came
+along and banged into it. It was about five o'clock in the morning and
+most of the passengers were asleep. A wreck's a nasty thing in any case,
+but when it happens at night or before it is light enough to see it is
+worse. The forward cars of our train and the freight caught fire from
+the engines, and there was a good deal of loose steam around, and things
+were pretty messy for awhile. There happened to be another doctor on the
+train and, as soon as we got our bearings, we started a first-aid camp
+alongside the track. Some of the passengers, mostly in the day coaches
+up front, were badly burned and we had our hands full.
+
+"There is always more or less confusion in an affair of that sort and
+it was some minutes after the accident before the rescue work got under
+way. But one of the first rescuers I noticed was a young chap, a boy in
+fact, probably about seventeen years old. He didn't have a great deal
+on, I remember, but he was certainly Johnny-on-the-spot that morning! It
+was he who brought the first patient to me, a little dried-up Hebrew
+peddler I judged him, who had been caught under some wreckage in the
+forward day-coach. He had a broken forearm and while I was busy with him
+I saw this young chap climbing in and out of windows and wading through
+wreckage and always coming out again with someone. How many folks he
+pulled away from the flames and the scalding steam I don't know, but I
+never saw anyone work harder or more--more efficiently. Yes, efficiently
+is just the word I want! And I said to myself at the time: 'That fellow
+is a football man! And I'll bet he's a good one!' You see, it wasn't
+only that he had courage to risk himself, but he had the ability to see
+what was to be done and to do it, and do it quick! Why, he was pulling
+injured women and children and men from those burning, overturned cars
+before a grown-up man had sensed what had happened! And later on, when
+we'd done what we could for the burned and scalded bodies and limbs, I
+got hold of the boy for a moment. I asked him his name and he told it,
+and then I said: 'You've played football, haven't you?' And he said he
+had, a little. He wasn't much of a talker, and when some of us said some
+nice things about what he had done he got horribly fussed and tried to
+get away. But someone wanted to shake hands with him, and he wouldn't,
+and I saw that his own hand was burned all inside the palm, deep and
+nasty. 'How did you do that?' I asked him as I dressed it. Oh, he didn't
+know. He thought he'd got his hand caught between some beams or
+something; couldn't get it out for a minute. It wasn't much of a burn!
+Well, the wrecking train and a hospital train came along about then and
+I lost sight of that chap, and I didn't see him again.
+
+"I've told the story because I think it bears me out when I say that
+football is fine training. I don't say that that boy wouldn't have been
+just as brave and eager to help if he hadn't been a football player, but
+I do maintain that he wouldn't have known what to do as readily or how
+to do it and wouldn't have got at it as quickly. And when the flames are
+eating their way back from car to car quickness means a whole lot!
+That's the end of my story, boys. But while I've been telling it I've
+been looking for some sign to tell me that you recognised the hero of
+it. I don't find the sign and I'm puzzled. Perhaps you're so accustomed
+to heroes here at Brimfield that one more or less doesn't stir you. For
+the satisfaction of my own curiosity I'm going to ask you if you know
+who I've been talking about."
+
+A deep silence was the only answer. The doctor's audience looked
+extremely interested and curious, but no one spoke.
+
+"I see. You don't know. Well, perhaps I'd better not tell then." But a
+chorus of protest arose. The doctor hesitated, and his gaze seemed to
+rest intently on a spot at one side of the hall and about half-way back.
+Finally, when silence had fallen again: "I guess I will tell," he said.
+"It can't do him or you any harm. It may help a little to know that
+there's one amongst you fine enough to do what I've described. I've
+never seen that boy from the moment the wrecking train reached the scene
+of the wreck until tonight, and so I've never spoken to him again. But
+as I sat on the platform here awhile ago I looked and saw him. I don't
+forget faces very easily, and as you can understand, I wasn't likely to
+forget his. As I say, I haven't spoken to him yet, but I'm going to
+now."
+
+There was a silence in which a dropped pin would have made a noise like
+a crowbar. Half the audience had turned their heads in the direction of
+Doctor Proctor's smiling gaze, but all eyes were fixed on his lips. The
+breathless silence lengthened. Then the doctor spoke.
+
+"How is your hand, Gilbert?" he asked.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+COACH ROBEY IS PUZZLED
+
+
+SOME twenty minutes later Don dropped into a chair in Number 6 and
+heaved a deep sigh of relief. "Gee," he muttered, "I wouldn't go through
+that again for--for a million dollars!"
+
+Tim chuckled as he seated himself beyond the table. "Why not?" he asked
+innocently. "I thought everyone treated you very nicely."
+
+A smile flitted across Don's face. "I suppose they did, only--I guess
+that was the trouble! I felt like an awful fool, Tim! Look here, what
+did he have to go and tell everything he knew for? I was afraid he was
+going to and I wanted like anything to sneak out of there, but the place
+was so quiet I didn't have the nerve! At first I didn't suspect that he
+had seen me. I didn't recognise him until he stood up to speak this
+evening. Yesterday I thought he looked sort of familiar, but I couldn't
+place him. He--he talks too much!"
+
+"He said some awfully nice things about you, old man."
+
+"He said a lot of nonsense, too! Exaggerated the whole thing, he did.
+Why, to listen to him you'd think I saved about a thousand people from
+certain death! Well, I didn't. I helped about six or seven folks out of
+those cars. They were sort of rattled and didn't seem to know enough to
+beat it."
+
+"They weren't in any danger, then?"
+
+"No, not much. All they had to do was crawl out of the way."
+
+"Then they weren't any of them burned, Don?"
+
+"A few were."
+
+"How about the man with the broken arm?"
+
+"Oh, he'd got caught somehow." Don looked up and saw Tim's laugh.
+"Well," he added defensively, "he needn't have told about it like that,
+right out in front of the whole school, need he?"
+
+"You bet he need! Donald, you're a bloomin', blushin' hero, and we're
+proud of you! And when I say blushing I mean it, for you haven't stopped
+yet!"
+
+"I guess you'd blush," growled Don, "if it happened to you!"
+
+"I dare say, but it never will. _I'll_ never have the whole school get
+up on their feet and cheer me like mad for three solid minutes! And I'll
+never have Josh shake my hand off and beam at me and tell me I'm a
+credit to the school! Such beautiful things are not for poor little
+Tim!"
+
+Don sighed. "Well, it's over with, anyway."
+
+"Over with, nothing! It won't be over with as long as you stay here,
+Donald. A hero you are and a hero you remain, old chap. And--and I'm
+mighty proud of you, you old humbug! Telling us you didn't do anything
+but help lug folks to the relief train, or something!"
+
+"I didn't say that," replied Don defensively.
+
+"You let us think it. Gee, if I'd done anything like that I'd have put
+it in the papers!" Tim chuckled and then went on seriously. "You don't
+need to worry about the fellows thinking you a quitter any more, do you?
+I guess Proctor settled that once and for all, Don. And suppose you'd
+run away home the other night. This wouldn't have happened and fellows
+would have said you had a yellow streak. I guess it was a mighty lucky
+thing you have little Tim to look after you, dearie!"
+
+"I'm glad I didn't," said Don earnestly. "I'd have made a worse mess of
+it, shouldn't I? I--I'm sorry you got that punch, though, Timmy."
+
+"Forget it! It was worth it! Being the room-mate of a hero atones for
+everything you ever did to me, Donald. I'm that proud----"
+
+But Tim didn't finish, for Don started around the table for him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the time this conversation was taking place Mr. Robey and Doctor
+Proctor were walking back to the former's room in the village through a
+frosty, starlit night.
+
+"You certainly managed to spring a sensation, Gus," observed the coach
+as they turned into the road.
+
+"I should say so! Well, that boy deserved all the cheering and praise he
+received. And I'm glad I told that story."
+
+"Well, it's got me guessing," responded the other. "Look here, Gus, take
+a chap like the one you described tonight. What would you think if he
+quit cold a week before the big game?"
+
+"Quit? How do you mean, George?"
+
+"Just that. Develops an imaginary illness. Tells you he doesn't feel
+well enough to play, in spite of the fact that he has nothing more the
+matter with him than you or I have. Probably not so much. Shows absolute
+relief when you tell him he's dropped. What would you say to that?"
+
+"You mean Gilbert did that?" Mr. Robey assented. "I wondered why he
+wasn't on the platform with the rest of the team," mused the doctor.
+"I'd say there was something queer about it, George. When did this
+happen?"
+
+"Last week. Thursday or Friday, I think. He'd been laid off for a day or
+so and I thought he'd gone a bit fine, although he's rather too
+phlegmatic to suffer much from nerves. Some of the high-strung chaps do
+go to pieces about this time and you have to nurse them along pretty
+carefully. But Gilbert! Well, on Saturday--yes, that was the day--he'd
+been reported perfectly fit by the trainer and just as a matter of form
+I asked him if he was ready to play. And, by Jove, he had the cheek to
+face me and say he wasn't well enough! It was nonsense, of course. He'd
+simply got scared. I told him so and dropped him. But it's curious that
+a boy who could do what you told of this evening could prove a quitter
+like that."
+
+"You say he seemed relieved when you let him go?"
+
+"Yes, he showed it plainly."
+
+"That is funny! I wonder what the truth of it is?"
+
+"Nerves, I suppose. Cold feet, as the fellows say."
+
+"Never! There's something else, old man, that you haven't got hold of.
+Can he play?"
+
+"Y-yes. Yes, he can play. He's the sort that comes slow and plays a bit
+logy, but he's steady and works hard. Not a brilliant man, you know, but
+dependable. He's been playing guard. Losing him has left us a bit weak
+on that side, too."
+
+"Why not take him back then? Look here, George, you're a good coach and
+all that, but you're a mighty poor judge of human nature."
+
+"Piffle!"
+
+"It's so, though. You've only got to study that chap Gilbert to see that
+he isn't the quitting kind. His looks show it, his manner shows it, the
+way he talks shows it. He's the sort that might want to quit; we all do
+sometimes; but he couldn't because he's got stuff in him that wouldn't
+let him!"
+
+"That's all well enough, Gus, but facts are facts. Gilbert _did_ quit,
+and quit cold on me. So theories don't count for much. And this human
+nature flapdoodle----"
+
+"I don't say he didn't quit. But I do say that you've made the wrong
+diagnosis, George. Did you talk to him? Ask him what the trouble was? Go
+after the symptoms?"
+
+"No, I'm no physician. He said he wasn't feeling well enough to play. I
+told him we had no place for quitters on the team. He had nothing to
+say to that. If you think I can feel the pulse and look at the tongue of
+every fellow----"
+
+Doctor Proctor laughed. "And take his temperature too, eh? No, I don't
+expect you to do that, George. But I'll tell you what I would do, and
+I'd do it tomorrow too. I'd call around and see Gilbert. I'd tell him
+that I wasn't satisfied with the explanation he'd made and I'd ask him
+to make a clean breast of the trouble, for he must be in some trouble or
+he wouldn't thank you for firing him. And then I'd stop cutting off my
+nose to spite my face and I'd reinstate him tomorrow afternoon!"
+
+"Hmph! The trouble with you doctors is that you're too romantic. You
+imagine things, you----"
+
+"We have to imagine, George. If we stuck to facts we'd never get
+anywhere in our profession! You try a little imagination, old chap.
+You're too matter-of-fact. What you can't see you won't believe in."
+
+"I certainly won't! As the kids say, seeing's believing."
+
+"Well, there's a very unattractive board fence across the road, George.
+On the other side of it there are shrubs and grass. I can't see them,
+but I know they're there."
+
+"More likely tin-cans and ashes," grunted Mr. Robey.
+
+"Pessimist!" laughed the other. "But never mind; ashes or grass,
+something's there, and you can't see it and yet you've got to
+acknowledge the existence of it. Now haven't you?"
+
+"I suppose so, but"--Mr. Robey laughed--"I'd rather see it!"
+
+"Climb the fence and have a look then! But you'll try my plan with the
+boy, won't you?"
+
+"Yes, I will. If only to satisfy my curiosity, Gus. Hang it, the chap
+_can't_ be a quitter!"
+
+"He isn't. I'll stake my reputation as--as a romanticist on that! I'd
+like mighty well to stay and solve the mystery with you, but I'll have
+to jump for that early train. I wish, though, that you'd drop me a line
+and tell me the outcome. I'm interested--and puzzled."
+
+"All right. I'm not much of a letter-writer, though. I'll see you before
+you go back and tell you about it. You'll be in New York on Sunday,
+won't you?"
+
+"Until two o'clock. Have lunch with me and see me off. Come to the hotel
+as early as you can and we'll hold post-mortems on the games. Let's hope
+that Princeton and Brimfield both win next Saturday, George!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+CROSS-EXAMINATION
+
+
+DON found being a hero an embarrassing business the next day. The
+masters bothered him by stopping and shaking hands and saying nice
+things, and the fellows beamed on him if they weren't well enough
+acquainted to speak and insisted on having a full and detailed history
+of that train-wreck if they were! Of course they all, masters and
+students, meant well and wanted to show their admiration, but Don wished
+they wouldn't. It made him feel horribly self-conscious, and feeling
+self-conscious was distinctly uncomfortable. At breakfast table his
+companions referred to last evening's incident laughingly and poked fun
+at Don and enjoyed his embarrassment, but it wasn't difficult to tell
+that Doctor Proctor's narrative had made a strong impression on them and
+increased their liking for Don. When, just before Don had finished his
+meal, Mr. Robey left the training-table and crossed the room toward him
+he braced himself for another scene in which he would have to stand up
+and be shaken by the hand, and possibly, and worst of all, listen to
+some sort of an apology from the coach. But Don was spared, for Mr.
+Robey only placed a hand on the back of his chair, included the rest of
+the occupants of the table in his "Good-morning," and said carelessly:
+"Gilbert, I wish you'd drop over to Mr. Conklin's office some time this
+morning and see me. What time can you come?"
+
+"Half-past ten, sir?"
+
+"That will be all right, thanks."
+
+The coach returned to his table, leaving Don wondering what was up.
+Possibly, he thought, the coach wanted to make some sort of retraction
+of his accusation of Saturday, although Don didn't believe that Mr.
+Robey was the sort to funk a public apology. If it wasn't that it could
+only be that he was to be offered his place on the team again. Don
+sighed. That would be beastly, for he would have to tell more fibs, and
+brand new ones, too, since not even a blind man would believe him ill
+now! It was something of a coincidence that Don should run across Walton
+in the corridor a few minutes later. Don was for passing by with no
+recognition of the other, but Walton, with a smirk, placed himself
+fairly in the way.
+
+"Great stuff, Gilbert," he said with an attempted heartiness. "Some
+hero, eh, what?"
+
+"Drop it, Walton!" Don lowered his voice, for others were passing toward
+the doorway. "And I'll thank you not to speak to me. You know my opinion
+of you. Now shut up!"
+
+Walton found nothing to say until it was too late. Don approached the
+gymnasium after his ten o'clock recitation with lagging feet. He had
+scant taste for the impending interview and would have gladly avoided it
+if such a thing had been possible. But he didn't see any way out of it
+and he heard the big door bang to behind him with a sinking heart. Why,
+he hadn't even thought up any new excuse!
+
+Mr. Robey and Mr. Conklin, the athletic director, were both in the
+latter's room when Don knocked at the half-opened door. Mr. Conklin said
+"Good-morning" and then followed it with: "I've got something to attend
+to on the floor, Robey, if you'll excuse me," and went out, closing the
+door behind him. Don wished he had stayed. He took the chair vacated by
+the director and faced Coach Robey with as much ease as he could assume,
+which was very little. The coach began without much preamble.
+
+"I didn't ask you over here to talk about last night, Gilbert, or to
+offer you any apology for what I said on the field last Saturday. I
+don't believe much in spoken apologies. If I'm wrong I show it and
+there's no mistake about it. I think I was wrong in your case, Gilbert.
+And I'll say so, if you like, very gladly, and act so if you'll prove
+it."
+
+"I don't want any apology, sir," answered Don. "I guess you were right
+enough."
+
+"Well, that's what I want to find out. What _was_ the trouble, Gilbert?"
+
+"Why, just what I said, Coach. I--I didn't feel very fit and I didn't
+think it would be any use playing, feeling like I did. If you don't feel
+well you can't play very well, and so I thought I'd say so. I didn't
+mind being dropped, sir. I deserved it. And--and that's quite all
+right." Don got up, his eyes shifting to the door.
+
+"Wait a minute! Let's get the truth of this. You're lying, aren't you?"
+
+Don tried to look indignant and failed, tried to look hurt and failed
+again. Then he gave it up and dropped his gaze before the searching eyes
+of the other. "I'm feeling some better now," he muttered.
+
+Coach Robey laughed shortly. "Gilbert, you can't lie worth a cent! Now,
+look here. I'm your friend. Why not come across and tell me what's up? I
+know you weren't sick. Danny gave you a clean bill of health that
+morning. And I know you haven't got any nerves to speak of. There's
+something else, Gilbert. Now what is it?"
+
+"Nothing, sir."
+
+"Then why did you act that way?"
+
+"I--I just didn't want to play."
+
+"Didn't want to play! Why not?"
+
+"I wasn't doing very well, and it was pretty hard work, and there was
+Walton after the place, too. He could play better than I could."
+
+"Who told you so? Walton?" asked the coach drily.
+
+"I could see it," murmured Don.
+
+"So you were suddenly afraid of hard work, eh? It had never bothered you
+before, had it? Last year or this year either?"
+
+"No, I guess not."
+
+"Perhaps it was more because you felt that Walton would be a better man
+for the place, then?" surmised the coach.
+
+Don agreed eagerly. It was a case of any port in a storm by now and he
+was glad enough to have the coach find an explanation. "Yes, sir, I
+guess that was it."
+
+"Well, that was generous of you," said the other approvingly. "But
+didn't it occur to you that perhaps I would be a better one to decide
+that matter than you? You've never known me to keep a fellow on the team
+for sentimental reasons, have you?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Hm. Now when was it--I mean how long before last Saturday was it--that
+you and Walton talked it over?"
+
+"Sir?" Don looked up startledly. "I--we--there wasn't any talk about
+it," he stammered.
+
+"Well, what did Walton say?"
+
+Don hesitated, studying Mr. Robey's face in the hope of discovering how
+much that gentleman knew. Finally: "When do you mean?" he asked.
+
+"I mean the time you and Walton talked about which was the best man for
+the position," replied the other easily. To himself he reflected that he
+was following Gus Proctor's advice with a vengeance! But he was by this
+time pretty certain of his ground.
+
+"I don't remember that we ever--exactly did that," Don faltered. "There
+was some talk, maybe, but he--he never said anything like that."
+
+"Like what?"
+
+"Why, that he was a better guard."
+
+"Then what put the idea in your head, Gilbert?"
+
+"I suppose I just saw it myself."
+
+"But you were playing the position pretty regularly before Thursday or
+whatever day it was you were taken ill, weren't you?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Then how could you tell that Walton was better?"
+
+"I don't know. He--he seemed better. And then Tim told me I was too
+slow."
+
+"Tim Otis? Otis had better mind his own business," grumbled the coach.
+"So that was it, then. All right. I'm glad to get the _truth_ of the
+matter." The little tightening of Don's mouth didn't escape him. "Now,
+then, I'm going to surprise you, Gilbert. I'm going to surprise you
+mightily. I'm going to tell you that Walton is _not_ a better left guard
+than you. He isn't nearly so good. That does surprise you, doesn't it?"
+
+Don nodded, his eyes fixed uneasily on the coach's.
+
+"Well, there it is, anyway. And so I think the best thing for all of us,
+Gilbert, is for you to come back to work this afternoon."
+
+Don's look of dismay quite startled the other.
+
+"But I'd rather not, sir! I--I'm out of practice now. I've quit
+training. I've been eating all sorts of things; potatoes and fresh bread
+and pastry--no end of pastry, sir!--and--and candy----"
+
+Mr. Robey grunted. "You don't show it," he said. "Anyway, I guess that
+won't matter. I'll chance it. Three o'clock, then, Gilbert."
+
+Don's gaze sought the floor and he shook his head. "I'd rather not, sir,
+if you don't mind," he muttered.
+
+"But I do mind. The team needs you, Gilbert! And now that I know that
+you didn't quit because you were _afraid_----"
+
+"I did, though!" Don looked up desperately. "That was the truth of it!"
+
+Mr. Robey sighed deeply. "Gilbert," he said patiently, "if I couldn't
+lie better than you can I wouldn't try it! You weren't afraid and you
+aren't afraid and you know it and I know it! So, then, is it Walton?"
+
+After a moment Don nodded silently.
+
+"You think he's a better man than you are, eh?"
+
+Don nodded again, but hesitatingly.
+
+"Or you've taken pity on him and want him to play against Claflin,
+perhaps."
+
+"Yes, sir. You see, his folks are going to be here and they'll expect
+him to play!"
+
+"Oh, I see. You and Walton come from the same town? But of course you
+don't. How did you know his folks were coming, then?"
+
+"He told me."
+
+"When?"
+
+"About--some time last week."
+
+"Was it the day you had that talk about the position and which of you
+was to have it?"
+
+"I guess so. Yes, sir, it was that time."
+
+"And he, perhaps, suggested that it would be a nice idea for you to back
+out and let him in, eh?"
+
+Don was silent.
+
+"Did he?" insisted the coach.
+
+"He said that his folks were coming----"
+
+"And that he'd like to get into the game so they wouldn't be
+disappointed?"
+
+"Something like that," murmured Don.
+
+"And you consented?"
+
+"Not exactly, but I thought it over and--and----"
+
+Mr. Robey suddenly leaned forward and laid a hand on Don's knee.
+
+"Gilbert," he asked quietly, "_what has Walton got on you_?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+"ALL READY, BRIMFIELD?"
+
+
+THOSE who braved a chill east wind and went out that afternoon to watch
+practice enjoyed a sensation, for when the first team came trotting over
+from the gymnasium, a half-hour later because of a rigorous signal quiz,
+amongst them, dressed to play, was Don Gilbert! A buzz of surprise and
+conjecture travelled through the ranks of the shivering onlookers, that
+speedily gave place to satisfaction, and as Don, tossing aside his
+blanket, followed the first-string players into the field a small and
+enthusiastic First Form youth clapped approvingly, others took it up and
+in a moment the applause crackled along the side line.
+
+"That's for you," whispered Tim to Don. "Lift off your head-guard!"
+
+But Don glanced alarmedly toward the fringe of spectators and hid as
+best he could behind Thursby! Practice went with a new vim today.
+Doubtless the return of Don heartened the team, for one thing, and then
+there was a snap of winter in the air that urged to action. The second
+was as nearly torn to tatters this afternoon as it had ever been, and
+the first scored twice in each of the two fifteen-minute periods.
+"Boutelle's Babies" were a lame and tired aggregation when the final
+whistle blew!
+
+Later it became known that Walton was out of it, had emptied his locker
+and retired from football affairs for the year. All sorts of stories
+circulated. One had it that he had quarrelled with Coach Robey and been
+incontinently "fired." Another that he had become huffy over Gilbert's
+reinstatement and had resigned. None save Don and Coach Robey and Walton
+himself knew the truth of the matter for a long time. Don did tell Tim
+eventually, but that was two years later, when his vow of secrecy had
+lapsed. Just now he was about as communicative as a sphinx, and Tim's
+eager curiosity had to go unsatisfied.
+
+"But what did he _say_?" Tim demanded after practice that afternoon. "He
+must have said _something_!"
+
+Don considered leisurely. "No, nothing special. He said I was to report
+for work."
+
+"Well, what did _you_ say?"
+
+"I said I would!"
+
+"Well, what about Walton? Where does he get off?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Tim gestured despairingly. "Gee, you're certainly a chatty party! Don't
+tell me any more, please! You may say something you'll be sorry for!"
+
+"I'll tell you some day all about it, Tim. I can't now. I said I
+wouldn't."
+
+"Then there is something to tell, eh? I knew it! You can't fool your
+Uncle Dudley like that, Donald! Tell me just one thing and I'll shut up.
+Did you and Walton have a row the time you went to see him in his room?"
+
+Don shook his head. "No, we didn't."
+
+"Well, then, why----"
+
+"You said you'd shut up," reminded the other.
+
+"Oh, all right," grumbled Tim. "Anyway, I'm mighty glad. Every fellow on
+the team is as pleased as Punch. I guess the whole school is, too. It
+was mighty decent of Robey, wasn't it? Do you know, Don, Robey's got a
+lot of sense for a football coach?"
+
+Don often wondered what had occurred and been said at the interview
+between Mr. Robey and Harry Walton. The coach had sworn Don to silence
+at the termination of their interview. "If Walton asks you whether you
+told me about the business you can say you did, if you like. Or tell
+him I wormed it out of you, which is just about what I did do. But don't
+say anything to anyone else about it; at all events, not as long as
+Walton's here. I'm going to find him now and have a talk with him. I
+don't think you need be at all afraid of anything he may do after I get
+through with him. You fellows clearly did wrong in outstaying leave that
+night, but you had a fairly good excuse and if you'd had enough sense to
+go to faculty the next morning and explain you'd have all got off with
+only a lecture, I guess. Your mistake was in not confessing. However, I
+don't consider it my place to say anything. It's an old story now,
+anyhow. Be at the gym at three with your togs, Gilbert, and do your best
+for us from now on. I'm glad to have you back again. What I said that
+afternoon you'd better forget. I'll show the school that I've changed my
+mind about you. I suppose I ought to make some sort of an apology,
+but----"
+
+"Please don't say anything more about it, sir," begged Don.
+
+"Well, I'll say this, Gilbert: You acted like a white man in taking your
+medicine and keeping the others out of trouble. You certainly deserve
+credit for that."
+
+"I don't see it," replied the boy. "I don't see what else I _could_ have
+done, Mr. Robey!"
+
+The coach pondered a moment. Then he laughed. "I guess you're right, at
+that! Just the same, you did what was square, Gilbert. All right, then.
+Three o'clock." He held out his hand and Don put his in it, and the two
+gripped firmly.
+
+Hurrying back to Main Hall, Don regretted only one thing, which was that
+he had in a way broken his agreement with Walton to say nothing about
+their bargain. Coach Robey, though, had pointed out that the agreement
+had been terminable by either party to it, and that in confessing to him
+Don had been within his rights. "Walton can now go ahead and take the
+matter to faculty, as he threatened to do," said the coach. "Only, when
+I get through talking to him I don't think he will care to!"
+
+And apparently he hadn't, for no dire summons reached Don from the
+office that day or the next, nor did he ever hear more of the matter.
+Walton displayed a retiring disposition that was new and novel. On such
+infrequent occasions as Don ran across him Walton failed to see him. The
+day of the game the latter was in evidence with his father, mother and
+younger brother; Don saw him making the rounds of the buildings with
+them and he wondered in what manner Walton had accounted to his folks
+for his absence from the football team. Walton stayed on at school, very
+little in evidence, until Christmas vacation, but when the fellows
+reassembled after the recess he was not amongst them. Rumour had it that
+he had been taken ill and would not be back. Rumour was proved partly
+right, at all events, for Brimfield knew him no more.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The first and second teams held final practice on Thursday. The first
+only ran through signals for awhile, did some punting and catching and
+then disappeared, leaving the second to play two fifteen-minute periods
+with a team composed of their own second-string and the first team's
+third-string players. After that was over, the second winning without
+much effort, the audience, which had cheered and sung for the better
+part of an hour, marched back to the gymnasium and did it some more, and
+the second team, cheering most enthusiastically for themselves and the
+first and the school and, last but by no means least, for Mr. Boutelle,
+joyously disbanded for the season.
+
+There was another mass-meeting that evening, an intensely fervid one,
+followed by a parade about the campus and a good deal of noise that was
+finally quelled by Mr. Fernald when, in response to demands, he appeared
+on the porch of the Cottage and made a five-minute speech which ended
+with the excellent advice to return to hall and go to bed.
+
+The players didn't attend the meeting that night, nor were they on hand
+at the one that took place the night following. Instead, they trotted
+and slithered around the gymnasium floor in rubber-soled shoes and went
+through their entire repertoire of plays under the sharp eyes of Coaches
+Robey and Boutelle. There was a blackboard lecture, too, on each
+evening, and when, at nine-thirty on Friday, they were dismissed, with
+practice all over for the year, most of them were very glad to slide
+into bed as quickly as possible. If any of them had "the jumps" that
+night it was after they were asleep, for the coach had tired them out
+sufficiently to make them forget that such things as nerves were a part
+of their system!
+
+But the next morning was a different matter. Those who had never gone
+through a Claflin contest were inclined to be finicky of appetite and to
+go off into trances with a piece of toast or a fork-full of potato
+poised between plate and mouth. Even the more experienced fellows
+showed some indication of strain. Thursby, for instance, who had been
+three years on the first team as substitute or first-choice centre, who
+had already taken some part in two Claflin games, and who was apparently
+far too big and calm to be affected by nerves, showed a disposition to
+talk more than was natural.
+
+Don never really remembered at all clearly how that Saturday morning
+passed. Afterward he had vague recollections of sitting in Clint
+Thayer's room and hearing Amy Byrd rattle off a great deal of
+nonsensical advice to him and Clint and Tim as to how to conduct
+themselves before the sacrifice (Amy had insisted that they should line
+up and face the grand-stand before the game commenced, salute and recite
+the immortal line of Claudius's gladiators: "_Morituri te salutant!_");
+of seeing Manager Jim Morton dashing about hither and thither, scowling
+blackly under the weight of his duties; of wandering across to the woods
+beyond the baseball field with Tim Otis and Larry Jones and some others
+and sitting on the stone wall there and watching Larry take acorns out
+of Tim's ears and nose; and, finally, of going through a perfectly
+farcical early dinner in a dining hall empty save for the members of
+the training-table. After that events stood out more clearly in his
+memory.
+
+Claflin's hosts began to appear at about half-past one. They wore blue
+neckties and arm-bands or carried blue pennants which they had the good
+taste to keep furled while they wandered around the campus and poked
+inquisitive heads into the buildings. Then the Claflin team, twenty-six
+strong, rolled up in two barges just before two, having taken their
+dinner at the village inn, disembarked in front of Wendell and meandered
+around to the gymnasium laden with suit-cases and things looking
+insultingly care-free and happy, and, as it couldn't be denied,
+particularly husky!
+
+Don, observing from the steps of Torrence, wondered how they managed to
+appear so easy and careless. No one, as he confided to Tom Hall and Tim,
+would ever suspect that they were about to do battle for the
+Brimfield-Claflin championship!
+
+"Huh," said Tom, "that's nothing. That's the way we all do when we go
+away to play. It's this sticking at home and having nothing to do but
+_think_ that takes the starch out of you. When you go off you feel as if
+you were on a lark. Things take your mind off your troubles. But, just
+the same, a lot of those grinning dubs are doing a heap of worrying
+about now. They aren't nearly as happy as they look!"
+
+"They're a lot happier than they're going to be about three hours from
+now," said Tim darkly. That struck the right note, and Tom and Don
+laughed, and Tim laughed with them, and they all three put their
+shoulders back and perked up a lot!
+
+And then it was two o'clock and they were pulling on their togs in the
+locker-room; and Danny Moore was circulating about in very high spirits,
+cracking jokes and making them laugh, and Coach Robey was dispatching
+Jim Morton and Jim's assistant on mysterious errands and referring every
+little while to his red-covered memorandum book and looking very
+untroubled and serene. And then there was a clamping of feet on the
+stairs above and past the windows some two dozen pairs of
+blue-stockinged legs moved briskly as the visitors went across to the
+field for practice. And suddenly the noise was stilled and Coach Robey
+was telling them that it was up to them now, and that they hadn't a
+thing in the world to do for the next two hours but knock the tar out of
+those blue-clad fellows, and that they had a fine day for it! And then,
+laughing hard and cheering a little, they piled out and across the
+warm, sunlit grass, past the line of fellow-students and home-folks and
+towners, with here and there a pretty girl to glance shyly and
+admiringly at them as they trotted by, and so to the bench. Nerves were
+gone now. They were only eager and impatient. "Squads out!" sang Mr.
+Robey. Off came sweaters and faded blankets and they were out on the
+gridiron, with Carmine and McPhee cheerily piping the signals, with
+their canvas legs rasping together as they trotted about, and with the
+Brimfield cheer sounding in their ears, making them feel a little
+chokey, perhaps, but wonderfully strong and determined and proud!
+
+And presently they were back in front of the bench, laughing at and
+pummelling one another, and the rival captains and the referee were
+watching a silver coin turn over and over in the sunlight out there by
+the tee in midfield. Behind them the stand was packed and colourful.
+Beyond, Brimfield was cheering lustily again. Across the faded green, at
+the end of the newly-brushed white lines, nearly a hundred Claflin
+youths were waving their banners and cheering back confidently.
+
+"Claflin kicks off," sang Captain Edwards. "We take the west goal. Come
+on, fellows! Everyone on the jump now!"
+
+A long-legged Claflin guard piled the dirt up into a six-inch cone, laid
+the ball tenderly upon it, viewed the result, altered it, backed off and
+waited.
+
+"All ready, Claflin? All ready, Brimfield?"
+
+The whistle blew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+TIM GOES OVER
+
+
+COACH ROBEY put his best foot forward when the first period started by
+presenting the strongest line-up he had. Fortunately, Brimfield had
+reached the Claflin game with every first-string man in top shape,
+something that doesn't often happen with a team. There was Captain
+Edwards at left end, Thayer at left tackle, Gilbert at left guard,
+Thursby at centre, Hall at right guard, Crewe at right tackle, Holt at
+right end, Carmine at quarter, St. Clair at left half, Otis at right
+half and Rollins at full.
+
+Opposed to them was a team fully their equal in age, weight and
+experience. The Claflin forwards were a bit taller and rangier, and
+their centre, unlike Thursby, was below rather than above average size.
+Behind their line, the four players were, with the exception of Grady,
+full-back, small and light. But they were known to be fast and heady and
+Claflin didn't make the mistake of underestimating their ability. The
+left half, Cox, was a broken-field runner of renown as well as
+Claflin's best goal-kicker. Perhaps it would have been difficult that
+fall to have picked two teams to oppose each other that were more evenly
+matched than those representing the Maroon-and-Grey and the Blue.
+
+For the first few minutes of play each eleven seemed to be feeling out
+its opponent. Two exchanges of punts gained ground for neither side.
+Brimfield got her backfield working then on her twenty yards and St.
+Clair and Tim tried each side of the blue line and in two downs gained a
+scant six yards. Rollins punted out at Claflin's forty-seven. The Blue
+got past Hall for two and slid off Holt for three more. The next rush
+failed and Claflin punted to Carmine on the fifteen. The Blue's ends
+were down on Carmine and he was stopped for a five-yard gain. Rollins
+tried a forward pass to Edwards, but threw short and the ball grounded.
+Tim Otis ran the left end for four and, on a delayed pass, Rollins
+heaved himself through centre for the distance, and Brimfield cheered
+loudly when the linesmen pulled up stakes and trailed the chain ten
+yards nearer the centre of the field.
+
+A second forward pass was caught by Holt, but he was brought down for a
+scant three-yard gain. Once more Rollins attempted the centre of the
+blue line, but this time he was stopped short. On third down Rollins
+punted and Claflin caught on her forty and ran the ball back to the
+middle of the field. Claflin then found Crewe for four yards and
+completed her distance on a straight plunge between Gilbert and Thayer.
+It was the Blue's turn to cheer then and she performed valiantly.
+Claflin tried Edwards's end, but made nothing of it, poked Cox past
+Crewe for a couple of yards, made three around Holt and then punted. St.
+Clair misjudged the distance and the ball went over his head and there
+was a scamper to the goal line. Carmine finally fell on the ball for a
+touchback and the excitement in the stands subsided. Brimfield smashed
+Otis at the Blue's centre and reached the twenty-five-yard line. St.
+Clair made three on a skin-tackle play at the right and Rollins got the
+distance on a plunge after a fake-kick. Brimfield again made first down
+on the forty-two yards and her supporters howled gleefully. A moment
+later they had new cause for rejoicing when Rollins pegged the ball
+across the field to Edwards and the Maroon-and-Grey's captain scampered
+and dodged along the side of the field for thirteen yards before he was
+tackled. Time was called for a Claflin back and Brimfield drew off for
+a consultation, the result of which was seen in the next play.
+
+Carmine called Gilbert to the right side of centre, the backs spread
+themselves in wide formation ten yards behind the line and Steve
+Edwards, as the first signal began, ran back, straightened out as the
+ball was snapped, raced along behind his forwards and swept around his
+right end. Claflin's right end and half-back plunged outside of Thayer,
+were met by St. Clair and Rollins, and Carmine, having taken the ball on
+a long pass from Thursby, raced past them and then swung quickly in and
+found an almost clear field ahead.
+
+Two white lines passed under his twinkling feet and then, near the
+twenty, he was challenged by a Claflin back. Carmine eluded him, crossed
+a third line, found himself confronted by the Blue's quarter, attempted
+to slip by on the outside, was tackled and borne struggling across the
+side line and deposited forcibly on the ground.
+
+When the ball was stepped in by the referee it was set down some four
+inches inside the fifteen-yard line. In the stands and along the side of
+the field Brimfield was cheering triumphantly, imploringly, and waving
+her banners. The linesmen scampered in obedience to the referee's waving
+arm.
+
+"First down!" shouted the official. "All right, Brimfield? Ready,
+Claflin?" The whistle piped again.
+
+Rollins was stopped squarely on a try at right guard and Otis made a
+scant three past the left tackle. Under the shadow of her goal-posts,
+Claflin was digging her cleats in the turf and fighting hard. Rollins
+went back. "Get through, Claflin! Block this kick!" cried the Blue's
+quarter-back. "_Get through! Get through!_" Back went the ball from
+Thursby, a trifle high but straight enough, Rollins poised it, swung his
+leg, and then, tucking the pigskin under his arm, sprang away to the
+left. Shouts of alarm, cries of warning, the hurried rush of feet and
+rasping of canvas! Bodies crashed together and went down. Rollins, at
+the ten yards now, side-stepped and got past a blue-legged defender,
+turned in and went banging straight into the mêlée. Arms clutched at
+him. He was stopped momentarily. Then he wrested free, plunged on for
+another yard and went to earth.
+
+"Second down!" cried the referee when he had bored through the pile of
+squirming bodies and found the ball. He glanced along the five-yard
+line, set the pigskin to earth again, and "About two feet to go!" he
+added. Brimfield was shouting incessantly now, standing and waving.
+"_Touchdown! Touchdown! Touchdown!_" Across the field Claflin sent back
+a dogged chant: "_Hold 'em, Claflin! Hold 'em, Claflin! Hold 'em,
+Claflin!_"
+
+But surely Claflin couldn't do that! It seemed too much to ask or
+expect. Otis made it first down off left tackle, placing the ball on the
+three yards. Before the next play could be started the period ended and
+the teams flocked to the water pails and then tramped down to the other
+end of the field. The cheering never paused, even if the playing did.
+Childers, red-faced and perspiring, kept the Brimfield section busy
+every instant. "Once more, now! A long cheer with nine 'Brimfields'!
+That's good! Keep it up! We're going to score, fellows! Let's have it
+again! All into it!"
+
+Only three yards to go and four downs to do it! Claflin lined up
+desperately, her forwards digging their toes barely inside their last
+line, her backfield men skirmishing anxiously about behind it. "Push 'em
+back, Claflin! You can do it! Don't give 'em an inch! Stop 'em right
+here, fellows! Low, low, get _low_, you fellows! Charge into 'em and
+smother this play!" The Claflin quarter, pale of face, thumped crouching
+backs and watched the foe intently.
+
+"Put it over now!" shrilled Carmine. "Here we go! Get down there, Hall!
+Signals!"
+
+Rollins leaped forward, took the ball from Carmine and smashed straight
+ahead. There was a moment of doubt. His plunging body stopped, went on,
+stopped, was borne back.
+
+"Second down! Two and a half to go!"
+
+Again the signals, the line shifted, Claflin changed to meet the shift.
+St. Clair slewed across and slammed past the Claflin left tackle. But
+the secondary defence had him in the next instant and he was thrust,
+fighting, back and still back. But he had gained. "A yard and a half!"
+proclaimed the referee.
+
+"You've got to do it, Brimfield!" shouted Edwards intensely. "Don't let
+them get the jump on you like that! Get into it, Crewe! Watch that man,
+Gilbert! Come on now! Put it over!"
+
+"Signals!" shrieked Carmine. "Make it go this time! Over with it!"
+
+Back went Rollins, hands outstretched. "Fake!" shouted Claflin. "Watch
+the ball! Watch the ball!"
+
+Rollins's arms fell, empty, as St. Clair grabbed the pigskin and swept
+wide to the right. "_In! In!_" cried Carmine. St. Clair turned and shot
+toward the broken line. His interference did its part, but the Claflin
+left end had fooled Holt and it was that blue-legged youth who got St.
+Clair and thumped him to the sod. An anxious, breathless moment
+followed. Brimfield called for time and St. Clair, on his back, kicked
+and squirmed while they pumped the air back into his lungs. The referee,
+kneeling over the ball, squinted along the line. Then:
+
+"Fourth down and about two to go!" he announced.
+
+St. Clair had lost a half-yard! Claflin cheered weakly. Steve Edwards
+and Carmine consulted.
+
+"We'd better kick it over," said Carmine. "They're getting the jump on
+us every time, Steve." Carmine's voice was husky and he had to gasp his
+words out. Steve, panting like an engine, shook his head.
+
+"We need the touchdown," he said. "We'll put it over. Try 11. Tim can
+make it."
+
+St. Clair walked back to his place. The whistle sounded again. "Come on,
+Brimfield!" gasped Carmine. "This is your last chance! If you don't do
+it this time you'll never do it! Play like you meant it! Stop your
+fooling and show 'em football! Every man into this and _make it go_!
+Hall over! Signals!" Hall pushed his way to the left of the line.
+Claflin shuffled to meet the change. "Signals! 83--38--11--106!"
+
+"_Signals!_" cried St. Clair. Carmine turned on him, snarling. "Use your
+bean! Change signals! Hall over! 61--16--11--37! 61--16--11----"
+
+Back shot the ball to the quarter. Off sped St. Clair around his end,
+followed by Rollins. Carmine crouched, back to the line, while he
+counted five. Then Tim Otis shot forward, took the delayed pass, jammed
+the ball against his stomach and went in past Thursby on the right.
+
+Tim struck the line as if shot out of a gun. There was no hole there,
+but Tim made one. If the secondary defence, overanxious, had not been
+fooled by that fake attack at their end Tim would never have gained a
+foot. But as it was Claflin was caught napping in the centre of her
+line. Tim banged against a brawny guard, Carmine, following him through,
+added impetus, the Claflin line buckled inward! Shouts and grunts,
+stifled groans of despair from the yielding blue line! Then Brimfield
+closed in behind Tim and he was borne off his feet and on and over to
+fall at last in a chaos of struggling bodies well across the goal line!
+
+The ball went over to the right of the goal and Carmine decided on a
+punt-out. Unfortunately, Thayer juggled the catch and so Brimfield lost
+her try-at-goal. But six points looked pretty big just then and
+continued to look big all the rest of the half and during the succeeding
+intermission. Brimfield's supporters were confident and happy. They sang
+and cheered and laughed, and the sun, sinking behind the wooded ridge,
+cast long golden beams on the flaunting maroon banners.
+
+And then the teams came trotting back once more and cheers thundered
+forth from opposing stands. Howard had taken St. Clair's place, it was
+seen, and Claflin had replaced her right guard. But otherwise the teams
+were unchanged. Brimfield kicked off and Claflin brought her supporters
+to their feet by running the ball back all the way to the
+forty-five-yard line. That was Cox, the fleet-footed and elusive, and
+the Blue's left half got a mighty cheer from his friends and generous
+applause from the enemy. After that Claflin tried a forward pass and
+gained another down, and then, from near the middle of the field,
+marched down to Brimfield's thirty-three before she was stopped. The
+Maroon-and-Grey got the ball on downs by an inch or two only.
+
+Brimfield tried the Claflin ends out pretty thoroughly and with Otis and
+Howard carrying, took back most of Claflin's gain. But a forward pass
+finally went to a Claflin end instead of Holt and the tables were
+suddenly turned. It was the Blue's ball on Brimfield's forty-six then,
+and Claflin opened her bag of tricks. Just how Cox got through the
+centre of the Brimfield line no one ever explained satisfactorily, but
+get through he did, and after he was through he romped past Otis and
+Rollins and raced straight for the goal. Carmine and Howard closed in on
+him and it was Carmine who brought him down at last on the twelve yards.
+
+How Claflin shouted and triumphed then! The Blue came surging down the
+field to line up against the astounded enemy, determination written
+large on every countenance. A plunge at Gilbert gained a yard and was
+followed by a three-yard gain off Holt. Then Claflin fumbled and
+recovered for a two-yard loss and, with eight to go on fourth down,
+decided that a goal from field was the best try. And, although Brimfield
+tried hard to get through to the nimble-footed Cox, and did smear the
+Blue's line pretty fairly, the ball went well and true across the bar,
+and the 0 on the score-board was changed to a 3!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+LEFT GUARD GILBERT
+
+
+THAT finished the scoring in the third period. All that Claflin could do
+was to bring back Brimfield's punts and try desperately to find holes in
+the maroon-and-grey line that weren't there. Both teams were showing the
+effects of hard playing, and when the third quarter ended substitutes
+were hurried in from both benches. For Brimfield, McPhee relieved
+Carmine, Lee went in for Holt and Sturges for Crewe. Claflin put in a
+new right end, a fresh full-back and returned her original right guard
+to the line-up.
+
+McPhee brought instructions from Coach Robey. Brimfield was to hold what
+she had and play the kicking game. If she got within the Blue's
+thirty-yard line she was to let Rollins try a drop-kick.
+
+Rollins punted regularly on second down and just as regularly Claflin
+rushed until the fourth and then punted back. After five minutes of
+play, during which the ball went back and forth from one thirty-yard
+line to the other, it dawned on Claflin that she was making no
+progress. A new full-back trotted in and displayed his ability by
+sending the ball over McPhee's head on his first attempt. Fortunately,
+though, the punt, while long, was much too low, and McPhee had plenty of
+time to go after the pigskin, gather it in and run back a dozen yards
+before the Claflin ends reached him. But after that McPhee played
+further back and Rollins put still more power into his drives.
+
+With almost ten minutes of the final period gone, Claflin, grown
+desperate, tried what forward passing would do. The first time, she lost
+the ball to Thayer, and Clint got ten yards before he was thrown, but
+the second attempt went better and Cox, who made the catch, ran across
+three white lines and only stopped when Edwards dragged him down from
+behind. Claflin got another first down by two plunges at the right of
+the opponent's line and a wide end-run. Then a penalty set her back
+fifteen yards and she had to punt after two ineffectual attempts at
+rushing. Otis got through for five yards and then Rollins punted again.
+
+The head linesman announced five minutes to play. On the stands the
+spectators were beginning to depart. Claflin was back on her thirty-five
+yards, banging desperately at the maroon-and-grey line, desperately and
+a bit hopelessly. A forward pass was knocked down by Captain Edwards, an
+assault at the left of the Brimfield line was smeared badly, Cox tried
+the other end and was laid low for a loss. Claflin punted.
+
+Howard, on a double pass, swept around the enemy's left for fifteen
+yards and then squirmed past tackle for six more. Rollins kicked to
+Claflin's ten and Edwards nailed the Blue's quarter before he could
+move. Brimfield cheered encouragingly. But Claflin, after getting four
+around Sturges, punted out of danger to Brimfield's forty-seven.
+
+"Three minutes!" announced the timekeeper.
+
+Otis got two at centre and Rollins again fell back to kick. The ball
+came to him low and he juggled it. Claflin poured through the right of
+the line, the ball bounded back from some upthrown arm and went dancing
+along the field. Blue players and maroon dashed after it. Hall almost
+had it, but was toppled aside by a Claflin man. Carmine dived for it and
+missed. Then Tim Otis and a Claflin forward dropped upon it
+simultaneously and struggled for its possession. Tim always maintained
+that he got more of it than his opponent, and got it first, but the
+referee awarded it to Claflin and dismayedly Brimfield gathered
+together and lined up only twenty yards from her goal!
+
+[Illustration: The runner smashed into sight, wild-faced for an instant
+before he put his head down and charged in]
+
+"Two minutes, fellows!" shouted the Claflin quarter-back exultantly.
+"We've got time to do it! Come on now, come on! We can win it right now!
+All together, Claflin! We've got them on the run! They're all-in!
+They're ready to quit!"
+
+The Claflin full-back faked a kick and circled around Lee's end for a
+six-yard gain. Then the Blue's right half plugged the line and got three
+more past Hall. It was one to go on third down. Another attack on Hall
+was pushed back, but Claflin made it first down by sending Cox squirming
+around Thayer. The ball was on the eleven yards now. It was Brimfield's
+turn to know the fear of defeat. Edwards implored and bullied. Claflin
+banged at Gilbert for a yard. A quarter-back run caught Steve Edwards
+napping and put the pigskin on the seven yards. Brimfield's adherents,
+massed along the side line, shouted defiantly. Across the darkening,
+trampled field, the Claflin cohorts were imploring a touchdown.
+
+"Third down! Six to go!" shouted the referee, hurrying out of the way.
+
+"On side, Claflin right end and tackle!" warned the umpire.
+
+The signals came again and the Claflin full-back smashed into the left
+of the opposing team. But it was like striking a stone wall that time.
+Perhaps the ball nestled a few inches nearer the goal, but no more than
+that. It was Don who bore the brunt of that attack and after the
+piled-up bodies had been pulled aside he and the Claflin full-back
+remained on the ground. On came the trainers with splashing buckets. Don
+came to with the first swash of the big, smelly sponge on his face.
+Danny Moore was grinning down at him.
+
+"Are ye hurt?" he asked.
+
+Don considered that a moment. Then he shook his head. "I'm--all
+right,--Danny," he murmured. "Just--help me--up."
+
+"Don't be in a hurry. Take all the time the law allows ye." Danny's
+fingers travelled inquiringly over the boy's body. "Where do you feel
+it?" he asked.
+
+Don kept his eyes stoically on the trainer's. If he flinched a little
+when Danny's strong fingers pressed his right shoulder it was so little
+that the trainer failed to see it. Nearby, the Claflin full-back was
+already on his feet. Tim came over and knelt by the trainer's side.
+
+"Anything wrong, Don?" he asked in a tired, anxious voice.
+
+"Not a thing," replied Don cheerfully. "Give me a hand, will you? I'm
+sort of wabbly, I guess."
+
+On the side line Pryme, head-guard in hand, was trotting up and down.
+Coach Robey was looking across intently. Don shook himself, stretched
+his arms--no one ever knew what that cost him!--and trotted around a few
+steps. Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the coach say
+something to Pryme, saw the disappointed look on the substitute's face
+and was half sorry for him. The whistle blew again and Don was crouching
+once more beside Thursby--why, no, it wasn't Thursby any longer! It was
+Peters, stout, complacent Peters, wearing a strangely fierce and ugly
+look on his round countenance!
+
+"Now hold 'em, Brimfield!" chanted McPhee. "Hold 'em hard! Don't let
+them have an inch!"
+
+Far easier said than done, though! A quick throw across the end of the
+line, a wild scramble and jumble of arms, a faint "_Down!_" and, at the
+right end of the Brimfield line, a mound of bodies with the ball
+somewhere down beneath and to all appearances across the goal line!
+Anxious moments then! One by one the fallen warriors were pulled to
+their feet while into the pile dove the referee. The timekeeper hovered
+nearby, watch in hand. Then the referee's voice:
+
+"Claflin's ball! First down! A foot to go!"
+
+"Line-up! Line-up!" shrieked the Claflin quarter. "We've got time yet!
+Put it over!"
+
+"Fight, Brimfield!" shouted Steve Edwards. "There's only forty seconds!
+Hold them off! Don't let them get it! Tom! Peters! Don! Get into it
+now!"
+
+"Signals! Signals!"
+
+Then a moment of silence save for the gasping breath of the players. The
+Claflin quarter shouted his signals, the ball sped back, the lines
+heaved. Straight at the left guard position plunged the back. "_Stop
+him!_" growled Peters. The secondary defence leaped to the rescue. Back
+went the man with the ball. "_Down!_" he cried in smothered tones. The
+referee pushed in and heeled the mark.
+
+"Second down! A foot and a half to go!"
+
+Don knew now that if he had fooled Danny Moore he had not fooled the
+Claflin quarter-back. That quarter knew or guessed that he had been hurt
+and was playing for him. Don gritted his teeth and ground his cleats
+into the sod. Well, they'd see!
+
+The signals again, broken into by Steve Edwards's shrill voice in wild
+appeal. Steve was wellnigh beside himself now. Peters was growling like
+a bear in a cage. Then again the plunge, hard and quick, the whole
+Claflin backfield behind it! Don felt an intolerable pain as he pushed
+and struggled. Despair seized him for an instant, for he was being borne
+back. Then someone hurtled into him from behind, driving the breath from
+his lungs, and he was staggering forward.
+
+Peters was yanking him to his feet, a wild-eyed Peters mouthing strange
+exultant words. "They can't do it! No, never! Not if they were to try
+all night! We put 'em back again, Gilbert! We'll do it again! Come on,
+you blue-legged babies! Try it again! You'll never do it!"
+
+Don, dazed, swaying giddily, groped back to his place. Thayer was
+muttering, too, now. Don wondered if they were all crazy. He was quite
+certain that he was, for otherwise things wouldn't revolve around him in
+such funny long sweeps. Then his mind was suddenly clear again. The
+Claflin quarter was hurling his signals out hurriedly, despairingly,
+fighting against time. Don didn't listen to those signals for he knew
+where the attack would come. And he was right, for once more the blue
+right guard and tackle sprang at him to bear him back. And then the
+runner smashed into sight, wild-faced for an instant before he put his
+head down and charged in. But Don didn't yield. Peters, roaring loudly,
+was fighting across him, and, front and rear, reinforcements hurled
+themselves into the mêlée. Don closed his eyes, every muscle in his body
+straining forward. A roar of voices came to him only dimly. Ages passed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He wondered if Danny Moore had nothing better to do than eternally swab
+his face with that beastly old sponge! Why didn't he pick on some other
+fellow? Don felt quite aggrieved and tried to say so, but couldn't seem
+to make any sound. Then he realised that he had forgotten to open his
+lips. When he did he got a lot of cold water in his mouth and that made
+him quite peevish. He tried to raise his right hand, changed his mind
+about it and raised his left instead. With that he pushed weakly at the
+offending sponge.
+
+"Take it away," he muttered. "I'm--drowned."
+
+"Can you walk or will we carry you?" asked Danny in businesslike tones.
+
+"Walk," said Don indignantly. "Let me up." Recollection returned. "Did
+they make it?" he gasped.
+
+"They did not. Lie still a bit."
+
+"Yes, but----" Don's voice grew faint and he closed his eyes again. The
+sponge gave a final pat and disappeared. "What--what down was that?"
+asked Don anxiously.
+
+"Third."
+
+"Then--then they've got another! Help me up, Danny, will you? We've got
+to stop them, you know. I don't believe they--can do it, do you? We put
+them back twice, you know."
+
+"Sure you did," said the trainer soothingly. "Here you are, Tim. Take
+his feet. And you get your arm under his middle, Martin. So! Careful of
+the shoulder, boys. He's got a fine broken blade in there!"
+
+"Wait!" Don kicked Tim's hands away from his ankles as, raised to a
+sitting posture by Danny and Martin, his puzzled glance swept the field.
+"Where's--where's everyone?" he gasped.
+
+"If you mean the team," laughed Tim, "they're beating it for the gym."
+
+"Oh!" said Don. "But--but what happened? They didn't"--his voice
+sank--"they didn't do it, did they, Tim?"
+
+"Of course they didn't, old man! We pushed them back three times and
+we'd have done it again if the whistle hadn't saved them!"
+
+"Then we won!" exclaimed Don.
+
+"Surest thing you know, dearie! If you don't believe it listen to that
+band of wild Indians over in front of the gym! Now are you ready to be
+lugged along?"
+
+"Yes, thanks," sighed Don.
+
+
+THE END
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
+
+Page 22, "usully" changed to "usually" (Daley was usually)
+
+Page 24, "acknowlegement" changed to "acknowledgment" (the
+acknowledgment that)
+
+Page 65, "Muskateers" changed to "Musketeers" (four "Three Musketeers")
+
+Page 89, "castenets" changed to "castanets" (chattering like castanets)
+
+Page 115, "rom" changed to "from" (darting from the galloping)
+
+Page 129, "disgruntedly" changed to "disgruntledly" (had been
+disgruntledly)
+
+Page 136, "that's" changed to "that" (that Joe's parents had)
+
+Page 145, "startingly" changed to "startlingly" (sounded startlingly
+loud)
+
+Page 167, "disgruntedly" changed to "disgruntledly" (Walton
+disgruntledly found)
+
+Page 172, "positon" changed to "position" (of his position with)
+
+Page 223, "Demanded" changed to "demanded" on illustration caption.
+(demanded Don angrily)
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Left Guard Gilbert, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
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+  <head>
+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Left Guard Gilbert, by Ralph Henry Barbour.
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Left Guard Gilbert, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Left Guard Gilbert
+
+Author: Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+Illustrator: E. C. Caswell
+
+Release Date: July 29, 2008 [EBook #26149]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEFT GUARD GILBERT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+<h1>LEFT GUARD GILBERT</h1>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
+<img src="images/cover01.jpg" width="264" height="400" alt="Cover" title="Cover" />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='bbox'>
+<h4><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i></h4>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Other books by Barbour">
+<tr><td align='left'>LEFT END EDWARDS</td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>LEFT TACKLE THAYER</td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+</div>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 314px;"><a name="front" id="front"></a>
+<img src="images/gs01.jpg" width="314" height="400" alt="&quot;Well, come on! How did it happen?&quot; (Page 14)" title="&quot;Well, come on! How did it happen?&quot; (Page 14)" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;Well, come on! How did it happen?&quot; <br />(<a href="#Page_14">Page 14</a>)</span>
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h1>Left Guard Gilbert</h1>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+<h2>RALPH HENRY BARBOUR</h2>
+
+<div class='center'><small>AUTHOR OF</small><br />
+
+
+LEFT END EDWARDS,<br />
+FULL-BACK FOSTER, Etc.<br />
+<br /><br /><br />
+
+<small>ILLUSTRATED BY</small><br />
+
+E. C. CASWELL<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 125px;">
+<img src="images/tp01.png" width="125" height="116" alt="Emblem" title="Emblem" />
+</div>
+<div class='center'><br /><br /><br />
+GROSSET &amp; DUNLAP<br />
+<small>PUBLISHERS &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;NEW YORK</small><br />
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='center'>
+<small><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1916, by</span></small><br />
+<small>DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, <span class="smcap">Inc.</span></small><br />
+</div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'><small>CHAPTER</small></td><td align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>I</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE BOY FROM KANSAS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>II</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;IN NUMBER SIX</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>III</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;AMY HOLDS FORTH</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IV</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE FIRST GAME</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>V</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;DON GOES TO THE SECOND</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VI</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE SEARCH OF ADVENTURE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VII</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;FIGHTING FIRE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>VIII</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;COACHING THE TACKLES</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>IX</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE WIDTH OF A FINGER</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>X</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;TIM EXULTS AND EXPLAINS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XI</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;MR. BRADY FORGETS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XII</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE JOKE ON MR. MOLLER</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIII</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;SOUTHBY YIELDS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIV</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;WALTON WRITES A NOTE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_166">166</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XV</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;A PROPOSITION</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVI</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;DON VISITS THE DOCTOR</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVII</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;DROPPED FROM THE TEAM</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XVIII</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;"GOOD-BYE, TIMMY!"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XIX</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;FRIENDS FALL OUT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XX</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;AMY APPEARS FOR THE DEFENCE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXI</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;THE DOCTOR TELLS A STORY</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXII</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;COACH ROBEY IS PUZZLED</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXIII</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;CROSS-EXAMINATION</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXIV</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;"ALL READY, BRIMFIELD?"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXV</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;TIM GOES OVER</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='right'>XXVI</td><td align='left'>&nbsp;&nbsp;LEFT GUARD GILBERT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_300">300</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+
+
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>"<span class="smcap">Well, Come On! How Did It Happen?</span>" (<span class="smcap">Page</span> 14)</td><td align='right'><a href="#front"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>&nbsp;</td><td align='right'><small>FACING<br />PAGE</small></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Finally, Don Was Unceremoniously YankedUp and Through</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">"Will You Unlock That Door?" Demanded Don Angrily</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Runner Smashed into Sight, Wild-faced for an Instant Before He Put His Head down and Charged In</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<h2>LEFT GUARD GILBERT</h2>
+
+
+
+<h2>CHAPTER I</h2>
+
+<h3>THE BOY FROM KANSAS</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'>"<span class="smcap">Hold</span> up!"</div>
+
+<p>Coach Robey, coatless, vestless, hatless, his old
+flannel trousers held up as by a miracle with the
+aid of a leather strap scarcely deserving the name
+of belt, pushed his way through the first squad
+players. The Brimfield Head Coach was a wiry,
+medium-sized man of about thirty, with a deeply-tanned
+face from which sharp blue eyes looked
+out under whitish lashes that were a shade lighter
+than his eyebrows and two shades lighter than
+his sandy hair. As the afternoon was excessively
+hot, even for the twenty-first day of September
+and in proximity to Long Island Sound, Mr.
+George Robey's countenance was bathed in perspiration
+and the faded blue silk shirt was plastered
+to his body.</p>
+
+<p>"That was left half through guard-tackle,
+wasn't it? Then don't put the ball in your arm,
+St. Clair. You ought to know better than that.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>
+On plays through the line hold it against your
+stomach with both hands. How long do you think
+you'd keep that ball in your elbow after you hit
+the line? Someone would knock it out in about
+one second! Now try it again and think what
+you're doing. All right, Carmine. Same play."</p>
+
+<p>The panting and perspiring backs crouched once
+more, Carmine shrilly called his signals, Thayer
+and Gafferty plunged against an imaginary foe
+as Thursby shot the ball back and St. Clair, hugging
+the pigskin ecstatically with wide-spread
+fingers, trotted through the hole, stopped, set the
+ball on the grass and wiped his streaming face
+with the torn sleeve of a maroon jersey.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," said the coach. "That will do for
+today. In on the trot, everyone!"</p>
+
+<p>The first squad, exhaling a long, deep sigh of
+relief as one man, set their faces toward the gymnasium
+and trotted slowly off, their canvas-clad
+legs <i>swish-swashing</i> as they met. Coach Robey
+walked further down the sun-baked field to where
+the nearer of the remaining four squads was at
+work.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, put some pep into it, McPhee!" called the
+coach as he approached. "You all look as if you
+were asleep! Come on now! Wake up! Jones,
+get up there. You're away out of position. That's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>
+better. Now then, Quarter! Hold up! What's
+your down?"</p>
+
+<p>"Third, sir, and four to go."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. Show me what you're going to do
+with it. Head up, Martin! Look where you're
+going."</p>
+
+<p>"36&mdash;27&mdash;43&mdash;86!" grunted the quarter-back.
+"36&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Signal!" cried Gordon, at right half.</p>
+
+<p>McPhee straightened, cast a withering look at
+the half-back, wiped the perspiration from the end
+of his sun-burnt nose and repeated:</p>
+
+<p>"36&mdash;27&mdash;43&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Gordon shifted his feet, and&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Hold up!" barked the coach. "Gordon, don't
+give the play away. Shifting your feet like that
+makes it a cinch for the other fellow. Get your
+position now and hold it until the ball's passed.
+All right. Once more, Quarter."</p>
+
+<p>"36&mdash;27&mdash;43&mdash;86!" wailed McPhee. "36&mdash;27&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The pigskin shot into his waiting hands, Gordon
+leaped forward, took it at a hand-pass and
+ran out behind his line, left half in advance, turned
+sharply in and set the ball down.</p>
+
+<p>"First down!" called McPhee. "Sturges
+over."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Hold up! Try a forward pass, McPhee.
+You're on the ten yards and it's third down. Get
+into this, you ends. Put some pep into it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Signal! Martin back! 37&mdash;32&mdash;14&mdash;71&mdash;Hep!"
+The backs jumped to the left one stride.
+"37&mdash;32&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Back flew the ball to the full-back, right end
+shot out and down the field across the mythical
+last line, the defence surged against the imaginary
+enemy and Martin, poising the ball at arm's
+length, threw over the line to Lee.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," commented the coach. "That'll be
+all for today. Trot all the way in, fellows."</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later the field was empty of the
+sixty-odd boys who had reported for the second
+day's practice and the sun was going down behind
+the tree-clad hill to the west. In the gymnasium
+was the sound of rushing water, of many voices
+and of scraping benches. Mr. Robey wormed his
+way through the crowded locker-room to where
+Danny Moore, the trainer, stood in the doorway
+of the rubbing-room in talk with Jim Morton, this
+year's manager of the team. Morton was nineteen,
+tall, thin and benevolent looking behind a
+pair of rubber-rimmed spectacles.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you put them on the scales, Dan?" asked
+the coach.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Sure, the first, second and third, sir. Some
+of 'em dropped a good three pounds today. By
+gorry, I feel like I'd dropped that much meself!"</p>
+
+<p>"It certainly is warm. Look here, Jim, is this
+all we get to work on? How many were out today?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sixty-two, Coach. That's not bad. I suppose
+there'll be a few more dribble along tomorrow and
+the next day."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, they look pretty fair, don't you think?
+Some of the new fellows seem to have ideas of
+football. All the last year fellows on hand?"</p>
+
+<p>"All but Gilbert. He hasn't shown up. I don't
+know why, I'm sure."</p>
+
+<p>"Better look him up," said the coach. "Gilbert
+ought to make a pretty good showing this year,
+and we aren't any too strong on guards."</p>
+
+<p>"Gilbert rooms with Tim Otis, I think," replied
+Morton. "Oh, Tim! Tim Otis!"</p>
+
+<p>A light-haired boy of seventeen, very straight,
+and very pink where an enormous bath-towel
+failed to cover him, wormed his way to them.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, Tim, what's the matter with Gilbert?"
+asked Morton. "Isn't he coming out?"</p>
+
+<p>Tim Otis shrugged a pair of broad, lean shoulders.
+"He hasn't got here yet, Morton. I don't
+know what's happened. He wrote me two weeks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>
+ago that he'd meet me at the station in New
+York yesterday for the three-fifty-eight, but he
+wasn't there and I haven't heard a word from
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Probably missed his connection," suggested
+Morton. "He lives out West somewhere,
+doesn't he?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, Osawatomie, Kansas."</p>
+
+<p>"It probably takes a good while to get away
+from a place with a name like that," said
+Mr. Robey drily. "Well, when he shows up,
+Otis, tell him to get a move on if he wants a
+place."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, I will. I'm pretty certain he will be
+along today some time. I wouldn't be surprised if
+he was here now."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. By the way, Otis, how do you feel
+at right half? Seem strange to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, I don't notice it. I did play right, you
+know, two years ago on the second. Seems to me
+it's easier to take the ball from that position, too."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't try the fool trick your side-partner
+did today," said Mr. Robey, smiling. "Putting
+the ball under your elbow for a line plunge is a
+fine piece of business for a fellow who's been playing
+three years!"</p>
+
+<p>Tim laughed. "I guess he did that because it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>
+was just practice, sir. He knows a lot better than
+to do it in scrimmage."</p>
+
+<p>"I hope so. Well, hurry Gilbert along, will
+you? If he doesn't get out here inside of a few
+days he won't find much of a welcome, I'm afraid.
+I'm not going to keep positions open for anyone
+this year, not with the first game coming along in
+four days!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you worry, Mr. Robey," replied Tim,
+with a chuckle and a flash of white teeth. "I'll
+have him out here the first day he shows up,
+even if I have to lug him all the way. Don't
+think I'll have to, though, for you couldn't
+keep Don from playing football unless you tied
+him up!"</p>
+
+<p>"Nice chap," commented Morton, nodding at
+Tim as the latter returned to his bench. "Awfully
+clean-cut sort."</p>
+
+<p>"A fine lad," agreed Danny Moore, and Mr.
+Robey nodded thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe we're going to miss Kendall
+and Freer as much as I thought," he said after
+a moment. "Otis looks to me like a fellow who
+will stand a lot of work and grow on it. Well, I'm
+going to get a shower and get out of this sweat-box.
+As soon as you get time, Jim, I wish you'd
+catalogue the players the way we did last year and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>
+let me have the list. You know how Black did it,
+don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. I'll have the list ready for you tomorrow."</p>
+
+<p>"Good! Got a towel I can use, Dan? I haven't
+brought any yet. Thanks." The coach nodded
+and sought a place to disrobe. The trainer's gaze
+followed him until he was lost to sight beyond the
+throng.</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder will he put it over again this year,"
+he mused.</p>
+
+<p>"Surest thing you know," asserted Morton.
+"Think I'm going to have the team licked the year
+I'm manager, Danny? Not so you'd notice it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, between you and him," chuckled Danny,
+"I've no doubt you'll turn out a fine team. Say,
+he's the lad that can do it, though, now ain't he?
+Four years he's been at it, and it's fifty-fifty now,
+ain't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we lost the first two years and won last
+year and the year before. It was Andy Miller's
+team that started the ball rolling for us. No one
+could have won those first two years, anyhow,
+Danny. Robey had to start at the bottom and
+build up the whole thing. We hadn't been playing
+football here for several years before that. It
+takes a couple of years at the least to get a foundation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>
+laid. If we win this year we'll have something
+to boast of. No other team ever beat
+Claflin three times running."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe we won't either. I'm hoping we do,
+though. Still and all, it don't do to win too many
+times. You get to thinking you can't lose, d'ye
+see, and the first thing anyone knows you're all
+shot to pieces. I've seen it happen, me boy."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I dare say, Danny, but don't let's start the
+losing streak until next year. I want to manage
+a winning team. Well, so long. See about some
+cooler weather tomorrow, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I will so," replied the little trainer gravely.
+"I'll start arrangements to once."</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Tim Otis, again arrayed in grey
+flannels and a pair of tan, rubber-soled shoes
+rather the worse for a hard summer, was on his
+way along the Row to the last of the five buildings
+set end to end on the brow of the hill. As he
+swung in between Wendell and Torrence&mdash;the
+gymnasium stood behind Wendell, and, save for
+the Cottage, as the principal's residence was
+called, was the only building out of alignment&mdash;he
+saw the entrances to dormitories and Main Hall
+thronged with youths who evidently preferred the
+coolness of outdoors to the heat of the rooms,
+while others were seated on the grass along the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>
+walk. It almost seemed that the entire roster of
+some one hundred and eighty students was before
+him. He answered many hails, but declined all
+inducements to tarry, keeping on his way past
+Main Hall and Hensey until Billings was reached.
+There he turned in and tramped to the right along
+the first floor corridor to the open door of Number
+6, a room on the back of the building that looked
+out upon the tennis courts and, beyond, the football
+and baseball fields. From the fact that no
+sound came from the room, Tim decided that Don
+Gilbert had, after all, and in spite of what Tim
+called a "hunch," failed to arrive. But when he
+entered his mistake was instantly apparent. A
+maroon-coloured cushion hurtled toward him, narrowly
+missing the green shade of the droplight
+on the study table and, thanks to prompt and instinctive
+action on the part of Tim, sailed on,
+serene and unimpeded, into the corridor. Whereupon
+Tim uttered a savage whoop of mingled joy
+and vengeance and, traversing the length of the
+room in four leaps, hurled himself upon the occupant
+of the window-seat.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+
+<h3>IN NUMBER SIX</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">For</span> a long minute confusion and the noise of
+battle reigned supreme. Then, in response to a
+sudden yelp of pain from Don, Tim drew off, panting
+and grinning. Don was extending a left hand,
+funereally wrapped in a black silk handkerchief,
+further along the window-seat and away from the
+scene of action.</div>
+
+<p>"Hello!" said Tim. "What's the matter with
+that?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hurt it a little," replied Don.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I supposed you had, you idiot! How?
+Hit it against your head?"</p>
+
+<p>The other smiled in his slow fashion. "We had
+a sort of a wreck coming on. Out in Indiana somewhere.
+I got this. That's why I'm behind
+time."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm beastly sorry, old man! I didn't notice
+the cr&ecirc;pe. Did I hurt it much!"</p>
+
+<p>"No. I yelled so you wouldn't. Preparedness,
+you know. Safety first and so on. It isn't much.
+How's everything here?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Tim seated himself at the other end of the seat,
+took his knees in his hands, and beamed.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, fine! Say, I'm tickled to death to see your
+ugly mug again, Don. You aren't a bit handsomer,
+are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've been told I was. Trouble with you is, you
+don't recognise manly beauty when you see it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, don't I?" Tim twirled an imaginary
+moustache. "I recognise it every time I look
+in the glass! Well, how are you aside from the
+bum fist?"</p>
+
+<p>"Great! I've just had a s&eacute;ance with Josh. I
+tried to register and sneak by, but Brooke
+wouldn't have it that way. 'Er, quite so, Gilbert,
+quite so, but I&mdash;er&mdash;think you had better
+see Mr. Fernald.' So I did, and Josh read me
+the riot act. Thought for awhile he was going
+to send me home again."</p>
+
+<p>"But didn't you tell him your train was
+wrecked?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but he didn't believe in it much.
+Thought I was romancing, I guess. Got a railway
+guide and showed me how I might have got
+here on time just the same. Maybe he's right,
+but I couldn't figure it out in Cincinnati. Besides,
+I didn't get away with much of anything
+besides pajamas and overcoat and shoes, and so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>
+I had to refit. That lost me the first connection
+and then I got held up again at Pittsburg. So
+here I am, the late Mr. Gilbert."</p>
+
+<p>"Josh is an idiot," said Tim disgustedly.
+"Didn't he see your hand? How did he think you
+did that if you weren't in a wreck?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I kept that in my pocket and I guess he
+didn't notice it. He came around all right in the
+end, though. We parted friends. At least, I did."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what about that?" Tim nodded at the
+injured hand. "How'd you cut you, burn you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. Things got on fire."</p>
+
+<p>"You're the most vivid descriptionist I ever
+listened to! Come across with the sickening details.
+How did it happen? I didn't see anything
+about it in the papers."</p>
+
+<p>"Probably wasn't on the sporting page," replied
+Don gravely.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dry up and blow away! Wasn't it in the
+papers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Cincinnati papers had it. I haven't read the
+others. It wasn't much of a wreck really. Engineer
+killed, fireman scalded, about twenty passengers
+injured more or less. Several considerably
+more. Express messenger expected to pass out.
+Just a nice, cosy little wreck with no&mdash;no spectacular
+features, as you might say."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, come on! How did it happen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Freight train taking a siding and went to sleep
+at it. Our engine bumped the other engine and
+they both went smash. Hot coals and steam and
+so on got busy. It was about five in the morning.
+Just getting lightish. Everyone snuggled up in
+bed. <i>Biff! Wow!</i> I landed out on the floor on my
+hands and knees. Everyone yelled. Car turned
+half over and sat that way. Doors got jammed.
+We beat it out by the windows. I was a Roman
+Senator with a green berth curtain wrapped about
+me. Afterwards I sneaked back and pulled out my
+shoes and overcoat. Always sleep with my shoes
+under my pillow, you see. Good idea, too. If I
+hadn't had them there I'd never have got them.
+Couldn't get my bag out. Car was on fire by that
+time. Three others, too. They saved all but the
+one I was in and the express and baggage cars.
+After awhile a wrecking train came and then a lot
+of us walked to a village about a mile and a half
+away and had breakfast and went on to Cincinnati
+about noon."</p>
+
+<p>"Gee! But, still, you know, I don't see how you
+got burned."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, things were pretty hot. Some of them
+got burned a lot worse than I did. Had to pull
+some of them out the windows and through the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>
+roofs. Women, too. Lucky thing our car had only
+two in it. Two women, I mean. Things were
+fairly busy for awhile."</p>
+
+<p>"Must have been. The engineer was killed
+straight off, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Ours was. The other one managed to jump.
+Firemen got off all right, too. The other fireman.
+Ours got caught and scalded like the dickens. Saw
+the engineer myself." Don frowned and shuddered.
+"Nasty mess he was, too, poor fellow.
+Let's talk about something else. I don't like to
+remember that engineer."</p>
+
+<p>"Too bad! But, say, you were lucky, weren't
+you? You might have been killed, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>"Might have, maybe. Didn't come very near it,
+though. First wreck I ever saw and don't want
+to see any more. Funny thing, though, I didn't
+mind it at all until I was on the train going to
+Cincinnati. Excitement, I suppose. Then I came
+near keeling over, honest! What do you know
+about that, Timmy?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess anyone would have. How bad is your
+burn?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not bad. Hurts a bit, though. It's the inside
+of the fingers and the palm. It'll be all right in a
+few days, I guess. Doctor chap said I'd have to
+have it dressed every day for awhile."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"But, Great Scott, Don, what about football?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've thought of that. Nothing doing for a
+week or so, I guess. Rotten luck, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beastly! And Robey was telling me only half
+an hour ago to hurry you up. Said you'd have to
+come right out if you wanted a place. Still, when
+he understands what the trouble is&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll see him tonight, I guess. Who's playing
+guard, Tim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Joe Gafferty, left; Tom Hall, right. Walton
+and Pryme and Lawton are all after places. Walton's
+been doing good work too, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"All the fellows back?"</p>
+
+<p>"Every last one. Remember Howard, who
+played sub half-back for the second last year?
+He's showing great form. Still, you can't tell
+much yet. There's to be scrimmage tomorrow.
+We play Thacher Saturday, you know. Sort of
+quick work and I don't believe we'll be anywhere
+near ready for them."</p>
+
+<p>"Thacher's easy. We beat them 26 to 3 last
+year."</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-three to three."</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-six."</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty-three. Bet you!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't bet, Timmy. Know I'm right, though.
+Anyway, Thacher's easy. Tell me the news."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, there isn't anything startling. We had
+the usual polite party at Josh's last night. Shook
+hands with the new chaps and told 'em how tickled
+we were to see them. Ate sandwiches and cake
+and lemonade and&mdash;by the way, we've got a new
+master; physics; Moller his name is; Caleb Moller,
+B.A. Quite a handsome brute and a swell dresser.
+Comes from Lehigh or one of those Southern colleges,
+I believe."</p>
+
+<p>"Lehigh's in Pennsylvania, you ignoramus."</p>
+
+<p>"Is it?" answered Tim untroubledly. "All
+right. Let it stay there. Anyhow, Caleb is some
+cheese."</p>
+
+<p>"Where's Rollinson gone?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't know what happened to Rollo. Draper
+said he heard he'd gone to some whopping
+big prep school up in New Hampshire or somewhere."</p>
+
+<p>"Or some other Southern school," suggested
+Don soberly.</p>
+
+<p>"Dry up! And, say, get a move on. It's nearly
+time for eats and I'm starved."</p>
+
+<p>"Timmy, I never saw the time you weren't
+starved. All right. I'm sort of hungry myself.
+Haven't had anything since about ten o'clock this
+morning. Ran out of money. Got here with eight
+cents in my pocket. That and my tuition check.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>
+I'd have cashed that if I could have and had a
+dinner. I was sure hungry!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, wash your dirty face and hands," said
+Tim, "and come along. Oh, say, Don, wait till you
+see the classy Norfolk suit I've got. I enticed
+dad into Crook's when we struck the city; told him
+I had to have some hankies and ties, you know.
+Then I steered him up against this here suit, and
+this here suit made a hit with him right away.
+If he could have got into it himself he'd have
+walked out in it. It's sort of green with a reddish
+thread wandering carelessly through it. It's some
+apparel, take it from me."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe I will if it fits me," responded Don.</p>
+
+<p>"Will what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Take it from you."</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, but you're bright! Getting wrecked's put
+an edge on you, sonny. I'm afraid that suit
+wouldn't fit you, though, Don. You've grown
+about an inch since Spring, haven't you? You're
+beastly fat, too."</p>
+
+<p>"I am not," denied Don, good-humouredly indignant.
+"I've kept in strict training all summer.
+What you think is fat is good hard muscle, Timmy.
+Feel of that arm if you don't believe it."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, quite village-blacksmithy."</p>
+
+<p>"Quite <i>what?</i>"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Village-blacksmithy. 'The muscles of his
+mighty arms were strong as iron bands,' or something
+like that. Get out of the way and let me
+wash up."</p>
+
+<p>Don retired to his dresser and passed the
+brushes over his brown hair and snugged his tie
+up a bit. The face that looked back at him from
+the mirror was not, perhaps, handsome, although
+it by no means merited Tim's aspersions. There
+was a nice pair of dark brown eyes, rather slumberous
+looking, a nose a trifle too short for perfection
+and a mouth a shade too wide. But it was
+a good-tempered, pleasant face, on the whole, intelligent
+and capable and matching well the physically
+capable body below, a body of wide shoulders
+and well-knit muscles and a deep chest that might
+have belonged to a youth of eighteen instead of
+seventeen. Compared with Tim Otis, who was of
+the same age, Don Gilbert suffered on only two
+counts&mdash;quickness and vivacity. Tim, well-muscled,
+possessed a litheness that Don could never
+attain to, and moved, thought and spoke far more
+quickly. In height Don topped his friend by
+almost a full inch and was broader and bigger-boned.
+They were both, in spite of dissimilarity,
+fine, manly fellows.</p>
+
+<p>Tim, wiping his hands after ablutions, turned to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>
+survey Don with a quizzical smile on his good-looking
+face. And, after a moment's reflective regard
+of his chum's broad back, he broke the
+silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Say, Don," he asked, "glad to get back?"</p>
+
+<p>Don turned, while a slow smile crept over his
+countenance.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Su-u-re</i>," he drawled.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+
+<h3>AMY HOLDS FORTH</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Brimfield Academy</span> is at Brimfield, and Brimfield
+is a scant thirty miles out of New York City
+and some two or three miles from the Sound. It is
+more than possible that these facts are already
+known to you; if you live in the vicinity of New
+York they certainly are. But at the risk of being
+tiresome I must explain a little about the school
+for the benefit of those readers who are unacquainted
+with it. Brimfield was this Fall entering
+on its twenty-fifth year, a fact destined to be
+appropriately celebrated later on. The enrollment
+was one hundred and eighty students and
+the faculty consisted of twenty members inclusive
+of the principal, Mr. Joshua L. Fernald, A.M.,
+more familiarly known as "Josh." The course
+covers six years, and boys may enter the First
+Form at the age of twelve. Being an endowed
+institution and well supplied with money under
+the terms of the will of its founder, Brimfield
+boasts of its fine buildings. There are four dormitories,
+Wendell, Torrence, Hensey and Billings,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>
+all modern, and, between Torrence and Hensey,
+the original Academy Building now known as
+Main Hall and containing the class rooms, school
+offices, assembly room and library. The dining
+hall is in Wendell, the last building on the right.
+Behind Wendell is the gymnasium. Occupying
+almost if not quite as retiring a situation at the
+other end of the Row, is the Cottage, Mr. Fernald's
+residence. Each dormitory is ruled over
+by a master. In Billings Mr. Daley, the instructor
+in modern languages, was in charge at
+the period of this story, and since it was necessary
+to receive permission before leaving the school
+grounds after supper, Don and Tim paused at Mr.
+Daley's study on the way out. Don's knock on
+the portal of Number 8 elicited an instant invitation
+to enter and a moment later he was shaking
+hands with the hall master, a youngish man with
+a pleasant countenance and a manner at once
+eager and embarrassed. Mr. Daley was <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'usully'">usually</ins>
+referred to as Horace, which was his first name,
+and, as he shook hands, Don very nearly committed
+the awful mistake of calling him that! After
+greetings had been exchanged Don explained
+somewhat vaguely the reason for his tardy arrival
+and then requested permission to visit
+Coach Robey in the village after supper.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></div>
+
+<p>"Yes, Gilbert, but&mdash;er&mdash;be back by eight, please.
+I'm not sure that Mr. Robey isn't about school,
+however. Have you inquired?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, but Tim says he isn't eating in hall
+yet, and so&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, in that case perhaps not. Well, be back
+for study hour. If you're going to supper I'll
+walk along with you, fellows." Mr. Daley closed
+his study door and they went out together and,
+as they trod the flags of the long walk that passed
+the fronts of the buildings, Mr. Daley discoursed
+on football with Tim while Don replied to the
+greetings of friends. They parted from the instructor
+at the dining hall door and sought their
+places at table, Don's arrival being greeted with
+acclaim by the other half-dozen occupants of the
+board. Once more he was obliged to give an account
+of himself, but this time his narrative was
+considered to be sadly lacking in detail and it was
+not until Tim had come to his assistance with a
+highly coloured if not exactly authentic history of
+the train-wreck that the audience was satisfied.
+Don told him he was an idiot. Tim, declining to
+argue the point, revenged himself by stealing a
+slice of Don's bread when the latter's attention
+was challenged by Harry Westcott at the farther
+end of the table.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Westcott, who was one of the editors of the
+school monthly, <i>The Review</i>, had developed the
+journalistic instinct to a high degree of late and had
+visions of a thrilling story in the November issue.
+But Don utterly refused to pose as a hero of any
+sort. The best Harry could get out of him was
+the <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'acknowledgement'">acknowledgment</ins> that he had seen several
+persons removed from the wreck and had helped
+carry one to the relief train later. That wasn't
+much to go on, and, subsequently, Harry regretfully
+abandoned his plan.</p>
+
+<p>After supper Don and Tim walked down to the
+village and Don had a few minutes of talk with
+the coach. Mr. Robey was sympathetic but annoyed.
+Although he didn't say so in so many
+words he gave Don to understand that he had
+failed in his duty to the school and the team in
+allowing himself to become concerned in a train-wreck.
+He didn't explain just how Don could
+have avoided it, and Don didn't think it worth
+while to inquire.</p>
+
+<p>"You have that hand looked after properly and
+regularly, Gilbert," he said, "and watch practice
+until you can put on togs. Losing a week or
+so is going to handicap you. No doubt about that.
+And I'm not making any promises. But you keep
+your eyes open and maybe there'll be a place for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>
+you when you're ready to work. It's awfully hard
+luck, old chap. See you tomorrow."</p>
+
+<p>Don went back to school through the warm dusk
+slightly cast down, although he had previously
+realised that football would be beyond him for at
+least a week. It is sometimes one thing to acknowledge
+a fact oneself and another to hear the
+same fact stated by a second person. There's a
+certain finality about the latter that is convincing.
+But if Don was downcast he didn't show it to his
+companion. Don had a way of concealing his emotions
+that Tim at once admired and resented.
+When Tim felt blue&mdash;which was mighty seldom&mdash;he
+let it be known to the whole world, and when he
+felt gay he was just as confiding. But Don&mdash;well,
+as Tim often said, he was "worse than an
+Indian!"</p>
+
+<p>After study they sallied forth again, arm in arm,
+and went down the Row to Torrence and climbed
+the stairs to Number 14. As the door was half
+open knocking was a needless formality&mdash;especially
+as the noise within would have prevented its
+being heard&mdash;and so Tim pushed the portal further
+ajar and entered, followed by Don, on a most
+animated scene. Eight boys were sprawled or
+seated around the room, while another, a thin, tall,
+unkempt youth with a shock of very black hair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>
+which was always falling over his eyes and being
+brushed aside, was standing in a small clearing
+between table and windows balancing a baseball
+bat, surmounted by two books and a glass of water,
+on his chin. So interested was the audience in
+this startling feat that the presence of the new
+arrivals passed unnoted until the juggler, suddenly
+stepping back, allowed the law of gravity
+to have its way for an instant. Then his right
+hand caught the falling bat, the two books crashed
+unheeded to the floor and his left hand seized the
+descending tumbler. Simultaneously there was a
+disgruntled yelp from Jim Morton and a howl of
+laughter from the rest of the audience. For the
+juggler, while he had miraculously caught the
+tumbler in mid-air, had not been deft enough to
+keep the contents intact and about half of it had
+gone into the football manager's face. However,
+everyone there except Morton applauded enthusiastically
+and hilariously, and Larry Jones,
+sweeping his offending locks aside with the careless
+and impatient grace of a violin virtuoso,
+bowed repeatedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Great stuff," approved Amory Byrd, rescuing
+his books from the floor. "Do it again and
+stand nearer Jim."</p>
+
+<p>"If he does it again I'm going into the hall,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>
+said Morton disgustedly, wiping his damp countenance
+on the edge of Clint Thayer's bedspread.
+"You're a punk juggler, Larry."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, you do it," was the reply. Larry
+proffered the bat and tumbler, but Morton waved
+them indignantly aside.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't do monkey-tricks, thanks. Gee, my collar's
+sopping wet!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all right," called someone. "You'll
+be going to bed soon. Say, Larry, do that one with
+the three tennis balls."</p>
+
+<p>"Isn't room enough. I know a good trick with
+coins, though. Any fellow got two halves?"</p>
+
+<p>Groans of derision were heard and at that moment
+someone discovered the presence of Don and
+Tim and Larry's audience deserted him. When
+the new-comers had found accommodations, such
+as they were, conversation switched to the all-absorbing
+subject of football. Most of the fellows
+assembled were members of the first or second
+teams: Larry Jones was a substitute half; Clint
+Thayer was first-choice left tackle; Steve Edwards,
+sprawled on Clint's bed, was left end and
+this year's captain; the short, sturdy youth in the
+Morris chair was Thursby, the centre; Tom Hall,
+broad of shoulders, was right guard; Harry Walton,
+slimmer and rangier, with a rather saturnine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>
+countenance, was a substitute for that position.
+Jim Morton was, as we know, manager, and only
+Amory&mdash;or "Amy"&mdash;Byrd and Leroy Draper, the
+tow-headed, tip-nosed youth sharing the Morris
+chair with Thursby, were, in a manner of speaking,
+non-combatants.</p>
+
+<p>But being a non-combatant didn't prevent Amy
+Byrd from airing his views and opinions on the
+subject of football, and that he was now doing.
+"Every year," he protested, "I have to hear the
+same line of talk from you chaps. It's wearying,
+woesomely wearying. Now, as a matter of fact,
+every one of you knows that we've got the average
+material and that we'll go ahead and turn out an
+average team and beat Claflin as per usual. The
+only chance for argument is what the score will be.
+You fellows like to grouse and pretend every fall
+that the team's shot full of holes and that the
+world is a dark, dreary, dismal place and that winning
+from Claflin is only a hectic dream. For the
+love of lemons, fellows, chuck the undertaker stuff
+and cheer up. Talk about something interesting,
+or, if you must talk your everlasting football, cut
+out the sobs!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dry up, Amy," said Tom Hall. "You
+oughtn't to be allowed to talk. Someone stuff a
+pillow in his mouth. No one has said we were shot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>
+full of holes, but you can't get around the fact that
+we've lost a lot of good players and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, gee, he's at it again!" wailed Amy. "Yes,
+Thomas darling, you've lost two fellows out of the
+line and two out of the backfield and there's nothing
+to live for and we'd better poison ourselves off
+before defeat and disgrace come upon us. All is
+lost save honour! Ah, woe is me!"</p>
+
+<p>"Cut it out, Amy," begged Edwards. "You
+don't know anything about football, you idiot."</p>
+
+<p>"Two in the line and two in the backfield is
+good," jeered Tim. "We've lost Blaisdell and
+Innes and Tyler&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Never was any good," interpolated Amy.</p>
+
+<p>"And Roberts and Marvin&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Carmine's better!"</p>
+
+<p>"And Kendall and Harris!" concluded Tim triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind, Timmy, you've still got me!" replied
+Amy sweetly. "Gee, to hear you rave you'd
+think the whole team had graduated!"</p>
+
+<p>"So it has, practically!"</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, yes, and I heard the same dope this time
+last year. We'd lost Miller and Sawyer and Williams
+and&mdash;and Milton and a dozen or two more
+and there wasn't any hope for us! And all we
+did was to go ahead and dodder along and beat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>
+Claflin seven to nothing! Not so bad for a lifeless
+corpse, what?"</p>
+
+<p>Steve Edwards laughed. "Well, maybe we do
+talk trouble a good deal about this time of year.
+It's natural, I guess. You lose fellows who played
+fine ball last year and you can't see just at first
+how anyone can fill their places. Someone always
+does, though. That's the bully part of it. I dare
+say we'll manage to dodder along, as Amy calls
+it, and rub it into old Claflin as we've been doing."</p>
+
+<p>"First sensible word I've heard tonight," said
+Amy approvingly. "I wouldn't kick so much if I
+only had to hear this sort of stuff occasionally, but
+I'm rooming with the original cr&ecirc;pe-hanger!
+Clint sobs himself to sleep at night thinking how
+terribly the dear old team's shot to pieces. If I
+remark in my optimistic, gladsome way, 'Clint,
+list how sweetly the birdies sing, and observe, I
+prithee, the sunlight gilding yon mountain peak,'
+Clint turns his mournful countenance on me and
+chokes out something about a weak backfield!
+Say, I'm gladder every day of my life that I
+stayed sane and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Stayed <i>what?</i>" exclaimed Jim Morton incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>"And didn't become obsessed with football
+mania!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Where do you get the words, Amy?" sighed
+Clint Thayer admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>"Amy's the original phonograph," commented
+Tim. "Only he's an improvement on anything
+Edison ever invented. You don't have to wind
+Amy up!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he's got a self-starting attachment,"
+chuckled Draper.</p>
+
+<p>"Returning to the&mdash;the original contention,"
+continued Amy in superb disdain of the low jests,
+"I'll bet any one of you or the whole kit and
+caboodle of you that we beat Claflin again this
+year. Now make a noise like some money!"</p>
+
+<p>"Amy, we don't bet," remarked Tom Hall.
+"At least, not with money. Betting money is very
+wrong. (Amy sniffed sarcastically.) But I'll
+wager a good feed for the crowd that we have a
+harder time beating Claflin this year than we had
+last. And I'll&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, piffle! I don't care whether you have to
+work harder to do it or not. I say you'll do it!
+Hard work wouldn't hurt you, anyway. You're a
+lot of loafers. All any of you do is go out to the
+field and strike an attitude like a hero. Why&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Cries of expostulation and threats of physical
+violence failed to disturb the irrepressible
+Amy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Tell you what I'll do, you piffling Greeks, I'll
+blow you all off to a top-hole dinner at the Inn if
+Claflin beats us. There's a sporting proposition
+for you, you undertakers' assistants!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yah! What do we do if she doesn't?" exclaimed
+Walton.</p>
+
+<p>Amy surveyed him coldly. He didn't like
+Harry Walton and never attempted to disguise
+the fact. "Why, Harry, old dear, you'll just keep
+right on squandering your money as usual, I suppose.
+But I don't want you to waste any on me.
+This is a one-man wager."</p>
+
+<p>"No, it isn't," said Leroy Draper, "I'm in on
+it, Amy. I'll take half of it."</p>
+
+<p>"All right, Roy. But our money's safe as safe!
+This bunch of grousers won't get fat off us, old
+chap!"</p>
+
+<p>"Say," said Walton, who had been trying to get
+Amy's attention for a minute, "what's the story
+about my squandering my money? Anybody seen
+you being careless with yours, Amy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not that I know of. I'm not careless with it;
+I'm careful. But being careful with money is different
+from having it glued to your skin so you
+have to have a surgical operation before&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, cut it, Amy," said Tim.</p>
+
+<p>"I spend my money just as freely as you do,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span>
+returned Walton hotly. "You talk so much with
+your face&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Let it go at that, Harry," advised Tom Hall
+soothingly. "Amy's just talking."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all," agreed Amy sweetly. "Just talking.
+You're the original little spendthrift, Harry.
+I'm going to write home to your folks some time
+and warn 'em. Hold on, you chaps, don't hurry
+off. The night is still in its infancy. Wait and
+watch it grow up. Steve! <i>Sit down!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, I've got to be moseying along," replied
+Captain Edwards. "It's pretty near ten. I
+think it would be a rather good idea if we had a
+rule that football men were to be in their rooms
+at a quarter to ten all during the season."</p>
+
+<p>"I can see that you're going to be one of these
+here martinets you read about," said Tim with
+a sigh. "Steve, remember you were young once
+yourself."</p>
+
+<p>"He never was!" declared Amy with decision.
+"Steve was grown-up when he was quite young
+and he's never got over it. Thank the Fates <i>I</i>
+don't have to be bossed by him! Are you all leaving?
+Clint, count the spoons and forks! Come
+again, everyone. I've got lots more to say. Good-night,
+Don. Glad to see you back again, old sober-sides.
+Sorry about that fin of yours. Be careful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>
+with him, Tim. You know how it is with the dear
+old team. We need every man we can get. Hold
+on, Harry! Did you drop that quarter? Oh, I
+beg pardon, it's only a button. That's right,
+Thurs, kick the chair over if it's in your way.
+We don't care a bit about our furniture. For the
+love of lemons, Larry, don't grin like that! Think
+of the team, man! Remember your sorrows!
+Good-<i>night!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Half-way to Billings Don broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p>"Fellows are funny, aren't they?" he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"Funny? How do you mean?" asked Tim.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know," replied Don after a
+thoughtful moment. "They're&mdash;they're so different,
+I guess."</p>
+
+<p>"Who's different from who?"</p>
+
+<p>"Everyone," answered Don, smothering a
+yawn.</p>
+
+<p>Tim viewed him in the radiance of the light
+over the doorway with profound admiration.
+"Don, you're a brilliant chap! Honest, sometimes
+I wonder how you do it! Doesn't it hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>Don only smiled.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+
+<h3>THE FIRST GAME</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Don</span> sat on the bench and watched the game
+with Thacher School. With him were nearly a
+dozen other substitutes, but they, unlike Don,
+were in football togs and might, in fact probably
+would, get into the game sooner or later. There
+was no such luck for Don so long as his hand remained
+swathed in bandages, and he was silently
+bewailing his luck. At his right sat Danny Moore,
+chin in hand and elbow in palm, viewing the contest
+from half-closed eyes. The trainer was small
+and red of hair and very freckled, and he was
+thoroughly Irish and, in the manner of his race,
+mightily proud of it. Also, he was a clever little
+man and a good trainer.</div>
+
+<p>An attempted forward pass by the visitors
+grounded and the horn squawked the end of the
+first period. Danny turned his beady green eyes
+on Don. "Likely you're wishin' yourself out there
+with the rest of 'em, boy," he said questioningly.</p>
+
+<p>Don nodded, smiled his slow smile and shook
+his head. "I guess I won't get into it for a week<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>
+yet. Doc says this hand has got to do a lot of
+healing first. He has a fine time every day pulling
+and cutting the old skin off it. Guess he enjoys
+it so much he will hate to have it heal. I should
+think, Danny, that if I had a heavy glove, sort of
+padded in the palm, I might play a little."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, I'll fix you up something real nate,"
+replied Danny readily. "Nate an' scientific, d'ye
+see? An' so soon as the Doc says the word
+you come to me an' I'll be having it ready for
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you? Thanks, Danny. That's great! I
+would like to get back to practice again. I'm
+afraid I'll be as stiff and stale as anything if I
+stay out much longer."</p>
+
+<p>"Go easy on your eating, lad, and it'll take you
+no time at all to catch up with the rest of 'em.
+Spread this hand for me while I see the shape of
+it. What happened to your finger there?"</p>
+
+<p>"I broke it when I was a little kid, playing
+baseball."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, whoever set it for you must have been
+cross-eyed," said the trainer, drily. "'Tis a bum
+job he did."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it's a little crooked, but it works all
+right."</p>
+
+<p>"You'd have hard work gettin' your engagement<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>
+ring over that lump, I'm thinking. It's a fortunate
+thing you're not a girl, d'ye mind."</p>
+
+<p>Don laughed. "Engagement rings go on the
+other hand, don't they, Danny?"</p>
+
+<p>"Faith, I don't know. Bad luck to him, he's
+done it again!"</p>
+
+<p>"Who? What?" asked Don startledly.</p>
+
+<p>"Jim Morton. That's twice today he's spilled
+most of the water from the pail. Well, I'll have
+to go an' fill it, I suppose."</p>
+
+<p>Danny went off to get the water bucket and the
+teams lined up again near the visitors' twenty-five
+yard line. Coach Robey had put in a somewhat
+patched-up team today. Captain Edwards was
+at left end, Clint Thayer at left tackle, Gafferty at
+left guard, Peters at centre, Pryme at right guard,
+Crewe at right tackle, Lee at right end, Carmine
+at quarter, St. Clair and Gordon at half and Martin
+at full. It was not the best line-up possible,
+but it was so far handling the situation fairly satisfactorily.
+The practice of the last two days had
+developed one or two strains and proved more
+than one of the first-choice fellows far below condition.
+Tim Otis was out for a day or two with
+a twisted knee and Tom Hall with a lame shoulder.
+Thursby had developed an erratic streak the
+day before and was nursing his chagrin further<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>
+along the bench. Holt, the best right end, was in
+trouble with the faculty, and Rollins, full-back, had
+pulled a tendon in his ankle. A full team of second- and
+third-string players were having signal
+work on the practice gridiron.</p>
+
+<p>In the stands a fairly good-sized gathering of
+onlookers was applauding listlessly at such infrequent
+times as the maroon-and-grey team gave it
+any excuse. Thus far, however, exciting episodes
+had been scarce. The weather, which was enervatingly
+warm, affected both elevens and the playing
+was sluggish and far from brilliant. The
+Brimfield backs, with the exception of Carmine,
+who was always on edge, conducted themselves as
+if they were at a rehearsal, accepting the ball in
+an indifferent manner and half-heartedly plunging
+at the opposing line or jogging around the
+ends. As the first half drew to a close both goal
+lines were still unthreatened and from all indications
+would remain so for the rest of the contest.
+A slight thrill was developed, though, just before
+the second period came to an end when a Thacher
+half-back managed to get away outside Crewe and
+romped half the length of the field before he was
+laid low by Carmine. After that there was an exchange
+of punts and the teams trotted off to the
+gymnasium.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Don left the bench with the others, but did not
+follow them to the dressing room. Instead, he
+strolled down the running track and across to the
+practice field, where Tim was superintending the
+signal practice. Don joined him and followed the
+panting, perspiring players down the field. Tim's
+conversation was rather difficult to follow, since he
+continually interrupted himself to instruct or admonish
+the toilers.</p>
+
+<p>"I feel like a slave-driver, pushing these poor
+chaps around in this heat. How's the game going?
+No score? We must be playing pretty punk, I
+guess. What sort of a team has&mdash;Jones, you
+missed your starting signal again. For the love
+of mud, keep your ears open!&mdash;Thacher must be
+as bad as we are. Who's playing in my place?
+Gordon? Is he doing anything?&mdash;Try them on
+that again, McPhee, will you? Robbins, you're
+supposed to block hard on that and not let your
+man through until the runner's got into the line.&mdash;I
+could have played today all right, but that idiot,
+Danny, wouldn't let me. My knee's perfectly all
+right."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why do you limp?" asked Don innocently.</p>
+
+<p>"Force of habit," said Tim. "What time is
+it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Don consulted his silver watch and announced
+a quarter to four.</p>
+
+<p>"Thank goodness! That'll do, fellows. You'd
+better get your showers before you try to see that
+game. If Danny catches you over there the way
+you are he will just about scalp you! By the way,
+McPhee, you saw what I meant about that end-around
+play, didn't you? You can't afford to
+slow up the play by waiting for your end to get
+to you. He's got to be in position to take the
+pass at the right second. Otherwise they'll come
+through on you and stop him behind the line.
+There ought to be absolutely no pause between
+Smith's pass to you and your pass to Compton,
+or whoever the end is. You get the ball, turn
+quick, toss it to the end and fall in behind him.
+It ought to be almost one motion. Of course, I
+know you fellows were pretty well fagged today,
+but you don't want to let your ends think they can
+take their time on that play, old man, for it's got
+to be fast or it's no earthly good. Thus endeth
+the lesson. Come on, Don, and we'll go over and
+add the dignity of our presence to that little
+affair."</p>
+
+<p>They reached the bench just as the two teams
+trotted back and Brimfield's supporters raised a
+faint cheer. Don imagined that there was a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>
+more vim in the way the maroon-and-grey warriors
+went into the field for the second half and
+the results proved him right.</p>
+
+<p>It was the home team's kick-off, and after Captain
+Edwards, in the absence of Hall, had sped the
+ball down to Thacher's twenty yards and a
+Thacher player had sped it back to the thirty,
+Brimfield settled down to business. Probably Coach
+Robey's remarks in the interim had been sufficiently
+caustic to get under the skin. At all events
+Brimfield forced Thacher to punt on third down
+and then almost blocked the kick. As it was, the
+ball hurtled out of bounds near the middle of the
+field and became Brimfield's on her forty-eight.
+Two plunges netted five yards, and then St. Clair,
+returning to form, ripped his way past tackle on
+the left and fought over two white lines before
+he was halted. Gordon and Martin made it first
+down in three tries and Carmine worked the left
+end for four more. Thacher stiffened then, however,
+and after two ineffectual plunges St. Clair
+punted and Brimfield caught on her goal line and
+ran back a dozen yards, Lee, right end, missing
+his tackle badly and Steve Edwards being neatly
+blocked off. But Thacher found the going even
+harder than her opponent had and in a moment
+she, too, was forced to punt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>This time it was St. Clair who caught and who,
+eluding both Thacher ends, ran straight along the
+side line until he was upset near the enemy's
+thirty-five yards. As he went down he managed
+to get one foot over the line and the referee
+paced in fifteen yards, set the ball to earth and
+waved toward the Thacher goal.</p>
+
+<p>Martin faked a forward pass and the ball went
+to Gordon for a try at right tackle. Thayer and
+Gafferty opened a fine hole there and Gordon
+romped through and made eight before the
+Thacher secondary defence brought him down.
+Martin completed the distance through centre.
+From the twenty-four yards to the ten the ball
+went, progress, however, becoming slower as the
+attack neared the goal. On a shift that brought
+Thayer to the right side of the line, St. Clair got
+around the short end for three and Martin added
+two more, leaving the pigskin on the five-yard line.
+It was third down and Martin went back to kick.
+But after a moment's hesitation Carmine changed
+his signals and the ends stole out toward the side
+lines. Thacher proceeded to arrange her forces
+to intercept a forward pass and again Carmine
+switched. The ends crept back and Martin retired
+to the fifteen-yard line and patted the turf.
+Carmine knelt in front of him and eyed the goal.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>
+Then the signals came again, and with them the
+ball, and it was Martin who caught it and not Carmine.
+Two steps to the right, a quick heave, a
+frenzied shouting from the defenders of the goal,
+a confused jostling, and Captain Edwards, one
+foot over the line, reached his arms into the air,
+pulled down the hurtling pigskin, tore away from
+one of the enemy, lunged forward and went down
+under a mass of bodies, but well over the goal line.</p>
+
+<p>Brimfield found her enthusiasm then, and her
+voice, and cheered loudly and long, only ceasing
+when Carmine walked out with the ball under his
+arm and flung himself to the turf opposite the
+right hand goal post. Thursby, hustled in by Coach
+Robey, measured distance and direction, stepped
+forward and, as the line of Thacher warriors
+swept forward with upstretched hands, swung
+his toe against the ball and sent it neatly across
+the bar.</p>
+
+<p>With the score seven to nothing against her,
+Thacher returned to the fray with a fine determination,
+but, when the teams had changed places
+after the kick-off and the last period had begun, she
+speedily found that victory was not to be her portion.
+Mr. Robey sent in nearly a new team during
+that last ten minutes and the substitutes, fresh
+and eager, went at it hammer-and-tongs. Thacher<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>
+enlisted fresh material, too, but it couldn't stop
+the onslaught that soon took the ball down the
+field to within close scoring distance of her goal.
+That Brimfield did not add another touchdown was
+only because her line, overanxious, was twice
+found off-side and penalised. Even then the ball
+went at last to within six inches of the goal line
+and it was only after the nimble referee had dug
+into the pile-up like a terrier scratching for a bone
+in an ash-heap that the fact was determined that
+Thacher had saved her bacon by the width of the
+ball. She kicked out of danger from behind her
+goal and after two plays the final whistle blew.</p>
+
+<p>It was a very hot and very weary crowd of fellows
+who thronged the dressing room in the gymnasium
+five minutes later and, above the swish of
+water in the showers, shouted back and forth and
+discussed the game from as many angles as there
+had been participants. Possibly Brimfield had
+no very good reason for feeling proud of her
+afternoon's work, for last year she had defeated
+Thacher 26 to 3. That game, however, had taken
+place two weeks later in the season, when the
+Maroon-and-Grey was better off in the matter of
+experience, and so perhaps was not a fair comparison.
+At all events, Brimfield liked the way
+she had "come back" in that third period and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>
+liked the way in which the substitutes had behaved,
+and displayed a very evident inclination to
+pat herself on the back.</p>
+
+<p>Tim, who had haled Don into the gymnasium
+on the way back to hall, tried his best to convince
+all those who would listen to him that they had
+played a perfectly punk game and that nothing
+but the veriest fluke had accounted for that score.
+But they called him a "sore-head" and laughed
+at him, and even drove him away with flicking
+towels, and he finally gave it up and consented to
+accompany Don back to Billings, limping a trifle
+whenever he thought no one was looking.</p>
+
+<p>Don missed Tim at supper, for the training
+tables started that evening and Tim went off to
+one of them with his napkin ring and his own particular
+bottle of tomato catsup, leaving his chum
+feeling forlornly "out of it."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+
+<h3>DON GOES TO THE SECOND</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Life</span> at Brimfield Academy settled down for Don
+into the accustomed routine. The loss of one day
+made no difference in the matter of lessons, for
+with Tim's assistance&mdash;they were both in the Fifth
+Form&mdash;he easily made up what had been missed.
+They were taking up German that year for the
+first time and Don found it hard going, but he managed
+to satisfy Mr. Daley after a fashion. Don
+was a fellow who studied hard because he had to.
+Tim could skim his lessons, make a good showing
+in class and remember enough of what he had gone
+over to appear quite erudite. Don had to get right
+down and grapple with things. He once said enviously,
+and with as near an approach to an
+epigram as he was capable of, that whereas Tim
+got his lessons by inhaling them, he, Don, had to
+chew them up and swallow them! But when examination
+time came Don's method of assimilation
+showed better results.</div>
+
+<p>The injured hand healed with incredible slowness,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>
+but heal it did, and at last the day came when
+the doctor consented to let his impatient pupil put
+on the padded arrangement that the ingenious
+Danny Moore had fashioned of a discarded
+fielder's glove and some curled hair, and Don triumphantly
+reported for practice. His triumph
+was, however, short-lived, for Coach Robey viewed
+him dubiously and relegated him to the second
+squad, from which Mr. Boutelle was then forming
+his second team. "Boots" was a graduate
+who turned up every Fall and took charge of the
+second or scrub team. It was an open secret that
+he received no remuneration. Patriotism and
+sheer love of the game were the inducements that
+caused Mr. Boutelle to donate some two months
+of time and labour to the cause of turning out a
+second team strong enough to give the first the
+practice it needed. And he always succeeded.
+"Boutelle's Babies," as someone had facetiously
+termed them, could invariably be depended on to
+give the school eleven as hard a tussle as it wanted&mdash;and
+sometimes a deal harder. Boots was a bit
+of a driver and believed in strenuous work, but his
+charges liked him immensely and performed miracles
+of labour at his command. His greeting of
+Don was almost as dubious as had been Coach
+Robey's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Of course I'm glad to have you, Gilbert, but
+the trouble is that as soon as we've got you nicely
+working Mr. Robey will take you away. That's a
+great trick of his. He seems to think the purpose
+of the second team is to train players for the first.
+It isn't, though. He gives me what he doesn't
+want every year and I do my best to make a team
+from it, and I ought to be allowed to keep what I
+make. Well, never mind. You do the best you can
+while you're with us, Gilbert."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe he won't have me this year,"
+said Don dejectedly. "He seems to think that
+being out for a couple of weeks has queered
+me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you don't feel that way about it, do
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir, I'm perfectly all right. I've watched
+practice every afternoon and I've been doing a
+quarter to a half on the track."</p>
+
+<p>"Hm. Well, you've got a little flesh that will
+have to come off, but it won't take long to lose it
+this weather. Sit down a minute." They were
+in front of the stand and Mr. Boutelle seated himself
+on the lower tier and Don followed his example.
+"Let me see, Gilbert. Last year you
+played left guard, didn't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And if I remember aright your chief difficulty
+was in the matter of weight."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm twelve pounds heavier this fall, air."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but some of that'll come off, I guess.
+However, that doesn't matter. You were getting
+along pretty well at the last of the season,
+I remember. Who's ahead of you on the
+first?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Gafferty's got the first choice, I guess.
+And then there's Harry Walton."</p>
+
+<p>"You can beat Walton," said Boots decisively.
+"Walton lacks head. He can't think things out for
+himself. You can. What you'll have to do this
+year, my boy, is speed up a little. It took you
+until about the middle of the season to find your
+pace. Remember?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, I know."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you won't stay with us long, as I've said,
+and so I'm not going to build you into the line,
+Gilbert. I've got some good-looking guard material
+and I can't afford to work over you and get
+dependent on you and then have Robey snatch you
+away about the middle of the fall. That won't do.
+But I'll tell you what we will do, Gilbert. We'll
+use you enough to bring you around in form
+slowly. You'll play left guard for awhile every
+day. But what I want you to really do is to help<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>
+with the others. You've been at it two years now
+and you know how the position ought to be played
+and you've got hard common-sense. I'll put the
+guard candidates in your hands. See what you
+can do with them. There's a couple of likely chaps
+in Kirkwell and Merton, and there are two or three
+more after positions. You take them in charge,
+Gilbert, and show me what you know about coaching.
+What do you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mr. Boutelle, I&mdash;I don't know that I can
+show anyone else what to do. I can play the position
+myself after a fashion, but&mdash;well, I guess it's
+another thing to teach, isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I don't know. It is if you go into it with
+the idea that it is, but don't do that. Play the
+position as it ought to be played, tell the others
+why, call them down when they make mistakes,
+pat them on the back when they do right. Just
+forget that you're trying to teach. If a fellow
+came to you and said: 'Gilbert, I want to play
+guard but I don't know how, and I wish you'd tell
+me how you do it,' why, you wouldn't have any
+trouble, would you?"</p>
+
+<p>"N-no, sir, I guess not," replied Don a trifle
+doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there you are. Try it, anyway. You'll
+get on all right. I'll be right on hand to dig the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>
+spurs in when your courage fails." Mr. Boutelle
+smiled. "We're going to have a dandy second
+team this fall, my boy. We've got nothing to
+build on, only a lot of green material, and that's
+the best part of it. I don't care how inexperienced
+the material is if it's willing to learn and has the
+usual number of arms and legs and such things
+and a few ounces of grey matter in the cranium.
+Well, here we go. Nothing today but passing
+and punting, I guess. Sure your hand's all
+right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, thanks. I don't really need this contrivance;
+it's awfully clumsy; but Doc said I'd
+better wear it for a few days."</p>
+
+<p>"Best to be on the safe side. I'll have you take
+one squad of these chaps, I guess, and I'll give the
+other to Lewis. You know the usual stuff, Gilbert.
+Rest 'em up now and then; they're soft and
+the weather's warm. But work 'em when they're
+working. Any fellow who soldiers gets bounced.
+All out, second squad!"</p>
+
+<p>There wasn't anything that afternoon but the
+sort of drudgery that tries the enthusiasm of the
+tyro: passing the ball in circles, falling on it,
+catching it on the bound and starting. Don was
+surprised to discover how soft he was in spite of
+his daily exercise on the cinders. When the hour's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span>
+practice was over he was just about as thankful
+as any of the puffing, perspiring youths around
+him. Considering it afterward, Don was unable
+to view the material with the enthusiasm Mr. Boutelle
+had displayed. To him the thirty-odd boys
+who had reported for the second team were a hopeless
+lot, barring, of course, a few, not more than
+four in all, who had had experience last season.
+In another week Mr. Robey would make a cut in
+the first squad and the second would find itself
+augmented by some ten or twelve cast-offs. But
+just now the second squad looked to Don to be a
+most unlikely lot. When he confided all this to
+Tim that evening the latter said:</p>
+
+<p>"Don't you worry, old man. Boots will make a
+team out of them. Why, he could make a football
+team out of eleven clothing store dummies! Sometimes
+I think that Boots ought to be head coach
+instead of Robey. I've got nothing against Robey,
+either. He's a bit of a 'miracle man' himself, <i>but</i>
+for building a team out of nothing Boutelle has
+him both shoulders to the mat!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe Boots would want to coach the
+first," replied Don.</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. He's sort of&mdash;well, he kind of
+likes to&mdash;Oh, I don't know."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Very clearly explained, Donald."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Boots, if he was a soldier, would be the
+sort that would want to lead a charge where the
+odds were against him. See what I mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean he has a hankering for the forlorn
+chance business? Maybe so. That's not a bad
+name for the second, is it? The Forlorn Chances!
+I guess you've got him dead to rights, though.
+Boots is for the under dog every time. I guess
+coaching the first and having his pick of the players
+wouldn't make any sort of a hit with Boots. It
+would be too tame. Boots likes to take three discarded
+veterans, two crips and a handful of green
+youngsters and whittle them into a bunch that will
+make us sweat and toil to score on. And, what's
+more, he does it! Bet you anything, Don, this
+year's second will be every bit as good as last
+year's."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't take it, because I think so myself,"
+laughed Don. "I can't see how he's going to do
+it, Tim, but something tells me he will!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, with you to coach the guards it will be no
+trick at all," said Tim, grinning.</p>
+
+<p>Don smiled thinly. "I'll make an awful mess
+of it, I guess," he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"Not you, boy!" and Tim slapped him encouragingly
+on the back. "You'll blunder right ahead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>
+to glory, same as you always do. You'll make
+hard work of it and all that, but you'll get there.
+Don, you're exactly like the porpoise&mdash;no, the tortoise
+in the fable. You don't look fast, old man,
+but you keep on moving ahead and saying nothing
+and when the hares arrive you're curled up on the
+finish line fast asleep. Tortoises can't curl up,
+though, can they? And, say, what the dickens <i>is</i>
+a tortoise, anyway? I always get tortoises and
+porpoises mixed."</p>
+
+<p>"A porpoise is a fish," replied Don gravely.
+"And a tortoise is a land turtle. But they're both
+anthropoids."</p>
+
+<p>"Are they?" asked Tim vaguely. "All right.
+Here, what are you grinning at? Anthropoids
+nothing! An anthropoid is a monkey or&mdash;or something."</p>
+
+<p>"You're an anthropoid yourself, Timmy."</p>
+
+<p>"Meaning I'm a monkey?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not at all. Here, look it up." And Don
+shoved a dictionary across the table. Tim accepted
+it suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>"All right," he said, "but if it's what I think
+it is you'll have to fight. Anthesis, anthropocosmic&mdash;&mdash;
+Say, I'm glad you didn't call me that!
+Here it is. Now let's see. 'Anthropoid, somewhat
+like a human being in form or other characteristics'!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>
+Something like&mdash;&mdash; You wait till I get you
+in the tank again! 'Something like a human
+being'! For two cents I'd lay you on the bed and
+spank you with that tennis racket!"</p>
+
+<p>"I've got two cents that say you can't do it,"
+replied Don.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I could if there wasn't so much of you,"
+grumbled Tim. "Now shut up and let me stuff
+awhile. Horace has been eyeing me in a way I
+don't like lately. How's your German going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not very well. It's a silly language, I think.
+But I guess I'll get the hang of it after awhile.
+What I want to know is why they can't make their
+letters the way we do."</p>
+
+<p>"Because they're afraid someone might be able
+to read the plaguy stuff. Tell you what we'll do,
+Don."</p>
+
+<p>"What'll we do?"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll go for a swim in the tank after study.
+Will you?"</p>
+
+<p>Don winked slowly. "Not after that threat,
+thanks."</p>
+
+<p>"I won't touch you, honest to goodness, Don!
+Did you learn to swim any better this Summer?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where would I learn?" asked the other.
+"There's no place to swim out my way, unless it's
+the river."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, don't the rivers in Kansas contain
+water?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sometimes! Winter, usually. If you'll
+promise not to grab me when I'm not looking I'll
+go. I hate the taste of that tank water, Tim."</p>
+
+<p>"You ought to know how to swim, old man.
+Never mind, Mr. Conklin will get hold of you this
+Winter and beat it into you."</p>
+
+<p>"I can swim now," replied Don indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, you can swim like a hunk of lead!
+The last time I saw you try it you did five strokes
+and then got so elated that you nearly drowned
+yourself trying to cheer! I could teach you in
+three lessons if you'd let me."</p>
+
+<p>"Much obliged, but nothing doing, Timmy. I'd
+as lief drown by myself as have you hold my head
+under water."</p>
+
+<p>"That was just a joke, Don. I won't ever do it
+again. I wanted you to get used to the water, you
+see."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't mind getting used to it outside, but I
+hate to fill up with it, Tim. It tastes very nasty.
+You may be a good teacher, but I don't like your
+methods."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we'll go and have a dip, anyway,"
+laughed Tim. "It'll set us up and refresh us
+after our arduous stuffing."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"If you don't cut out the chatter there won't be
+any stuffing," warned Don. "It's almost half-past
+now. And I've got three solid pages of this
+rot to do. Dry up, like a good pal."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE SEARCH OF ADVENTURE</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">By</span> that time Brimfield had played her second
+game and lost it, 6 to 14, to Canterbury High
+School. Canterbury was not considered very
+formidable and Brimfield usually had little trouble
+with her. But this year things had gone wrong
+from the start of the game to the finish, wrong,
+that is, from Brimfield's point of view. Fumbling
+had been much in evidence and poor judgment
+even more. Carmine had worked like a Trojan at
+quarter-back for two periods, but had somehow
+failed to display his usually good generalship,
+and McPhee, who had taken his place at the beginning
+of the second half, while he ran the team
+well, twice dropped punts in the backfield, one of
+which accounted for Canterbury's second touchdown
+and goal. Oddly enough, it was the veterans
+who failed most signally to live up to expectations,
+and of all the veterans Tom Hall was the worst
+offender. Possibly Tom's shoulder still bothered
+him, but even that couldn't have accounted for all
+his shortcomings. Crewe, who played tackle beside<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>
+Tom, was not a very steady man, and Tom's
+errors threw him off his game badly, with the
+result that, until Coach Robey put Pryme in for
+Tom in the third period, Canterbury made a
+lamentable number of gains at the right of the
+Brimfield line. Even Tim Otis, usually undisturbed
+by anything short of an earthquake, was
+affected by the playing of the others and finally
+had what he called a "brain-storm" in the third
+period, getting the signals twisted and being
+thrown back for an eight-yard loss. That misadventure
+bothered him so that he was heartily glad
+when Gordon was rushed in a few minutes later.</div>
+
+<p>The team took the beating to heart and the
+school at large was disposed to indulge in sarcasm
+and bitterness. Only Coach Robey seemed undisturbed.
+He lavished no praise, you may be sure,
+but, on the other hand, neither did he utter any
+criticism after the contest was over. Instead, he
+laid off more than half the line-up on Monday and
+Tuesday, and, since the weather continued almost
+unseasonably warm, the rest was just what the
+fellows needed. Wednesday's practice went with
+a new snap and vim and those who broiled in the
+afternoon sun and watched it found grounds for
+hope.</p>
+
+<p>It was on Wednesday that Don began his connection<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>
+with the second team, and by then the injured
+hand was so well along that he was able to
+discard the glove. Three days of kindergarten
+work followed, with, on Saturday, a short signal
+drill. The first team journeyed away that afternoon
+to play Miter Hill School, and Don would
+have liked very much to have gone along. But
+Boots put his charges through a good, hard hour
+and a half of work, and Don had all he could
+attend to at home. Just before supper he did,
+however, walk down to the station and meet Tim
+when the team arrived home. Tim, who seemed
+remarkably fresh for a youth who had played
+through the most of four ten-minute periods,
+scorned the coach and he and Don footed it back.</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty to nothing, my boy," said Tim exultantly.
+"They never had a look-in. It was
+some game, believe me, dearie! And I want to
+tell you, too, that Miter Hill is fifty per cent better
+than Canterbury ever thought of being!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's fine," said Don. "What sort of a game
+did you play?"</p>
+
+<p>"Me? Oh, I was the life of the party. Got off
+two nice little runs, one for thirty and the other
+for forty-five yards. Got a touchdown the second
+time. I wouldn't have, though, if Steve hadn't
+paced me most the way down and put the quarter<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>
+out. Old Steve played like a whirlwind today.
+We all did, I guess. There was only one fumble,
+and that wasn't anyone's fault. Holt got a forward
+pass and a Miter Hill chap plunged into him
+and just about knocked the breath out of him and
+he let go of the ball."</p>
+
+<p>"Twenty to nothing? Three touchdowns,
+then."</p>
+
+<p>"Yep, and Rollins only missed one goal. Rollins
+scored once, I scored once and Steve took over
+the last one."</p>
+
+<p>"Forward pass?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, end-around. It went off great, too. We
+were way back on the eighteen yards, I think it
+was, and we worked the fake forward pass play,
+with Steve taking the ball from Carmine. We
+fooled them finely. They never got onto it at all
+until Steve was over the line. Some of the fellows
+who were doing so much grousing last week
+ought to have come along today and seen some
+real football. Robey was as pleased as anything.
+You could tell that because he looked sort of cross
+and told us how bad we were!"</p>
+
+<p>"Wish I'd seen it," mourned Don.</p>
+
+<p>"It was some game, all right, all right! We're
+going to have a modest celebration this evening;
+just Tom Hall and Clint Thayer and Hap Crewe,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>
+maybe, and yours truly. Better come along. Will
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, just down to the village. We'll leave the
+window open."</p>
+
+<p>"You'll get nabbed if you try that," demurred
+Don. "Better not, Tim."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we may be back by ten. No harm in
+having a way open in case something delays us,
+though. We'll have a little feed at the Inn, you
+know, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be a chump," growled Don. "You're
+in training and you know mighty well Robey won't
+stand for any funny-business."</p>
+
+<p>"What Robey doesn't know isn't going to hurt
+him," replied Tim untroubledly. "And he won't
+know anything about this because he's off for
+home on the seven o'clock train. Tom heard him
+tell Steve he wouldn't be back until Monday
+noon."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but someone will see you and Robey'll
+hear of it. And then you'll get the dickens from
+him and be hauled up to the office. Better not
+risk it, Timmy."</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, you're worse than Mr. Poe's crow! Or
+was it a raven? What's the difference, anyhow?
+Now don't tell me they're both anthropeds or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>
+pods, or whatever it is, because I'm onto you as
+a disseminator of knowledge! I never got even
+with you yet for calling me 'something like a
+human being'."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll take it back, then; you aren't. But, just
+the same, Tim, I wish you'd cut out the celebration."</p>
+
+<p>"You're all the time interfering with my innocent
+pleasures," protested Tim. "Why, bless
+you, dearie, we aren't going to cut-up. We're
+merely going to stroll quietly to the village, trolling
+a song, mayhap, and look in the windows."</p>
+
+<p>"That'll take you a long time," Don laughed.
+"There are only half a dozen."</p>
+
+<p>"Wrong. A fellow opened a watchmaker's
+emporium next door to the post office t'other day
+and has a most fascinating window. It has four
+alarm clocks, three pairs of cuff-links and a
+chronometer in it! Oh, it's swell! Do you realise,
+Don, that slowly but surely our little village is
+taking on the&mdash;the semblance of a metropolis?
+All we want is a movie palace!"</p>
+
+<p>"Let's start one. They say there's a lot of
+money in them."</p>
+
+<p>"Bet there is! We've got three or four at
+home, and they're peaches. Full every minute,
+too. I went a lot last Summer; had filmitis, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>
+guess. But how about the party? Will you come
+along?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, thanks."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, come on, Don! Have a heart! Be one of
+our merry gang."</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather not, thank you. I like Josh well
+enough, but I don't like to stand on the carpet
+and hear him say 'Until further notice, Gilbert.'
+Nothing doing, Tim!"</p>
+
+<p>And Don remained adamant the rest of the way
+to school and while they made a hurried toilet and
+rushed to dining hall in an effort to reach it before
+the food gave out.</p>
+
+<p>The team members received an ovation that
+evening when they entered the dining hall. It
+seemed as if the school wanted to make up for its
+unkindness of a week before. Some few of the
+fellows, recalling sarcastic comments overheard,
+were inclined to be haughty and unforgiving, but
+eventually they melted. Don, now at the second
+training-table, presided over by Mr. Boutelle, saw
+that Coach Robey's chair was vacant, which fact
+bore out Tim's statement that the coach had gone
+home over Sunday. But, even granting that, Don
+didn't approve of Tim's celebration, for, as he
+very well knew, after a football victory fellows
+were very likely to be carried away by their enthusiasm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>
+and to forget such trifling things as
+rules and regulations. He determined to try
+again to dissuade Tim after supper.</p>
+
+<p>But Tim, who was in a very cheerful and expansive
+mood, refused to be dissuaded. Instead, he
+turned the tables and begged so hard for Don to
+come with him that Don finally relented. After
+all, there was no harm in the excursion if they got
+permission and were back in hall by ten o'clock.
+And it was a wonderfully pleasant, warm evening,
+much too fine an evening to spend indoors, and&mdash;well,
+secretly, Don wanted some fun as much as
+any of them, perhaps!</p>
+
+<p>Permission was easily obtained and at seven
+they met Tom Hall and Clint Thayer in front of
+Torrence. Crewe failed them, but Tim said it
+didn't matter; that there were only four "Three
+<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Muskateers'">Musketeers</ins>" anyhow! So they set off for the
+village in high spirits, through a warm, fragrant,
+star-lighted evening, with no settled plan of action
+in mind save to do about as they liked for the succeeding
+three hours. Clint Thayer had a strip of
+plaster across the saddle of his nose, which gave
+him a strangely benign expression. Tom walked
+a bit stiffly and confessed to "a peach of a shin,"
+which probably meant something quite different
+from what it suggested. Only Tim, of the three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>
+first team fellows, had emerged unscathed, and he
+referred to the fact in an unpleasantly superior
+manner which brought from Tom Hall the remark
+that it was easy enough to get through a game
+without any knocks if you didn't do anything!
+Whereupon Tim flicked him across the cheek with
+an imaginary glove, the challenge was issued and
+accepted and the two fought an exciting duel with
+rapiers&mdash;as imaginary as the glove&mdash;on the sidewalk,
+feinting, thrusting, parrying, until Clint
+cried "The guard! The guard!" and they all
+raced down the road to the nearest lamp-post,
+where Tim insisted on looking to his wounds. To
+hear him tell it, he was as full of holes as a sieve,
+while, on the same authority, Tom was a dead man.
+Tom denied being dead, but Tim insisted and refused
+to pay any heed to him all the rest of the way
+to the village on the ground that, being dead, Tom
+had no business to talk.</p>
+
+<p>But when they reached what Tim called "the
+heart of the city" Tom was allowed to come to life
+again. The heart of the city consisted of the
+junction of two village streets whereon were
+located the diminutive town hall, the post office,
+a fire house and five stores. They began with the
+druggist's, ranging themselves in front of one of
+the two windows and pretending to be overwhelmed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>
+with the beauty and magnificence of the
+goods displayed.</p>
+
+<p>"What beautiful soap," exclaimed Tom. "I
+never saw such beautiful soap, fellows. Pink and
+green and white! Looks almost good enough to
+wash with, doesn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"And get on to the lovely toilet set in the green
+velvet box," begged Tim awedly. "Scissors and
+brushes and little do-funnies and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going to buy a bottle of that hair-grower,"
+announced Don. "I want to raise a beard."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's get a bottle and present it to Uncle Sim,"
+suggested Clint. Uncle Sim was Mr. Simkins, the
+Greek and Latin instructor, and was noticeably
+bald. The others chuckled and thought very well
+of the suggestion until Tom discovered that the
+price, as stated on the label, was one whole dollar.
+They had, they decided, better uses for what little
+money they carried. Eventually they went inside,
+and sat on stools in front of the small soda fountain
+and drank gaily-coloured concoctions which,
+according to Tim, later, sounded better than they
+tasted. Having exhausted the amusement to be
+derived from the drug store, they went to the fire
+house next door and, pressing their noses against
+the glass, debated what would happen if an alarm
+was rung in. There was a box beside the doors, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>
+most tempting red box and Tim eyed it longingly
+until Don led him gently but firmly away from
+temptation.</p>
+
+<p>In the small store across the street they examined
+all the books and magazines displayed on the
+counters, which didn't take long, as literature was
+not a large part of the stock. Tim spent ten
+cents for a football guide, explaining that he had
+always wanted to know some of the rules of that
+game! Don bought some candy and Clint a bag of
+peanuts, although the others protested that if they
+ate truck they'd spoil their appetites for real food.
+The force of the protest was somewhat marred by
+the actions of the protestants, who helped themselves
+liberally to the contents of the two bags.</p>
+
+<p>There was a convenient fence a few steps along
+the street and they perched themselves on the top
+rail and consumed the peanuts and candy and
+watched the "rush of the great city," to again
+quote the poetic Tim. During the next twenty
+minutes exactly eight carriages and four automobiles
+entered their range of vision; and at that
+Clint insisted that they had counted one automobile
+twice. He accused it of going around the block
+in order to add to the confusion. Possibly some
+three dozen people passed within sight, although
+that may have been a too liberal estimate. Tom at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>
+last declared that he couldn't stand the excitement
+any longer; that his brain reeled and his eyes
+ached; and that he was going to find a quiet spot
+far from the dizzy whirl. So they adjourned to the
+grocery and butcher shop and talked learnedly of
+loins and shoulders and ribs. And Clint dragged
+what he alluded to as a "brisket" into the conversation
+to the confusion of the others, who had
+never heard of it and didn't believe in it anyway.
+Tom said Clint meant "biscuit" and that this
+wasn't a bakery. Then he caught sight of some
+rather pathetic and unseasonable radishes and,
+having a passion for radishes, went in and purchased
+four bunches. That outlay led to an expenditure
+for salt, and as a large, round pasteboard
+carton of it was the least they could buy,
+they retreated down the street to the Inn porch,
+trickled the salt along the top of the railing, drew
+up chairs and consumed the radishes at their
+leisure. All, that is, save Tim. Tim didn't like
+radishes, called them "fire-crackers" and pretended
+to be deeply disgusted with his companions
+for eating them.</p>
+
+<p>When the radishes were consumed they invaded
+the Inn and assaulted the water tank in force.
+Then, as there were practically no sights left to be
+viewed, they went back to their chairs and, as Tom<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>
+had it, waited for inspiration. Don was for trolleying
+over to the shore, having a dip in the ocean
+and returning to school in good time. But Tim
+pointed out that the trolley line was a good half-mile
+distant, that he had not filled himself with
+radishes and was consequently quite famished for
+food and favoured remaining within easy distance
+of the Inn so that, in case he grew faint, he could
+reach sustenance. Don's motion was defeated. In
+view of what eventually occurred, that was, perhaps,
+unfortunate.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+
+<h3>FIGHTING FIRE</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'>"<span class="smcap">This</span>," said Tim presently, "is a bit dull, if you
+ask me. I came out for some excitement. Let's
+do something."</div>
+
+<p>"What?" asked Clint, yawning loudly.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's eat."</p>
+
+<p>The others groaned.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right for you chaps, but I'm getting
+hungry," Tim asserted. "I thought we were
+going to have a feed. They'll be closing this place
+up the first thing we know. How about a rarebit,
+fellows?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, let's wait awhile," said Don. "Let's take
+a walk and get up an appetite."</p>
+
+<p>"Walk!" jeered Tim. "Gee, I've walked
+enough. And there's nothing the matter with my
+appetite right now. Tell you what&mdash;&mdash;" Tim
+paused. An automobile was stopping in front of
+the Inn. The headlights suddenly dimmed and the
+single occupant, a tall man in a light overcoat, got
+out, walked up the path, ascended the steps and
+passed into the house. "Now, who's he?" asked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>
+Tim. "Say, I wish he'd loan us his car for
+awhile."</p>
+
+<p>"Run in and ask him," suggested Tom. "He
+looked kind."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe he'd give us a ride if we asked him,"
+pursued Tim. "It's a peach of a car; foreign, I
+guess."</p>
+
+<p>"It's a Mercy Dear," said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"Or a Fierce Sorrow," hazarded Clint.</p>
+
+<p>"Bet you it's a Cheerless," said Don, "or a
+Backhard."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't care what it is," persisted Tim. "I
+want a ride in it."</p>
+
+<p>"Let's go down and stand around it with our
+fingers in our mouths," said Tom, with a chuckle.
+"Perhaps he will take pity on us and ask us in."</p>
+
+<p>"Or we might open the door for him," offered
+Don.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Clint, who had left his chair to
+lean across the railing and gaze past the end of
+the porch, interrupted with an exclamation. "Say,
+fellows, what's that light over there?" he asked
+eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>"Fire, by jingo!" cried Tim.</p>
+
+<p>"That's what!" agreed Tom. "Say, you don't
+suppose it's the school, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course not! The school's over that way.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>
+Besides, that fire's away off; maybe two miles.
+Come on!" And Clint started for the steps.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait!" called Tim. "I want to see the engine
+come out. Bet you it's a fine sight! Anyway, we
+can't foot it two miles."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe it isn't that far," said Don. "Fires
+look further than they are sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and nearer, too," replied Tim. "Think
+we ought to run over and tell them about it?"</p>
+
+<p>But that question was speedily answered by
+the sudden clanging of a gong inside the fire
+house, followed by the sound of running footsteps
+and, an instant later, the wild alarm of the shrill-tongued
+bell in the little belfry.</p>
+
+<p>"My word!" exclaimed Tom. "I didn't know
+there were so many folks in the town!" Already
+a small-sized crowd had gathered in front of the
+fire house, some fifty yards up the street. The
+doors rolled open and a figure pushed through the
+throng and loped across the street and disappeared.
+The bell clanged on and on. Don and
+Clint and Tom made a dash for the steps. Tim
+slid over the railing. But before any of them had
+more than reached the sidewalk the tall owner of
+the automobile catapulted himself down the steps,
+hailing them as he came.</p>
+
+<p>"Where is it, boys?" he shouted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Over there," answered Clint, pointing. But
+the glow in the sky was scarcely visible from the
+sidewalk and they all swarmed back to the porch
+again.</p>
+
+<p>"I see," said the man. "Some farm house, I
+guess. They'll know at the fire house." He
+sprang down the steps again, the boys streaming
+after him. He was already in the car when Tim
+asked breathlessly: "You going, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure! Want to come? Pile in, then. There
+are some packages in there. Look out for
+them."</p>
+
+<p>Clint had already put his foot down hard on
+something that, whatever it might be, was never
+meant to be walked on, but he made no mention of
+the fact. The car leaped forward, swung to the
+right, stopped with a jerk six inches from a lamp-post,
+backed, straightened out and careened along
+to the fire house. All was excitement there. Men
+were rushing into the building and rushing out
+again, agitatedly donning rubber coats and hats.
+Speculation was rife. A score of voices argued as
+to the location of the fire. The throng swayed
+back and forth. The man in the car demanded information
+as he drew up at the curb and a dozen
+answers were flung at him. Then a small, fat man
+ran up and leaned excitedly across the front of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>
+auto. "Hello, Mr. Brady!" he panted. "You
+going out there?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but I've got a load, Johnson. Where
+is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't no one seem to know. Jim Cogswell
+knows, but he's gone for the horses."</p>
+
+<p>"Look out! Here they come!" "Get that auto
+out of the way there!" "Stand aside, everyone!"
+"Get a move on, Jim!" A lean little man in his
+shirt sleeves suddenly appeared leading two jogging
+horses, while a third horse trotted along behind.
+The crowd scampered aside and the horses
+beat a tattoo on the floor as they wheeled to their
+places. Mr. Brady jumped from his seat, pushed
+his way through the crowd as it closed in again
+about the doorway and disappeared. Tim
+whooped with delight.</p>
+
+<p>"What did I tell you?" he demanded. "Didn't
+I say it would be a great sight? Gee, I haven't
+had such a good time since I had the measles!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brady reappeared, scrambled back to his
+seat and slammed the door behind him. "Jim says
+it's Corrigan's barn," he said. "Sit tight, boys!"
+The car leaped forward once more, took the first
+corner at twenty miles an hour, took the next at
+thirty and then, in the middle of a firm, hard road,
+simply roared away into the starlit darkness, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>
+headlights throwing a great white radiance ahead.
+Tim, on the front seat, whipped off his cap and
+stuffed it into his pocket. Behind, the three boys
+huddled themselves low in the wide seat while the
+wind tore past them.</p>
+
+<p>"Must be going ninety miles an hour!" gasped
+Clint.</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose we bust something!" said Tom
+awedly.</p>
+
+<p>Don braced his feet against the foot-rail. "Let
+it bust!" he answered exultantly.</p>
+
+<p>That was a memorable ride. Tim owned afterward
+that he thought he had ridden fast once or
+twice before, but that he was mistaken. "I
+watched that speedometer from the time we turned
+the second corner," he declared, "and it never
+showed less than fifty-three and was generally
+around sixty! If I hadn't been so excited I'd been
+scared to death!"</p>
+
+<p>Now and then one of the boys behind looked
+back along the road, but if anyone was following
+them the fact wasn't apparent. Almost before
+they were conscious of having travelled any distance
+the car topped a slight hill at a dizzy speed
+and the conflagration was in sight. A quarter of
+a mile distant a big barn was burning merrily.
+The car slowed down at the foot of the descent,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>
+swung into a lane and pitched and careened toward
+the burning structure. Other buildings were clustered
+about the barn and a good-sized white dwelling
+house stood in dangerous proximity. Between
+house and barn, standing out black against the
+orange glow of the fire, was a group of women and
+children, while a few men, not more than a half-dozen
+it seemed, were wandering hither and
+thither in the radiance. A horse with trailing
+halter snorted and dashed to safety as the automobile
+turned from the lane and came to a stop under
+an apple tree.</p>
+
+<p>"Far as we go!" shouted Mr. Brady. "Come
+on, boys, and lend a hand!"</p>
+
+<p>The lights dimmed, the engine stopped and the
+occupants of the car scrambled out and ran up
+the lane. "They can't save that barn," panted
+Mr. Brady, "but they'd ought to save the rest of
+them."</p>
+
+<p>A man attired principally in a pair of overalls
+and a flannel shirt and carrying an empty bucket
+advanced to meet them.</p>
+
+<p>"Is the engine coming?" he asked listlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"They hadn't started when I left," answered
+Mr. Brady, "and I guess you needn't look for them
+for fifteen or twenty minutes. Got any water
+handy when it does come?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I've got a tank full up there, and there's a
+pond behind the house. But I don't know's they
+can do anything. Looks to me like everything's
+bound to go. Well, I got insurance."</p>
+
+<p>"Got plenty of buckets?" asked Mr. Brady,
+peeling off his coat. "How many men are here?"</p>
+
+<p>"About six or seven, I guess. Yes, there's buckets
+enough, but the heat's so fierce&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Animals all out?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's some pigs down there. We tried to
+chase 'em out, but the plaguy things wouldn't go.
+We got the horses and cows out and a couple o'
+wagons. All my hay's done for, though. And
+there's a heap o' machinery in there&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we can save the other buildings, can't
+we?" asked Mr. Brady impatiently. "Get your
+buckets and your men together, Corrigan. Here
+are five of us, and we can make a line and keep the
+roofs wet down until the engine comes, I guess.
+Send the women for all the pails and things you've
+got. Get a hustle on, man!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Corrigan hesitated a moment and then trotted
+away. The water supply was contained in a
+wooden tank set some ten feet above ground, and
+high beyond that, dimly discernible through the
+cloud of smoke, the spectral arms of a wind-mill
+revolved imperturbably. Mr. Brady, followed by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>
+the boys, went on around to the further side of the
+burning building. It was a huge hip-roofed structure.
+One end, that nearest the house, was already
+falling, and the tons of crackling hay in the mows
+glowed like a furnace. The heat, even at the foot
+of the wind-mill, a hundred feet or more away, was
+almost intolerable. A row of one-story buildings
+ran along one side of the barn, so near that the
+flying sparks blew over rather than on to them.
+Several other detached structures stood at greater
+distances. Mr. Brady, surveying the scene, shook
+his head doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"Guess he's right," he said. "There's not
+much use trying to save those nearer buildings.
+We couldn't stay on those roofs a minute. I guess
+the chief danger will be from sparks lighting on
+the house and that creamery there. Things are
+mighty dry."</p>
+
+<p>Four or five men dangling empty buckets, one of
+them Mr. Corrigan's son and the others neighbours,
+came up and asked about the fire department
+and Mr. Brady repeated what he had told
+the older man. "What we've got to do," he continued,
+"is to keep the roof on the house and the
+dairy wet. Those sparks are flying all over them.
+What's that small building over there?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's the ice-house, Mr. Brady."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Well, we won't bother about that. How many
+are there of us?"</p>
+
+<p>"Six, I guess," said one of the men, but another
+corrected him.</p>
+
+<p>"Old Man Meredith and Tom Young just drove
+in," he announced. "That makes eight of us, and
+there's five of you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, come on, then," Mr. Brady interrupted
+briskly. "You fellows get your pails full and look
+after the dairy. Get on the roof, a couple of you,
+and keep it wet down. The rest can lug water.
+Got a ladder handy? All right. Somebody fetch
+it in a hurry. Hold on! Isn't there water in the
+dairy?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, plenty of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Then fill your buckets inside and hand them up
+to the men on the roof. I'll take my gang and go
+over to the house."</p>
+
+<p>The following half-hour was a busy time for the
+four boys. Mr. Brady and Don stood precariously
+athwart the ridge of the house roof while Tim and
+Clint and Tom, later assisted by others, filled buckets
+in the kitchen, raced up two flights of stairs
+and a short ladder&mdash;often losing half of their burden
+on the way&mdash;and passed them through a skylight
+to those outside. A dozen times the dry
+shingles caught fire under the rain of sparks, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>
+Mr. Brady, climbing along the ridge like a cat,
+tossing buckets of water with unerring precision,
+kept the fire at bay. It was warm work for all.
+On the roof the heat of the fire was unpleasantly
+apparent, while in the house it was stiflingly close
+and the work of carrying the pails up and down
+stairs soon had the three boys in a fine perspiration
+and badly off for breath!</p>
+
+<p>When the engines arrived, heralded by loud acclaim
+from the onlookers, who had by then multiplied
+remarkably, the barn was merely a huge
+pyre of glowing hay and burning timbers, only one
+far corner remaining erect. The piggery and adjoining
+buildings were ablaze in several places.
+The creamery roof had caught once or twice, but
+each time the flames had been subdued. If the
+engine and hose-cart and two carriages bearing
+members of the volunteer fire department had been
+slow in arriving, at least the fire-fighters got to
+work expeditiously and with surprisingly little
+confusion. Don, pausing for a moment in his
+labour of passing buckets to look down, decided
+that Brimfield had no cause to be ashamed of its
+department. In a jiffy the hose-cart was rattling
+across the yard&mdash;and, incidentally, some flower
+beds&mdash;in the direction of the pond behind the house,
+and a moment or two later the engine was pumping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>
+vigorously and a fine stream of water was wetting
+down the roofs of the threatened structures.
+Axes bit into charring timbers, sparks flew, enthusiastic,
+rubber-clad firemen dashed here and there,
+shouting loudly, the audience cheered and the
+worst was over!</p>
+
+<p>With the collapse of the remaining section of
+barn wall the danger from sparks was past, and,
+emptying one final bucket, Mr. Brady, followed by
+a very wet, very tired and very warm Don, crept
+back through the skylight and joined the others
+below. Mr. Brady rescued his coat, led the way
+to the kitchen pump and drank long and copiously,
+setting an example enthusiastically emulated by
+the boys. Tim declared that if he drank as much
+as he wanted there wouldn't be enough water left
+to put out the fire with!</p>
+
+<p>"Well, boys," said Mr. Brady, finally setting
+down the dipper and drawing a long breath, "I
+guess we did pretty well for amateurs, eh? I don't
+know whether we get any thanks, for I've a suspicion
+that Corrigan would have been just as
+pleased if everything had gone. From the way he
+talked when we got here I guess he wanted the
+insurance more'n he did the buildings!" Mr.
+Brady chuckled. "Well, we put one over on him
+in that case, eh? Want to stick around much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>
+longer? I guess most of the fun's over; unless
+they're going to serve some of that roast pig!"</p>
+
+<p>"They got the pigs out," chuckled Tim. "They
+were running around here awhile ago like crazy.
+About twenty of them, big and little, squealing
+and getting between people's feet. Those pigs had
+the time of their lives!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, suppose we start along home?"
+said Mr. Brady. "You fellows ready?"</p>
+
+<p>They agreed that they were. The remains of the
+barn were already blackening, and, while the firemen,
+evidently determined to make the most of the
+occasion, were still swinging axes and pouring
+water on the already extinguished and well-soaked
+buildings, there was no danger of further trouble.
+Mr. Corrigan, surrounded by a group of sympathetic
+neighbours, was cataloguing his losses and
+Mr. Brady called to him as they passed.</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, Corrigan! Sorry for you, but
+you've saved your house anyway!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir, Mr. Brady. I'm greatly obliged to
+you, sir, and them young fellers, too. It's a bit of
+a loss, sir, but there's pretty good insurance."</p>
+
+<p>"That's fortunate. Good-night!" Mr. Brady
+chuckled as they went on into the darkness of the
+orchard. "Bet you he's downright peeved with
+us, boys, for wetting that roof down! I happen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>
+to know that he's been losing money on this place
+for five years and been trying to sell it for a
+twelvemonth."</p>
+
+<p>"You don't suppose," began Tom, "that he&mdash;er&mdash;that
+he&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Set the fire? Well, I'd rather not suppose
+about that. As there's no evidence against him
+we'd better give him the benefit of the doubt, I
+guess."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>COACHING THE TACKLES</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">The</span> ride back was far less exciting. Mr. Brady
+drove the big car leisurely and conversed with
+Clint, who had succeeded to the seat of honour in
+front. Mr. Brady, it appeared, had a poultry
+farm some distance on the other side of Brimfield.
+He seemed a trifle surprised and pained when he
+discovered that Clint had never heard of the Cedar
+Ridge Poultry Farm, and at once issued an invitation
+to visit it.</div>
+
+<p>"You come over some time and I'll show you
+some stock that'll open your eyes. Bring your
+friends along. Tell the conductor on the trolley
+where you want to go and he'll set you down right
+at my gate. You can't miss it, though, anyhow,
+for I've got nearly a quarter of a mile of houses
+there. Silver Campines are my specialty. Raise
+a few White Wyandottes, too. You wouldn't
+think to look at me that the doctors came mighty
+near giving me up ten or eleven years ago, eh?
+Did, though. That was just after I finished college.
+They said the only thing would save me was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>
+hiking out to Colorado or Arizona or New Mexico.
+Some said one place and some said another. Seeing
+that they couldn't decide, I settled the question
+myself. Came out here, bought ten acres of
+land&mdash;I've got nearly forty now&mdash;and lived in a
+tent one Summer while my house was building.
+Doctors said it wouldn't do, but I fooled them.
+Slept out of doors every night, worked like a slave
+fourteen hours a day and put on flesh right from
+the start. I'm not what you'd call fat now, I guess,
+but you ought to have seen me then! An old chap
+I had putting up my first chicken house told me he
+could work me in nicely for a roosting pole! Went
+back to one of the doctors three years ago and had
+him look me over. He had to admit that I was a
+pretty healthy specimen. You could see that he
+was downright peeved about it, though!" Mr.
+Brady chuckled. "Then I settled the matter to
+my own satisfaction by taking out some life insurance.
+When I got my policy I stopped worrying
+about my health. You drop over some afternoon
+and let me show you how to live like a white man
+and make a little money, too. There's no life like
+it, and I wouldn't go back to the city if they gave
+me the Ritz-Carlton to live in!"</p>
+
+
+<p>Clint responded that he and the others would
+like very much to visit Cedar Ridge some day, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span>
+that just now they were all pretty busy in the
+afternoons with football. That struck a responsive
+chord and Mr. Brady harked back to his school
+and college days when he, too, had fondled the pigskin.
+"I wasn't much of a player, though," he
+acknowledged. "I was sort of tall and puny-looking
+and not very strong. Still, I did get into my
+school team in my senior year and played on my
+freshman team in college. The next year I had
+to give it up, though. I'd like to come over some
+day and see you fellows play. I've always been
+intending to. I haven't seen a real smashing football
+game for years. That's funny, too, for I can
+remember the time when I used to think that if I
+could get on my 'varsity eleven I'd die happy."
+He laughed as he swept the searchlights around a
+corner. "A man's ambitions change, don't they?
+Now what I want to do is to raise the champion
+egg producer. I'm going to do it, too, before
+long."</p>
+
+<p>And Clint quite believed it. Any man, he told
+himself, who could take command of a situation
+as Mr. Brady had that evening, and who could
+make enough money in the poultry business to own
+a three-thousand dollar automobile was capable
+of anything!</p>
+
+<p>When they approached the town Mr. Brady<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>
+swung off to the left, explaining that he would take
+the boys up to the school. There was a moment
+of silence and then Clint protested weakly.
+"Shucks," was the reply, "it won't take five minutes
+longer, and after the way you fellows have
+worked tonight you don't deserve to have to walk
+home!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then&mdash;then I guess you'd better let us
+out at the corner," said Tim. "We'd hate to wake
+up the masters, Mr. Brady."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's it, eh?" Mr. Brady laughed loudly.
+"Stayed out too late, have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm afraid we have, sir," said Clint. "We're
+supposed to be in hall before ten and it's long
+after that now. If you'll let us out at the corner
+of the grounds we can sort of sneak around back
+and maybe get in without being seen. Faculty's
+beastly strict about outstaying leave."</p>
+
+<p>The car crossed the railroad track and presently
+pulled up quietly in the gloom of the trees along
+the road and the four boys noiselessly descended,
+shook hands, promised to pay a visit some day to
+Cedar Ridge and stole off to the right through the
+darkness. A moment later the tiny red light of the
+automobile vanished from sight. Tim called a halt
+at the wall. "You'd better bunk out with us tonight,
+Clint," he whispered. "We'll beat it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>
+around back of the gym and get in the shadows of
+the buildings. Say, Don, you're sure we left that
+window unlatched?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course we did! It hasn't been closed for a
+week."</p>
+
+<p>"Then forward, my brave comrades! If anyone
+sees us we'd better scatter and hide out for
+awhile."</p>
+
+<p>They climbed over a stone wall and made their
+way through a grove adjoining the school grounds,
+keeping close to the boundary fence. It was as
+dark as pitch in the woods and every now and then
+one or another would walk into a tree or fall over
+a root. Don's teeth were chattering like <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'castenets'">castanets</ins>,
+for the night had grown cooler and a little breeze
+was blowing from the west, and his clothing
+was still far from dry. They crept past the
+back of the Cottage very cautiously, for there
+were lights upstairs and down, and breathed
+easier when the black bulk of the gymnasium
+loomed before them and they could crawl over the
+fence and drop back into school ground. From
+the corner of the gymnasium to Billings was a long
+distance, and looked just now longer than it ever
+had before. Also, in spite of the fact that there
+was no moon, the night was surprisingly light and
+Tim scowled disapprovingly at the stars as they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>
+paused for an instant at the corner of the building
+to get their breaths.</p>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 255px;">
+<img src="images/gs02.jpg" width="255" height="400" alt="Finally, Don was unceremoniously yanked up and through" title="Finally, Don was unceremoniously yanked up and through" />
+<span class="caption">Finally, Don was unceremoniously yanked up and through</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Keep low," advised Tim, "and make for Torrence.
+Then we'll stay close to the walls of the
+buildings. You want to see if there's a window
+open in Torrence, Clint?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'll stay with you fellows. I'd probably
+walk into a chair or a table and someone would
+take me for a burglar."</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, then. Haste to yon enfolding darkness!"</p>
+
+<p>They "hasted," and a second or two after were
+creeping, doubled up lest their heads show above
+the darkened windows and arouse unwelcome curiosity,
+along the rear of Torrence. Then they raced
+across the space dividing Torrence from Main
+Hall and repeated the proceedings until, finally,
+they were under the windows of Number 6 Billings.
+Both were open at the bottom and their
+doubts and tribulations were at an end. Clint
+was assisted in first, Tom followed and then Tim
+and, finally, Don was unceremoniously yanked up
+and through.</p>
+
+<p>"Eureka!" breathed Tim. "Can you make it
+to your room, Tom? If you don't want to risk it
+you can bunk out here on the window-seat or
+somewhere."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You may have half of my bed," offered Don.
+But Tom was already removing his shoes.</p>
+
+<p>"If Horace hears me," he whispered, "he's got
+better ears than I think he has. Good-night, fellows.
+We had a bully time, even if we didn't get
+that rarebit!"</p>
+
+<p>Tim groaned hollowly. "There! Now you've
+gone and reminded me that I'm starved to
+death!"</p>
+
+<p>"Shut up," warned Don. "Don't forget that
+Horace's bedroom is right there." He nodded
+toward the wall. "Beat it, Tom, and don't fall
+over your feet!"</p>
+
+<p>The door opened soundlessly, closed again and
+Tom was gone. They listened, and, although the
+transom was slightly open, not a creak or a shuffle
+reached them. "He's all right," whispered Tim.
+"Me for bed, fellows. Want to come in with
+me, Clint, or will you luxuriate on the window-seat?"</p>
+
+<p>"Window-seat, thanks. Got a coat or something?"</p>
+
+<p>Tim pulled a comforter from the closet shelf
+and tossed it to him, and quietly and quickly they
+got out of their clothes and sought their couches.
+Ten minutes later three very healthy snores alone
+disturbed the silence of Number 6.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The next morning Clint joined the others and
+walked unobtrusively along the Row with them in
+the direction of Wendell and breakfast, but when
+he reached Torrence he quite as unobtrusively
+slipped through the doorway and sought his room
+to repair his appearance and relieve the anxiety
+of Amory Byrd. And that seemed to conclude the
+adventure for all hands, and Don, for one, was
+extremely thankful that they had escaped detection
+and the punishment which would have certainly
+followed. But that Sunday afternoon,
+while on his way to Torrence to recover a book
+which Leroy Draper had borrowed in the Spring
+and neglected to return, he fell in with Harry
+Walton and made the disconcerting discovery that
+he had congratulated himself too soon. Don had
+no particular liking for Walton, although he by
+no means held him in the disdain that Amy Byrd
+and some others did, and he was a little surprised
+when Harry fell into step beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"Have a good time last night?" asked Harry
+with an ingratiating leer.</p>
+
+<p>"Last night?" echoed Don vacantly. He remembered
+then that Lawton roomed in Number
+20 Billings, directly above Number 6. "What
+about last night?"</p>
+
+<p>Harry winked meaningly and chuckled. "Well,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>
+I guess there was a party, wasn't there? I noticed
+you got home sort of late."</p>
+
+<p>"Did I? What makes you think that?"</p>
+
+<p>"I happened to be looking out my window, Don.
+It was sort of hot and I wasn't sleepy. Who were
+the other fellows?"</p>
+
+<p>"Other fellows? I guess you didn't see any
+others, Walton."</p>
+
+<p>Harry's saturnine countenance again wreathed
+itself with a growing grin. "Didn't, eh? All
+right. I probably imagined them."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe you were asleep and dreamed it," said
+Don gravely. "Guess you must have, Walton."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm not going to talk, Don. You needn't
+be afraid of that."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not," responded the other drily. "Well,
+I'm going in here. So long, Walton."</p>
+
+<p>"Bye, Don. I'm mum."</p>
+
+<p>Don nodded and entered Torrence, but on the
+way upstairs he frowned disgustedly. He didn't
+believe for an instant that Walton would deliberately
+get them into trouble, but he might talk so
+much that the facts would eventually work around
+to one of the masters. Don wished that almost
+any fellow he knew save Walton had witnessed
+that entry by the window of Number 6. Later,
+when he returned from his visit to Roy Draper,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>
+without the book, by the way, since it had mysteriously
+disappeared, he recounted his conversation
+with Walton to Tim. Tim didn't let it bother him
+any, however.</p>
+
+<p>"Harry won't give us away. Why should he?
+Besides, if he did he would know mighty well that
+I'd spoil his brunette beauty!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, he may tell it around and Horace or
+somebody'll hear it. That's all I'm worrying
+about."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't worry, Donald. Keep a clear conscience
+and you'll never know what worry is. That's my
+philosophy."</p>
+
+<p>Don smiled and dismissed the matter from consideration.</p>
+
+<p>On Monday he had his first try at coaching the
+second team tackles and found that, after all, he got
+on fairly well. There were four candidates for
+the positions and two of them, Kirkwell and Merton,
+promised well. Kirkwell, in fact, had already
+had a full season of experience on the second.
+Merton was a graduate from his last year's hall
+team. The other two, Brace and Goodhugh, were
+novices and had everything to learn, and it was
+with them that Don laboured the hardest. Monday's
+practice ended with a ten-minute scrimmage
+between two hastily selected teams, and Don,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>
+for the first time that fall, played in his old position
+of left guard. Merton, who opposed him,
+found that he still had much to learn.</p>
+
+<p>On Tuesday, after a long and grilling tackling
+practice at the dummy, Coach Boutelle announced
+his line-up for the scrimmage against the first
+team, and Don was disappointed to find that Kirkwell
+and not he was down for left guard. The right
+guard position went to Merton. Don, with Mr.
+Boutelle and a half-dozen of the more promising
+substitutes, followed their team about the field,
+Boots criticising and driving and Don breaking
+in with hurried instructions to the guards. The
+first team had no trouble in piling up four touchdowns
+that afternoon, even though three regulars
+were still out of the line-up. Between the short
+periods Don coached Kirkwell and Merton again,
+and Kirkwell, who was a decent chap but fancied
+himself a bit, was inclined to resent it.</p>
+
+<p>"Chop it off, Gilbert," he said finally. "Give a
+fellow a chance to use his own brains a little. I'm
+no greenhorn, you know. I played guard all last
+year on this team."</p>
+
+<p>"I know you did," answered Don. "And I
+don't say you can't play your position all right.
+But the best of us make mistakes, and Boots has
+told me to look out for them and try and correct<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>
+them. I'd a lot rather be playing than doing this,
+Kirkwell, but while I am doing it I'm going to do
+it the best I know how. A fellow who isn't in the
+game sees a lot the player doesn't, and when&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, all right. Only don't tell me stuff I know
+as well as I know my name, Gilbert. Don't
+nag."</p>
+
+<p>"Sorry. I'll try not to. But you see what I
+mean about that stiff-arm business, don't you?
+Don't get out of position when you're not sure
+where the play's coming, Kirkwell. Stiff-arm
+your man and hold him off until you see what's
+doing. Then you can play him right or left or
+shove him back. Once or twice you waited too
+long to find out where the play was coming and
+you didn't hold your man off. Get me?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but we don't all play the position the
+same way, you know. What's the good of sparring
+with your man when you've got to find where
+the play's coming? You can't watch the ball and
+your opponent too, can you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't sound reasonable," said Don, "but
+you can! You watch Hall do it, if you don't believe
+me. Maybe you don't actually look two ways
+at once, Kirkwell, but you can watch your man and
+locate the play at the same time. I suppose it
+comes with practice."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I'd like to see you do it," replied Kirkwell
+aggrievedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Watch Hall do it. He's the best guard around
+here. I'm not setting up as an example."</p>
+
+<p>"You talk like it," muttered Kirkwell. But
+Merton, who had been a silent audience, stepped
+in to Don's support.</p>
+
+<p>"Gilbert's only trying to help us, Ned. Quit
+grousing. Come on; time's up."</p>
+
+<p>In spite of mutinous objections Kirkwell
+profited by Don's advice and instruction and soon
+showed an improvement in his defensive playing.
+It didn't appear that day, for Kirkwell was replaced
+by Don before the second period was more
+than a few minutes old, while Merton gave way to
+Goodhugh. Don's advent considerably strengthened
+the left of the second team's line and more
+than once during his brief presence there he had
+the satisfaction of outwitting Tom Hall and once
+got clear through and smeared a play well behind
+the first team's line.</p>
+
+<p>Boots cut his squad from day to day and on
+Friday only some eighteen candidates remained.
+Brace went with the discard. Between parting
+with Brace and Goodhugh, Don, when consulted,
+chose to sacrifice the former. Possibly young
+Brace suspected Don's part in his release, for,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>
+for some time after that, he viewed Don with
+scowls.</p>
+
+<p>Don's hand was now entirely healed, although
+the scars still showed, and, according to the doctor,
+would continue to show for a long time. Mr.
+Boutelle used Don at right guard during some
+portion of every scrimmage game against the
+first, a fact which caused Kirkwell a deal of
+anxiety. Kirkwell had from the first, and not unreasonably,
+resented Don's appearance with the
+second team squad. Don had been, as every fellow
+knew, slated for the first team, and Kirkwell
+thought it was unfair of him to drop back to the
+second and "try to do him out of his place."
+Feeling as he did, it isn't surprising that he took
+more and more unkindly to Don's teaching. It
+took all of Don's good nature at times to prevent
+an open break with Kirkwell. Once the latter accused
+Don of trying to "ball him up" so that he
+would play poorly and Don would get the position.
+The next day, though, he made an awkward apology
+for that accusation and was quite receptive to
+Don's criticisms and instructions. But Don's task
+was no easy one and it grew harder as the season
+progressed and the second team, especially as to
+its linemen, failed to develop the ability Mr.
+Boutelle looked for. Don more than once was on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span>
+the point of resigning his somewhat thankless
+task, but Tim refused to sanction it, and what Tim
+said had a good deal of influence with Don.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then," he said moodily, "I hope Kirkwell
+will break something and get out of it."</p>
+
+<p>"Tut, tut," remonstrated Tim. "Them's no
+Christian sentiments."</p>
+
+<p>"I do, though. Or, anyway, I hope something
+will happen to let me out of it. Boots said he was
+afraid Robey would take me on the first, but I
+don't see any chance of it."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't see why he doesn't, though," mused
+Tim. "Your hand's all right now and you're
+playing a corking good game. You can work all
+around any guard he's got except, maybe, Tom.
+Tom's rather a bit above the average, if you ask
+me. Neither Walton nor Pryme amounts to a
+whole lot."</p>
+
+<p>"Robey's been playing Walton a good deal
+lately," said Don. "I wouldn't be surprised if he
+put him in ahead of Gafferty before long."</p>
+
+<p>"There isn't a lot to choose between them, I
+guess," answered Tim. "Gafferty's no earthly
+good on offence. Wait till we run up against Benton
+tomorrow. Those huskies will show Gafferty
+up finely. And maybe some more of us," Tim
+added with a chuckle.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well&mdash;&mdash;" began Don, vaguely, after a
+minute.</p>
+
+<p>But Tim interrupted. "Know what I think? I
+think Robey means to take you on the first later
+and is letting you stay with Boots just so you'll
+get fined down and speeded up a bit. You know
+you're still a little slow, Donald."</p>
+
+<p>"I am?" Don asked in genuine surprise. "I
+didn't know it. How do you mean, slow,
+Tim?"</p>
+
+<p>Tim leaned back in his chair and laced his
+fingers together behind his head. "Every way,
+Donald. I'm telling you this for your own good,
+dearie. I thought you realised it, though, or I'd
+have said it before. You start slow and you don't
+get up steam until the play's about over. If it
+wasn't that you're an indecently strong chap we'd
+get the jump on you every time. We do, as it is,
+only it doesn't do us much good, because you're a
+tough chap to move. Now you think it over, Don.
+See if you can't ginger up a bit. Bet you anything
+that when you do Robey'll have you yanked
+off that second team in no time at all!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad you told me," said Don, after a moment's
+consideration. "I thought I was doing
+pretty well this fall. I know well enough it was
+being all-fired slow that kept me off the first last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>
+fall, but I surely thought I'd picked up a whole
+lot of speed. I'll have to go back to practising
+starts, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, never mind the kindergarten stuff, old
+man. Just put more jump into it. You'll find you
+can do it all right, now that you know about it.
+Why, I'll bet you'll be performing like a Jack
+rabbit before the season's over!"</p>
+
+<p>"Like a jackass, more likely," responded Don
+ruefully.</p>
+
+<p>"No, for a jackass, dearie, doesn't take a hint."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, but I don't believe I <i>can</i> play any faster,
+Tim. If I could I'd be doing it, wouldn't I? Just
+naturally, I mean."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind the conundrums, Don. You try
+it. If you do I'll be willing to guarantee you a
+place on the first."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess your guarantee wouldn't cut much
+ice," objected Don, with a laugh. Then he sobered
+and added: "Funny game, though, me coaching
+Kirkwell and Merton and Goodhugh. Looks as if
+I was the one needed the coaching."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure. We all need it. No one's perfect, Don,
+although, without boasting, I will say that I come
+pretty near it."</p>
+
+<p>"You come pretty near being a perfect chump,
+if that's what you mean."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Tim shook his head. "It isn't at all what I
+mean. Now cut out the artless prattle and let me
+find some sense in this history stuff&mdash;if there is
+any!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+
+<h3>THE WIDTH OF A FINGER</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">At</span> chapel the next morning Mr. Fernald, the principal,
+after the usual announcements had been
+made, lifted a newspaper from the table at his
+side and ran his eyes over an item there. "I have
+here," he said, "a copy of this week's Brimfield
+<i>Times</i>, which tells of an incident of which I
+had not learned. In telling of a fire on Saturday
+night last which destroyed a barn and
+damaged other buildings on the farm of Mr. William
+Corrigan, some three miles from the village,
+the <i>Times</i> makes mention of the valuable assistance
+of a Mr. Grover Brady and four boys of this
+school. According to the <i>Times</i>, Mr. Brady and
+four boys dashed to the scene in a high-powered
+automobile, organised a bucket brigade and
+saved"&mdash;Mr. Fernald consulted his authority
+again&mdash;"saved the dwelling house from the devouring
+element. The metaphor is that of the
+paper. Possibly the <i>Times</i> is misinformed with
+regard to the heroic young firemen, although I
+hope not. I should be very pleased to discover<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>
+that they were really Brimfieldians. If they were,
+if they are before me at this moment, I trust they
+will signify the fact by standing up. I'm sure we'd
+all like to know their identity and give them well-deserved
+applause. Now then, will the modest
+heroes kindly reveal themselves?"</div>
+
+<p>Silence ensued, a silence broken only by a few
+whispers and some shuffling of feet. Every fellow's
+eyes searched the room, or, at least, that is
+true of almost every fellow. Tim smiled innocently
+and expectantly at the principal, Clint
+studied the back of the head in front of him most
+interestedly, Don observed the scar in his hand
+absorbedly and Tom grinned because Steve Edwards
+was whispering from the side of his mouth:
+"Why don't you get up, you bloomin' hero, why
+don't you get up?" Harry Walton was smiling
+that knowing smile of his and doing his best to
+catch Don's eye. And Don somehow knew it and
+didn't dare look toward him.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm disappointed," said Mr. Fernald after a
+minute. "Either the paper is mistaken or the
+fellows are over-modest. Well, if they won't
+speak for themselves perhaps someone else will
+volunteer to wrest them from the obscurity they
+so evidently court. How about that, boys? Anyone
+know who the heroes are?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Again silence for an instant, and then, in various
+parts of the room, the sudden moving of seats or
+tramping of feet as though someone was about to
+get up. But no one did, and some of the younger
+boys in front began to titter nervously. Mr. Fernald
+smiled and laid the Brimfield <i>Times</i> back on
+the table.</p>
+
+<p>"No heroes amongst us, eh? Well, doubtless
+if any of you had been there you'd have performed
+quite as well as these unknown young gentlemen
+did. I like to think so. Dismissed."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you think he suspects us?" asked Tom as
+he ranged himself beside Tim on the way out.
+"Gee, I thought once he was looking right at
+me!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's what it is to have a guilty conscience,"
+replied Tim, in a virtuous tone. "Of course he
+doesn't suspect. If he did he'd have named us,
+sure as shooting. The funny part of it is that he
+hasn't thought about what time the fire was!
+Maybe the paper didn't say. If he knew that he'd
+probably be a sight more anxious to find us!"</p>
+
+<p>"I was scared stiff that Harry Walton would
+blab. I didn't dare look at him."</p>
+
+<p>"Harry doesn't know you were with us. He
+recognised Don, or says he did, and he naturally
+thinks I was along, but he doesn't know who the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>
+other two were. If he opens his mouth I'll brain
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess he won't. He's a sort of a pup, but
+he isn't mean enough for that. Gee, but it almost
+ruined my appetite for breakfast!"</p>
+
+<p>"Even if Josh did find out," said Tim as they
+turned into Wendell, "he wouldn't do much to us,
+I guess. It wasn't our fault the fire was late in
+getting started, and the paper calls us
+heroes&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe it does. That's some of Josh's
+nonsense. I'm going to get a copy of the <i>Times</i>
+and see what it does say."</p>
+
+<p>"Take my advice and let the <i>Times</i> alone," advised
+Tim. "Why, I wouldn't be seen with a copy
+of it in my possession! It would be circumstantial
+evidence, or corroborative evidence or something
+horrid, and I'd get pinched for sure. You
+keep away from the <i>Times</i>, dearie."</p>
+
+<p>There was a good deal of interested speculation
+as to the identity of the four youths who had participated
+in the rescue of Farmer Corrigan's
+dwelling, but the general opinion was to the effect
+that the local paper had erred. One fellow made
+the suggestion in Don's hearing that if faculty
+would look it up and see who had leave of absence
+Saturday night they might spot the chaps. Don<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>
+sincerely hoped the idea wouldn't occur to Mr.
+Fernald!</p>
+
+<p>But interest in the matter soon waned, for
+Brimfield was to play Benton Military Academy
+that afternoon and what sort of a showing she
+would make against that very worthy opponent
+was a far more absorbing subject for speculation.
+Benton had been defeated handily enough last
+year, but reports from the military academy this
+Fall led Brimfield to expect a hard contest. And
+her expectations were fulfilled.</p>
+
+<p>Benton brought at least a hundred neatly uniformed
+rooters along and the field took on a very
+gallant appearance. The visitors seemed gaily
+confident of victory and from the time they
+marched into the field and took their places in the
+stand until the kick-off there was no cessation of
+the songs and cheers from the blue-clad cohorts.
+Coach Robey started his best men in that game
+and, as was quickly proved, needed to. The first
+period was a bitterly contested punting duel in
+which Rollins, and, later, St. Clair came off second
+best. But the difference in the kicking of the rival
+teams was not sufficient to allow of much advantage,
+and the first ten-minute set-to ended without
+a score. In fact, neither team had been at any
+time within scoring distance of the other's goal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span>
+line. When play began again Benton changed
+her tactics and started a rushing game that for a
+few minutes made headway. But a fumble cost her
+the ball and a possible score on the Maroon-and-Grey's
+twenty-yard line and the latter adopted
+the enemy's plan and banged at the soldiers' line
+for fair gains. A forward pass brought the spectators
+to their feet and gained twenty-two yards
+for Brimfield, Steve Edwards being on the receiving
+end of a very pretty play. But Benton stiffened
+presently and Brimfield was forced to kick.</p>
+
+<p>That kick spelled disaster for Brimfield. Rollins
+dropped back to near his own thirty yards
+and sent a remarkable corkscrew punt to Benton's
+twenty. It was one of the prettiest punts
+ever seen on the Brimfield gridiron, for it was so
+long that it went over the quarter-back's head, so
+high that it enabled the Maroon-and-Grey ends to
+get well down under it and was nicely placed in
+the left-hand corner of the field. The Benton
+quarter made no effort to touch it while it was
+bounding toward the goal line, for with both
+Edwards and Holt hovering about him a fumble
+might easily have resulted, and it was only when
+the pigskin had settled down to a slow, toppling
+roll and it was evident that it did not mean to go
+over the line that the Benton quarter seized it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>
+What happened then was little short of a miracle.
+Both Captain Edwards and Holt took it for
+granted that the quarter-back meant to drop on
+the ball and call it down, and, since there was no
+necessity to smother the opponent, each waited for
+the other to tackle and hold him. But the first
+thing anyone knew the Benton quarter had the
+ball in his hands, had squirmed somehow between
+Edwards and Holt and was speeding up the middle
+of the field!</p>
+
+<p>Between him and the fifty-yard line friend and
+foe were mingled, and to win through seemed a
+preposterous undertaking. And yet first one and
+then another of the enemy was passed, team-mates
+formed hasty interference for the runner and,
+suddenly, to the consternation of the Brimfield
+stand, the quarter, with the ball snuggled in the
+crook of his left elbow, was out of the m&ecirc;l&eacute;e, with
+a clear field before him and two Benton players
+guarding his rear. Crewe made a desperate effort
+to get him near the thirty-yard line, but the interference
+was too much for him, and after that,
+although Brimfield trailed the runner to the goal
+line and over, there was no doubt as to the result.
+And when the Benton quarter deposited the ball
+squarely between the posts and laid himself down
+beside it friend and foe alike arose from their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span>
+seats and cheered him long and loudly. Never
+had a more spectacular run been made there, for
+not only had the quarter practically traversed the
+length of the field, but had eluded the entire opposing
+eleven.</p>
+
+<p>Benton deserved to secure the odd point by kicking
+goal, but goal-kicking was the quarter-back's
+business and he was far too tuckered to try, and
+so the player who did make the attempt failed miserably,
+and Benton had to be satisfied with those
+six points. Probably she was, for she cheered
+madly and incessantly while the period lasted and
+then spent the half-time singing triumphant
+paeans. And those military academy chaps could
+sing, too! Brimfield, a bit chastened, listened and
+applauded generously and only found her own
+voice when the Maroon-and-Grey warriors trotted
+back again.</p>
+
+<p>Carmine had given place to McPhee at quarter
+and Holt to Cheep at right end. Otherwise Brimfield's
+line was the same as in the first half. McPhee
+opened his bag of tricks soon after play
+began and double-passes and delayed-passes and
+a certain fake plunge at guard with quarter running
+wide outside the drawn-in end made good
+gains and took the ball down the field with only
+one halt to Benton's twenty-three yards. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span>
+the military academy team solved a fake-kick and
+St. Clair was laid low behind his line. Rollins
+made up the lost distance and a little more besides,
+and finally, with the ball on Benton's nineteen
+yards on fourth down, Captain Edwards called
+for a try-at-goal and Rollins dropped back to the
+thirty. Fortunately the Maroon-and-Grey forwards
+held back the plunging enemy in good style,
+Rollins had all the time he wanted, the pigskin
+dropped neatly over the bar, and the score-board
+figures proclaimed 6 to 3.</p>
+
+<p>Benton kicked off and once more Brimfield
+started up the field, St. Clair, Tim Otis and Rollins
+banging the line from end to end and Edwards
+varying the monotony by sweeping around behind
+and launching himself off on wide runs. But the
+advance slackened near the middle of the field
+and an attempted forward pass was captured by
+Benton. That play brought the ten-minute period
+to an end.</p>
+
+<p>Benton tried the Brimfield centre and got
+through for four yards, hit it again and made
+three and placed the ball on the home team's forty-yard
+line. Time was called for Brimfield and
+Danny Moore trotted on to administer to Gafferty.
+The left guard was soon on his feet again, although
+a trifle unsteady, it seemed, and Benton, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>
+three yards to gain, swung into the other side and
+pushed a half-back through for the distance. Carmine
+replaced McPhee and Holt went back to end
+position. Benton once more thrust at Gafferty
+and, although the secondary defence plugged the
+hole, went through for two yards. Time was
+again called and this time the trainer led Joe Gafferty
+off the field, the latter protesting bitterly,
+and Harry Walton was hurried in. Benton tried
+a forward pass and made it go for a small gain
+and then, on third down, got past Thayer and
+reached the eighteen before Carmine tipped up
+the runner. Across the gridiron, Benton's supporters
+yelled mightily and a second touchdown
+looked imminent.</p>
+
+<p>Benton fumbled and recovered for a two-yard
+loss and then sent that heroic quarter up the field
+to try a drop kick. It looked easy enough, for the
+ball was near the twenty-eight yards and in front
+of the right hand goal post. Captain Edwards implored
+his men to block the kick and comparative
+quiet fell over the field. Back shot the ball and
+the quarter's foot swung at it, but the left side of
+the Benton line crumbled and Hall and Crewe
+flung themselves into the path of the ball. Four
+seconds later it was snuggled under Tim Otis's
+chest near the thirty-five yards, for Tim had followed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>
+the forwards through and trailed the
+bouncing pigskin up the field.</p>
+
+<p>That misadventure seemed to take the heart
+out of the visitors, and when Brimfield, with new
+courage and determination, smashed at her line
+she fell back time and again. Substitutes were
+sent in lavishly, but although the right side of the
+Benton line stiffened for awhile, the left continued
+weak. Coach Robey sent in Compton to replace
+Steve Edwards and, later, Howard for St. Clair.
+With the best part of five minutes left, Brimfield
+hoped to put over a winning touchdown, and the
+backs responded gallantly to Carmine's demands.
+Near the enemy's forty-yard line Rollins threw a
+neat forward to Holt and the latter raced along
+the side of the field for a dozen yards before he
+was forced over the line. That took the ball to
+Benton's twenty-one. Two tries at the line netted
+but six yards and Compton took the pigskin on
+an end-around play and just made the distance.</p>
+
+<p>Brimfield hammered the enemy's left wing and
+reached her five-yard line in three downs, but
+Benton, fiercely determined, her feet on the last
+line mark, was putting up a strong defence. Tom
+Hall, captain pro tem., and Carmine consulted. A
+forward pass might succeed, and if it did would
+win the game, but Benton would be watching for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>
+it and neither Holt nor Compton was a brilliant
+catcher of thrown balls. A goal from the field
+would only tie the score, but it seemed the wisest
+play. So Rollins dropped back to the twenty and
+stretched his arms. But Benton was sure a forward
+was to result and when the ball went back
+her attempts to block the kick were not very enthusiastic.
+That was fortunate for Brimfield, for
+Thursby's pass had been short and Rollins had to
+pick the ball from the turf before he could swing
+at it. That delay was almost his undoing, since
+the Benton forwards were now trickling through,
+and it was only by the veriest good fortune that
+the ball shot between them from Rollins's toe and,
+after showing an inclination to pass to the left of
+the goal and changing its mind in mid-air, dropped
+over the bar barely inside the post. Brimfield
+cheered and the 3 on the board changed to 6.
+Coach Robey called Rollins and Tim Otis out, replacing
+them with Martin and Gordon. Brimfield
+kicked off once more and, with a scant minute and
+a half to play, the Maroon-and-Grey tried valiantly
+to add another score.</p>
+
+<p>Carmine caught on his twenty and took the ball
+to the thirty-six before he was stopped, and Brimfield
+cheered wildly and danced about in the stand.
+Plugging the line would never cover that distance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>
+to the farther goal line and so Carmine sent Gordon
+off around the left end. But Gordon couldn't
+find the hole and was run down for no gain. A
+forward pass, Carmine to Compton, laid the ball
+on the forty-eight yards. Howard slid off right
+tackle for six and, on a fake-kick play, Martin ran
+around left end for seven more. Brimfield
+shouted imploringly from the stand and, across
+the field, Benton cheered incessantly, doggedly,
+longing for the whistle.</p>
+
+<p>The Benton team used all allowable methods to
+waste time. The timekeeper hovered nearby, his
+eyes darting <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'rom'">from</ins> the galloping hand of his watch
+to the players. "Twenty-nine seconds," he responded
+to Tom Hall's question. Carmine clapped
+his hands impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"Signals now! Make this good! Left tackle
+over! 27&mdash;57&mdash;88&mdash;16! Hep! 27&mdash;57&mdash;88&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>The backs swung obliquely to the right, Carmine
+dropped from sight, his back to the line, Benton's
+left side was borne slowly away, fighting hard, and
+confusion reigned. Then Carmine whirled
+around, sprang, doubled over, through the scattered
+right side of the enemy's line, challenged
+only by the end, who made a desperate attempt at
+a tackle but failed, and, with only the opposing
+quarter between him and the goal line, raced like<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>
+the wind. About him was a roaring babel of
+sound, voices urging him on, shouts of dismay,
+imploring shrieks from behind. Then the quarter
+was before him, crouching with out-reached hands,
+a strained, anxious look on his dirt-streaked face.</p>
+
+<p>They met near the twenty-yard line. The Benton
+quarter launched himself forward. Carmine
+swung to the left and leaped. A hand groped at
+his ankle, caught, and Carmine fell sprawling to
+the turf. But he found his feet like a cat,
+wrenched the imprisoned ankle free and went
+staggering, stumbling on. Again he fell, on the
+five-yard line, and again the Benton quarter dived
+for him. But Carmine was not to be stopped with
+the line only five short yards away. He wrested
+himself to his feet again, the arms of the Benton
+quarter squirming about his knees, plunged on a
+stride, dragging the enemy with him, found his
+legs locked firmly now, struggled desperately and
+then flung himself sidewise toward the last white
+streak. And as he fell his hands, clasping the ball,
+reached forward and a whistle blew.</p>
+
+<p>It was said afterward that a half-inch decided
+that touchdown. And the half-inch was on the
+wrong side of the line! Carmine wept frankly
+when he heard the decision and Tom Hall had to
+be held away from the referee, but facts were facts<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>
+and Carmine had lost his touchdown and Brimfield
+the victory by the width of a finger!</p>
+
+<p>Benton departed joyously, cheering and singing,
+and Brimfield tried hard to be satisfied with a
+drawn game. But she wasn't very successful, and
+for the next few days the referee's decision was
+discussed and derided and regretted.</p>
+
+<p>What sorrow Don felt was largely mitigated
+when, after supper that evening, Steve Edwards
+found him in front of Billings. "You come to us
+Monday, Don," said the captain. "Robey told me
+to tell you. Joe Gafferty's got a rib caved in and
+is out of it for a fortnight at least. Get Tim to
+coach you up on the signals. Don't forget."</p>
+
+<p>As though he was likely to!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+
+<h3>TIM EXULTS AND EXPLAINS</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">When</span> Don told Tim the latter insisted on performing
+a triumphal dance about the room to the
+tune of "Boola." When Don squirmed himself
+loose Tim continued alone until the droplight was
+knocked to the floor at the cost of one green shade.
+Then he threw himself, panting but jubilant, on his
+bed and hilariously kicked his feet in air. Don
+observed him with a faint smile.</div>
+
+<p>"You wooden Indian, you!" exclaimed Tim,
+sitting up and dropping his feet to the floor with
+a crash. "There you stand like a&mdash;a graven image,
+looking as though you'd just received an invitation
+to a funeral! Cheer, you idiot! Make a
+noise! Aren't you tickled to death?"</p>
+
+<p>"You bet I am!" replied Don.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, do something, then! You ought to have
+a little of my Latin temperament, Don. You'd be
+a heap easier to live with. If it was I who had
+just been waited on humbly by the first team captain
+and invited to join the eleven I'd&mdash;I'd make
+a&mdash;a noise!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What do you think you've been doing?"
+laughed Don. "You'll have Horace in here in a
+minute. Steve says you're to coach me on the
+signals."</p>
+
+<p>"Tomorrow!" Tim waved his hand. "Time
+enough for that, Don. Just now it behooves us to
+celebrate."</p>
+
+<p>"How?" asked Don.</p>
+
+<p>Tim thought long and earnestly. Finally,
+"Let's borrow Larry Jones's accordion and serenade
+Josh!" he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Let's not. And let's not go to a fire, either!
+Think of something better, Timmy."</p>
+
+<p>"Then we'll go out and bay at the moon.
+I've got to do something! By the time
+Joe's got his busted rib mended you'll have
+that left guard position nailed to the planks,
+Don."</p>
+
+<p>"How about Walton?" asked Don dubiously.</p>
+
+<p>"A fig for Walton! Two figs for him! A whole
+box of figs! All you've got to do is speed up a bit
+and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose I can't?"</p>
+
+<p>"Suppose nothing! You've <i>got</i> to! If you
+don't you'll have me to fight, Donald. If you don't
+cinch that position in just one week I&mdash;I'll take
+you over my knee and spank you with a belt!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>
+Come on over to Clint's room. Let us disseminate
+the glorious tidings. Let us&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather learn the signals," said Don.
+"There's only tonight and tomorrow, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Tim appealed despairingly to the ceiling with
+wide-spread hands. "There's no poetry in his
+soul," he mourned, "no blood in his veins!" He
+faced Don scornfully. "Donald P. Gilbert is your
+name, my son, and the P stands for Practical. All
+right, then, draw up a chair and let's have it over.
+To think, though, that I should have to sit indoors
+a night like this and teach signals to a wooden-head!
+I wooden do it for anyone else. Ha!
+How's that! Get a pad and a pencil and try to
+look intelligent."</p>
+
+<p>"All right? Mark 'em down, then. Starting at
+the left, number your holes 1, 3, 5, 7, 8, 6, 4, 2. Got
+that? Number your left end 1, the next man 3,
+the next 5. Omit centre. Right guard 6, right
+tackle 4, right end 2. Now, your backfield. Quarter
+0, left half 7, right half 8, full-back 9."</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, that's hard to remember," murmured
+Don.</p>
+
+<p>"And hard to guess," answered Tim. "Now,
+your first number, unless it's under thirty, is a
+fake. If it's under thirty it means that the next
+number is the number of a play. Over thirty, it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>
+means nothing. Your second digit of your second
+number is your runner. The second digit of the
+third number is the hole. The fourth number, as
+you doubtless surmise, is also a fake. Now, then,
+sir! 65&mdash;47&mdash;23&mdash;98! What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Left half between end and tackle."</p>
+
+<p>"On the left. Correct. 19&mdash;87&mdash;77&mdash;29?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. Nineteen calls for a numbered
+play."</p>
+
+<p>"Right again, Mr. Gilbert, your performance is
+startling! The pity of it is, though, that about
+the time you get these signals pat Robey'll change
+them for the Claflin game. So far we've only got
+eight numbered plays, and they aren't complicated.
+Want to go into them tonight?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I guess not. I'd rather get these holes
+and players sort of fixed in my mind first. We'll
+go over the plays tomorrow, if you don't mind."</p>
+
+<p>"It will break my heart, but I'll do it for you.
+Now will you come over to Clint's?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd rather not, Tim. You go. I want to mull
+over these signals."</p>
+
+<p>Presently, having exhausted his vocabulary on
+his room-mate, Tim went. Don settled his head
+in his hands and studied the numbered diagram
+for the better part of an hour. Don was slow at
+memorising, but what was once forced into his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>
+mind stayed there. A little before ten o'clock he
+slipped the diagram under a box in a bureau
+drawer and went to bed with a calm mind, and
+when Tim returned riotously a few minutes later
+Don was sleeping peacefully.</p>
+
+<p>On Monday, in chapel, Don and the "heroes" of
+Farmer Corrigan's conflagration had another
+shock, and Don, for one, wondered when he was
+to hear the last of that affair. "Since last week,"
+said Mr. Fernald drily, "when I requested the
+four boys who helped to put out a fire at the Corrigan
+farm to make themselves known to an admiring
+public, I have gained an understanding of
+their evident desire to conceal their identities. I
+am forced to the conclusion that it was not altogether
+modesty that kept them silent. The fire, it
+appears, did not break out until nearly half-past
+nine. Consequently the young gentlemen were
+engaged in their heroic endeavours at a time when
+they should have been in their dormitories. I have
+not yet found out who they were, but I am making
+earnest efforts to do so. Meanwhile, if they wish
+to lighten the consequences of their breach of
+school regulations, I'd earnestly advise them to
+call and see me. I may add that, in view of the
+unusual circumstances, had they made a clean
+breast of the affair I should have dealt very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>
+leniently with them. That is all, I think. Dismissed."</p>
+
+<p>None of the culprits dared to so much as glance
+at the others on the way out of the hall, but afterward,
+when breakfast was over, they gathered
+anxiously together in Number 6 Billings and discussed
+the latest development with lowered voices,
+like a quartette of anarchists arranging a bomb
+party.</p>
+
+<p>"He's right up on his ear," said Clint gloomily.
+"If he gets us now he will send us all packing,
+and don't you doubt it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Piffle!" This from Tim, the least impressed
+of the four. "Probation is all we'd get. Didn't
+the paper say we were heroes?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, it didn't," answered Tom shortly. "And
+I wish that paper was in Halifax!"</p>
+
+<p>"Might as well be fired as put on pro," said
+Clint. "It would mean no more football this year
+for any of us. My word, wouldn't Robey be
+mad!"</p>
+
+<p>"Wouldn't I be!" growled Tom. "Look here,
+do you really suppose he's trying to find out who
+we were, or was that just a bluff to scare us into
+'fessing up!"</p>
+
+<p>"Josh isn't much of a bluffer," observed Don
+judiciously. "What he says he means. What I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>
+don't savvy is why he hasn't found out already.
+Every hall master has a record of leaves."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but it was Saturday night and I'll bet
+half the school had leave," said Tim. "I dare
+say, though, that if any fellows are suspected
+we're amongst 'em, Don. Being on the first floor,
+Josh knows we could sneak in easily. Still, he
+can't prove it on us."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not so sure," replied Don thoughtfully.
+"Suppose he asked Mr. Brady?"</p>
+
+<p>A dismayed silence ensued until Tom laughed
+mirthlessly.</p>
+
+<p>"That's one on us," he said. "We never
+thought of that. Maybe he has asked Brady
+already."</p>
+
+<p>"Brady doesn't know our names," said Tim.
+"You didn't tell him, did you, Don?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, he didn't ask. But he could easily describe
+us so that Josh would recognise us, I
+guess."</p>
+
+<p>"That's the trouble with being so plaguy distinguished
+looking," mourned Tim. "Seems to
+me, fellows, that there's just one thing to be did,
+and did sudden."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean warn Mr. Brady?" asked Clint.</p>
+
+<p>"Exactly, my discerning young friend. Maybe
+the horse is stolen&mdash;&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"What horse?" asked Tom perplexedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Merely a figure of speech, Tom. I was about
+to observe when so rudely interrupted&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, cut out the verbiage," growled Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"That possibly it was too late to lock the stable
+door," continued Tim, "but we'd better do it,
+just the same. Let's see if he has a telephone."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course he has," said Clint, "but I don't
+think it would be safe to call him up. We'd better
+see him. Or write him a letter."</p>
+
+<p>"He wouldn't get a letter until tomorrow,
+maybe," objected Don. "One of us had better
+beat it over to his place as soon as possible and
+ask him to keep mum."</p>
+
+<p>"I can't go," said Tom. "I've got four recits
+this morning and Robey would never let me off
+practice."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe any of us will do much work
+this afternoon," said Tim. "I'll go if Robey'll
+let me cut. I wish someone would come along,
+though. It's a dickens of a trip to make alone.
+You come, Clint."</p>
+
+<p>"I will if I can. We'll ask Robey at dinner.
+What shall we say to this Brady man?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just tell him what's doing and ask him to forget
+what we looked like if Josh writes to him or
+calls him up or anything. Brady's a good old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>
+scout, I'll bet," added Tim with conviction.
+"Maybe we'd better buy a setting of eggs to get
+on the good side of him."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be a chump," begged Tim. "I don't
+call this a comedy situation, if you do, Tim. I'd
+certainly hate to get on pro and have to drop
+football!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be a chump," begged Tom. "I don't
+say it's a comedy, but there's no use weeping, is
+there? What's done is done, and we've got to
+make the best of it, and a laugh never hurt anyone
+yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, let's make the best of it," answered
+Tom peevishly. "Talking doesn't do any
+good."</p>
+
+<p>"Neither does grouching," said Tim sweetly.
+"You leave it all to Clint and me, Tom. We're a
+swell pair of fixers. If we can get to Brady before
+Josh does we're all right. And it's a safe wager
+Josh hasn't asked Brady yet, for if he had he'd
+be on to us. There's the nine o'clock bell, fellows,
+and I've got a recit. See you later. Hope for
+the best, Tom, and fear the worst!"</p>
+
+<p>Tim seized his books and dashed out, followed
+more leisurely by Clint. Tom remained a few minutes
+longer and then he, too, took his departure,
+still filled with forebodings. Don, left to himself,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>
+drew a chair to the table and began to study.
+Truth, however, compels me to state that what he
+studied was not his German, although he had a
+recitation coming in forty minutes, but two sheets
+of buff paper torn from a scratch-pad and filled
+with writing interspersed with numerals and
+adorned with strange diagrams, in short, Tim's
+elucidation of the eight numbered plays which up
+to the present comprised Brimfield's budget of
+tricks. It can't be said that Don covered himself
+with glory in Mr. Daley's German class that morning
+or that the instructor was at all satisfied, but
+Don had the secret satisfaction of knowing that
+stored away in the back of his brain was a very
+thorough knowledge of the Brimfield football signal
+code and of Mr. Robey's special plays.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+
+<h3>MR. BRADY FORGETS</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">That</span> afternoon Don's knowledge stood him in
+good stead, for with more than half the first-string
+players excused from practice, his services were
+called on at the start, and, with McPhee and Cotter
+running the squad, the signal drill was long
+and thorough. Harry Walton viewed Don's advent
+with disfavour. That was apparent to Don
+and anyone else who thought of the matter,
+although he pretended a good-natured indifference
+that wasn't at all deceiving. Don more than
+once caught his rival observing him with resentment
+and dislike, and, remembering that Harry
+Walton had been a witness of his unconventional
+return to hall that night, he experienced misgivings.
+Of course, Harry wouldn't "peach," but&mdash;well,
+Don again wished anyone rather than Harry
+had stumbled on the secret.</div>
+
+<p>But he didn't have much time for worrying
+about that matter, for Coach Robey went after
+them hard that day. In the practice game with
+the second team Don started at left guard and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>
+played the position until within a few minutes of
+the whistle. Then Harry Walton, who had been <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'disgruntedly'">disgruntledly</ins>
+adorning the bench, took his place. He
+didn't look at Don as he accepted the latter's
+head-guard, but Don was well aware that Harry
+felt anything but good-will for him. Naturally
+enough, Harry had, Don reflected, expected to step
+into Gafferty's place without opposition when
+news of the extent of the latter's injury had become
+known, and it was undoubtedly a big disappointment
+to him to discover that he had to fight
+a new opponent. Don could sympathise with
+Harry, for he had endured disappointments himself
+during his brief football career, but it is difficult
+to sympathise very enthusiastically when the
+subject of your sympathy shows his dislike for
+you, and Don metaphorically shrugged his shoulders
+as he trotted up to the gymnasium.</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't my fault," he said to himself. "I
+didn't bust Joe Gafferty's rib and I'm not responsible
+for Robey's taking me on the first team.
+Walton will just have to make the best of it."</p>
+
+<p>Don couldn't flatter himself that he had played
+that afternoon with especial brilliancy, although
+he had managed to hold his end up fairly well.
+The fact was that he had been so intent on getting
+speeded into his performance that he had rather<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>
+skimped the niceties of line-play. And he wasn't
+at all certain that he had shown any more speed
+than usual, either. He awaited Mr. Robey's appearance
+in the locker-room with some apprehension,
+certain that if he had erred badly he would
+soon learn of it. When the coach did arrive at the
+tail of the procession of panting players and said
+his say without once singling out Don for special
+attention, the latter was relieved. He couldn't, he
+told himself, have done so very badly, after all!</p>
+
+<p>Tom walked back to Billings with Don to learn
+the result of Tim's and Clint's embassy to the
+Cedar Ridge Poultry Farm, for the two had obtained
+leave of absence from Mr. Robey and had
+set forth on their journey the minute a three
+o'clock recitation was finished. Tim wasn't in
+Number 6 when they reached it, but he and Clint
+tramped in soon after, dusty and weary but evidently
+triumphant. Tim narrated their experiences.</p>
+
+<p>"Missed the three-fifty car, just as I told Clint
+we would if he didn't hustle&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I had to find a cap to wear, didn't I?" interpolated
+Clint.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we found the place all right, fellows, and,
+say, it's some poultry farm, believe me, dearies!
+Isn't it corking, Clint?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Clint grunted assent, stretching tired legs across
+the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"There's about a thousand acres of it, I guess,
+and a mile of red chicken houses and runs, or
+whatever you call 'em. How many hens and
+things did he tell us he had, Clint?"</p>
+
+<p>"Eighteen hundred, I think. Maybe it was
+eighteen thousand. I don't remember. All I
+know is there were chickens as far as you could
+see, and then some."</p>
+
+<p>"Never mind the descriptive matter," urged
+Tom. "What did he say? Had Josh been at him?
+Did he promise&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm coming to that, dearie. When we found
+him he was doing something to that car of his in
+a cute little garage. And, say, it's an eight-cylinder
+Lothrop, and a regular jim-dandy! Well, he
+took us into his house first&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Tom groaned in despair.</p>
+
+<p>"&mdash;&mdash;And fed us on crackers and cake and ginger
+ale. Say, he's got a peach of a bungalow there;
+small but entire; and a cute little Jap who cooks
+and looks after things for him. Well, then he
+took us out and showed us around the place.
+Chickens! Gee, I didn't know there were so many
+in the world! And we saw the incubators and the&mdash;what
+you call them&mdash;brooders, and&mdash;&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"For the love of mud!" exclaimed Tom.
+"Can't you get down to dots? <i>Is it all right or
+isn't it?</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Tim smiled exasperatingly. "Then he showed
+us&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Tom arose to his feet and took a step toward
+him.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right," said Tim hurriedly. "Everything,
+Thomas! We told him what was up and
+how we didn't want Josh to find out it was us
+who attended Mr. Corrigan's fire party and
+asked him if he would please not remember
+what we looked like if Josh asked him. And he
+said&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"He laughed," interrupted Clint, and chuckled
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right! He laughed a lot. 'You're a
+little bit late,' he said. 'Mr. Fernald called me up
+by telephone nearly a week ago, fellows, and
+wanted to know all about it.' 'You didn't tell
+him?' I yelped. 'No, I couldn't,' he said. 'You
+see, you hadn't told me your names, and it was
+pretty dark that night and somehow or other I just
+couldn't seem to recall what you looked like! Mr.
+Fernald sounded considerably disappointed and
+like he didn't quite believe me, but that can't be
+helped.' Say, fellows, I wanted to hug him! Or&mdash;or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>
+buy an egg or something! Honest, I did!
+He's all right, what?"</p>
+
+<p>"He's a corker!" said Tom, sighing with relief.
+"You don't suppose Corrigan or any of the others
+there that night would remember us, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not likely. Mr. Brady didn't think so, anyway."</p>
+
+<p>"Then it's all to the merry!" cried Tom. "Gee,
+but that's a load off my mind!"</p>
+
+<p>"Off your what?" asked Tim curiously.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right if Harry Walton keeps quiet,"
+said Don. "If he gets to talking&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"If he does I'll beat him up," said Tim earnestly.
+"But he won't. He wouldn't be such a
+snip, in the first place, and he wouldn't dare to in
+the second."</p>
+
+<p>"N-no, I guess not," agreed Don. But his tone
+didn't hold much conviction. "Only, if&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you fellows one thing," announced
+Tom vehemently.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't strain yourself," advised Tim.</p>
+
+<p>"And that," continued the other, scowling at
+the interruption, "is that no one gets me into any
+more scrapes until after the Claflin game!"</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, to hear you talk," exclaimed Tim indignantly,
+"anyone would think we'd tied you up
+with a rope and forcibly abducted you! Who's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>
+idea was it, anyway, to go to the village that
+night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yours, if you want to know! I don't say I
+didn't go along willingly enough, Tim. What I
+do say is&mdash;<i>never again!</i> Anyway," he added,
+"not until football's over!"</p>
+
+<p>Morgan's School, which had defeated Brimfield
+the year before, 6 to 3, came and departed. Brimfield
+took the visitor's measure this time, and,
+although she only scored one touchdown and failed
+to kick goal, the contest was far less close and interesting
+than the score would suggest. Brimfield
+played the opponents to a standstill in the
+first half and scored just before the end of it. In
+the third quarter Coach Robey began substituting
+and when the last ten minutes started the Maroon-and-Grey
+had only three first-string fellows in her
+line-up. The substitutes played good football and,
+while not able to push the pigskin across Morgan's
+line, twice reached her fifteen yards and twice
+tried and narrowly missed a goal from the field.</p>
+
+<p>On the whole it could not be said that Brimfield's
+performance that blustery Saturday afternoon
+was impressive, for she was frequently
+caught napping on the defensive, showed periods
+of apathy and did more fumbling, none of which
+resulted disastrously, than she should have. Tim<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>
+Otis had a remarkably good day and was undeniably
+the best man in the backfield for the home
+team. Carmine played a heady, snappy game, and
+Don, who played the most of three quarters at left
+guard, conducted himself very well. Don's work
+was never of the spectacular sort, but at his best
+he was a steady and thoroughly reliable lineman
+and very effective on defence. He was still slow
+in getting into plays, a fact which made him of less
+value than Joe Gafferty on attack. Even Harry
+Walton showed up better than Don when Brimfield
+had the ball. But neither Gafferty nor Walton
+was as strong on defence as Don.</p>
+
+<p>Walton had been very earnestly striving all the
+week to capture the guard position, but the fact
+that Don had been played through most of
+the Morgan's game indicated that the latter
+was as yet a slight favourite in Coach Robey's
+estimation. During the week succeeding the
+Morgan's game the two rivals kept at it
+nip and tuck, and their team-mates looked on
+with interest. At practice Mr. Robey showed no
+favour to either, and each came in for his full
+share of criticism, but when, the next Saturday,
+the team journeyed away from home and played
+Cherry Valley, it was again Don who started the
+game between Thayer and Thursby and who remained<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>
+in the line-up until the fourth period, by
+which time Brimfield had piled up the very satisfactory
+score of twenty-six points. In the final
+five minutes Cherry Valley managed to fool the
+visitors and get a forward pass off for a gain
+that placed the ball on Brimfield's fourteen
+yards, and from there her drop-kicker put the
+pigskin over the cross-bar and tallied three points.
+The game was uninteresting unless one was a partisan,
+and even then there were few thrills. Brimfield
+played considerably better than in the Morgan's
+game and emerged with no more important
+damages than a wrenched ankle, which fell to the
+share of Martin, who had taken Rollins's place in
+the last period.</p>
+
+<p>Joe Gafferty came back to practice the following
+Monday, but was missing again a day or two
+later, and the school heard with some dismay
+<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'that's'">that</ins> Joe's parents had written to Mr. Fernald
+and forbidden Joe to play any more football that
+year. Joe was inconsolable and went around for
+the next week or so looking like a lost soul. After
+that he accepted the situation and helped Mr.
+Boutelle coach the second. That second had by
+that time been shaken together into a very capable
+and smooth-running team, a team which was giving
+the first more and more trouble every day.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>
+Coach Robey had again levied on it for a player,
+taking Merton to the first when Gafferty was lost
+to him, and again Mr. Boutelle growled and protested
+and, finally, philosophically shrugged his
+shoulders. A week later Merton was released to
+the second once more and Pryme, who had been
+playing at right guard as a substitute for Tom
+Hall, was tried out on the other side of centre with
+good results. Pryme's advent as a contender for
+the left guard position complicated the battle between
+Don and Harry Walton, and until after the
+Southby game the trio of candidates indulged in
+a three-cornered struggle that was quite pretty to
+watch.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately for Don, that struggle for
+supremacy threatened to affect his class standing,
+for it occupied so much of his thought that there
+was little left for study. When, however, the
+office dropped a hint and Mr. Daley presented an
+ultimatum, Don realised that he was taking football
+far too seriously, and, being a rather level-headed
+youth, he mended his ways. He expected,
+as a result, to find himself left behind in the race
+with Walton and Pryme, but, oddly enough, his
+game was in no degree affected so far as he could
+determine. In fact, within a few days the situation
+was simplified by the practical elimination of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>
+Pryme as a contender. This happened when, just
+before the Southby game, Tom Hall, together with
+eight other members of Mr. Moller's physics class
+went on probation, and Pryme was needed at right
+guard.</p>
+
+<p>I have mentioned Tom's probation very casually,
+quite as if it was a matter of slight importance,
+but you may be sure that the school viewed
+it in no such way. Coming as it did little more
+than a fortnight before the big game, it was looked
+on as a dire catastrophe, no more and no less; and
+the school, which had laughed and chuckled over
+the incident which had caused the catastrophe,
+and applauded the participants in it, promptly
+turned their thumbs down when the effect became
+known and indignantly dubbed the affair "silly
+kid's play" and blamed Tom very heartily. How
+much of the blame he really deserved you shall
+judge for yourself, but the affair merits a chapter
+of its own.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+
+<h3>THE JOKE ON MR. MOLLER</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Amy Byrd</span> started it.</div>
+
+<p>Or, perhaps, in the last analysis, Mr. Moller
+began it himself. Mr. Moller's first name was
+Caleb, a fact which the school was quick to seize
+on. At first he was just "Caleb," then "Caleb the
+Conqueror," and, finally, "The Conqueror."
+The "Conqueror" part of it was added in recognition
+of Mr. Moller's habit of attiring himself for
+the class room as for an afternoon tea. He was a
+new member of the faculty that fall and Brimfield
+required more than the few weeks which had
+elapsed since his advent to grow accustomed to his
+grandeur of apparel. Mr. Caleb Moller was a
+good-looking, in fact quite a handsome young man
+of twenty-five or six, well-built, tall and the proud
+possessor of a carefully trimmed moustache and
+Vandyke beard, the latter probably cultivated in
+the endeavour to add to his apparent age. He
+affected light grey trousers, fancy waistcoats of
+inoffensive shades, a frock coat, grey gaiters and
+patent leather shoes. His scarf was always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>
+pierced with a small black pearl pin. There's no
+denying that Mr. Moller knew how to dress or
+that the effect was pleasing. But Brimfield wasn't
+educated to such magnificence and Brimfield
+gasped loudly the first time Mr. Moller burst on
+its sight. Afterward it laughed until the novelty
+began to wear off. Mr. Moller was a capable
+instructor and a likeable man, although it took
+Brimfield all of the first term to discover the latter
+fact owing to the master's dignified aloofness.
+Being but a scant eight years the senior of some
+of his pupils, he perhaps felt it necessary to emphasise
+his dignity a little. By the last of October,
+however, the school had accepted Mr. Moller and
+was, possibly, secretly a little proud to have for a
+member of its faculty one who possessed such
+excellent taste in the matter of attire. He was
+universally voted "a swell dresser," and not a
+few of the older fellows set themselves to a modest
+emulation of his style. There remained, however,
+many unregenerate youths who continued to
+poke fun at "The Conqueror," and of these was
+Amy Byrd.</p>
+
+<p>It isn't beyond the bounds of reason that jealousy
+may have had something to do with Amy's
+attitude, for Amy was "a swell dresser" himself
+and had a fine eye for effects of colour. Amy's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>
+combinations of lavender or dull rose or pearl-grey
+shirts, socks and ties were recognised masterpieces
+of sartorial achievement. The trouble with
+Amy was that when the tennis season was over
+he had nothing to interest himself in aside from
+maintaining a fairly satisfactory standing in class,
+and I'm sorry to say that Amy didn't find the
+latter undertaking wildly exciting. He was, therefore,
+an excellent subject for the mischief microbe,
+and the mischief microbe had long since discovered
+the fact. Usually Amy's escapades were
+harmless enough; for that matter, the present one
+was never intended to lead to any such unfortunate
+results as actually attended it; and in justice
+to Amy it should be distinctly stated that he
+would never have gone into the affair had he foreseen
+the end of it. But he couldn't see any further
+into the future than you or I, and so&mdash;yes, on the
+whole, I think it may be fairly said that Amy
+Byrd started it.</p>
+
+<p>It was on a Tuesday, what time Amy should
+have been deep in study, that Clint Thayer, across
+the table, had his attention wrested from his book
+by the sound of deep, mirthful chuckles. He
+glanced over questioningly. Amy continued to
+chuckle until, being bidden to share the joke or
+shut up, he took Clint into his confidence. Clint<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>
+was forced to chuckle some himself when he had
+heard Amy through, but the chuckles were followed
+by earnest efforts to dissuade his friend
+from his proposed scheme.</p>
+
+<p>"He won't stand for it, Amy," Clint protested.
+"He will report the lot of you to Josh and you'll
+be in a peck of trouble. It would be terribly funny,
+all right, but you'd better not try it."</p>
+
+<p>"Funny! My friend, it would be excruciating!
+And I certainly am going to have a stab at it.
+Let's see who will go into it. Steve Edwards&mdash;no,
+Steve wouldn't, of course. Tom Hall will, I'll
+bet. And Roy Draper and Harry Wescott, probably.
+We ought to get as many of the fellows as
+we can. I wish you were in that class, Clint."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't. You're a chump to try such a trick,
+Amy. You'll get pro for sure. Maybe worse. I
+don't believe Moller can take a joke; he's too
+haughty."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, rot! He will take it all right. Anyway,
+what kick can he have? We fellows have just as
+much right to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll wish you hadn't," said Clint. "See if
+you don't!"</p>
+
+<p>Clint's prophecy proved true, and Amy did wish
+he hadn't, but that was some days later, and just
+now he was far too absorbed in planning his little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>
+joke to trouble himself about what might happen
+as a result. As soon as study hour was over he
+departed precipitately from Number 14. Torrence
+and Clint saw no more of him until bedtime. Then
+his questions met only with more chuckles and
+evasion.</p>
+
+<p>The result did not appear until two days later,
+which brings our tale to the forenoon of that unlucky
+Thursday preceeding the Southby contest.
+Mr. Moller's class in Physics 2 met at eleven
+o'clock that morning. Physics was an elective
+course with the Fifth Form and a popular one,
+many of the fellows taking it only to fill out their
+necessary eighteen hours a week. Mr. Moller, attired
+as usual with artistic nicety, sat in his swivel
+chair, facing the windows, and drummed softly on
+the top of the desk with immaculate finger-tips
+and waited for the class to assemble.</p>
+
+<p>Had he been observing the arriving students instead
+of the tree-tops outside he might have
+noticed the peculiar fact that this morning, as
+though by common consent, the students were
+avoiding the first two rows of seats nearest the
+platform. But he didn't notice it. In fact, he
+didn't turn his head until the gong in the lower
+hall struck and, simultaneously, there sounded in
+the room the carefully-timed tread of many feet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>
+Then "The Conqueror" swung around in his
+chair, felt for the black ribbon which held his tortoise
+shell glasses and, in the act of lifting the
+glasses to his well-shaped nose, paused and stared.</p>
+
+<p>Down the side aisle of the room, keeping step,
+grave of mien, walked nine boys led by the sober-countenanced
+Amy Byrd. Each was attired in as
+near an approach to Mr. Moller's style as had been
+possible with the wardrobes at command. Not all&mdash;in
+fact, only two&mdash;wore frock coats, and not all
+had been able to supply themselves with light grey
+trousers, but the substitutions were very effective,
+and in no case was a fancy waistcoat wanting.
+Wing collars encircled every throat, grey silk
+scarves were tied with careful precision, stick-pins
+were at the proper careless tilt, spats, some
+grey, some tan, some black, covered each ankle, a
+handkerchief protruded a virgin corner from
+every right sleeve and over every vest dangled a
+black silk ribbon. That only a few of them ended
+in glasses was merely because the supply of those
+aids to vision had proved inadequate to the demand.
+Soberly and amidst an appalling silence
+the nine exquisites paced to the front of the room
+and disposed themselves in the first two rows.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Moller, his face extremely red, watched
+without word or motion. The rest of the class,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>
+their countenances too showing an unnatural ruddiness,
+likewise maintained silence and immobility
+until the last of the nine had shuffled his feet into
+place. Then there burst upon the stillness a snigger
+which, faint as it was, sounded <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'startingly'">startlingly</ins> loud.
+Whereupon pent up emotions broke loose and
+a burst of laughter went up that shook the
+windows.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed for a minute that that laughter would
+never stop. Fellows rolled in their seats and beat
+futilely on the arms of their chairs, gasping for
+breath and sobriety. And through it all Mr.
+Moller stared in a sort of dazed amazement. And
+then, when the laughter had somewhat abated, he
+arose, one hand on the desk and the other agitatedly
+fingering his black ribbon, and the colour
+poured out of his cheeks, leaving them strangely
+pallid. And Amy, furtively studying him, knew
+that Clint had been right, that Mr. Moller couldn't
+take a joke, or, in any event, had no intention of
+taking this one. Amy wasn't frightened for himself,
+in fact he wasn't frightened at all, but he did
+experience a twinge of regret for the others whom
+he had led into the affair. Then Mr. Moller was
+speaking and Amy forgot regrets and listened.</p>
+
+<p>"I am going to give you young gentlemen"&mdash;was
+it imagination on Amy's part or had the instructor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>
+placed the least bit of emphasis on the
+last word&mdash;"two minutes more in which to recover
+from your merriment. At the end of that time I
+shall expect you to be quiet and orderly and ready
+to begin this recitation." He drew his watch from
+his pocket and laid it on the desk. "So that you
+may enjoy this&mdash;this brilliant jest to the full, I'll
+ask the nine young gentleman in the front rows
+to stand up and face you. If you please, Hall,
+Stearns, Draper, Fanning, Byrd&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>It was several seconds before this request was
+responded to. Then Amy arose and, one by one,
+the others followed and faced the room. Amy
+managed to retain his expression of calm innocence,
+but the others were ill at ease and many
+faces looked very sheepish.</p>
+
+<p>"Now, then," announced Mr. Moller quietly.
+"Begin, please. You have two minutes."</p>
+
+<p>A dismal silence ensued, a silence broken at intervals
+by a nervous cough or the embarrassed
+shuffling of feet. Mr. Moller calmly divided his
+attention between the class and the watch. Surely
+never had one hundred and twenty seconds ticked
+themselves away so slowly. There was a noticeable
+disinclination on the part of the students to
+meet the gaze of the instructor, nor did they seem
+any more eager to view the various and generally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>
+painful emotions expressed on the countenances
+of the nine. At last Mr. Moller took up his watch
+and returned it with its dangling fob to his pocket,
+and as he did so some thirty sighs of relief
+sounded in the stillness.</p>
+
+<p>"Time's up," announced the instructor. "Be
+seated, young gentlemen. Thank you very much."
+The nine sank gratefully into their chairs. "I am
+sure that we have all enjoyed your joke vastly.
+You must pardon me if, just at first, I seemed to
+miss the humour of it. I can assure you that I
+am now quite&mdash;quite <i>sympathique</i>. We are told
+that imitation is the sincerest flattery, and I accept
+the compliment in the spirit in which you have
+tendered it. Again I thank you."</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Moller bowed gravely and sat down.</p>
+
+<p>Glances, furtive and incredulous, passed from
+boy to boy. Amy heaved a sigh of relief. After
+all, then, Mr. Moller could take a joke! And for
+the first time since the inception of the brilliant
+idea Amy felt an emotion very much like regret!
+And then the recitation began.</p>
+
+<p>That would have ended the episode had not
+Chance taken a hand in affairs. Mr. Fernald very
+seldom visited a class room during recitations.
+One could count such occurrences on one hand and
+the result would have sufficed for the school year.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>
+And yet today, for some reason never apparent
+to the boys, Mr. Fernald happened in.</p>
+
+<p>Harry Westcott was holding forth when the
+principal's tread caught his attention. Westcott
+turned his head, saw and instantly stopped.</p>
+
+<p>"Proceed, Westcott," said Mr. Fernald.</p>
+
+<p>Westcott continued, stammeringly and much at
+random. Mr. Fernald quietly walked up the aisle
+to the platform. Mr. Moller arose and for a moment
+the two spoke in low tones. Then the principal
+nodded, smiled and turned to retrace his
+steps. As he did so his smiling regard fell upon
+the occupants of the two front rows. A look of
+puzzlement banished the smile. Bewilderment
+followed that. Westcott faltered and stopped
+altogether. A horrible silence ensued. Then Mr.
+Fernald turned an inquiring look upon the instructor.</p>
+
+<p>"May I ask," he said coldly, "what this&mdash;this
+quaint exhibition is intended to convey?"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Moller hesitated an instant. Then: "I
+think I can explain it better, sir, later on," he
+replied.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fernald bowed, again swept the offenders
+with a glance of withering contempt and took his
+departure. Mr. Moller looked troubledly after
+him before he turned to Westcott and said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>
+kindly: "Now, Westcott, we will go on, if you
+please."</p>
+
+<p>What passed between principal and instructor
+later that day was not known, but the result of the
+interview appeared the next morning when Mr.
+Fernald announced in chapel that because they
+had seen fit to publicly insult a member of the
+faculty he considered it only just to publicly inform
+the following students that they were placed
+on probation until further notice. Then followed
+the names of Hall, Westcott, Byrd, Draper and
+five others. Mr. Fernald added that but for the
+intercession of the faculty member whom they had
+so vilely affronted the punishment would have
+been far heavier.</p>
+
+<p>Nine very depressed youths took their departure
+from chapel that morning. To Tom Hall, since
+the edict meant that he could not play any more
+football that season, unless, which was scarcely
+probable, faculty relented within a week or so, the
+blow was far heavier than to any of the others.
+Being on probation was never a state to be sought
+for, but when one was in his last year at school
+and had looked forward to ending his football
+career in a blaze of glory, probation was just
+about as bad as being expelled. In fact, for a day
+or two Tom almost wished that Mr. Fernald had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>
+selected the latter punishment. What made things
+harder to bear was the attitude of coaches and
+players and the school at large. After the first
+shock of surprise and dismay, they had agreed
+with remarkable unanimity that Tom had not only
+played the fool, but had proved himself a traitor,
+and they didn't fail to let Tom know their verdict.
+For several days he was as nearly ostracised as it
+was possible to be, and those days were very unhappy
+ones for him.</p>
+
+<p>Of course Tom was not utterly deserted. Steve
+Edwards stood by him firmly, fought public opinion,
+narrowly escaped a pitched battle with the
+president of the Sixth Form, worried Coach
+Robey to death with his demands that that gentler
+man intercede for Tom at the office and tried his
+best all the time to keep Tom's spirits up. Clint
+and Don and Tim and a few others remained
+steadfast, as did Amy, who, blaming himself bitterly
+for Tom's fix, had done everything he could
+do to atone. Following that edict in chapel, Amy
+had sought audience with Mr. Fernald and begged
+clemency for the others.</p>
+
+<p>"You see, sir," Amy had pleaded earnestly, "I
+was the one who started it. The others would
+never have gone into it if I hadn't just simply
+made them. Why&mdash;&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fernald smiled faintly. "You're trying to
+convince me, Byrd, that boys like Draper and Hall
+and Stearns and Westcott are so weak-willed that
+they allowed you to drag them into this thing
+against their better judgment and inclinations?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir! At least&mdash;perhaps not exactly that,
+Mr. Fernald, but I&mdash;I nagged them and dared
+them, you see, sir, and they didn't like to be dared
+and they just did it to shut me up."</p>
+
+<p>"It's decent of you, Byrd, to try to assume all
+the blame, but your story doesn't carry conviction.
+Even if it did, I should be sorely tempted to
+let the verdict stand, for I should consider boys
+who were so easily dragged into mischief badly in
+need of discipline. I do wish you'd tell me one
+thing, Byrd. How could a fellow, a manly, decent
+fellow like you, think up such a caddish trick?
+Wounding another man's feelings, Byrd, isn't
+really funny, if you stop to consider it."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't mean to hurt Mr. Moller's feelings,
+sir," replied Amy earnestly. "We&mdash;I thought it
+would just be a&mdash;a sort of a good joke to dress like
+him, sir, and&mdash;and get a laugh from the class.
+I'm sorry. I guess it was a pretty rotten thing to
+do, sir. Only I didn't think about it that way."</p>
+
+<p>"I believe that. Since you've been here, Byrd,
+you've been into more or less mischief, but I've<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>
+never known you to be guilty before of anything
+in such utterly bad taste. Unfortunately, however,
+I can't excuse you because you didn't think.
+You should have thought."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir," agreed Amy eagerly, "and I don't
+expect to be excused, sir. I only thought that
+maybe you'd let up on the others if you knew how
+it all happened. I thought maybe it would do just
+as well if you expelled me, sir, and let the other
+fellows off easy. Tom Hall&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I see. It's Hall who's worrying you, is it?
+You're afraid Hall's absence from the team may
+result disastrously! Possibly it will. If it does
+I shall be sorry, but Hall will have to take his
+medicine just like the rest of you. Perhaps this
+will teach you all to think a little before you act.
+No, Byrd, I shall have to refuse your offer. Expelling
+you would not be disciplining the rest, nor
+would it be an equitable division of punishment.
+The verdict must stand, my boy."</p>
+
+<p>Amy went sorrowfully forth and announced the
+result to Clint. "I think he might have done what
+I wanted," he complained a trifle resentfully.</p>
+
+<p>"You're an utter ass," said Clint with unflattering
+conviction. "What good would it do you
+to get fired in your last year?"</p>
+
+<p>"None, but if he'd have let the others off&mdash;&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Do you suppose that the others would have
+agreed to any such bargain? They're not kids,
+even if you try to make them out so. They went
+into the thing with their eyes open and are just as
+much to blame as you are. They wouldn't let you
+be the goat, you idiot!"</p>
+
+<p>"They needn't have known anything about it,
+Clint. Oh, well, I suppose there's no use fussing.
+I don't care about the others. It's Tom I'm sorry
+for. And the team, too. Pryme can't fill Tom's
+shoes, and we'll get everlastingly walloped, and
+it'll be my fault, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Piffle! Tom's a good player, one of the best,
+but he isn't the whole team. Pryme will play the
+position nearly as well. I'm sorry for Tom, too,
+but he's the one who will have to do the worrying,
+I guess. Now you buck up and quit looking like a
+kicked cur."</p>
+
+<p>"If only the fellows didn't have it in for him
+the way they have," mourned Amy. "Everyone's
+down on him and he knows it and he's worried to
+death about it. They're a lot of rotters! After
+the way Tom's worked on that team ever since he
+got on it! Why, he's done enough for the school
+if he never played another lick at anything! And
+I'll tell you another thing. Someone's going to
+get licked if I hear any more of this knocking!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"You'll have to lick most of the school then,"
+replied Clint calmly. "Try not to be a bigger
+chump than nature made you, Amy. You can't
+blame the fellows for being a bit sore at Tom. I
+am myself. Only I realise that he didn't mean to
+get into trouble with the office, and the rest of them
+don't, I reckon. It'll all blow over in a few days.
+Cheer up. A month from now you won't care a
+whoop."</p>
+
+<p>"If we're beaten by Claflin I'll get out of
+school," answered Amy dolefully.</p>
+
+<p>"All right, son, but don't begin to pack your
+trunk yet. We won't be."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+
+<h3>SOUTHBY YIELDS</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">The</span> game with Southby Academy that week was
+played away from home. As a general thing
+Southby was not a formidable opponent and last
+year's contest had resulted in a 17 to 3 win for
+Brimfield. But this Fall Southby had been piling
+up larger scores against her opponents and her
+stock had risen. Consequently Brimfield, being deprived
+of Tom Hall's services at right guard and
+of Rollins's at full-back, journeyed off that morning
+more than a little doubtful of the result of the
+coming conflict. Most of the school went along,
+since Southby was easily reached by trolley and
+at a small outlay for fares, and Brimfield was
+pretty well deserted by one o'clock. Out of some
+one hundred and eighty students a scant forty
+remained behind, and of that two-score we can
+guess who nine were!</div>
+
+<p>The game started with Edwards at left end for
+Brimfield, Thayer at left tackle, Gilbert at left
+guard, Peters at centre, Pryme at right guard,
+Sturges at right tackle, Holt at right end, Carmine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>
+at quarter, St. Clair at left half, Otis at right half
+and Martin at full-back. Later on, toward the
+end of the second quarter, Thursby went in at
+centre, and in the fourth period several substitutes
+had their chances, amongst them Harry Walton.</p>
+
+<p>Walton had begun to realise that he was playing
+a losing game. Since Pryme had been shifted
+back to the right side of the line Don Gilbert had
+come more than ever to the fore and Harry had
+spent a deal more time with the substitute squad
+in practice and on the bench during scrimmage
+than he approved of. Harry had a very special
+reason for wanting to win that left guard position
+and to play in it during the Claflin game, and this
+afternoon, sitting on the side line with a dozen
+other blanketed substitutes and enviously watching
+Don in the coveted place, his brain evolved a
+plan that promised so well that by the time the
+second period had started he was looking almost
+cheerful. And that is saying a good deal, since
+Harry Walton's countenance very seldom expressed
+cheer.</p>
+
+<p>Southby showed her mettle within five minutes
+of the kick-off, when, getting the ball on a fumble
+on her forty-five yard line, she tore off thirty-three
+yards on a complicated double-pass play and then,
+ripped another down from the astonished adversary.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>
+On the Maroon-and-Grey's nine yards, however,
+her advance was halted, and after two downs
+had resulted in a loss, she sent her kicker back and
+placed a neat drop over the cross-bars, scoring
+three points before the stop-watch had ticked off
+six minutes of playing time.</p>
+
+<p>That score was apparently just what Brimfield
+needed to bring her to her senses, for the rest of
+the period was marked by brilliant defensive work
+on her part, followed toward the end of the twelve
+minutes by some equally good attacks. When the
+teams changed places Brimfield had the pigskin
+on Southby's thirty-eight yards with four to go
+on third down. A forward pass, Carmine to St.
+Clair, produced three of the required four and
+Martin slipped through between left guard and
+tackle for the rest. After that ten well-selected
+plays took the ball to the sixteen yards. But there
+Southby rallied, and Steve Edwards, dropping
+back as if to kick, tore off five more around the
+left end. A touchdown seemed imminent now,
+and the hundred or so Brimfield rooters shouted
+and cheered madly enough. But two plunges at
+the right of the Southby line were stopped for
+scant gain and, with Martin back, a forward pass
+to Holt missed that youth and fell plump into the
+hands of a Southby end, and it was Southby's ball<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>
+on her eight yards when the dust of battle had
+cleared away.</p>
+
+<p>That was Brimfield's last chance to score in
+that half and when the whistle sounded Southby
+had the pigskin once more in her adversary's territory.</p>
+
+<p>So far the teams had proved evenly matched in
+all departments, with a possible slight superiority
+in punting belonging to the visitors. St. Clair
+and Martin divided the punting between them and
+together they managed to outmatch the efforts of
+the Southby kicker. In the line both teams were
+excellent on defence, and both showed similar
+weakness in attack. In Tom Hall's place Pryme
+had worked hard and had, on the whole, done all
+that was expected of him. But he wasn't Tom
+Hall, and no amount of coaching would make him
+Tom's equal that Fall. Pryme lacked two factors:
+weight and, more especially, experience. Southby
+had made some good gains through him in the
+first half and would have made more had not
+Peters and Sturges helped him valiantly. As to
+the backfields, a disinterested spectator would have
+liked the Brimfield players a bit the better, less
+perhaps for what they actually accomplished that
+day than for what they promised. Even with Rollins
+out, the Maroon-and-Grey backs showed a fine<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>
+and consistent solidarity that was lacking in the
+opponents. Coach Robey was a believer in team-play
+as opposed to the exploitation of stars, while
+Southby, with a remarkable half-back in the person
+of a blonde-haired youth named Elliston, had
+built her backfield about one man. As a consequence,
+when Elliston was smothered, as was frequently
+the case, since Southby's opponents naturally
+played for him all the time, the play was
+stopped. Today Captain Edwards had displayed
+an almost uncanny ability to "get" Elliston when
+the play was in his direction, and so far the
+blonde-haired star had failed to distinguish himself
+save in that one thirty-three-yard gambol at
+the beginning of the contest. What might happen
+later was problematical, but so far Brimfield had
+solved Elliston fairly well.</p>
+
+<p>A guard seldom has an opportunity to pose in
+the limelight, and so you are not to hear that Don
+pulled off any brilliant feats that afternoon. What
+he did do was to very thoroughly vindicate Mr.
+Robey's selection of him for Gafferty's position
+by giving an excellent impersonation of a concrete
+block on defence and by doing rather better than
+he had ever done before when his side had the ball.
+Don had actually speeded up considerably, much
+as Tim had assured him he could, and while he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>
+still by no means the snappiest man in the line, nor
+was ever likely to be, he was seldom far behind
+his fellows. For that matter the whole line of forwards
+was still much slower than Mr. Robey
+wanted them at that time of year, and Don showed
+up not badly in comparison. After all, what is
+needed in a guard is, first and foremost, fighting
+spirit, and Don had that. If he was a bit slower to
+sense a play, a little later in getting into it, at
+least when he did start he started hard and tackled
+hard and always played it safe. In the old days
+when a guard had only his small territory between
+centre and tackle to cover, Don would have been
+an ideal player for the position, but now, when a
+guard's duties are to free-lance, so to speak, from
+one end of the line to the other and to get into
+the play no matter where it comes, Don's qualifications
+were more limited. A guard in these amazing
+times is "soldier and sailor too," and Don,
+who liked to deal with one idea at a time, found it
+a bit confusing to have to grapple with a half-dozen!</p>
+
+<p>Brimfield returned to the battle at the beginning
+of the second half highly resolved to take no more
+fooling from her opponent. Fortune ordered it
+that the south goal should fall to her portion and
+that a faint but dependable breeze should spring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>
+up between the halves. That breeze changed
+Coach Robey's plans, and the team went on with
+instructions to kick its way to within scoring distance
+and then batter through the line at any cost.
+And so the spectators were treated to a very
+pretty punting exhibition by both teams, for,
+wisely or unwisely, Southby accepted the challenge
+and punted almost as often as her adversary.
+That third period supplied many thrills but no
+scoring, for although Brimfield did manage to get
+the ball on Southby's twenty-five-yard line when a
+back fumbled, the advantage ended there. Two
+rushes failed, a forward pass grounded and when
+St. Clair tried to skirt his own left end he was
+pulled down just short of his distance and Southby
+soon punted out of danger.</p>
+
+<p>When time was called both teams made several
+substitutions. Don yielded his place to Harry
+Walton, Crewe went in at right tackle and McPhee
+took Carmine's position at quarter. With the
+advantage of the wind no longer hers, Brimfield
+abandoned the kicking game and used her backfield
+for all it was worth. From the middle of the
+field to Southby's thirty yards she went without
+much difficulty, St. Clair, Martin and Tim Otis
+carrying the ball for short but consistent gains.
+But at the thirty Southby braced and captured the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>
+pigskin on downs by a matter of inches. It was
+then that Elliston repeated. Following two attempts
+at Pryme's position, which yielded a scant
+four yards, Elliston got away around Steve Edwards's
+end and, with some good interference for
+the first ten or twelve yards, passed the whole
+field except McPhee and was only brought down
+by that player after he had run to Brimfield's
+twenty-six yards.</p>
+
+<p>Southby's adherents cheered wildly and demanded
+a touchdown, and it looked for awhile as
+though their team was to give them what they
+asked for. Southby twice poked a back through
+the centre of the maroon-and-grey line and then
+tore off ten yards around Clint Thayer, Steve
+Edwards being put wholly out of the play. Then,
+however, Brimfield dug her cleats and held the
+enemy, giving a very heartening exhibition of
+stubborn defence, and again Southby decided that
+half a loaf was better than none and tried a field-goal.
+She ought never to have got it, for the left
+side of her line was torn to ribbons by the desperate
+defenders. But she did, nevertheless, the ball
+in some miraculous manner slipping through the
+upstretched hands and leaping bodies and just topping
+the bar.</p>
+
+<p>Those three added points seemed to spell defeat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>
+for Brimfield, and many of her supporters in the
+stand conceded the victory to Southby then and
+there. But the team refused to view the matter
+in that light and came back fighting hard. With
+only some seven minutes of the twelve left, McPhee
+opened the line when Southby had finally
+been forced to punt from her twelve yards and St.
+Clair had caught on his forty-five, and started a
+series of direct-pass plays that, coming as they did
+on the heels of an afternoon of close-formation
+plays, confused the enemy until the ball had been
+planted near her thirty-five yards. Brimfield
+fought desperately then, closing her line again and
+sending Edwards off on an end-around run that
+took the pigskin eight yards nearer the last white
+mark.</p>
+
+<p>It was then that St. Clair really showed what
+was in him. Four times he took the ball and four
+times he plunged, squirming, fighting, through
+the Southby centre and, with the Brimfield shouts
+cheering him on, put the leather down at last on
+Southby's eighteen. Otis got three off left tackle
+and McPhee tried the same end for no gain. Martin
+went back and, faking a kick, threw forward to
+Edwards, who romped to the nine yards before he
+was smothered. It was fourth down then, with
+less than a yard to go, and St. Clair was called on.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>
+A delayed-pass did the business and Southby was
+digging her toes into her seven yards. Martin
+slid off right tackle for two, bringing the ball
+nearly in front of goal, and the defenders again
+fell back.</p>
+
+<p>Carmine was sent in again for McPhee and
+Lawton took Pryme's place. Carmine evidently
+brought instructions, for Captain Edwards fell
+back to kicking position after the conference, and
+the ball was passed to him. But with only five to
+go and three downs to do it in a drop-kick was not
+likely, especially as three points would still leave
+Brimfield beaten, and so Southby disregarded the
+bluff. But if a kick was out of the question a forward
+pass was not, and it was a forward pass that
+Southby set herself for. And so, with her ends
+drawn out and her backs spread, the touchdown
+came easily. For Steve faked a throw to the right,
+where Holt apparently waited, and then dashed
+straight ahead, the ball against his ribs, his head
+down and his feet flying, struck the hastily-formed
+massing of Southby's centre like a battering ram
+and literally tore his way through until, when he
+was at last pulled down, he was five yards over
+the line!</p>
+
+<p>Since Brimfield needed that goal badly, Rollins,
+in spite of bandages, was sent in for Martin, and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>
+when Carmine had canted the ball to his liking,
+very calmly put it squarely between the uprights
+above the bar.</p>
+
+<p>The remaining minute and a half of play
+brought no results and Brimfield trotted off victor
+by the narrow margin of one point, while her adherents
+flowed across the field cheering and flaunting
+their banners in triumph.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+
+<h3>WALTON WRITES A NOTE</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">The</span> Southby game was played on the sixth of
+November, a fortnight before the final contest with
+Claflin School, and practically marked the end of
+the preparatory season. Brimfield would meet
+her blue-legged rival with what plays she had
+already learned and the time for instruction was
+passed. The remaining two weeks, which held but
+ten playing days, would be devoted to perfecting
+plays already known, to polishing off the rough
+angles of attack and defence and to learning a
+new set of signals as a matter of precaution.
+Those ten days were expected to work a big improvement
+in the team. Whether they would or
+not remained to be seen.</div>
+
+<p>On the whole, Brimfield had passed through a
+successful season. She had played seven games,
+of which she had lost one, won five and tied one.
+Next week's adversary, Chambers, would in all
+likelihood supply a sixth victory, in which case
+the Maroon-and-Grey would face Claflin with a
+nearly clean slate. Claflin, on her part, had hung<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>
+up a rather peculiar record that Fall. She had
+played one more game than Brimfield, had won
+four, lost one and tied three. She had started out
+strongly, had had a slump in mid-season and was
+now, from all evidence at hand, recovering finely.
+On comparative scores there was little to choose
+between the rivals. If any perceptible advantage
+belonged to Brimfield it was only because she had
+maintained a steadier pace.</p>
+
+<p>There was a lay-off for most of the first-string
+players on Monday, a fact which gave Harry Walton
+a chance to conduct himself very capably at
+left guard during the four ten-minute periods of
+scrimmage with the second. Don didn't go near
+the field that afternoon and so was saved any of
+the uneasiness which the sight of Walton's performance
+might have caused him. Rollins got back
+for a short workout and showed few signs of his
+injury. The second team, profiting by some scouting
+done by Coach Boutelle and Joe Gafferty on
+Saturday, tried out the Claflin formation and such
+Claflin plays as had been fathomed against the
+first team and made some good gains thereby until
+the second-string players solved them. On Tuesday
+Harry Walton <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'disgruntedly'">disgruntledly</ins> found himself
+again relegated to the bench during most of the
+practice game and saw Don open holes in the second<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>
+team's line in a style that more than once
+brought commendation from Coach Robey. Walton
+glowered from the bench until Cotter disgustedly
+asked if he felt sick. Whereupon Walton
+grinned and Cotter, with a sigh, begged him to
+scowl again!</p>
+
+<p>The first team presented its full strength that
+afternoon, and Mr. Boutelle's Claflin plays made
+little headway. With Rollins back in place, the
+first team scored almost at will during three
+periods, and even after an entirely new backfield
+was put in it continued to smash the second up
+very effectually. Mr. Boutelle scolded and raved
+and threatened, but all to scant purpose. The first
+got its plays off very smoothly, played low and
+hard and, for once, played together. The final
+score that day was the biggest ever piled up in a
+practice contest, 30 to 3. Had Mr. Robey allowed
+Rollins to try goals from touchdowns it would
+have been several points larger.</p>
+
+<p>Tom Hall had so far carefully avoided the field,
+but today he appeared there and sat in the stand
+with Roy Draper and tried his best to be cheerful.
+But his best wasn't very good. Already the feeling
+against him had largely subsided, and the
+school, realising, perhaps, that Tom's loss to the
+team did not necessarily spell defeat for it, was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>
+inclined to be sorry for him. But Tom didn't
+realise that, since he still kept to himself and was
+suspicious of advances. He hadn't quarrelled with
+the school's verdict, but it had hurt him and, as he
+didn't like being hurt any more than most of us,
+he avoided the chance of it. In those days he stuck
+pretty close to his room, partly because the office
+required it and partly because he had no heart for
+mingling with his fellows. Roy Draper had to
+plead long and earnestly that afternoon to get him
+to the gridiron. As badly as he felt about losing
+his place on the team, however, Tom didn't begrudge
+Pryme his good fortune, and he was honestly
+pleased to see that the latter, in spite of his
+deficiencies, would doubtless fill the right guard
+position very capably in the Claflin game. He
+studied Pryme's work attentively that afternoon,
+criticised it and praised it and showed no trace of
+animosity.</p>
+
+<p>"He will do all right," he confided to Roy.
+"Crewe will help him a lot, and so will Thursby.
+If he could use his hands a bit better he'd be fine.
+He holds himself nicely, doesn't he? On his toes
+all the time. I hate to see a lineman play flat-footed.
+That's one trouble with Don Gilbert.
+Don's doing a heap better than he did last year,
+though. I guess he's every bit as good as Joe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>
+Gafferty. He's a regular whale on defence, isn't
+he? He's a queer chap, Don, but a mighty nice
+one."</p>
+
+<p>"Don," replied Roy in his somewhat didactic
+manner, "is the sort of fellow I'd pick out to be
+cast away on a desert island with. He isn't so
+scintillant, you know, but he'd wear forever."</p>
+
+<p>"That's him to a T." Tom chuckled. "They
+tell me Harry Walton is as mad as a hatter because
+Don butted in and grabbed that position
+away from him. Can't say I altogether blame
+him, either. That is, there's no use getting mad
+about it, but it is tough luck. Harry isn't a half-bad
+guard, either."</p>
+
+<p>"If he can play good football," answered Roy,
+"I'm glad to know it. I've always wondered what
+Walton was for."</p>
+
+<p>Tom laughed. "Oh, he isn't so bad, I guess.
+His manner's against him."</p>
+
+<p>"I've noticed it," said Roy drily. "Also his
+looks and his remarks and a number of other
+things. Larry Jones says he comes from the best
+sort of family."</p>
+
+<p>"A fellow's family doesn't prove anything, I
+guess."</p>
+
+<p>"Evidently not. There's the whistle. Let's go
+back." Presently Roy added, as they headed for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>
+Torrence: "I can quite understand why Walton's
+family sent him to school."</p>
+
+<p>"Why they sent him to school?" repeated Tom
+questioningly.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, it was to get rid of him."</p>
+
+<p>"You've certainly got your little hammer with
+you," said Tom, with a smile. "What's Harry
+done to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a thing. I wouldn't advise him to, either.
+I just don't like him, Tom. Can't stand being in
+the same room with him. Well, see you later, old
+chap. And, say, think over what I said about&mdash;you
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that's all right," replied Tom, with a
+shrug of his broad shoulders. "Fellows can think
+what they like about me. I don't blame them.
+But you can't expect me to like it!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know, Tom, but they don't feel that way
+now. It was just for a day or two. I've heard a
+lot of fellows say lately that it's nonsense blaming
+you, Tom. So come out of your shell, like a
+sensible chap, and show that you don't feel any&mdash;any
+ill-will."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I don't, I suppose. As for coming out
+of my shell, I'll be crawling out pretty soon. Don't
+bother about me, Roy. I'm feeling fine. So
+long."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Perhaps what Tom really meant was that he was
+feeling a whole lot better than he had a few days
+before, for he certainly had not become quite
+reconciled to the loss of his <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'positon'">position</ins> with the team.
+He was getting used to the idea, but he wasn't
+happy over it. When he squarely faced the fact
+that when Claflin came trotting onto the field on
+the twentieth he would be sitting in the grand
+stand instead of being out there in togs, his heart
+sank miserably and he hardly knew whether he
+wanted to kick something or get off in a corner
+and cry. At such moments the question of
+whether his school fellows liked him or detested
+him bothered little. If he could only play against
+Claflin, he assured himself, the school might hate
+him to its heart's content!</p>
+
+<p>Going on to Billings and his room, he considered
+what Roy had told him of the altered sentiment
+toward him, but somehow he didn't seem to care
+so much today. Watching practice had brought
+back the smart, and being liked or disliked seemed
+a little thing beside the bigger trouble. Still, he
+thought, if Roy was right perhaps he had better
+meet fellows half-way. There was no use in being
+a grouch. As a starter and in order to test the
+accuracy of Roy's statement, he decided that he
+would drop in on Carl Bennett, who roomed in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>
+Number 3. Bennett was a chap he rather respected
+and, while they had never been very close
+friends, Tom had seen a good deal of the other
+during the Fall. But Bennett was not in and Tom
+was making his way back to the stairs when the
+door of Number 6 opened and Harry Walton came
+out. Perhaps it was Roy's dressing-down of that
+youth that prompted Tom to be more decent to
+him than usual. At all events, Tom stopped and
+hailed him and they conversed together on their
+way up the stairs. It wasn't until later that Tom,
+recalling Harry's grudge against Don, wondered
+what had taken him to the latter's room. Then
+he concluded that Harry had probably been calling
+on Tim, and thought no more of it. Just now
+he asked Harry how he was getting on with the
+team and was a little puzzled when Harry replied:
+"All right, I guess. Of course, Gilbert's got the
+call right now, but I'm going to beat him out before
+the big game. Did you see practice today?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. You fellows put up a great game,
+Harry."</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't get into it for more than ten minutes.
+Robey's playing Don Gilbert for all he knows."
+Harry laughed disagreeably. "Robey's a bit of a
+fox."</p>
+
+<p>"How's that!" Tom inquired.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he's sort of keeping me guessing, you see.
+Thinks I'll get worried and dig harder."</p>
+
+<p>"Huh. I see. You seem mighty certain of that
+place, Harry."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, I'm certain. You just wait and see, old
+top." Harry nodded and entered his room across
+the hall, leaving Tom a trifle more sympathetic
+toward Roy's estimation of him. Walton certainly
+did have a disagreeable manner, he reflected.</p>
+
+<p>As a matter of fact, Harry hadn't been calling
+on anyone in Number 6 for the simple reason that
+he had found no one at home. Moreover, he had
+expected to find no one, for he had left Tim at the
+gymnasium and seen Don and Harry Westcott sitting
+in the window of the latter's room in Torrence
+as he passed. What he had done was leave
+a hastily scrawled note for Don on the table in
+there, a note which Don discovered an hour later
+and which at once puzzled and disturbed him.</p>
+
+<p>"Come up and see me after supper will you,"
+the note read, with a superb disdain of punctuation,
+"I want to see you. Important. H. Walton."</p>
+
+<p>"What's he want to see you about?" asked Tim
+when Don tossed the note to him to read.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know." Don frowned thoughtfully.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I hope he isn't going to make trouble about that
+old business."</p>
+
+<p>"What old business?" asked Tim carelessly,
+more interested in a set of bruised knuckles than
+anything else just then.</p>
+
+<p>"Why, you know Harry saw us climbing in the
+window that night."</p>
+
+<p>"Saw us climb&mdash;Well, what of it? That was
+years ago. Why should he want to make trouble
+about that? And how could he do it? I'd like to
+see him start anything with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, I just happened to think of that."</p>
+
+<p>"More likely he's going to ask you to break a
+leg or something so he can get your place,"
+chuckled Tim. "Don't you do it, Don, if he does.
+It doesn't pay to be too obliging. Ready for
+eats?"</p>
+
+<p>"In a minute." Don dropped the note and began
+his toilet, but he didn't speak again until they
+were on their way down the stairs. Then: "If
+it should be that," he remarked, "I wouldn't
+know whether to punch his head or laugh at
+him."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't take any chances," advised Tim grimly.
+"Punch his head. Better still, bring the glad
+tidings to me and let me do it. Why, if that idiot
+threatened to open his face about us I'd give him<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span>
+such a walloping that his own folks wouldn't
+recognise the remnants! Gee, but I'm hungry tonight!
+Toddle along faster and let's get there
+before Rollins and Holt and the rest swipe all the
+grub."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2>
+
+<h3>A PROPOSITION</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Don</span> sought Harry Walton's room soon after supper
+was over and found neither Harry nor his
+room-mate, Jim Rose, at home. He lighted the
+droplight, found a magazine several months old
+and sat down to wait. He had, however, scarcely
+got into a story before Harry appeared.</div>
+
+<p>"Hello," greeted the latter. "Sorry I was late.
+Had to stop at the library for a book." In proof
+of it he tossed a volume to the table. "I asked
+you to come up here, Gilbert, because I have a
+proposition to make and I thought you wouldn't
+want anyone around." Harry seated himself,
+took one knee into his clasped hands and smiled
+at the visitor. It was a peculiarly unattractive
+smile, Don decided.</p>
+
+<p>"Proposition?" Don frowned perplexedly.
+"What sort of a proposition, Walton?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll tell you. It's like this, Gilbert. You
+see, old man, you and I are fighting like the mischief
+for the left guard position and so far it's
+about nip-and-tuck, isn't it?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Don viewed the speaker with some surprise.
+"Is it?" he asked. "I thought I had rather the
+best of it, Walton."</p>
+
+<p>Harry smiled and shrugged. "That's only
+Robey's foxiness. I'm not saying he might not
+pick you for the place in the end, of course, but
+I stand just as good a show. Robey doesn't like
+to show his hand. He likes to keep you guessing.
+I'm willing to bet that if nothing happened he'd
+drop you next week and stick me in there. Of
+course you might get in for awhile in the Claflin
+game, if I got hurt, but I wouldn't advise you to
+bank much on that because I'm rather lucky about
+not getting hurt. Honestly, Gilbert, I don't really
+think you've got much of a chance of final selection."</p>
+
+<p>Don observed his host's countenance with some
+bewilderment. "Well," he said at last, "that may
+be so or not. What is it you want me to do?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you." Harry tried hard to look ingenuous,
+but only succeeded in grinning like a catfish.
+"It's this way. My folks are coming up for
+the Claflin game; father and mother and kid
+brother, you know. Well, naturally, I'd like to
+have them see me play. They think I'm going to,
+of course, because I've mentioned it once or twice
+in my letters. I'd feel pretty cheap if they came<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>
+up here and watched me sitting on the bench all
+through the game. See what I mean, old man?"</p>
+
+<p>Don nodded and waited.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, so I thought that as your chance is
+pretty slim anyway maybe you wouldn't mind
+dropping out. I wouldn't ask you to if I really
+thought you had much chance, you know, Gilbert."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh! That's it? Well, I'm sorry if you're
+folks are going to be disappointed, Walton, but I
+don't feel quite like playing the goat on that account.
+You might just write them and sort of
+prepare them for the shock, mightn't you? Tell
+them there's a bare chance that you won't get into
+the fracas, you know. I would. It would soften
+the blow for them, Walton."</p>
+
+<p>Walton scowled. "Don't be funny," he said
+shortly. "I've given you the chance to drop out
+gracefully, Gilbert, and you're a fool not to
+take it."</p>
+
+<p>"But why should I drop out! Don't you suppose
+I want to play in the Claflin game just as
+much as you do?"</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps you do, but you won't play in it any
+way you figure it. If you don't quit willingly
+you'll quit the other way. I'm giving you a fair
+chance, that's all. You've only got to make believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>
+you're sick or play sort of rottenly a couple
+of times. That will do the trick for you and there
+won't be any other trouble."</p>
+
+<p>"Say, what are you hinting at?" demanded Don
+quietly. "What have you got up your sleeve?"</p>
+
+<p>"Plenty, Gilbert. I've got enough up my sleeve
+to get you fired from school."</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment of silence. Then Don
+nodded thoughtfully. "So that's it, is it?" he
+murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"That's it, old man." Harry grinned. "Think
+it over now."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think you've got on me?" asked
+Don.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think. I know that you and three other
+fellows helped put out that fire that night and that
+you didn't get back to hall until long after ten-thirty."
+Harry dropped his knee, thrust his
+hands into his pockets, leaned back in his chair
+and viewed Don triumphantly. "I don't want to
+go to faculty with it, Gilbert, although it's really
+my duty and I certainly shall if you force me."</p>
+
+<p>"Hm," mused Don. "But wouldn't faculty
+wonder why you'd been so long about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Probably. I'd have to tell the truth and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess that would hurt," interpolated the
+other drily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And explain that I'd tried to shield you fellows,
+but that my conscience had finally prevailed."
+And Harry grinned broadly. "Josh
+wouldn't like it, but he wouldn't do anything to
+me. What he'd do to you, though, would be a
+plenty, Gilbert. It would be expulsion, and you
+know that as well as I do."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I do." Don dropped his gaze to his hands
+and was silent a moment. Then: "Of course
+you've thought of what it would mean to you, Walton?
+I wouldn't be likely to keep you out of it,
+you know."</p>
+
+<p>Harry shrugged. "Fellows might talk some,
+but I'd only be doing my duty. As long as my
+conscience was clear&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You're a dirty pup, Walton," said Don, "and
+if I wasn't afraid of getting the mange I'd give
+you the beating you deserve."</p>
+
+<p>"Calling names won't get you anything, Gilbert.
+I'm not afraid of anything you could do to
+me, anyway. I may be a pup, but I'm where
+I can make you sit up and beg, and I'm going
+to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"You think you are," said Don contemptuously.
+"Let me tell you now that I'd rather be fired a
+dozen times than make any bargains with a common
+skunk like you!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"That means you want me to go ahead and tell
+Josh, does it?"</p>
+
+<p>"It means that you can do anything you want
+to, Walton." Don stood up. "But if you do go
+to faculty with the story you'll get the worst licking
+you ever had or heard of, and fellows will
+make it so unpleasant here for you that you won't
+stay much longer than I do. Now <i>you</i> think it
+over!"</p>
+
+<p>"What fellows say or think won't hurt me a
+mite, thank you, and I'm not afraid of you or any
+of your friends, Gilbert. Wait a minute now.
+We're not through yet."</p>
+
+<p>"I am, thanks," replied Don, moving toward
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no you're not. You may feel heroic and
+all that and too mad to give in just now, but you're
+not considering what it will mean if you make me
+squeal to faculty. Why, we wouldn't have a ghost
+of a show with Claflin!"</p>
+
+<p>"I thought you considered yourself quite
+as good a guard as me, Walton," answered
+Don.</p>
+
+<p>"I do, old man. But I don't think I'm able to
+take the places of all the other fellows who would
+be missing from the team."</p>
+
+<p>Don turned, with his hand on the door-knob, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>
+stared startledly. "What do you mean by that?"
+he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I thought that would fetch you," chuckled
+Harry. "I mean that you're not the only one who
+would quit the dear old school, Gilbert. You
+haven't forgotten, I suppose, that there were three
+other fellows mixed up in the business?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, but faculty would have to know more than
+I'd tell them before they'd find out who the others
+were."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, you wouldn't have to tell them, old man."</p>
+
+<p>"Meaning you would? You don't know, Walton."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't I, though? You bet I do! I know every
+last one of them!"</p>
+
+<p>"You told me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I let you think I didn't, Gilbert. No use
+telling everything you know."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe it!" But, in spite of the statement,
+Don did believe it and was trying to realise
+what it meant. .</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be a fool! Why wouldn't I know? If I
+could see you why couldn't I see Clint Thayer and
+Tim Otis and Tom Hall? You were all as plain as
+daylight. Of course, Tom's out of it, anyway, but
+I guess losing a left tackle and a right half-back a
+week before the game would put rather a dent in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span>
+our chances, what? And that's just what will
+happen if you make me go to Josh with the
+story!"</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't!" challenged Don, but there was
+scant conviction in his tone. Harry shrugged his
+shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'd rather not. I don't want to play on a
+losing team, and that's what I'd be doing, but you
+see I've sort of set my heart on playing right
+guard a week from Saturday, Gilbert, and I hate
+to be disappointed. Hate to disappoint my folks,
+too."</p>
+
+<p>"They must be proud of you!"</p>
+
+<p>"They are, take it from me." Harry's smile
+vanished and he looked ugly as he went on.
+"Don't be a fool, Gilbert! You'd do the same
+thing yourself if you had the chance. You're
+playing the hypocrite, and you know it. I've got
+you dead to rights and I mean to make the most
+of it. If you don't get off the team inside of two
+days I'll go to Josh and tell him everything I
+know. It isn't pretty, maybe, but it's playing
+your hand for what there is in it, and that's my
+way! Now you sit down again and just think it
+all over, Gilbert. Take all the time you want.
+And remember this, too. If I keep my mouth shut
+you've got to keep yours shut. No blabbing to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>
+Tim Otis or Clint Thayer or anyone else. This is
+just between you and me, old man. Now what do
+you say?"</p>
+
+<p>"The thing's as crazy as it is rotten, Walton!
+How am I to get off the team without having it
+look funny?"</p>
+
+<p>"And how much do I care whether it looks
+funny or not? That's up to you. You can play
+sick or you can get out there and mix your signals
+a few times or you can bite Robey in the leg. I
+don't give a hang what you do so long as you do
+it, and do it between now and Saturday. That's
+right, sit down and look at it sensibly. Mull it
+over awhile. There's no hurry."</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2>
+
+<h3>DON VISITS THE DOCTOR</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'>"<span class="smcap">What</span> did Walton want of you?" asked Tim a
+half-hour later, when the occupants of Number 6
+were settled at opposite sides of the table for
+study.</div>
+
+<p>"Walton?" repeated Don vaguely. "Oh, nothing
+especial."</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing especial? Then why the mysterious
+summons? Did he make any crack about that
+little escapade of ours?"</p>
+
+<p>"He mentioned it. Shut up and let me get to
+work, Tim."</p>
+
+<p>"Mentioned it how? What did he say? Any
+chance of beating him up? I've always had a
+longing, away down deep inside me, Donald, to
+place my fist violently against some portion of
+Walton's&mdash;er&mdash;facial contour. Say, that's good,
+isn't it? Facial contour's decidedly good, Don."</p>
+
+<p>"Fine," responded the other listlessly.</p>
+
+<p>Tim peered across at him under the droplight.
+"Say, you look as if you'd lost a dozen dear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>
+friends. Anything wrong? Look here, has Walton
+been acting nasty?"</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be a chump, Tim. I'm all right. Or,
+anyway, I'm only sort of&mdash;sort of tired. Dry up
+and let me stuff."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, very well, but you needn't be so haughty
+about it. I don't want to share your secrets with
+dear Harry. Everyone to his taste, as the old lady
+said when she kissed the cow."</p>
+
+<p>Tim's sarcasm, however, brought no response,
+and presently, after growling a little while he
+pawed his books over and dropped the subject, to
+Don's relief, and silence fell. Don made a fine
+pretence of studying, but most of the time he
+couldn't have told what book lay before him.
+When the hour was up Tim, who had by then
+returned to his usual condition of cheerful good
+nature, tried to induce Don to go over to Hensey
+to call on Larry Jones, who, it seemed, had perfected
+a most novel and marvellous trick with a
+ruler and two glasses of water. But Don refused
+to be enticed and Tim went off alone, gravely
+cautioning his room-mate against melancholia.</p>
+
+<p>"Try to keep your mind off your troubles, Donald.
+Think of bright and happy things, like me or
+the pretty birds. Remember that nothing is ever
+quite as bad as we think it is, that every line has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>
+a silver clouding and that&mdash;that it's always dawnest
+before the dark. Farewell, you old grouch!"</p>
+
+<p>Don didn't have to pretend very hard the next
+day that he was feeling ill, for an almost sleepless
+night, spent in trying to find some way out of his
+difficulties, had left him hollow-eyed and pale.
+Breakfast had been a farce and dinner a mere
+empty pretence, and between the two meals he
+had fared illy in classes. It was scarcely more
+than an exaggeration to tell Coach Robey that he
+didn't feel well enough to play, and the coach
+readily believed him and gave him over to the
+mercies of Danny Moore.</p>
+
+<p>The trainer tried hard to get Don to enumerate
+some tangible symptoms, but Don could only repeat
+that he was dreadfully tired and out of sorts.
+"Eat anything that didn't agree with you?" asked
+Danny.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I didn't eat much of anything. I didn't
+have any appetite."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure, that was sensible, anyway. I'll be after
+giving you a tonic, me boy. Take it like I tell you,
+do ye mind, keep off your feet and get a good
+sleep. After breakfast come to me in the gym
+and I'll have a look at you."</p>
+
+<p>Don took the tonic&mdash;when he thought of it&mdash;ate
+a fair supper and went early to bed, not so much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>
+in the hope of curing his ailment as because he
+couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He slept
+pretty well, but was dimly conscious of waking
+frequently during the night, and when morning
+came felt fully as tired as when he had retired.
+Breakfast was beyond him, although Mr. Robey,
+his attention drawn to Don by Harry Walton's
+innocent "You're looking pretty bum, Gilbert,"
+counselled soft boiled eggs and hot milk. Don
+dallied with the eggs and drank part of the milk
+and was glad to escape as soon as he could.</p>
+
+<p>Danny gave him a very thorough inspection in
+the rubbing room after breakfast, but could find
+nothing wrong. "Sure, you're as sound as Colin
+Meagher's fiddle, me boy. Where is it it
+hurts ye?"</p>
+
+<p>"It doesn't hurt anywhere, Danny," responded
+Don. "I'm all right, I suppose, only I don't feel&mdash;don't
+feel very fit."</p>
+
+<p>"A bit fine, you are, and I'm thinking you'd better
+lay off the work for today. Be outdoors as
+much as you can, but don't be tiring yourself out.
+Have you taken the tonic like I told ye?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've taken enough of the beastly stuff," answered
+Don listlessly.</p>
+
+<p>Danny laughed. "Sure, it's the fine-tasting
+medicine, lad. Keep at it. And listen to me, now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>
+If you want to play agin Claflin, Donny, you do as
+I'm tellin' you and don't be thinkin' you know
+more about it than I do. Sure, Robey won't look
+at ye at all, come a week from tomorrow, if you
+don't brace up."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'm all right, Danny, thanks. Maybe if I
+rest off today I'll be fine tomorrow."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I'm tellin' you. See that ye
+do it."</p>
+
+<p>That afternoon he watched practice from the
+bench without getting into togs and saw Harry
+Walton play at left guard. He would much rather
+have remained away from the field, but to have
+done so might, he thought, have looked queer.
+Coach Robey was solicitous about him, but apparently
+did not take his indisposition very seriously.
+"'Take it easy, Gilbert," he said, "and don't
+worry. You'll be all right for tomorrow, I guess.
+You've been working pretty hard, my boy. Better
+pull a blanket over your shoulders. This
+breeze is rather biting. Can't have you laid up
+for long, you know."</p>
+
+<p>Harry Walton performed well that afternoon,
+playing with a vim and dash that was something
+of a revelation to his team-mates. Tim was evidently
+troubled when he walked back to hall with
+Don after practice. "For the love of mud, Don,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>
+he pleaded, "get over it and come back! Did you
+see the way Walton played today? If he gets in
+tomorrow and plays like that against Chambers
+Robey'll be handing him the place! What the
+dickens is wrong with you, anyway?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm just tired," responded Don.</p>
+
+<p>"Tired!" Tim was puzzled. "What for? You
+haven't worked since day before yesterday. What
+you've got is malaria or something. Tell you
+what we'll do, Don; we'll beat it over to the doctor's
+after supper, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>But Don shook his head. "Danny's tonic is all
+I need," he said. "I dare say I'll be feeling great
+in the morning."</p>
+
+<p>"You dare say you will! Don't you feel sure
+you will? Because I've got to tell you, Donald,
+that this is a plaguy bad time to get laid
+off, son. If you're not a regular little Bright
+Eyes by Monday Robey'll can you as sure as
+shooting!"</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't much care if he did," muttered
+Don.</p>
+
+<p>"You wouldn't much&mdash;&mdash; Say, are you crazy?"
+Tim stopped short on the walk and viewed his
+chum in amazement. "Is it your brain that's gone
+back on you? Don't you <i>want</i> to play against
+Claflin?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so. Yes, of course I do, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Then don't talk like a piece of cheese! You'll
+come with me to the doctor after supper if I have
+to drag you there by one heel!"</p>
+
+<p>And so go he did, and the doctor looked at his
+tongue and felt his pulse and "pawed him over,"
+as Don put it, and ended by patting him on the
+back and accepting a nice bright half-dollar&mdash;half-price
+to Academy students&mdash;in exchange for a
+prescription.</p>
+
+<p>"You're a little nervous," said the doctor.
+"Thinking too much about that football game, I
+guess. Don't do it. Put it out of your mind.
+Take that medicine every two hours according to
+directions on the bottle and you'll be all right, my
+boy."</p>
+
+<p>Don thanked him, slipped the prescription in a
+pocket and headed for school. But Tim grabbed
+him and faced him about. "You don't swallow
+the prescription, Donald," he said. "You take it
+to a druggist and he gives you something in a bottle.
+That's what you swallow, the stuff in the
+bottle. I'm not saying that it mightn't do you
+just as much good to eat the paper, but we'd
+better play by the rules. So come on, you lunk-head."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I forgot," murmured Don.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Of course you did," agreed the other sarcastically.<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"And, look here, if anyone asks</span><br />
+you your name, it's Donald Croft Gilbert.
+Think you can remember that? Donald
+Croft&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dry up," said Don. "How much will this
+fool medicine cost me?"</p>
+
+<p>"How much have you got?"</p>
+
+<p>"About eighty cents, I think."</p>
+
+<p>"It'll cost you eighty cents, then. Ask me
+something easier. I don't pretend to know how
+druggists do it, but they can always look right
+through your clothes and count your money.
+Never knew it to fail!"</p>
+
+<p>But it failed this time, or else the druggist
+counted wrong, for the prescription was a dollar
+and Tim had to make up the balance. He insisted
+on Don taking the first dose then and there,
+so that he could get in another before bedtime,
+and Don meekly obeyed. After he had swallowed
+it he begged a glass of soda water from the druggist
+to take the taste out of his mouth, and the
+druggist, doubtless realising the demands of the
+occasion, stood treat to them both. On the way
+back Tim figured it that if they had only insisted
+on having ice-cream sodas they would have reduced
+the price of the medicine to its rightful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>
+cost. Don, though, firmly insisted that it was
+worth every cent of what he had paid for it.</p>
+
+<p>"No one," he said convincedly, "could get that
+much nastiness into a small bottle for less than a
+dollar!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2>
+
+<h3>DROPPED FROM THE TEAM</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Whether</span> owing to Danny Moore's tonic, the doctor's
+prescription or a good night's rest, Don
+awoke the next morning feeling perfectly well
+physically, and his first waking moments were
+cheered by the knowledge. Then, however, recollection
+of the fact that physical well-being was
+exactly what wasn't required under the circumstances
+brought quick reaction, and he jumped out
+of bed to look at himself in the mirror above his
+dresser in the hope of finding pale cheeks and
+hollow eyes and similar evidences of impending
+dissolution. But Fate had played a sorry trick on
+him! His cheeks were not in the least pale, nor
+were his eyes sunken. In short, he looked particularly
+healthy, and if other evidence of the fact was
+needed it was supplied by Tim. Tim, when Don
+turned regretfully away from the glass, was sitting
+up and observing him with pleased relief.</div>
+
+<p>"Ata boy!" exclaimed Tim. "Feeling fine and
+dandy, aren't you? I guess that medicine was
+cheap at the price, after all! You look about a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>
+hundred per cent better than you did yesterday,
+Donald."</p>
+
+<p>Don started to smile, caught himself in time and
+drew a long sigh. "You can't always tell by a fellow's
+looks how he's really feeling," he replied
+darkly.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, run away and play! What's the matter
+with you? You've got colour in your face and
+look great."</p>
+
+<p>"Too much colour, I'm afraid," said Don,
+shaking his head pessimistically. "I guess&mdash;I
+guess I've got a little fever."</p>
+
+<p>Tim stared at him puzzledly. "Fever? What
+for? I mean&mdash;&mdash; Say, are you fooling?"</p>
+
+<p>"No. My face is sort of hot, honest, Tim."
+And so it was, possibly the consciousness of
+fibbing and the difficulty of doing it successfully
+was responsible for the flush. Tim pushed his
+legs out of bed and viewed his friend disgustedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Don, you're getting to be one of those kleptomaniacs&mdash;no,
+that isn't it! What's the word?
+Hydrochondriacs, isn't it? Anyway, whatever it
+is, you're it! You've got so you imagine you're
+sick when you aren't. Forget it, Donald, and
+cheer up!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I'll be all right, thanks," responded the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>
+other dolefully. "I guess I'm lots better than
+I was."</p>
+
+<p>"Of course you are! Why, hang it, man, you've
+simply got to be O.&nbsp;K. today! If you're not
+Robey'll can you as sure as shooting! Smile for
+the gentleman, Don, and then get a move on and
+come to breakfast."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think I want any breakfast, thanks."</p>
+
+<p>"You will when you smell it. Want me to start
+the water for you?"</p>
+
+<p>"If I was a hydrochondriac I wouldn't want any
+water, would I?"</p>
+
+<p>"Hypochondriac's what I meant, I guess.
+Hurry up before the mob gets there."</p>
+
+<p>Tim struggled into his bath-robe and pattered
+off down the corridor, leaving Don to follow at his
+leisure. But, instead of following, Don seated
+himself on the edge of his bed and viewed life
+gloomily. If Tim refused to believe in his illness,
+how was he to convince Coach Robey of it? He
+might, he reflected, rub talcum on his face, but he
+was afraid that wouldn't deceive anyone, the
+coach least of all. And, according to his bargain
+with Harry Walton, he must sever his connection
+with the team today. If he didn't Walton would
+go to the principal and tell what he had witnessed
+from his window that Saturday night, and not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>
+only he, but Tim and Clint as well, would suffer.
+And, still worse, the team would be beaten by
+Claflin as surely as&mdash;as Tim was shouting to him
+from the bathroom! He got up and donned his
+bath-robe and set off down the corridor with lagging
+feet, so wretched in mind by this time that it
+required no great effort of imagination to believe
+himself ailing in body.</p>
+
+<p>To his surprise&mdash;and rather to his disgust&mdash;he
+found himself intensely hungry at breakfast
+and it was all he could do to refuse the steak and
+baked potato set before him. Under the appraising
+eye of Mr. Robey, he drank a glass of milk and
+nibbled at a piece of toast, his very soul longing
+for that steak and a couple of soft eggs! Afterward,
+when he reported to Danny, the trainer
+produced fresh discouragement in him.</p>
+
+<p>"Fine, me boy!" declared the trainer. "You're
+as good as ever, aren't you? Keep in the air all
+you can and go light with the dinner."</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't feel very fit," muttered Don.</p>
+
+<p>"Get along with you! You're the picture of
+health! Don't be saying anything like that to Mr.
+Robey, or he might believe it and bench you. Run
+along now and mind what I tell you. Game's at
+two-fifteen today."</p>
+
+<p>It was fortunate that Don had but two recitations<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>
+that morning, for he was in no condition for
+such unimportant things. His mind was too full
+of what was before him. At dinner it was easy
+enough to obey Danny's command and eat lightly,
+for he was far too worried to want food. The
+noon meal was eaten early in order that the players
+might have an hour for digestion before they
+went to the field. Chambers came swinging up to
+the school at half-past one, in all the carriages to
+be found at the station, while her supporters
+trailed after on foot. The stands filled early and,
+by the time the Chambers warriors trotted on to
+the gridiron for their practice, looked gay and
+colourful with waving pennants.</p>
+
+<p>Don kept close to Tim from the time dinner was
+over until they reached the locker-room in the
+gymnasium. Tim was puzzled and disgusted over
+his chum's behaviour and secretly began to think
+that perhaps, after all, he was not in the condition
+his appearance told him to be. Don listlessly
+dragged his playing togs on and was dressed by
+the time Coach Robey came in. He hoped that
+the coach would give him his opportunity then to
+declare his unfitness for work, but Mr. Robey paid
+no attention to him. He said the usual few words
+of admonition to the players, conferred with Manager
+Morton and the trainer and disappeared<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>
+again. Captain Edwards led the way out of the
+building at a few minutes before two and they
+jogged down to the field and, heralded by a long
+cheer from the stand, took their places on the
+benches. It was a fine day for football, bright and
+windless and with a true November nip in the
+air.</p>
+
+<p>Chambers yielded half the gridiron and Coach
+Robey approached the bench. "All right, first and
+second squads," he said cheerfully. "Try your
+signals out, but take it easy. Rollins, you'd better
+try a half-dozen goals. Martin, too. How about
+you, Gilbert? You feeling all right?"</p>
+
+<p>Don felt the colour seeping out of his cheeks as
+the coach turned toward him, and there was an instant
+of silence before he replied with lowered
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"N-no, sir, I'm not feeling very&mdash;very fit. I'm
+sorry."</p>
+
+<p>"You're not?" Mr. Robey's voice had an edge.
+"Danny says you're perfectly fit. What's
+wrong?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I don't know, sir. I don't feel&mdash;well."</p>
+
+<p>A number of the players still within hearing
+turned to listen. Mr. Robey viewed Don with a
+puzzled frown. Then he shrugged impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>"You know best, of course," he said shortly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>
+"but if you don't work today, Gilbert, you're
+plumb out of it. I can't keep your place open for
+you forever, you know. What do you say? Want
+to try it?"</p>
+
+<p>Don wished that the earth under his feet would
+open up and swallow him. He tried to return the
+coach's gaze, but his eyes wandered. The first
+time he tried to speak he made no sound, and when
+he did find his voice it was so low that the coach
+impatiently bade him speak up.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't think it would be any good, sir," replied
+Don huskily. "I&mdash;I'm not feeling very
+well."</p>
+
+<p>There was a long silence. Then Mr. Robey's
+voice came to him as cold as ice. "Very well, Gilbert,
+clean your locker out and hand in your
+things to the trainer. Walton!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Go in at left guard on the first squad." Mr.
+Robey turned again to Don. "Gilbert," he said
+very quietly, "I don't understand you. You are
+perfectly able to play, and you know it. The only
+explanation that occurs to me is that you're in a
+funk. If that's so it is a fortunate thing for all
+of us that we've discovered it now instead of later.
+There's no place on this team, my boy, for a
+quitter."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Coach and players turned away, leaving Don
+standing alone there before the bench. Miserably
+he groped his way to it and sat down with hanging
+head. His eyes were wet and he was horribly
+afraid that someone would see it. A hand fell on
+his shoulder and he glanced up into Tim's troubled
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"I heard, Don," said Tim. "I'm frightfully
+sorry, old man. Are you sure you can't do it!"</p>
+
+<p>Don shook his head silently. Tim sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, it's rotten, ain't it? Maybe he didn't
+mean what he said, though. Maybe, if you're all
+right Monday, he'll give you another chance.
+I'm&mdash;I'm beastly sorry, Don!"</p>
+
+<p>The hand on his shoulder pressed reassuringly
+and drew away and Tim hurried out to his place.
+Presently Don took a deep breath, got to his feet
+and, trying his hardest to look unconcerned but
+making sorry work of it, skirted the stand and
+retraced his steps to the gymnasium. His one
+desire was to get out of sight before any of the
+fellows found him, and so he pulled off his togs
+as quickly as he might, got into his other clothes,
+made a bundle of his suit and stockings and shoes
+and left them in the rubbing-room where Danny
+could not fail to find them and then hurried out of
+the building and through the deserted yard to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>
+Billings and the sunlit silence and emptiness of his
+room.</p>
+
+<p>There was very little consolation in the knowledge
+that he had done only what was right. Martyrdom
+has its drawbacks. He had lost his position
+with the team and had been publicly branded
+a quitter. The fact that his conscience was not
+only clear but even approving didn't help much.
+Being thought a quitter, a coward, hurt badly. If
+he could have got at Harry Walton any time during
+the ensuing half-hour it would have gone hard
+with that youth. After a time, though, he got command
+of his feelings again and, since there was
+nothing better to do, he seated himself at the
+window and watched as much of the football game as
+was visible from there. Once or twice he was able
+to forget his trouble for a brief moment.</p>
+
+<p>Chambers put up a good game that day and it
+was all the home team could do to finally win out
+by the score of 3 to 0. For two periods Chambers
+had Brimfield virtually on the run, and only a
+fine fighting spirit that flashed into evidence under
+the shadow of her goal saved the latter from defeat.
+As it was, luck took a hand in matters when
+a poor pass from centre killed Chambers's chance
+of scoring by a field-goal in the second quarter.</p>
+
+<p>Brimfield showed better work in the second half<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>
+and twice got the ball inside the visitor's twenty-yard
+line, once in the third period and again
+shortly before the final whistle blew. The first
+opportunity to score was lost when Carmine called
+for line-plunges to get the pigskin across and
+Howard, who was playing in St. Clair's position
+because of a slight injury to the regular left half,
+fumbled for a four-yard loss. Chambers rallied
+and took the ball away a minute later. In the
+fourth period dazzling runs outside of tackles by
+Tim Otis and hard line-plugging by Rollins and
+Howard took the ball from Brimfield's thirty-five
+to the enemy's twenty-five. There a forward pass
+grounded&mdash;Chambers had a remarkable defence
+against that play&mdash;and, on third down, Rollins slid
+off left tackle for enough to reach the twenty.
+But with only one down remaining and time nearly
+up, a try-at-goal was the only course left, and
+Rollins, standing squarely on the thirty-yard line,
+drop-kicked a scanty victory.</p>
+
+<p>In some ways that contest was disappointing,
+in others encouraging. Team-play was more in
+evidence than in any previous game and the
+maroon-and-grey backfield had performed prodigiously.
+And the plays had, as a general thing,
+gone off like clock-work. But there were weak
+places in the line still. Pryme, at right guard, had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>
+proved an easy victim for the enemy and the same
+was true, in a lesser degree, of Harry Walton,
+on the other side of centre. And Crewe, at right
+tackle, had allowed himself to be boxed time after
+time. It might be said for Crewe, however, that
+today he was playing opposite an opponent who
+was more than clever. But the way in which
+Chambers had torn holes in Brimfield's first defence
+promised poorly for next Saturday and the
+spectators went away from the field feeling a bit
+less sanguine than a week before. "No team that
+is weak at both guard positions can hope to win,"
+was the general verdict, and it was fully realised
+that Claflin's backs were better than Chambers's.
+For a day or two there was much talk of a petition
+to the faculty asking for the reinstatement of Tom
+Hall, but it progressed no further than talk. Josh,
+it was known, was not the kind to reverse his decision
+for any reason they could present.</p>
+
+<p>And yet, although the weekly faculty conference
+on Monday night had no written petition to consider,
+the subject of Tom's reinstatement did come
+before it and in a totally unprecedented manner.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2>
+
+<h3>"GOOD-BYE, TIMMY!"</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Tim</span> found a dejected and most unsatisfactory
+chum when he got back to the room after the
+Chambers game that Saturday afternoon. All of
+Tim's demands for an explanation of the whole
+puzzling affair met only with evasion. Don was
+not only uncommunicative, but a trifle short-tempered,
+a condition quite unusual for him. All Tim
+could get from him was that he "felt perfectly
+punk" and wasn't going to try to change Mr.
+Robey's decision.</div>
+
+<p>"I'm through," he said. "I don't blame Robey
+a bit. I'm no use on the team as I am. He'd be
+foolish to bother with me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, all I can say," returned Tim, with a
+sigh of exasperation, "is that the whole thing is
+mighty funny. I guess there's more to it than
+you're telling. You look like thirty cents, all right
+enough, but I'll wager anything you like that you
+could go out there and play just as good a game
+as ever on Monday if Robey would let you and you
+cared to try. Now couldn't you!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. What does it matter, anyhow?
+I tell you I'm all through, and so there's no use
+chewing it over."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, all right. Nuff said." Tim walked to the
+window, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, and,
+after a minute's contemplation of the darkening
+prospect without, observed haltingly: "Look
+here, Don. If you hear things you don't like,
+don't get up on your ear, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"What sort of things?" demanded the other.</p>
+
+<p>Tim hesitated a long moment before he took
+the plunge. Then: "Well, some of the fellows
+don't understand, Don. You can't altogether
+blame them, I suppose. I shut two or three of
+them up, but there's bound to be some talk, you
+know. Some fellows always manage to think of
+the meanest things possible. But what fellows
+like that say isn't worth bothering about. So
+just you sit snug, old man. They've already found
+that they can't say that sort of thing when I'm
+around."</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks," said Don quietly. "What sort of
+things do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, anything."</p>
+
+<p>"You mean that they're calling me a quitter?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, some of them heard Robey get that off
+and they're repeating it like a lot of silly parrots.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>
+I called Holt down good and hard. Told him I'd
+punch his ugly face if he talked that way again."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't bother," said Don listlessly. "I guess
+I do look like a quitter, all right."</p>
+
+<p>"Piffle! And, hang it all, Robey had no business
+saying that, Don! He couldn't really believe
+it."</p>
+
+<p>"Why couldn't he? On the face of it, Tim, I'd
+say that I looked a whole lot like a quitter."</p>
+
+<p>"But that's nonsense! Why would you or any
+fellow want to quit just before the Claflin game?
+Why, all the hard work's done with, man! Only
+a little signal practice to go through with now.
+Why would you want to quit? It's poppycock!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, some fellows do get cold feet just before
+the big game. We've both known cases of it.
+Look at&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I know what you're going to say, but that
+was different. He never had any spunk, anyway.
+Nobody believed in him but Robey, and Robey was
+wrong, just as he is about you. Anyway, all I'm
+trying to say is that there's no use getting waxy
+if some idiot shoots off his mouth. The fellows
+who really count don't believe you a&mdash;a quitter.
+And the whole business will blow over in a couple
+of days. Look how they talked about Tom at
+first!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"They didn't call him a quitter, though. They
+were just mad because he'd done a fool thing and
+lost the team. I wouldn't blame anyone for thinking
+me a&mdash;a coward, and I can't resent it if they
+say it."</p>
+
+<p>"Can't, eh? Well, I can!"</p>
+
+<p>Don smile wanly. "Thought you were telling
+me not to, Tim."</p>
+
+<p>Tim muttered. There was silence for a minute
+in the twilit room. Then Tim switched on the
+lights and rolled up his sleeves preparatory to
+washing. "The whole thing's perfectly rotten,"
+he growled, "but we'll just have to make the best
+of it. Ten years from now&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but it isn't ten years from now that
+troubles me," interrupted Don thoughtfully. "It&mdash;it's
+right this minute. And tomorrow and the
+next day. And the day after that. I've a good
+mind to&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"To what?" demanded Tim from behind his
+sponge.</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing. I was just&mdash;thinking."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, stop it, then. You weren't intended to
+think. You always do something silly when you
+get to thinking. Wash up and come on to supper."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not going over tonight," answered Don.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>
+"I'm not hungry. And, anyway, I don't feel quite
+like facing it yet."</p>
+
+<p>"Now, look here," began Tim severely, "if
+you're going to take it like that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm not, I guess. Only I'd rather not go to
+supper tonight. I am through at the training-table
+and I funk going back to the other table just
+now. Besides, I'm not the least bit hungry. You
+run along."</p>
+
+<p>Tim observed him frowningly. "Well, all right.
+Only if it was me I'd take the bull by the horns
+and see it through. Fellows will talk more if you
+let them see that you give a hang."</p>
+
+<p>"They'll talk enough anyway, I dare say. A
+little more won't matter."</p>
+
+<p>"I just hope Holt gets gay again," said Tim
+venomously, shying the towel in the general direction
+of the rack and missing it by a foot. "Want
+me to bring something over to you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, thanks. I don't want a thing."</p>
+
+<p>"We-ell, I guess I'll beat it then." Tim loitered
+uncertainly at the door. "I say, Donald, old
+scout, buck up, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, yes, I'll be all right, Timmy. Don't you
+worry about me. And&mdash;and thanks, you know,
+for&mdash;for calling Holt down."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, that!" Tim chuckled. "Holt wasn't the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>
+only one I called down either." Then, realising
+that he had not helped the situation any by the
+remark, he tried to squirm out of it. "Of course,
+Holt was <i>the</i> one, you know. The others didn't
+really <i>say</i> anything, or&mdash;or mean anything&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Don laughed. "That'll do, Tim. Beat it!"</p>
+
+<p>And Tim, red-faced and confused, "beat it."</p>
+
+<p>For the next five minutes doors in the corridor
+opened and shut and footfalls sounded as the fellows
+hurried off to Wendell. But I doubt if Don
+heard the sounds, for he was sunk very low in
+the chair and his eyes were fixed intently on space.
+Presently he drew in his legs, sat up and pulled
+his watch from his pocket. A moment of speculation
+followed. Then he jumped from the chair as
+one whose mind is at last made up and went to
+his closet. From the recesses he dragged forth
+his bag and laid it open on his bed. From the
+closet hooks he took down a few garments and
+tossed them beside the bag and then crossed to his
+dresser and pulled open the drawers. Don had
+decided to accept Coach Robey's title. He was
+going to quit!</p>
+
+<p>There was a train at six-thirty-four and another
+at seven-one for New York. With luck, he could
+get the first. If he missed that he was certain of
+the second. The dormitory was empty, it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>
+quite dark outside by now and there was scarcely
+a chance of anyone's seeing him. If he hurried he
+could be at the station before Tim could return
+from supper. Or, even if he didn't get away until
+the seven-one train, he would be clear of the hall
+before Tim could discover his absence and surmise
+the reason for it. To elude Tim was the all-important
+thing, for Tim would never approve and
+would put all sorts of obstacles in his way. In
+fact, it would be a lot like Tim to hold him back
+by main force! Don's heart sank for a moment.
+It was going to be frightfully hard to leave old
+Timmy. Perhaps they might meet again at college
+in a couple of years, but they would not be
+likely to see each other before that time, and even
+that depended on so many things that it couldn't
+be confidently counted on.</p>
+
+<p>Don paused in his hurried selection of articles
+from the dresser drawers and dropped into a
+chair at the table. But, with the pad before him
+and pen in hand, he shook his head. A note would
+put Tim wise to what was happening and perhaps
+allow him to get to the station in time to make a
+fuss. No, it would be better to write to him later;
+perhaps from New York tonight, for Don was
+pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to get a
+through train before morning. So, with another<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>
+glance at his watch, he began to pack again, throwing
+things in every which-way in his feverish desire
+to complete the task and leave the building
+before Tim got back. He came across a scarf that
+Tim had admired and laid it back in the top
+drawer. It had never been worn and Tim should
+have it. And as he hurried back and forth he
+thought of other things he would like Tim to have.
+There was his tennis racket, the one Tim always
+borrowed when Don wasn't using it, and a scarf-pin
+made of a queer, rough nugget of opal matrix.
+He would tell Tim he was to have those and not
+to pack them with the other things. The thought
+of making the gifts almost cheered him for awhile,
+and, together with the excitement of running
+away, caused him to hum a little tune under his
+breath as he jammed the last articles in the bag
+and snapped it shut.</p>
+
+<p>It was sixteen minutes past now. He would, he
+acknowledged, never be able to make the six-thirty-four,
+with that burden to carry. But the
+seven-one would do quite as well, and he wouldn't
+have to hurry so. In that case, then, why not
+leave just a few words of good-bye for Tim? He
+could put the note somewhere where Tim wouldn't
+find it until later; tuck it, for instance, under the
+bed-clothes so that he would find it when he pulled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>
+them down. He hesitated a moment and then set
+his bag down by the door, dropped his overcoat
+and umbrella on the bed and seated himself again
+at the table. Tim was never known to take less
+than a half-hour for supper and he still had a
+good ten minutes' leeway:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>"Dear Timmy [he wrote hurriedly], I'm off.
+It's no use sticking around any longer. Fellows
+aren't going to forget as soon as you said and I
+can't stay on here and be thought a quitter. So
+I'm taking the seven-one to New York and will be
+home day after tomorrow. I wish you would pack
+my things up for me when you get time. There
+isn't any great hurry. I've got enough for awhile.
+You're to keep the racket and the blue and white
+tie and the opal matrix pin and anything else you
+like to remember me by. Please do this, Tim. I'll
+write from home and tell you about sending the
+trunk. I'm awfully sorry, Tim, and I'm going to
+miss you like anything, but I shan't ever come
+back here. Maybe we will get together again at
+college. I hope so. You try, will you? Good-bye,
+Tim, old pal. We've had some dandy times
+together, haven't we? And you've been an A1
+chum to me and I wish I wasn't going off without
+saying good-bye to you decently. But I've got to.
+So good-bye, Timmy, old man. Think of me now
+and then like I will of you. Good-bye.</p>
+
+<div class='sig'>
+"Your friend always,<br />
+"<span class="smcap">Don.</span>"<br />
+</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>That note took longer to write than he had
+counted on, and when he got up from the table
+and looked at his watch he was alarmed to find
+that it was almost half-past six. He folded the
+paper and tucked it just under the clothes at the
+head of Tim's bed, took a last glance about the
+room, picked up coat and umbrella and turned out
+the light. Then he strode toward the door, groping
+for his bag.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
+
+<h3>FRIENDS FALL OUT</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Tim</span> didn't enjoy supper very much that evening.
+The game had left him pretty weary of body and
+mind, and on top of that was Don and his trouble,
+and try as he might he couldn't get them out of his
+thoughts. Mr. Robey was not at table; someone
+said he had gone to New York for over Sunday;
+and so Tim didn't have to make a pretence of
+eating more than he wanted. And he wanted very
+little. A slice of cold roast beef, rather too rare
+to please him, about an eighth of one of the inevitable
+baked potatoes, a few sips of milk and a
+corner of a slice of toast as hard as a shingle, and
+Tim was more than satisfied. Tonight he was not
+especially interested in the talk, which, as usual
+after a game, was all football, and didn't see any
+good reason for sitting there after he had finished
+and listening to it. All during his brief meal he
+was on the alert for any mention of Don's name,
+and more than once he glared, almost encouragingly,
+at Holt. But Holt had already learned his
+lesson and was doing very little talking, and none<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>
+at all about Don. Nor was the absent player's
+name mentioned by anyone at that table, although
+what might be being said of him at the other Tim
+had no way of knowing. He stayed on a few minutes
+after he had finished, eyeing the apple-sauce
+and graham crackers coldly, and then asked Steve
+Edwards to excuse him.</div>
+
+<p>"Off his feed," remarked Carmine as Tim
+passed down the dining hall on his way out.
+"First time I ever saw old Tim have nerves."</p>
+
+<p>"It's Don Gilbert, probably," said Clint
+Thayer. "They're great pals. Tim's worried
+about him, I guess."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you make of it, Steve?" asked Crewe,
+helping himself to a third slice of meat.</p>
+
+<p>"What is there to make of it?" asked Steve
+carelessly. "The chap's all out of shape, I suppose.
+I don't know what his trouble is, but I
+guess he's a goner for this year."</p>
+
+<p>"It's awfully funny, isn't it?" asked Rollins.
+"Gilbert always struck me as an awfully plucky
+player."</p>
+
+<p>"Has anyone said he isn't?" inquired Clint
+quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"N-no, no, of course not!" Rollins flushed. "I
+didn't mean anything like that, Clint. Only I
+don't see&mdash;&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"He hasn't been looking very fit lately," offered
+Harry Walton. "I noticed it two or three days
+ago. Too bad!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you're feeling perfectly wretched about
+it, I guess," said big Thursby drily, causing a
+smile around the table. Walton shrugged and
+rewarded the speaker with one of his smiles that
+were always unfortunately like leers.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I can feel sorry for him," said Walton,
+"even if I do get his place. Gilbert gave me an
+awfully good fight for it."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, was there a fight?" asked Thursby innocently.
+"I didn't notice any."</p>
+
+<p>Thursby got a real laugh this time and Harry
+Walton joined in to save his face, but with no very
+good grace.</p>
+
+<p>"If anyone has an idea that Don Gilbert is
+scared and quit for that reason," observed St.
+Clair, "he'd better keep it to himself. Or, anyhow,
+he'd better not air it when Tim is about. He
+nearly bit my head off in the gym because I said
+that Don was a chump to give up like this a week
+before the Claflin game. Tim flared up like&mdash;like
+a gasoline torch and wanted to fight! I didn't
+mean a thing by my innocent remark, but I had the
+dickens of a time trying to prove it to Tim! And
+he almost jumped into you, too, didn't he, Holt?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he did, the touchy beggar! You all heard
+what Robey said, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't hear," interrupted Steve, "and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, he said&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And, as I was about to remark, Holt, I don't
+want to. And it will be just as decent for those
+who did hear to forget. Robey says lots of things
+he doesn't mean or believe. Perhaps that was one
+of them. I'm for Don. If he says he's sick, he is
+sick. You've all seen him play for two years and
+you ought to know that there isn't a bit of yellow
+anywhere in his make-up."</p>
+
+<p>"That's so," agreed several, and others nodded,
+Holt amongst them.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't say he was a quitter, Steve. I was
+only repeating what Robey said, and Tim happened
+to hear me. Gee, I like Don as well as any
+of you. Gee, didn't I play a whole year with him
+on the second?"</p>
+
+<p>"Gee, you did indeed!" replied Crewe, and,
+laughing, the fellows pushed back their chairs and
+left the table.</p>
+
+<p>Tim didn't hurry on his way along the walk to
+Billings, for he was earnestly trying to think of
+some scheme that would take Don's mind off his
+trouble that evening. Perhaps he could get Don
+to take a good, long walk. Walking always worked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>
+wonders in his own case when, as very infrequently
+happened, he had a fit of the blues. Yes,
+he would propose a walk, he told himself. And
+then he groaned at the thought of it, for he was
+very tired and he ached in a large number of
+places!</p>
+
+<p>Only a few windows were lighted in Billings as
+he approached it, for most of the fellows were
+still in dining hall and the rule requiring the turning
+out of lights during absence from rooms was
+strictly enforced. Only the masters were exempted,
+and Tim noticed as he passed Mr. Daley's
+study that the droplight was turned low by one
+of those cunning dimming attachments which Tim
+had always envied the instructor the possession
+of. Tim would have had one of those long ago
+could he have put it to any practical use. He
+passed through the doorway and down the dimly
+lighted corridor, the rubber-soled shoes which he
+affected in all seasons making little sound. He
+was surprised to see that no light showed through
+the transom of Number 6, and he paused outside
+the door a moment. Perhaps Don was asleep. In
+that case, it would be just as well to not disturb
+him. But, on the other hand, he might be just
+sitting there in the dark being miserable. Tim
+turned the knob and pushed the door open.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The light from the corridor and the fact that
+Don had stopped startledly at the sound of the
+turning knob prevented an actual collision between
+them. Tim, pushing the door slowly shut
+behind him, viewed Don questioningly. "Hello,"
+he said, "where are you going?"</p>
+
+<p>"For a walk," replied Don.</p>
+
+<p>"Why the coat and umbrella? And&mdash;oh, I
+see!" Tim's glance took in the bag and comprehension
+dawned. "So that's it, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>There was an instant of silence during which
+Tim closed the door and leaned against it, hands
+in pockets and a thoughtful scowl on his face.
+Finally:</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that's it," said Don defiantly. "I'm off
+for home."</p>
+
+<p>"What's the big idea?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know well enough, Tim. I&mdash;I'm not going
+to stay here and be&mdash;be pointed out as a quitter.
+I'm&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a sec! What are you doing now but
+quitting, you several sorts of a blind mule? Think
+you're helping things any by&mdash;by running away?
+Don't be a chump, Donald."</p>
+
+<p>"That's all well enough for you. It isn't your
+funeral. I don't care what they say about me if
+I don't have to hear it. I'm sorry, Tim, but&mdash;but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>
+I've just got to do it. I&mdash;there's a note for you
+in your bed. I didn't expect you'd be back before
+I left."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll bet you didn't, son!" said Tim grimly.
+"Now let me tell you something, Don. You're
+acting like a baby, that's what you're doing! It's
+all fine enough to say that you don't care what
+fellows say as long as you don't hear it, but you
+don't mean it, Don. You would care. And so
+would I. If you don't want them to think you a
+quitter, for the love of mud don't run away like&mdash;like
+one!"</p>
+
+<p>"I've thought of all that, Tim, but it's the only
+thing to do."</p>
+
+<p>"The only thing to do, your grandmother! The
+thing to do is to stick around and show folks that
+you're <i>not</i> a quitter. Don't you see that getting
+out is the one thing that'll make them believe
+Robey was right?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I dare say, but I've made up my mind,
+Tim. I'm going to get that seven-one train, old
+man, and I'll have to beat it. If you want to walk
+along to the station with me&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And carry your bag?" asked Tim sweetly. He
+turned the key in the lock and then dropped it in
+his pocket. Don took a stride forward, but was
+met by Tim's challenging frown. "There's no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>
+seven-one train for you tonight, Donald," said
+Tim quietly, "nor any other night. Put your bag
+down, old dear, and hang your overcoat back in
+the closet."</p>
+
+
+<p>"Don't act like a silly ass," begged Don. "Put
+that key back and let me out, Tim!"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will&mdash;like fun! The only way you'll
+get that key will be by taking it out of my pocket,
+and by the time you do that the seven-one train
+will be half-way to the city."</p>
+
+<p>"Please, Tim! You're not acting like a good
+chum! Just you think&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"That's just what I am acting like," returned
+Tim, stepping past the other and switching on the
+lights. "And you'll acknowledge it tomorrow.
+Just now you're sort of crazy in the head.
+I'll humour you as much as possible, Donald,
+but not to the extent of letting you make
+a perfect chump of yourself. Sit down and
+behave."</p>
+
+<p>"Tim, I want that key," said Don sternly.</p>
+
+<p>Tim shrugged. "Can't have it, Don, unless you
+fight for it. And I'm not sure you'd get it then.
+Now look here&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You've no right to keep me here!"</p>
+<div class="figright" style="width: 309px;">
+<img src="images/gs03.jpg" width="309" height="400" alt="&quot;Will you unlock that door?&quot; demanded Don angrily" title="&quot;Will you unlock that door?&quot; demanded Don angrily" />
+<span class="caption">&quot;Will you unlock that door?&quot; <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Demanded'">demanded</ins> Don angrily</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"I don't give a hang whether I've got the right
+or not. You're going to stay here."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"There are other trains," said Don coldly.
+"You can't keep that door locked forever."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't intend to try, but it'll stay locked until
+the last train tonight has whistled for the crossing
+back there. Make up your mind to that, son!"</p>
+
+<p>Don looked irresolutely from Tim to the door
+and back again. He didn't want to fight Tim the
+least bit in the world. He wasn't so sure now that
+he wanted to get that train, either. But, having
+stated his purpose, he felt it encumbent on him to
+carry it out. Then his gaze fell on the windows
+and he darted toward them.</p>
+
+<p>But Tim had already thought of that way of
+escape and before Don had traversed half the distance
+from door to windows Tim had planted himself
+resolutely in the way. "No you don't, Donald,"
+he said calmly. "You'll have to lick me
+first, boy, and I'm feeling quite some scrappy!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to lick you," said Don irritably,
+"but I mean to get that train. You'd better either
+give up that key or stand out of my way, Tim."</p>
+
+<p>"Neither, thanks. And, look here, if we get to
+scrapping Horace will hear us and then you won't
+get away in any case. Be sensible, Don, and give
+it up. It can't be done, old man."</p>
+
+<p>"Will you unlock that door?" demanded Don
+angrily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"No, confound you, I won't!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then I'm going out by the window!"</p>
+
+<p>"And I say you're not." Tim swiftly peeled
+off his coat. "Anyway, not in time to get that
+train."</p>
+
+<p>Don dropped his bag to the floor and tossed
+overcoat and umbrella on his bed. "I've given
+you fair warning, Tim," he said in a low voice.
+"I don't want to hurt you, but you'd better stand
+aside."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want to get hurt, Don," replied the
+other quietly, "but if you insist, all right.
+I'm doing what I'd want you to do, Don,
+if I went crazy in the head. You may not
+like it now, but some day you'll tell me I did
+right."</p>
+
+<p>"You're acting like a fool," answered Don
+hotly. "It's no business of yours if I want to get
+out of here. Now you let me pass, or it'll be the
+worse for you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Don, will you listen to reason? Sit down
+calmly for five minutes and let's talk this thing
+over. Will you do that?"</p>
+
+<p>"No! And I won't be dictated to by you, Tim
+Otis! Now get out of the way!"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll have to put me out," answered Tim
+with set jaw. "And you're going to find that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>
+hard work, Donald. We're both going to get horribly
+mussed up, and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>But Tim didn't finish his remark, for at that
+instant Don rushed him. Tim met the onslaught
+squarely and in a second they were struggling
+silently. No blows were struck. Don was bent
+only on getting the other out of the way and
+making his escape through the open window there,
+while Tim was equally resolved that he should do
+nothing of the sort. In spite of Don's superior
+weight, the two boys were fairly equally matched,
+and for a minute or two they strained and
+tussled without advantage to either. Then
+Tim, his arms wrapped around Don's body
+like iron bands, forced the latter back a step
+and against a chair which went crashing
+to the floor. Don tore at the encircling arms,
+panting.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't&mdash;want to&mdash;hurt you," he muttered,
+"but&mdash;I will&mdash;if you don't&mdash;let go!"</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer from Tim, but the grip
+didn't relax. Don worked a hand under the
+other's chin and tried to force his head back. Tim
+gave a little and they collided with the window-seat,
+stumbled and slid together to the floor, Don
+on top. For a moment they writhed and thrashed
+and then Don worked his right arm loose, slowly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>
+tore Tim's left hand away and held it down to
+the floor.</p>
+
+<p>"Let go or I'll punch you, Tim," he panted.</p>
+
+<p>"Punch&mdash;ahead!"</p>
+
+<p>Don strained until he felt Tim's other hand
+giving, and then, with a sudden fling of his body,
+rolled clear and jumped to his feet. But Tim was
+only an instant behind him and, panting and
+dishevelled, the two boys confronted each other,
+silent.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm going out there," said Don after a moment.</p>
+
+<p>Tim only shook his head and smiled crookedly.</p>
+
+<p>"I am, Tim, and&mdash;and you mustn't try to stop
+me this time!"</p>
+
+<p>"I've&mdash;got to, Don!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm giving you fair warning!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know."</p>
+
+<p>Don took a deeper breath and stepped forward.
+"Don't touch me!" he warned. But Tim was
+once more in his path, hands stretched to clutch
+and hold. "Out of my way, Tim! Fair warning!"
+Don's face was white and his eyes blazing.</p>
+
+<p>"No!" whispered Tim, and crouched.</p>
+
+<p>Then Don went on again. Tim threw himself
+in the way, a fist shot out and Tim, with a grunt,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>
+went back against the pillows and slipped heavily
+to the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Don's hands fell to his sides and he stared bewilderedly.
+Then, with a groan, he dropped to his
+knees and raised Tim's head from the floor. "Gee,
+but I'm sorry, Timmy!" he stammered. "I didn't
+mean to do it, honest! I was crazy, I guess!
+Timmy, are you all right!"</p>
+
+<p>Tim's eyes, half-closed, fluttered, he drew a
+deep breath and his head rolled over against Don's
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Timmy!" cried Don anxiously. "<i>Timmy!</i>
+Don't you hear me! I didn't hit you awfully
+hard, Timmy!"</p>
+
+<p>Tim sighed. "What&mdash;time is it?" he murmured.</p>
+
+<p>"Time? Never mind the time. Are you all
+right, Tim?"</p>
+
+<p>Tim opened his eyes and grinned weakly.
+"Hear the birdies sing, Don! It was a lovely
+punch! Help me up, will you?"</p>
+
+<p>Don lifted him to the window-seat. "I'm horribly
+sorry, Tim," he said abjectedly. "I&mdash;I
+didn't know what I was doing, chum! I wish&mdash;I
+wish you'd hand me one, Tim! Go on, will
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>Tim laughed weakly. "It's all right, Donald.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>
+Just give me a minute to get my breath. Gee,
+things certainly spun around there for a second!"</p>
+
+<p>"Where'd I hit you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Right on the point of the jaw." Tim felt of
+the place gingerly. "No harm done, though. It
+just sort of&mdash;jarred me a bit. What time is it?"</p>
+
+<p>Don glanced at the tin alarm clock on his
+dresser. "Ten of seven," he answered. "What's
+that got to do with it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you can't make the seven-one now, Donald,
+unless you fly all the way, can you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Don, rather blankly. "I&mdash;I'd forgotten!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good thing," muttered Tim. "Wish you'd
+forgotten before! If anyone ever tells you you're
+a nice good-natured, even-tempered chap, Don,
+don't you believe him. You send 'em to me!"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't know I could lose my temper like
+that," replied the other shamefacedly. "Timmy,
+I'm most awfully sorry about it. You believe that,
+don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sure!" Tim laughed. "But I'll bet you're not
+half as sorry as you would have been tomorrow
+if I'd let you go! Don, you're an awful ass, now
+aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Don nodded. "I guess I am, Timmy. And
+you're a&mdash;a brick, old man!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Huh! Any more trains to New York tonight?"</p>
+
+<p>"There's one at twelve-something," answered
+Don, with a grin.</p>
+
+<p>"Thinking of catching it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit!"</p>
+
+<p>"All right then." Tim dug in his pocket and
+then tossed the door-key beside him on the cushion.
+"Better unpack your bag, you silly ass.
+Then we'll go out and get some air. I sort of
+need it!"</p>
+
+<p>Some three hours later Tim, tossing back his
+bed-clothes, exclaimed: "Hello! What have we
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>"That's just a note I wrote you," said Don hurriedly.
+"Hand it here, Tim."</p>
+
+<p>"I should say not! I'm going to read it!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, please, Tim! It's just about two or three
+things I was going to leave you! Hand it over,
+like a good chap!"</p>
+
+<p>"Something you were going to leave me?" said
+Tim as he let Don wrest the sheet of paper from
+him. "Oh, I see. Well,"&mdash;he felt carefully of the
+lump on his chin&mdash;"I guess you left me enough as
+it is, dearie!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2>
+
+<h3>AMY APPEARS FOR THE DEFENCE</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Practice</span> on Monday was a wretched affair. To be
+sure, many of the fellows who had played in the
+Chambers game had been excused, but that didn't
+account for the fact that those who did take part
+went at their work as if half asleep. Both McPhee
+and Cotter failed to get any life into the first, and
+the second, while it, too, seemed to have taken
+part in the general slump, managed to score twice
+while the first was with difficulty wresting three
+touchdowns from its opponent. Mr. Robey
+shouted himself red in the face, Steve Edwards,
+who followed practice, pleaded and exhorted, and
+a stocky, broad-shouldered, bearded individual
+who made his appearance that afternoon for the
+first time frowned and shook his head, and all to
+small purpose. The players accepted scoldings
+and insults as a donkey accepts blows, untroubledly,
+apathetically, and jogged on at their own
+pace, guilty of all the sins of commission and omission
+in the football decalogue.</div>
+
+<p>There was much curiosity about the newcomer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>
+and many opinions as to his identity were hazarded
+on the bench that afternoon. It was quite
+evident that he was a football authority, for Coach
+Robey consulted him at times all during practice.
+And it was equally evident that they were close
+friends, since the stranger was on one occasion
+seen to smite the head coach most familiarly between
+the shoulders! But who he was and what
+he was doing there remained a secret until after
+supper. Then it became known that his name was
+Proctor, Doctor George G. Proctor, that he was a
+practising physician some place in the Middle
+West and that he was visiting Coach Robey. But
+that was unsatisfactory data and some enterprising
+youth hunted back in the football records
+and, lo, the mystery was explained. Eight years
+before "Gus" Proctor had played tackle on the
+Princeton eleven and in his junior and senior
+years had been honoured with a position on the
+All-American Team. Subsequently he had
+coached at a college in Ohio and had put said college
+on the map. Now, having stolen away from
+home to see Princeton and Yale play next Saturday,
+he was staying for a day or two with Mr.
+Robey. After that became generally known Doctor
+Proctor was gazed at with a new respect whenever
+he appeared on field or campus.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Don and Tim went up to Number 12 that night
+after supper to call on Tom Hall. Tim was having
+hard work making Don face the music. If Don
+could have had his way he would have kept to himself,
+but Tim insisted on dragging him around.
+"Just keep a firm upper lip, Donald," he counselled,
+"and show the fellows that there's nothing
+in it. That's the only way to do. If you keep
+skulking off by yourself they'll think you're
+ashamed."</p>
+
+<p>"So I am," muttered Don.</p>
+
+<p>"You're not, either! You've done nothing to
+be ashamed of! Keep that in mind, you silly It.
+Now come along and we'll go up and jolly Tom
+a bit."</p>
+
+<p>Steve Edwards was not at home, but Amy Byrd
+was enthroned on the window-seat when they entered
+in response to Tom's invitation, and Amy
+had evidently been holding forth very seriously
+on some subject.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't mind us," said Tim. "Go ahead, Amy,
+and get it off your chest."</p>
+
+<p>"Hello," said Amy. "Hello, Don, old man.
+Haven't seen you for an age. Make yourselves
+at home. Never mind Tom, he's only
+the host. How did you like the practice today,
+Tim?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I didn't see it, but I heard enough about it.
+It must have been fierce!"</p>
+
+<p>"It was perfectly punk," growled Tom. "I
+should think Robey would want to throw up his
+hands and quit!"</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see it, Don?" asked Amy.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I didn't go over. What was the trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'm no expert," replied Amy, taking his
+knees into his arms and rocking gently back and
+forth on the seat, "but I'd say in my ignorant way
+that someone had unkindly put sleeping-potions in
+the milk at training-table! The only fellow who
+seemed to have his eyes more than half open was
+McPhee. Mac showed signs of life at long intervals.
+The rest sort of stumbled around in their
+sleep. I think Peters actually snored."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, we're going to get a fine old drubbing next
+Saturday," said Tom pessimistically. "And
+what a fine exhibition for that chap Proctor! I'll
+bet Robey could have kicked the whole team all
+the way back to the gym. He looked as though
+it would have done him a world of good to have
+a try at it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, well, these things happen," said Tim
+cheerfully. "It's only a slump. We'll get
+over it."</p>
+
+<p>"Slump be blowed!" said Tom. "This is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>
+a fine time to slump, five days before the
+game!"</p>
+
+<p>"I know that, too, but there's no use howling
+about it. What we need, Tom, is to have you get
+back there at right guard, old man."</p>
+
+<p>"That's what I've been saying," exclaimed
+Amy earnestly. "I want Tom to go to Josh and
+ask him to let him play, but he won't. Says it
+wouldn't be any good. You don't know whether
+it would or not, Tom, until you try it. Look here,
+Josh doesn't want us to get beaten Saturday any
+more than we want it ourselves, and if you sort
+of put it up to him like that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd look well, wouldn't I?" laughed Tom.
+"Telling Josh that unless he let me off pro the
+team would get licked! Gee, that's some modest,
+isn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't have to put it like that," replied
+Amy impatiently. "Be&mdash;be diplomatic. Tell
+him&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"What we ought to do," interrupted Tim, "is
+get up a petition and have everyone sign it."</p>
+
+<p>"I thought of that, too," said Amy, "but this
+dunder-headed Turk won't stand for even
+that."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not, Tom?" asked Don.</p>
+
+<p>"Because."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"And after that?" asked Amy sweetly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, look here, you chaps." Tom scowled
+intently for a moment. "Look here. It's this
+way. Josh put a bunch of us on pro, didn't he?
+Well, what right have I to go and ask to be let off
+just because I happen to be a football man? You
+don't suppose those other fellows like it any better
+than I do, do you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, forget that! I'm one of them, and I'm
+having the time of my life. It's been the making
+of me, Tom. I'm getting so blamed full of learning
+that I'll be able to loaf all the rest of the year;
+live on my income, so to say." And Amy beamed
+proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"That's all right," answered Tom doggedly,
+"but I don't intend to cry-baby. I'm just as much
+in it as any of you. If Josh wants to let us all
+off, all right, but I'm not going to ask for a&mdash;a
+special dispensation!"</p>
+
+<p>"You don't need to," said Tim. "Let the fellows
+do it. That has nothing to do with you.
+What's to keep us from going ahead and getting
+up a petition?"</p>
+
+<p>"Because I ask you not to," replied Tom simply.
+"It's only fair that we should all be punished
+alike."</p>
+
+<p>"But you're not," said Don.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"We're not? Why aren't we?" asked Tom in
+surprise.</p>
+
+<p>"Because you're getting it harder than Amy
+and Harry Westcott and the others," answered
+Don quietly. "They aren't barred from any
+sport, and you are."</p>
+
+<p>"By Jove, that's a fact!" exclaimed Amy.</p>
+
+<p>"But&mdash;but we all got the same sentence," protested
+Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"I know you did, but"&mdash;Don smiled&mdash;"put it
+like this. I hate parsnips; can't bear them. Suppose
+you and I were punished for something we'd
+done by being made to eat parsnips three times a
+day for&mdash;for a month! You like them, don't you?
+Well, who'd get the worst of that? The sentence
+would be the same, but the&mdash;the punishment would
+be a heap worse for me, wouldn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>"'Father was right'!" said Tim.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, father never spoke a truer word!" cried
+Amy, jumping up from the window-seat. "That
+settles it, Tom! Get some paper, Tim, and we'll
+write that petition this minute and I'll guarantee
+to get fifty signatures before ten o'clock!"</p>
+
+<p>"You'll do nothing of the sort," said Tom stubbornly.
+"Don talks like a lawyer, all right, but
+he's all wrong. And, anyway, I'm out of football
+and I'm going to stay out for this year. I've quit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>
+training and I probably couldn't play if Josh said
+I might. So that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, piffle," said Amy. "Quit training!
+Everyone knows you never quit training, Tom.
+You could go out there tomorrow and play as
+good a game as you ever did. Don't talk like a
+sick duck!"</p>
+
+<p>"There's no reason why I should play, though.
+Pryme's putting up a bully game&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Pryme is doing the best he knows how," said
+Tim, "but Pryme can't play guard as you can,
+Tom, and he never will, and you know it! Now
+have a grain of sense, won't you? Just sit tight
+and let us put this thing through. There isn't a
+fellow in school who won't be tickled to death to
+sign that petition, and I'll bet you anything you
+like that Josh will be just as tickled to say yes to
+it. Whatever you say about Josh Fernald, you've
+got to hand it to him for being fair and square,
+Tom."</p>
+
+<p>"Josh is all right, sure. I haven't said anything
+against him, have I? But I won't stand for any
+petition, fellows, so you might as well get that out
+of your heads. Besides, my being on the team or
+off it isn't going to make a half of one per cent's
+difference next Saturday."</p>
+
+<p>There was silence in the room for a moment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>
+Then Amy went dejectedly back to the window-seat
+and threw himself on it at full length. "I
+think you might, Tom," he said finally, "if only on
+my account!"</p>
+
+<p>"Why on your account?" laughed Tom.</p>
+
+<p>"Because I'm the guy that got you all into the
+mess, that's why. And I've felt good and mean
+about it ever since. And now, when we think up a
+perfectly good way to&mdash;to undo the mischief I
+made, you act like a mule. Think what a relief it
+would be to my conscience, Tom, if you got off pro
+and went back and played against Claflin!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care a continental about your conscience,
+Amy. In fact I never knew before that
+you had one!"</p>
+
+<p>"I've got a very nice one, thanks. It's well-trained,
+too. It&mdash;&mdash;" Amy's voice trailed off into
+silence and for the next five minutes or so he took
+no part in the conversation, but just laid on the
+cushions and stared intently at the ceiling. Then,
+suddenly, he thumped his feet to the floor and
+reached for his cap.</p>
+
+<p>"What time is it?" he demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Most eight," said Tim. "We'd better
+beat it."</p>
+
+<p>"What time&mdash;&mdash;" began Amy. Then he
+stopped, pulled his cap on his head and literally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>
+hurled himself across the room and through the
+door, leaving the others to gaze at each other
+amazedly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what's wrong with him?" gasped Tim.</p>
+
+<p>"He's got something in that crazy head of his,"
+answered Tom uneasily. "Don't let him start that
+petition business, Tim, will you? I don't want to
+seem mean or anything, you know, but I'd rather
+let things be as they are. Come up again, fellows.
+And maybe today's showing doesn't mean anything,
+Tim, just as you said. We'll hope so, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Faculty conferences took place on Monday
+evenings at half-past seven in the faculty meeting
+room in Main Hall. At such times, with the principal,
+Mr. Fernald, presiding at the end of the
+long table and all members of the faculty able to
+attend ranged on either side, all and sundry matters
+pertaining to the government of the school
+came up for discussion. The business portion of
+the conference was followed by an informal half-hour
+of talk, during which many of the students
+were subjected to a dissection that would have
+surprised them vastly had they known of it. Tonight,
+however, the executive session was still
+going on and Mr. Brooke, the secretary, was still
+making notes at the foot of the table, when there
+came a rap at the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fernald nodded to Mr. Brooke. "See who
+it is, please," he said.</p>
+
+<p>The secretary laid down his pen very carefully
+on the clean square of blue blotting-paper before
+him, pushed back his chair and opened the door a
+few inches. When he turned around his countenance
+expressed a sort of pained disapprobation.
+"It's Byrd, sir," announced Mr. Brooke in a low,
+shocked voice. "He says he'd like to speak to
+you."</p>
+
+<p>"Byrd? Well, tell him I'm busy," replied the
+principal. "If he wants to wait I'll see him after
+the conference. Although"&mdash;Mr. Fernald glanced
+at the clock&mdash;"it's only four minutes to eight and
+he'd better get back to his room. Tell him I'll
+see him at the Cottage at nine, Mr. Brooke. As I
+was saying," and Mr. Fernald faced the company
+again, "I think it would be well to arrange for a
+longer course this Winter. Last year, as you'll
+recall&mdash;&mdash; Eh? What is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"He says, sir, that it's a faculty matter," announced
+Mr. Brooke deprecatingly, "and asks to
+be allowed to come in for a minute."</p>
+
+<p>"A faculty matter? Well, in that case&mdash;&mdash;
+All right, Mr. Brooke, tell him to come in."</p>
+
+<p>As Amy entered eight pairs of eyes regarded
+him curiously; nine, in fact, for Mr. Brooke, closing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>
+the door softly behind the visitor, gazed at him
+in questioning disapproval.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, Byrd, what can we do for you?" Mr.
+Fernald smiled, doubtless with the wish to dispel
+embarrassment. But he needn't have troubled
+about that, for Amy didn't look or act in the least
+embarrassed. "I'm afraid," continued the principal,
+"that I can't offer you a chair, for we're
+rather busy just now. What was it you wanted to
+speak of?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess it looks pretty cheeky, sir, for me to
+butt in here," replied Amy, with a smile, "but it's
+rather important, sir, and&mdash;and if anything's to
+be done about it it'll have to be done tonight."</p>
+
+<p>"Really? Well, it does sound important. Suppose
+you tell us about it, Byrd."</p>
+
+<p>"Thank you, sir." Amy paused, gathering his
+words in order. "It's this, Mr. Fernald: when
+we fellows were put on pro&mdash;probation, I mean, it
+was intended that we should all get the same punishment,
+wasn't it, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"Let me see, that was the affair of&mdash;&mdash; Ah, yes,
+I recall it. Why, yes, Byrd, naturally it was meant
+to treat you all alike. What complaint have
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"It isn't exactly a complaint, sir. But it's this
+way. There were nine of us altogether. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>
+my fault in the first place because I put them up to
+it. They'd never thought of it if I hadn't." Amy
+glanced at Mr. Moller. "It was a pretty silly piece
+of business, sir, and we got what we deserved.
+But&mdash;but none of us meant to&mdash;to hurt anyone's
+feelings, sir. It was just a lark. We didn't think
+that&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We'll allow that, Byrd. Please get down to
+the purpose of this unusual visit," said Mr.
+Fernald drily.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. Well, eight of us it doesn't matter
+so much about. We aren't football men and being
+on probation doesn't cut so much&mdash;I mean it
+doesn't matter so much. But Tom Hall's a football
+man, sir, and it's different for him. This is
+his last year here and losing his place on the team
+was hard lines. That's what I'm trying to get at,
+sir. You meant that we were all to be punished
+the same, but we weren't. It's just about twice
+as hard on Tom as it is on the rest of us. You see
+that, sir, don't you?"</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment of silence and then Mr.
+Simkins coughed. Or did he chuckle? Amy
+couldn't tell. But the principal dropped his eyes
+and tapped his blotter with the tip of the pencil he
+held. At last:</p>
+
+<p>"That's a novel point of view, Byrd," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>
+"There may be something in it. But I must remind
+you that the Law&mdash;and the faculty stands for
+the Law here&mdash;takes no cognisance of conditions
+existing&mdash;hem!" Mr. Fernald glanced doubtfully
+down the table. "Perhaps it should, though.
+We'll pass that question for the moment. What
+is it you suggest, Byrd?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, sir, the team's in punk shape. It was
+awful today. It needs Tom, sir; needs him
+awfully. I don't say that we'll beat Claflin if he
+should play, Mr. Fernald, but I'm mighty sure we
+won't if he doesn't. And it seemed to me that
+maybe you and the other faculty members hadn't
+thought of how much harder you were giving it to
+Tom than to the rest of us, and that if you did
+know, realise it, sir, you'd maybe consider that
+he'd had about enough and let him off so he
+might play Saturday. The rest of us haven't any
+kick coming, sir. It's just Tom. And he doesn't
+know that I'm here, either. We tried to get him
+to let us petition faculty, but he wouldn't. He said
+he was going to take the same punishment as the
+rest of us."</p>
+
+<p>"Then he doesn't agree with your contention,
+Byrd?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he sees I'm right, Mr. Fernald, but he&mdash;he's
+obstinate!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Fernald smiled, as did most of the others.</p>
+
+<p>"Byrd, I think you ought to take a law course,"
+said the principal. "I might answer you as I
+started to by pointing out that it is no business of
+ours whether a punishment is going to hit one fellow
+harder than another; that just because it
+might should make that one fellow more careful
+not to transgress. But you've taken the wind out
+of my sails by getting me to testify that we intended
+the punishment to be the same for all.
+You've put us in a difficult place, Byrd. If we
+should lift probation in Hall's case it would seem
+that we had different laws for team members than
+for boys unconnected with athletics. You've made
+a very eloquent plea, but I don't just see&mdash;&mdash;"
+Mr. Fernald hesitated. Then: "Possibly someone
+has some suggestion," he added, and it seemed to
+Amy that his gaze rested on Mr. Moller for an
+instant.</p>
+
+<p>At all events it was the new member of the faculty
+who spoke. "If I might, sir," he said hesitatingly,
+"I'd like to make the suggestion that
+probation be lifted from all. It seems to me that
+that would&mdash;would simplify things, Mr. Fernald."</p>
+
+<p>"Hm. Yes. Possibly. As the target of the
+extremely vulgar proceeding, Mr. Moller, the suggestion
+coming from you bears weight. Byrd,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>
+you'd better get to your studies. You'll learn our
+decision in the morning. Your action is commendable,
+my boy, and we'll take that into consideration
+also. Good-night."</p>
+
+<p>"Good-night, sir. Good-night, sirs. Thank
+you."</p>
+
+<p>Amy retired unhurriedly, unembarrassedly, and
+with dignity, as befitted one who had opened the
+eyes of Authority to the error of its ways!</p>
+
+<p>The next morning Mr. Fernald announced in
+chapel that at the request of Mr. Moller, and in
+consideration of good behaviour, the faculty had
+voted to lift probation from the following students:
+Hall&mdash;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>But just there the applause began and the other
+eight names were not heard.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2>
+
+<h3>THE DOCTOR TELLS A STORY</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Tuesday</span>, with the return of all first-string players
+to the line-up and the appearance of Tom Hall
+once more at right guard, practice went about a
+hundred per cent better, and those who turned
+out to watch it went back to the campus considerably
+encouraged. The showing of the team
+naturally had an effect on the spirit of the mass
+meeting that evening. Ever since the Southby
+game the school had been holding meetings and
+"getting up steam" for the Claflin contest, but
+they had been tame affairs in contrast with tonight's.
+Brimfield was football-crazy now, for
+the Big Game loomed enormous but four days
+away. Fellows read football in the papers, talked
+football and, some of them, dreamed football.
+The news from Claflin was read and discussed
+eagerly. The fortunes of the rival eleven were
+watched just as closely as those of the home team.
+When a Claflin player wrenched an ankle Brimfield
+gasped excitedly. When it was published
+that Cox, of the blue team, had dropped fourteen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>
+goals out of twenty tries from the thirty-five-yard
+line and at a severe angle, depression prevailed at
+Brimfield. The news that the Claflin scrubs had
+held the first to only one touchdown in thirty minutes
+of play sent Brimfield's spirits soaring! Fellows
+neglected lessons brazenly and during that
+week of the final battle there was a scholastic
+slump that would undoubtedly have greatly
+alarmed the faculty if the latter, rendered wise by
+experience, hadn't expected it.</div>
+
+<p>The first team players were excused from study
+hour subsequent to Monday in order that they
+might attend blackboard lectures and signal drills
+in the gymnasium. On Tuesday night, after an
+hour's session, and in response to public clamour,
+they filed onto the platform just before the meeting
+was to begin at nine-fifteen and, somewhat
+embarrassedly, seated themselves in the chairs
+arranged across the back. Mr. Fernald was there,
+and Mr. Conklin, the athletic director, and
+Coaches Robey and Boutelle, and Trainer Danny
+Moore, and Manager Morton and Childers, captain
+of the baseball team. And Steve Payne was
+at the piano. Also, sitting beside Mr. Robey, was
+Doctor Proctor.</p>
+
+<p>Childers, who was cheer leader that Fall, presided,
+and, after the assemblage had clapped and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>
+shouted "A-a-ay!" as each newcomer appeared
+on the platform, opened proceedings with the
+School Song. Then Mr. Fernald spoke briefly,
+Captain Edwards followed, each being cheered
+loudly and long, and Childers introduced Mr.
+Robey. "What we are all anxious to know tonight,"
+said Childers, "is whether we're going
+to win next Saturday. Mr. Fernald has said that
+he <i>hopes</i> we shall, Captain Edwards has said that
+he <i>thinks</i> we shall, and now we're going to hear
+from the only one who <i>knows!</i> Fellows, a long
+cheer for Mr. Robey, and make it good! Are you
+all ready? Now then! One&mdash;two&mdash;three!"</p>
+
+<p>"Brimfield! Brimfield! Brimfield! Rah, rah,
+rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Brimfield!
+Brimfield! Brimfield! Robey!"</p>
+
+<p>When the cheering, and the shouting and clapping
+and stamping that followed for good measure,
+had quieted down, Mr. Robey said: "Fellows,
+Captain Childers is much too flattering. I'm not
+gifted with second-sight, even if he thinks so. I
+don't know any more than he does or you do
+whether we're going to win on Saturday. Like
+Mr. Fernald, I <i>hope</i> we are and, like Captain Edwards,
+I <i>think</i> we are." Cheers interrupted then.
+"But I don't want to make any prediction. I'll
+say one thing, though, and that is this: If the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>
+team plays the way it <i>can</i> play, if it makes full
+use of the ability that's in it, there's only one
+thing that can happen, and that's a Brimfield victory!
+I've got every reason to expect that the
+team <i>will</i> do its utmost, and that is why I say that
+I think we'll win. We must remember that we're
+going up against a strong team, a team that in
+some ways has shown itself so far this season our
+superior. I don't say that the Claflin eleven is
+any better than ours. I don't <i>think</i> so, not for a
+moment. Our team this Fall is as good as last
+year's team. We've had our little upsets; we
+always do; but we've come down to practically the
+eve of the game in good shape. Every fellow has
+done his best and, I am firmly convinced, is going
+to do a little better than his best on Saturday
+afternoon. And that little better is what will decide
+the game, fellows. After the coaches have
+done their part and the players have toiled hard
+and earnestly and enthusiastically, why then it
+all comes down to <i>fight!</i> And so it's fight that's
+going to win the game.</p>
+
+<p>"You fellows must do your part, though. You
+must be right back of the team, every minute&mdash;and
+let them know it. Cheering helps a team to
+win, no matter what anyone may say to the contrary.
+Only cheer at the right times, fellows.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>
+Just making a noise indiscriminately is poor stuff.
+But I don't need to tell you this, I guess, because
+your cheer leader knows what to do better than I
+do. But let the team know that you're right with
+them, backing them up all the time, fighting behind
+them, boosting them along! It counts, fellows,
+take my word for it!</p>
+
+<p>"And now there's one other thing I want to say
+before I make way for someone who can really
+talk. It's this, fellows. Don't forget the team
+that has helped us all season, the team that
+doesn't get into the limelight. And don't forget
+the coach, who has worked just as hard, perhaps
+a good deal harder, to develop that team than I've
+worked. I'm going to ask you to show your appreciation
+of the unselfish devotion of Coach
+Boutelle and one of the finest second teams Brimfield
+has ever had!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Robey bowed and retreated and Childers
+jumped to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>"A cheer for Coach Boutelle, fellows!" he
+shouted. "A long cheer and a whopper!" And,
+when it had been given lustily: "And now one
+for the second team!" he cried. "Everyone into
+it! One&mdash;two&mdash;three!" The enthusiasm was
+mounting high now, and, after the cheer had died
+away, there were demands for a song. "We want<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>
+to sing!" proclaimed the meeting. "<i>We want to
+sing!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Childers held up a hand. "All right, fellows!
+Just a minute, please! We've got a guest with us
+this evening, an honoured guest, fellows. Those
+of you who know football history know his name
+as well as you know the names of Heffelfinger and
+DeWitt and Coy and Brickley and&mdash;and many
+others in the Football Hall of Fame! I know you
+want to hear from him and I hope he will be willing
+to say a few words." Childers glanced at Doctor
+Proctor and the latter, smiling, shook his head
+energetically. "He says he will be glad to, fellows,"
+continued Childers mendaciously, amidst
+laughter, "and so I'm going to call first for a cheer
+for&mdash;if the gentleman will pardon me&mdash;'Gus'
+Proctor, famous Princeton and All-America
+tackle, and after that we're going to listen very
+attentively to him. Now, then, everyone into this!
+A long cheer for Doctor Proctor!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm an awfully poor speaker, fellows," began
+the doctor, when he had advanced to the front of
+the platform. "I appreciate this honour and if I
+don't do justice to the fine reputation your&mdash;your
+imaginative cheer leader has provided me with
+you must try to forgive me. Speaking isn't my
+line. If any of you would like to have a leg sawed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>
+off or something of that sort I'd be glad to do it
+free of charge just to prove that&mdash;well, that
+there's something I <i>can</i> do fairly decently!</p>
+
+<p>"I saw your team practice yesterday and I
+thought then that perhaps an operation would
+benefit it. Then I saw it again today and discovered
+that my first diagnosis was wrong. Fellows,
+I call it a good team. I think you've got material
+there that's equal to any I've ever seen on a school
+team. Your coach says he won't prophesy as to
+your game on Saturday. I've known George
+Robey for ten years. He isn't a bad sort, take him
+all around, but he's a pessimist of the most pessimistic
+sort. He's the kind of chap who, if you
+sprang that old reliable one on him about every
+cloud having a silver lining, would shrug his
+shoulders and say, 'Humph! More likely nickel-plated!'
+That's the sort he is, boys. Now I'm
+just the opposite, and, at the risk of displeasing
+George, I'm going to tell you that, from what I've
+seen of the Brimfield football team in practice,
+I'm firmly convinced that it's going to win!"</p>
+
+<p>Loud and prolonged cheering greeted that prediction,
+and it was fully a minute before the
+speaker could proceed.</p>
+
+<p>"I've played the game in my day and I've
+coached teams, boys, and I think I've got a little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span>
+of what your coach disclaimed. I mean a sort of&mdash;well,
+not second-sight, but a sort of ability to
+tell what a team will do from the looks of the
+players on it. In my profession we have to study
+human nature a lot and we get so we can classify
+folks after we've looked them over and watched
+them awhile. We make mistakes sometimes, but
+on the whole we manage fairly well to put folks
+in the classes they belong in. Doing that with
+the members of your team I find that almost without
+exception they class with the kind of fellows
+who <i>don't like to be beaten!</i> And when a fellow
+doesn't like to be beaten he isn't&mdash;not very often.</p>
+
+<p>"I think I can read in the faces I see here tonight
+a great deal of that same spirit, and if the
+team has it and you fellows behind the team have
+it, why, I wouldn't give a last year's plug-hat for
+Claflin's chances next Saturday!</p>
+
+<p>"Football," continued Doctor Proctor presently,
+"is a fine game. It's fun to play and it's a
+wonderful thing to train a fellow's body and mind.
+I've heard lots of folks object to it on various
+scores, but I've never heard an objection yet that
+carried any weight. More often than not those
+who run football down don't know the game. Why,
+if it did no more than teach us obedience and
+discipline it would be worth while. But it does<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>
+far more than that. It gives us strong, dependable
+bodies, it teaches us to think&mdash;and think
+quick, and it gives us courage, physical and moral.
+I'm going to tell you of an incident that I witnessed
+only a few weeks since if you'll let me. I
+fear I'm taking up too much time&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>There were cries of "No, no!" and "Go
+ahead!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll try to be brief. Last Fall I was travelling
+on a train out my way, to be exact some eighty
+miles west of Cincinnati, when we had an accident.
+A freight train was slow about taking a
+side track and we came along and banged into it.
+It was about five o'clock in the morning and most
+of the passengers were asleep. A wreck's a nasty
+thing in any case, but when it happens at night or
+before it is light enough to see it is worse. The
+forward cars of our train and the freight caught
+fire from the engines, and there was a good deal
+of loose steam around, and things were pretty
+messy for awhile. There happened to be another
+doctor on the train and, as soon as we got our
+bearings, we started a first-aid camp alongside the
+track. Some of the passengers, mostly in the day
+coaches up front, were badly burned and we had
+our hands full.</p>
+
+<p>"There is always more or less confusion in an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>
+affair of that sort and it was some minutes after
+the accident before the rescue work got under way.
+But one of the first rescuers I noticed was a young
+chap, a boy in fact, probably about seventeen
+years old. He didn't have a great deal on, I remember,
+but he was certainly Johnny-on-the-spot
+that morning! It was he who brought the first patient
+to me, a little dried-up Hebrew peddler I
+judged him, who had been caught under some
+wreckage in the forward day-coach. He had a
+broken forearm and while I was busy with him I
+saw this young chap climbing in and out of windows
+and wading through wreckage and always
+coming out again with someone. How many folks
+he pulled away from the flames and the scalding
+steam I don't know, but I never saw anyone work
+harder or more&mdash;more efficiently. Yes, efficiently
+is just the word I want! And I said to myself at
+the time: 'That fellow is a football man! And
+I'll bet he's a good one!' You see, it wasn't only
+that he had courage to risk himself, but he had the
+ability to see what was to be done and to do it,
+and do it quick! Why, he was pulling injured
+women and children and men from those burning,
+overturned cars before a grown-up man had
+sensed what had happened! And later on, when
+we'd done what we could for the burned and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>
+scalded bodies and limbs, I got hold of the boy for
+a moment. I asked him his name and he told it,
+and then I said: 'You've played football, haven't
+you?' And he said he had, a little. He wasn't
+much of a talker, and when some of us said some
+nice things about what he had done he got horribly
+fussed and tried to get away. But someone
+wanted to shake hands with him, and he wouldn't,
+and I saw that his own hand was burned all inside
+the palm, deep and nasty. 'How did you do
+that?' I asked him as I dressed it. Oh, he didn't
+know. He thought he'd got his hand caught between
+some beams or something; couldn't get it
+out for a minute. It wasn't much of a burn! Well,
+the wrecking train and a hospital train came along
+about then and I lost sight of that chap, and I
+didn't see him again.</p>
+
+<p>"I've told the story because I think it bears me
+out when I say that football is fine training. I
+don't say that that boy wouldn't have been just as
+brave and eager to help if he hadn't been a football
+player, but I do maintain that he wouldn't
+have known what to do as readily or how to do it
+and wouldn't have got at it as quickly. And when
+the flames are eating their way back from car to
+car quickness means a whole lot! That's the end
+of my story, boys. But while I've been telling it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>
+I've been looking for some sign to tell me that
+you recognised the hero of it. I don't find the
+sign and I'm puzzled. Perhaps you're so accustomed
+to heroes here at Brimfield that one more
+or less doesn't stir you. For the satisfaction of
+my own curiosity I'm going to ask you if you
+know who I've been talking about."</p>
+
+<p>A deep silence was the only answer. The doctor's
+audience looked extremely interested and
+curious, but no one spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"I see. You don't know. Well, perhaps I'd
+better not tell then." But a chorus of protest
+arose. The doctor hesitated, and his gaze seemed
+to rest intently on a spot at one side of the hall
+and about half-way back. Finally, when silence
+had fallen again: "I guess I will tell," he said.
+"It can't do him or you any harm. It may help
+a little to know that there's one amongst you fine
+enough to do what I've described. I've never
+seen that boy from the moment the wrecking train
+reached the scene of the wreck until tonight, and
+so I've never spoken to him again. But as I sat
+on the platform here awhile ago I looked and saw
+him. I don't forget faces very easily, and as you
+can understand, I wasn't likely to forget his. As
+I say, I haven't spoken to him yet, but I'm going
+to now."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There was a silence in which a dropped pin
+would have made a noise like a crowbar. Half the
+audience had turned their heads in the direction
+of Doctor Proctor's smiling gaze, but all eyes were
+fixed on his lips. The breathless silence lengthened.
+Then the doctor spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"How is your hand, Gilbert?" he asked.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2>
+
+<h3>COACH ROBEY IS PUZZLED</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Some</span> twenty minutes later Don dropped into a
+chair in Number 6 and heaved a deep sigh of
+relief. "Gee," he muttered, "I wouldn't go
+through that again for&mdash;for a million dollars!"</div>
+
+<p>Tim chuckled as he seated himself beyond the
+table. "Why not?" he asked innocently. "I
+thought everyone treated you very nicely."</p>
+
+<p>A smile flitted across Don's face. "I suppose
+they did, only&mdash;I guess that was the trouble! I
+felt like an awful fool, Tim! Look here, what did
+he have to go and tell everything he knew for? I
+was afraid he was going to and I wanted like anything
+to sneak out of there, but the place was so
+quiet I didn't have the nerve! At first I didn't
+suspect that he had seen me. I didn't recognise
+him until he stood up to speak this evening. Yesterday
+I thought he looked sort of familiar, but I
+couldn't place him. He&mdash;he talks too much!"</p>
+
+<p>"He said some awfully nice things about you,
+old man."</p>
+
+<p>"He said a lot of nonsense, too! Exaggerated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span>
+the whole thing, he did. Why, to listen to him
+you'd think I saved about a thousand people from
+certain death! Well, I didn't. I helped about six
+or seven folks out of those cars. They were sort
+of rattled and didn't seem to know enough to
+beat it."</p>
+
+<p>"They weren't in any danger, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not much. All they had to do was crawl
+out of the way."</p>
+
+<p>"Then they weren't any of them burned, Don?"</p>
+
+<p>"A few were."</p>
+
+<p>"How about the man with the broken arm?"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, he'd got caught somehow." Don looked
+up and saw Tim's laugh. "Well," he added defensively,
+"he needn't have told about it like that,
+right out in front of the whole school, need
+he?"</p>
+
+<p>"You bet he need! Donald, you're a bloomin',
+blushin' hero, and we're proud of you! And when
+I say blushing I mean it, for you haven't stopped
+yet!"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you'd blush," growled Don, "if it happened
+to you!"</p>
+
+<p>"I dare say, but it never will. <i>I'll</i> never have
+the whole school get up on their feet and cheer me
+like mad for three solid minutes! And I'll never
+have Josh shake my hand off and beam at me and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>
+tell me I'm a credit to the school! Such beautiful
+things are not for poor little Tim!"</p>
+
+<p>Don sighed. "Well, it's over with, anyway."</p>
+
+<p>"Over with, nothing! It won't be over with as
+long as you stay here, Donald. A hero you are and
+a hero you remain, old chap. And&mdash;and I'm
+mighty proud of you, you old humbug! Telling
+us you didn't do anything but help lug folks to the
+relief train, or something!"</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't say that," replied Don defensively.</p>
+
+<p>"You let us think it. Gee, if I'd done anything
+like that I'd have put it in the papers!" Tim
+chuckled and then went on seriously. "You don't
+need to worry about the fellows thinking you a
+quitter any more, do you? I guess Proctor settled
+that once and for all, Don. And suppose you'd
+run away home the other night. This wouldn't
+have happened and fellows would have said you
+had a yellow streak. I guess it was a mighty
+lucky thing you have little Tim to look after you,
+dearie!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm glad I didn't," said Don earnestly. "I'd
+have made a worse mess of it, shouldn't I? I&mdash;I'm
+sorry you got that punch, though, Timmy."</p>
+
+<p>"Forget it! It was worth it! Being the room-mate
+of a hero atones for everything you ever did
+to me, Donald. I'm that proud&mdash;&mdash;"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But Tim didn't finish, for Don started around
+the table for him.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>At the time this conversation was taking place
+Mr. Robey and Doctor Proctor were walking back
+to the former's room in the village through a
+frosty, starlit night.</p>
+
+<p>"You certainly managed to spring a sensation,
+Gus," observed the coach as they turned into the
+road.</p>
+
+<p>"I should say so! Well, that boy deserved all
+the cheering and praise he received. And I'm
+glad I told that story."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's got me guessing," responded the
+other. "Look here, Gus, take a chap like the one
+you described tonight. What would you think if
+he quit cold a week before the big game?"</p>
+
+<p>"Quit? How do you mean, George?"</p>
+
+<p>"Just that. Develops an imaginary illness.
+Tells you he doesn't feel well enough to play, in
+spite of the fact that he has nothing more the
+matter with him than you or I have. Probably
+not so much. Shows absolute relief when you tell
+him he's dropped. What would you say to that?"</p>
+
+<p>"You mean Gilbert did that?" Mr. Robey assented.
+"I wondered why he wasn't on the platform
+with the rest of the team," mused the doctor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>
+"I'd say there was something queer about
+it, George. When did this happen?"</p>
+
+<p>"Last week. Thursday or Friday, I think.
+He'd been laid off for a day or so and I thought
+he'd gone a bit fine, although he's rather too
+phlegmatic to suffer much from nerves. Some of
+the high-strung chaps do go to pieces about this
+time and you have to nurse them along pretty
+carefully. But Gilbert! Well, on Saturday&mdash;yes,
+that was the day&mdash;he'd been reported perfectly
+fit by the trainer and just as a matter of form I
+asked him if he was ready to play. And, by
+Jove, he had the cheek to face me and say he
+wasn't well enough! It was nonsense, of course.
+He'd simply got scared. I told him so and
+dropped him. But it's curious that a boy who
+could do what you told of this evening could prove
+a quitter like that."</p>
+
+<p>"You say he seemed relieved when you let
+him go?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, he showed it plainly."</p>
+
+<p>"That is funny! I wonder what the truth of
+it is?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nerves, I suppose. Cold feet, as the fellows
+say."</p>
+
+<p>"Never! There's something else, old man, that
+you haven't got hold of. Can he play?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Y-yes. Yes, he can play. He's the sort that
+comes slow and plays a bit logy, but he's steady
+and works hard. Not a brilliant man, you know,
+but dependable. He's been playing guard.
+Losing him has left us a bit weak on that side,
+too."</p>
+
+<p>"Why not take him back then? Look here,
+George, you're a good coach and all that, but
+you're a mighty poor judge of human nature."</p>
+
+<p>"Piffle!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's so, though. You've only got to study that
+chap Gilbert to see that he isn't the quitting kind.
+His looks show it, his manner shows it, the way
+he talks shows it. He's the sort that might want
+to quit; we all do sometimes; but he couldn't because
+he's got stuff in him that wouldn't let him!"</p>
+
+<p>"That's all well enough, Gus, but facts are
+facts. Gilbert <i>did</i> quit, and quit cold on me. So
+theories don't count for much. And this human
+nature flapdoodle&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't say he didn't quit. But I do say that
+you've made the wrong diagnosis, George. Did
+you talk to him? Ask him what the trouble was?
+Go after the symptoms?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I'm no physician. He said he wasn't feeling
+well enough to play. I told him we had no
+place for quitters on the team. He had nothing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>
+to say to that. If you think I can feel the pulse
+and look at the tongue of every fellow&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Proctor laughed. "And take his temperature
+too, eh? No, I don't expect you to do
+that, George. But I'll tell you what I would do,
+and I'd do it tomorrow too. I'd call around and
+see Gilbert. I'd tell him that I wasn't satisfied
+with the explanation he'd made and I'd ask him
+to make a clean breast of the trouble, for he must
+be in some trouble or he wouldn't thank you for
+firing him. And then I'd stop cutting off my nose
+to spite my face and I'd reinstate him tomorrow
+afternoon!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hmph! The trouble with you doctors is that
+you're too romantic. You imagine things,
+you&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"We have to imagine, George. If we stuck to
+facts we'd never get anywhere in our profession!
+You try a little imagination, old chap.
+You're too matter-of-fact. What you can't see
+you won't believe in."</p>
+
+<p>"I certainly won't! As the kids say, seeing's
+believing."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there's a very unattractive board fence
+across the road, George. On the other side of it
+there are shrubs and grass. I can't see them, but
+I know they're there."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"More likely tin-cans and ashes," grunted Mr.
+Robey.</p>
+
+<p>"Pessimist!" laughed the other. "But never
+mind; ashes or grass, something's there, and you
+can't see it and yet you've got to acknowledge the
+existence of it. Now haven't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose so, but"&mdash;Mr. Robey laughed&mdash;"I'd
+rather see it!"</p>
+
+<p>"Climb the fence and have a look then! But
+you'll try my plan with the boy, won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I will. If only to satisfy my curiosity,
+Gus. Hang it, the chap <i>can't</i> be a quitter!"</p>
+
+<p>"He isn't. I'll stake my reputation as&mdash;as a
+romanticist on that! I'd like mighty well to stay
+and solve the mystery with you, but I'll have to
+jump for that early train. I wish, though, that
+you'd drop me a line and tell me the outcome.
+I'm interested&mdash;and puzzled."</p>
+
+<p>"All right. I'm not much of a letter-writer,
+though. I'll see you before you go back and tell
+you about it. You'll be in New York on Sunday,
+won't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Until two o'clock. Have lunch with me and
+see me off. Come to the hotel as early as you can
+and we'll hold post-mortems on the games. Let's
+hope that Princeton and Brimfield both win next
+Saturday, George!"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2>
+
+<h3>CROSS-EXAMINATION</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Don</span> found being a hero an embarrassing business
+the next day. The masters bothered him by stopping
+and shaking hands and saying nice things,
+and the fellows beamed on him if they weren't
+well enough acquainted to speak and insisted on
+having a full and detailed history of that train-wreck
+if they were! Of course they all, masters
+and students, meant well and wanted to show
+their admiration, but Don wished they wouldn't.
+It made him feel horribly self-conscious, and
+feeling self-conscious was distinctly uncomfortable.
+At breakfast table his companions referred
+to last evening's incident laughingly and poked
+fun at Don and enjoyed his embarrassment, but
+it wasn't difficult to tell that Doctor Proctor's
+narrative had made a strong impression on them
+and increased their liking for Don. When, just
+before Don had finished his meal, Mr. Robey left
+the training-table and crossed the room toward
+him he braced himself for another scene in which
+he would have to stand up and be shaken by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>
+hand, and possibly, and worst of all, listen to some
+sort of an apology from the coach. But Don was
+spared, for Mr. Robey only placed a hand on the
+back of his chair, included the rest of the occupants
+of the table in his "Good-morning," and said
+carelessly: "Gilbert, I wish you'd drop over to
+Mr. Conklin's office some time this morning and
+see me. What time can you come?"</div>
+
+<p>"Half-past ten, sir?"</p>
+
+<p>"That will be all right, thanks."</p>
+
+<p>The coach returned to his table, leaving Don
+wondering what was up. Possibly, he thought,
+the coach wanted to make some sort of retraction
+of his accusation of Saturday, although Don
+didn't believe that Mr. Robey was the sort to funk
+a public apology. If it wasn't that it could only
+be that he was to be offered his place on the team
+again. Don sighed. That would be beastly, for
+he would have to tell more fibs, and brand new
+ones, too, since not even a blind man would believe
+him ill now! It was something of a coincidence
+that Don should run across Walton in the corridor
+a few minutes later. Don was for passing by
+with no recognition of the other, but Walton, with
+a smirk, placed himself fairly in the way.</p>
+
+<p>"Great stuff, Gilbert," he said with an attempted
+heartiness. "Some hero, eh, what?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Drop it, Walton!" Don lowered his voice,
+for others were passing toward the doorway.
+"And I'll thank you not to speak to me. You
+know my opinion of you. Now shut up!"</p>
+
+<p>Walton found nothing to say until it was too
+late. Don approached the gymnasium after his
+ten o'clock recitation with lagging feet. He had
+scant taste for the impending interview and would
+have gladly avoided it if such a thing had been
+possible. But he didn't see any way out of it and
+he heard the big door bang to behind him with
+a sinking heart. Why, he hadn't even thought up
+any new excuse!</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Robey and Mr. Conklin, the athletic
+director, were both in the latter's room when Don
+knocked at the half-opened door. Mr. Conklin
+said "Good-morning" and then followed it with:
+"I've got something to attend to on the floor,
+Robey, if you'll excuse me," and went out, closing
+the door behind him. Don wished he had stayed.
+He took the chair vacated by the director and
+faced Coach Robey with as much ease as he could
+assume, which was very little. The coach began
+without much preamble.</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't ask you over here to talk about last
+night, Gilbert, or to offer you any apology for
+what I said on the field last Saturday. I don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>
+believe much in spoken apologies. If I'm wrong
+I show it and there's no mistake about it. I think
+I was wrong in your case, Gilbert. And I'll say
+so, if you like, very gladly, and act so if you'll
+prove it."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't want any apology, sir," answered
+Don. "I guess you were right enough."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that's what I want to find out. What
+<i>was</i> the trouble, Gilbert?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, just what I said, Coach. I&mdash;I didn't
+feel very fit and I didn't think it would be any
+use playing, feeling like I did. If you don't feel
+well you can't play very well, and so I thought I'd
+say so. I didn't mind being dropped, sir. I deserved
+it. And&mdash;and that's quite all right." Don
+got up, his eyes shifting to the door.</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a minute! Let's get the truth of this.
+You're lying, aren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>Don tried to look indignant and failed, tried to
+look hurt and failed again. Then he gave it up
+and dropped his gaze before the searching eyes
+of the other. "I'm feeling some better now," he
+muttered.</p>
+
+<p>Coach Robey laughed shortly. "Gilbert, you
+can't lie worth a cent! Now, look here. I'm
+your friend. Why not come across and tell me
+what's up? I know you weren't sick. Danny<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>
+gave you a clean bill of health that morning. And
+I know you haven't got any nerves to speak of.
+There's something else, Gilbert. Now what is it?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nothing, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Then why did you act that way?"</p>
+
+<p>"I&mdash;I just didn't want to play."</p>
+
+<p>"Didn't want to play! Why not?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wasn't doing very well, and it was pretty
+hard work, and there was Walton after the place,
+too. He could play better than I could."</p>
+
+<p>"Who told you so? Walton?" asked the coach
+drily.</p>
+
+<p>"I could see it," murmured Don.</p>
+
+<p>"So you were suddenly afraid of hard work,
+eh? It had never bothered you before, had it?
+Last year or this year either?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I guess not."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps it was more because you felt that
+Walton would be a better man for the place,
+then?" surmised the coach.</p>
+
+<p>Don agreed eagerly. It was a case of any port
+in a storm by now and he was glad enough to have
+the coach find an explanation. "Yes, sir, I guess
+that was it."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, that was generous of you," said the
+other approvingly. "But didn't it occur to you
+that perhaps I would be a better one to decide<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>
+that matter than you? You've never known me
+to keep a fellow on the team for sentimental reasons,
+have you?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Hm. Now when was it&mdash;I mean how long before
+last Saturday was it&mdash;that you and Walton
+talked it over?"</p>
+
+<p>"Sir?" Don looked up startledly. "I&mdash;we&mdash;there
+wasn't any talk about it," he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what did Walton say?"</p>
+
+<p>Don hesitated, studying Mr. Robey's face in
+the hope of discovering how much that gentleman
+knew. Finally: "When do you mean?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>"I mean the time you and Walton talked about
+which was the best man for the position," replied
+the other easily. To himself he reflected that he
+was following Gus Proctor's advice with a vengeance!
+But he was by this time pretty certain
+of his ground.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't remember that we ever&mdash;exactly did
+that," Don faltered. "There was some talk,
+maybe, but he&mdash;he never said anything like that."</p>
+
+<p>"Like what?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why, that he was a better guard."</p>
+
+<p>"Then what put the idea in your head, Gilbert?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I suppose I just saw it myself."</p>
+
+<p>"But you were playing the position pretty regularly
+before Thursday or whatever day it was
+you were taken ill, weren't you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
+
+<p>"Then how could you tell that Walton was better?"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know. He&mdash;he seemed better. And
+then Tim told me I was too slow."</p>
+
+<p>"Tim Otis? Otis had better mind his own
+business," grumbled the coach. "So that was it,
+then. All right. I'm glad to get the <i>truth</i> of the
+matter." The little tightening of Don's mouth
+didn't escape him. "Now, then, I'm going to surprise
+you, Gilbert. I'm going to surprise you
+mightily. I'm going to tell you that Walton is <i>not</i>
+a better left guard than you. He isn't nearly so
+good. That does surprise you, doesn't it?"</p>
+
+<p>Don nodded, his eyes fixed uneasily on the
+coach's.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, there it is, anyway. And so I think the
+best thing for all of us, Gilbert, is for you to come
+back to work this afternoon."</p>
+
+<p>Don's look of dismay quite startled the other.</p>
+
+<p>"But I'd rather not, sir! I&mdash;I'm out of practice
+now. I've quit training. I've been eating all
+sorts of things; potatoes and fresh bread and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>
+pastry&mdash;no end of pastry, sir!&mdash;and&mdash;and
+candy&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Robey grunted. "You don't show it," he
+said. "Anyway, I guess that won't matter. I'll
+chance it. Three o'clock, then, Gilbert."</p>
+
+<p>Don's gaze sought the floor and he shook his
+head. "I'd rather not, sir, if you don't mind,"
+he muttered.</p>
+
+<p>"But I do mind. The team needs you, Gilbert!
+And now that I know that you didn't quit because
+you were <i>afraid</i>&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"I did, though!" Don looked up desperately.
+"That was the truth of it!"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Robey sighed deeply. "Gilbert," he said
+patiently, "if I couldn't lie better than you can I
+wouldn't try it! You weren't afraid and you
+aren't afraid and you know it and I know it! So,
+then, is it Walton?"</p>
+
+<p>After a moment Don nodded silently.</p>
+
+<p>"You think he's a better man than you
+are, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Don nodded again, but hesitatingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Or you've taken pity on him and want him to
+play against Claflin, perhaps."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, sir. You see, his folks are going to be
+here and they'll expect him to play!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, I see. You and Walton come from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span>
+same town? But of course you don't. How did
+you know his folks were coming, then?"</p>
+
+<p>"He told me."</p>
+
+<p>"When?"</p>
+
+<p>"About&mdash;some time last week."</p>
+
+<p>"Was it the day you had that talk about the
+position and which of you was to have it?"</p>
+
+<p>"I guess so. Yes, sir, it was that time."</p>
+
+<p>"And he, perhaps, suggested that it would be
+a nice idea for you to back out and let him
+in, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>Don was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Did he?" insisted the coach.</p>
+
+<p>"He said that his folks were coming&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"And that he'd like to get into the game so they
+wouldn't be disappointed?"</p>
+
+<p>"Something like that," murmured Don.</p>
+
+<p>"And you consented?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not exactly, but I thought it over and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Robey suddenly leaned forward and laid
+a hand on Don's knee.</p>
+
+<p>"Gilbert," he asked quietly, "<i>what has Walton
+got on you?</i>"</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2>
+
+<h3>"ALL READY, BRIMFIELD?"</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Those</span> who braved a chill east wind and went out
+that afternoon to watch practice enjoyed a sensation,
+for when the first team came trotting over
+from the gymnasium, a half-hour later because of
+a rigorous signal quiz, amongst them, dressed to
+play, was Don Gilbert! A buzz of surprise and
+conjecture travelled through the ranks of the shivering
+onlookers, that speedily gave place to satisfaction,
+and as Don, tossing aside his blanket,
+followed the first-string players into the field a
+small and enthusiastic First Form youth clapped
+approvingly, others took it up and in a moment
+the applause crackled along the side line.</div>
+
+<p>"That's for you," whispered Tim to Don.
+"Lift off your head-guard!"</p>
+
+<p>But Don glanced alarmedly toward the fringe
+of spectators and hid as best he could behind
+Thursby! Practice went with a new vim today.
+Doubtless the return of Don heartened the team,
+for one thing, and then there was a snap of winter
+in the air that urged to action. The second<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>
+was as nearly torn to tatters this afternoon as it
+had ever been, and the first scored twice in each
+of the two fifteen-minute periods. "Boutelle's
+Babies" were a lame and tired aggregation when
+the final whistle blew!</p>
+
+<p>Later it became known that Walton was out
+of it, had emptied his locker and retired from
+football affairs for the year. All sorts of stories
+circulated. One had it that he had quarrelled
+with Coach Robey and been incontinently "fired."
+Another that he had become huffy over Gilbert's
+reinstatement and had resigned. None save Don
+and Coach Robey and Walton himself knew the
+truth of the matter for a long time. Don did tell
+Tim eventually, but that was two years later, when
+his vow of secrecy had lapsed. Just now he was
+about as communicative as a sphinx, and Tim's
+eager curiosity had to go unsatisfied.</p>
+
+<p>"But what did he <i>say?</i>" Tim demanded after
+practice that afternoon. "He must have said
+<i>something!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>Don considered leisurely. "No, nothing special.
+He said I was to report for work."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what did <i>you</i> say?"</p>
+
+<p>"I said I would!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what about Walton? Where does he
+get off?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't know."</p>
+
+<p>Tim gestured despairingly. "Gee, you're certainly
+a chatty party! Don't tell me any more,
+please! You may say something you'll be sorry
+for!"</p>
+
+<p>"I'll tell you some day all about it, Tim. I
+can't now. I said I wouldn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Then there is something to tell, eh? I knew
+it! You can't fool your Uncle Dudley like that,
+Donald! Tell me just one thing and I'll shut up.
+Did you and Walton have a row the time you
+went to see him in his room?"</p>
+
+<p>Don shook his head. "No, we didn't."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then, why&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"You said you'd shut up," reminded the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, all right," grumbled Tim. "Anyway, I'm
+mighty glad. Every fellow on the team is as
+pleased as Punch. I guess the whole school is,
+too. It was mighty decent of Robey, wasn't it?
+Do you know, Don, Robey's got a lot of sense
+for a football coach?"</p>
+
+<p>Don often wondered what had occurred and
+been said at the interview between Mr. Robey and
+Harry Walton. The coach had sworn Don to
+silence at the termination of their interview. "If
+Walton asks you whether you told me about the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>
+business you can say you did, if you like. Or tell
+him I wormed it out of you, which is just about
+what I did do. But don't say anything to anyone
+else about it; at all events, not as long as Walton's
+here. I'm going to find him now and have
+a talk with him. I don't think you need be at all
+afraid of anything he may do after I get through
+with him. You fellows clearly did wrong in outstaying
+leave that night, but you had a fairly good
+excuse and if you'd had enough sense to go to
+faculty the next morning and explain you'd have
+all got off with only a lecture, I guess. Your mistake
+was in not confessing. However, I don't
+consider it my place to say anything. It's an old
+story now, anyhow. Be at the gym at three with
+your togs, Gilbert, and do your best for us from
+now on. I'm glad to have you back again. What
+I said that afternoon you'd better forget. I'll
+show the school that I've changed my mind about
+you. I suppose I ought to make some sort of an
+apology, but&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>"Please don't say anything more about it, sir,"
+begged Don.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I'll say this, Gilbert: You acted like a
+white man in taking your medicine and keeping
+the others out of trouble. You certainly deserve
+credit for that."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"I don't see it," replied the boy. "I don't see
+what else I <i>could</i> have done, Mr. Robey!"</p>
+
+<p>The coach pondered a moment. Then he
+laughed. "I guess you're right, at that! Just
+the same, you did what was square, Gilbert. All
+right, then. Three o'clock." He held out his
+hand and Don put his in it, and the two gripped
+firmly.</p>
+
+<p>Hurrying back to Main Hall, Don regretted only
+one thing, which was that he had in a way broken
+his agreement with Walton to say nothing about
+their bargain. Coach Robey, though, had pointed
+out that the agreement had been terminable by
+either party to it, and that in confessing to him
+Don had been within his rights. "Walton can
+now go ahead and take the matter to faculty, as
+he threatened to do," said the coach. "Only,
+when I get through talking to him I don't think
+he will care to!"</p>
+
+<p>And apparently he hadn't, for no dire summons
+reached Don from the office that day or the next,
+nor did he ever hear more of the matter. Walton
+displayed a retiring disposition that was new and
+novel. On such infrequent occasions as Don ran
+across him Walton failed to see him. The day of
+the game the latter was in evidence with his
+father, mother and younger brother; Don saw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>
+him making the rounds of the buildings with them
+and he wondered in what manner Walton had
+accounted to his folks for his absence from the
+football team. Walton stayed on at school, very
+little in evidence, until Christmas vacation, but
+when the fellows reassembled after the recess he
+was not amongst them. Rumour had it that he
+had been taken ill and would not be back.
+Rumour was proved partly right, at all events,
+for Brimfield knew him no more.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>The first and second teams held final practice
+on Thursday. The first only ran through signals
+for awhile, did some punting and catching and
+then disappeared, leaving the second to play two
+fifteen-minute periods with a team composed of
+their own second-string and the first team's third-string
+players. After that was over, the second
+winning without much effort, the audience, which
+had cheered and sung for the better part of an
+hour, marched back to the gymnasium and did it
+some more, and the second team, cheering most
+enthusiastically for themselves and the first and
+the school and, last but by no means least, for
+Mr. Boutelle, joyously disbanded for the season.</p>
+
+<p>There was another mass-meeting that evening,
+an intensely fervid one, followed by a parade<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span>
+about the campus and a good deal of noise that
+was finally quelled by Mr. Fernald when, in response
+to demands, he appeared on the porch of
+the Cottage and made a five-minute speech which
+ended with the excellent advice to return to hall
+and go to bed.</p>
+
+<p>The players didn't attend the meeting that
+night, nor were they on hand at the one that took
+place the night following. Instead, they trotted
+and slithered around the gymnasium floor in rubber-soled
+shoes and went through their entire
+repertoire of plays under the sharp eyes of
+Coaches Robey and Boutelle. There was a blackboard
+lecture, too, on each evening, and when, at
+nine-thirty on Friday, they were dismissed, with
+practice all over for the year, most of them were
+very glad to slide into bed as quickly as possible.
+If any of them had "the jumps" that night it was
+after they were asleep, for the coach had tired
+them out sufficiently to make them forget that
+such things as nerves were a part of their
+system!</p>
+
+<p>But the next morning was a different matter.
+Those who had never gone through a Claflin contest
+were inclined to be finicky of appetite and to
+go off into trances with a piece of toast or a fork-full
+of potato poised between plate and mouth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>
+Even the more experienced fellows showed some
+indication of strain. Thursby, for instance, who
+had been three years on the first team as substitute
+or first-choice centre, who had already taken
+some part in two Claflin games, and who was
+apparently far too big and calm to be affected by
+nerves, showed a disposition to talk more than
+was natural.</p>
+
+<p>Don never really remembered at all clearly how
+that Saturday morning passed. Afterward he
+had vague recollections of sitting in Clint
+Thayer's room and hearing Amy Byrd rattle off
+a great deal of nonsensical advice to him and
+Clint and Tim as to how to conduct themselves
+before the sacrifice (Amy had insisted that they
+should line up and face the grand-stand before
+the game commenced, salute and recite the immortal
+line of Claudius's gladiators: "<i>Morituri
+te salutant!</i>"); of seeing Manager Jim Morton
+dashing about hither and thither, scowling blackly
+under the weight of his duties; of wandering
+across to the woods beyond the baseball field with
+Tim Otis and Larry Jones and some others and
+sitting on the stone wall there and watching Larry
+take acorns out of Tim's ears and nose; and,
+finally, of going through a perfectly farcical early
+dinner in a dining hall empty save for the members<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>
+of the training-table. After that events stood
+out more clearly in his memory.</p>
+
+<p>Claflin's hosts began to appear at about half-past
+one. They wore blue neckties and arm-bands
+or carried blue pennants which they had the good
+taste to keep furled while they wandered around
+the campus and poked inquisitive heads into the
+buildings. Then the Claflin team, twenty-six
+strong, rolled up in two barges just before two,
+having taken their dinner at the village inn, disembarked
+in front of Wendell and meandered
+around to the gymnasium laden with suit-cases
+and things looking insultingly care-free and
+happy, and, as it couldn't be denied, particularly
+husky!</p>
+
+<p>Don, observing from the steps of Torrence, wondered
+how they managed to appear so easy and
+careless. No one, as he confided to Tom Hall and
+Tim, would ever suspect that they were about to
+do battle for the Brimfield-Claflin championship!</p>
+
+<p>"Huh," said Tom, "that's nothing. That's the
+way we all do when we go away to play. It's this
+sticking at home and having nothing to do but
+<i>think</i> that takes the starch out of you. When you
+go off you feel as if you were on a lark. Things
+take your mind off your troubles. But, just the
+same, a lot of those grinning dubs are doing a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>
+heap of worrying about now. They aren't nearly
+as happy as they look!"</p>
+
+<p>"They're a lot happier than they're going to be
+about three hours from now," said Tim darkly.
+That struck the right note, and Tom and Don
+laughed, and Tim laughed with them, and they
+all three put their shoulders back and perked up
+a lot!</p>
+
+<p>And then it was two o'clock and they were pulling
+on their togs in the locker-room; and Danny
+Moore was circulating about in very high spirits,
+cracking jokes and making them laugh, and Coach
+Robey was dispatching Jim Morton and Jim's
+assistant on mysterious errands and referring
+every little while to his red-covered memorandum
+book and looking very untroubled and serene.
+And then there was a clamping of feet on the
+stairs above and past the windows some two dozen
+pairs of blue-stockinged legs moved briskly as
+the visitors went across to the field for practice.
+And suddenly the noise was stilled and Coach
+Robey was telling them that it was up to them
+now, and that they hadn't a thing in the world to
+do for the next two hours but knock the tar out of
+those blue-clad fellows, and that they had a fine
+day for it! And then, laughing hard and cheering
+a little, they piled out and across the warm,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>
+sunlit grass, past the line of fellow-students and
+home-folks and towners, with here and there a
+pretty girl to glance shyly and admiringly at them
+as they trotted by, and so to the bench. Nerves
+were gone now. They were only eager and impatient.
+"Squads out!" sang Mr. Robey. Off
+came sweaters and faded blankets and they were
+out on the gridiron, with Carmine and McPhee
+cheerily piping the signals, with their canvas legs
+rasping together as they trotted about, and with
+the Brimfield cheer sounding in their ears, making
+them feel a little chokey, perhaps, but wonderfully
+strong and determined and proud!</p>
+
+<p>And presently they were back in front of the
+bench, laughing at and pummelling one another,
+and the rival captains and the referee were watching
+a silver coin turn over and over in the sunlight
+out there by the tee in midfield. Behind
+them the stand was packed and colourful. Beyond,
+Brimfield was cheering lustily again.
+Across the faded green, at the end of the newly-brushed
+white lines, nearly a hundred Claflin
+youths were waving their banners and cheering
+back confidently.</p>
+
+<p>"Claflin kicks off," sang Captain Edwards.
+"We take the west goal. Come on, fellows!
+Everyone on the jump now!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>A long-legged Claflin guard piled the dirt up
+into a six-inch cone, laid the ball tenderly upon it,
+viewed the result, altered it, backed off and
+waited.</p>
+
+<p>"All ready, Claflin? All ready, Brimfield?"</p>
+
+<p>The whistle blew.</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
+
+<h3>TIM GOES OVER</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Coach Robey</span> put his best foot forward when the
+first period started by presenting the strongest
+line-up he had. Fortunately, Brimfield had
+reached the Claflin game with every first-string
+man in top shape, something that doesn't often
+happen with a team. There was Captain Edwards
+at left end, Thayer at left tackle, Gilbert at left
+guard, Thursby at centre, Hall at right guard,
+Crewe at right tackle, Holt at right end, Carmine
+at quarter, St. Clair at left half, Otis at right
+half and Rollins at full.</div>
+
+<p>Opposed to them was a team fully their equal
+in age, weight and experience. The Claflin forwards
+were a bit taller and rangier, and their centre,
+unlike Thursby, was below rather than above
+average size. Behind their line, the four players
+were, with the exception of Grady, full-back, small
+and light. But they were known to be fast and
+heady and Claflin didn't make the mistake of underestimating
+their ability. The left half, Cox,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>
+was a broken-field runner of renown as well as
+Claflin's best goal-kicker. Perhaps it would have
+been difficult that fall to have picked two teams
+to oppose each other that were more evenly
+matched than those representing the Maroon-and-Grey
+and the Blue.</p>
+
+<p>For the first few minutes of play each eleven
+seemed to be feeling out its opponent. Two exchanges
+of punts gained ground for neither side.
+Brimfield got her backfield working then on her
+twenty yards and St. Clair and Tim tried each
+side of the blue line and in two downs gained a
+scant six yards. Rollins punted out at Claflin's
+forty-seven. The Blue got past Hall for two
+and slid off Holt for three more. The next rush
+failed and Claflin punted to Carmine on the fifteen.
+The Blue's ends were down on Carmine and he
+was stopped for a five-yard gain. Rollins tried a
+forward pass to Edwards, but threw short and
+the ball grounded. Tim Otis ran the left end for
+four and, on a delayed pass, Rollins heaved himself
+through centre for the distance, and Brimfield
+cheered loudly when the linesmen pulled up stakes
+and trailed the chain ten yards nearer the centre
+of the field.</p>
+
+<p>A second forward pass was caught by Holt, but
+he was brought down for a scant three-yard gain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>
+Once more Rollins attempted the centre of the
+blue line, but this time he was stopped short. On
+third down Rollins punted and Claflin caught on
+her forty and ran the ball back to the middle of
+the field. Claflin then found Crewe for four yards
+and completed her distance on a straight plunge
+between Gilbert and Thayer. It was the Blue's
+turn to cheer then and she performed valiantly.
+Claflin tried Edwards's end, but made nothing of
+it, poked Cox past Crewe for a couple of yards,
+made three around Holt and then punted. St.
+Clair misjudged the distance and the ball went
+over his head and there was a scamper to the goal
+line. Carmine finally fell on the ball for a touchback
+and the excitement in the stands subsided.
+Brimfield smashed Otis at the Blue's centre and
+reached the twenty-five-yard line. St. Clair made
+three on a skin-tackle play at the right and Rollins
+got the distance on a plunge after a fake-kick.
+Brimfield again made first down on the forty-two
+yards and her supporters howled gleefully. A
+moment later they had new cause for rejoicing
+when Rollins pegged the ball across the field to
+Edwards and the Maroon-and-Grey's captain
+scampered and dodged along the side of the field
+for thirteen yards before he was tackled. Time
+was called for a Claflin back and Brimfield drew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span>
+off for a consultation, the result of which was seen
+in the next play.</p>
+
+<p>Carmine called Gilbert to the right side of centre,
+the backs spread themselves in wide formation
+ten yards behind the line and Steve Edwards,
+as the first signal began, ran back, straightened
+out as the ball was snapped, raced along behind
+his forwards and swept around his right end.
+Claflin's right end and half-back plunged outside
+of Thayer, were met by St. Clair and Rollins, and
+Carmine, having taken the ball on a long pass from
+Thursby, raced past them and then swung quickly
+in and found an almost clear field ahead.</p>
+
+<p>Two white lines passed under his twinkling
+feet and then, near the twenty, he was challenged
+by a Claflin back. Carmine eluded him, crossed
+a third line, found himself confronted by the
+Blue's quarter, attempted to slip by on the outside,
+was tackled and borne struggling across the
+side line and deposited forcibly on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>When the ball was stepped in by the referee it
+was set down some four inches inside the fifteen-yard
+line. In the stands and along the side of the
+field Brimfield was cheering triumphantly, imploringly,
+and waving her banners. The linesmen
+scampered in obedience to the referee's waving
+arm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"First down!" shouted the official. "All right,
+Brimfield? Ready, Claflin?" The whistle piped
+again.</p>
+
+<p>Rollins was stopped squarely on a try at right
+guard and Otis made a scant three past the left
+tackle. Under the shadow of her goal-posts, Claflin
+was digging her cleats in the turf and fighting
+hard. Rollins went back. "Get through, Claflin!
+Block this kick!" cried the Blue's quarter-back.
+"<i>Get through! Get through!</i>" Back went the
+ball from Thursby, a trifle high but straight
+enough, Rollins poised it, swung his leg, and then,
+tucking the pigskin under his arm, sprang away
+to the left. Shouts of alarm, cries of warning,
+the hurried rush of feet and rasping of canvas!
+Bodies crashed together and went down. Rollins,
+at the ten yards now, side-stepped and got past
+a blue-legged defender, turned in and went banging
+straight into the m&ecirc;l&eacute;e. Arms clutched at him.
+He was stopped momentarily. Then he wrested
+free, plunged on for another yard and went to
+earth.</p>
+
+<p>"Second down!" cried the referee when he had
+bored through the pile of squirming bodies and
+found the ball. He glanced along the five-yard
+line, set the pigskin to earth again, and "About
+two feet to go!" he added. Brimfield was shouting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span>
+incessantly now, standing and waving.
+"<i>Touchdown! Touchdown! Touchdown!</i>" Across
+the field Claflin sent back a dogged chant: "<i>Hold
+'em, Claflin! Hold 'em, Claflin! Hold 'em, Claflin!</i>"</p>
+
+<p>But surely Claflin couldn't do that! It seemed
+too much to ask or expect. Otis made it first down
+off left tackle, placing the ball on the three yards.
+Before the next play could be started the period
+ended and the teams flocked to the water pails and
+then tramped down to the other end of the field.
+The cheering never paused, even if the playing
+did. Childers, red-faced and perspiring, kept the
+Brimfield section busy every instant. "Once
+more, now! A long cheer with nine 'Brimfields'!
+That's good! Keep it up! We're going to score,
+fellows! Let's have it again! All into it!"</p>
+
+<p>Only three yards to go and four downs to do
+it! Claflin lined up desperately, her forwards digging
+their toes barely inside their last line, her
+backfield men skirmishing anxiously about behind
+it. "Push 'em back, Claflin! You can do it!
+Don't give 'em an inch! Stop 'em right here, fellows!
+Low, low, get <i>low</i>, you fellows! Charge
+into 'em and smother this play!" The Claflin
+quarter, pale of face, thumped crouching backs
+and watched the foe intently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Put it over now!" shrilled Carmine. "Here
+we go! Get down there, Hall! Signals!"</p>
+
+<p>Rollins leaped forward, took the ball from Carmine
+and smashed straight ahead. There was a
+moment of doubt. His plunging body stopped,
+went on, stopped, was borne back.</p>
+
+<p>"Second down! Two and a half to go!"</p>
+
+<p>Again the signals, the line shifted, Claflin
+changed to meet the shift. St. Clair slewed across
+and slammed past the Claflin left tackle. But the
+secondary defence had him in the next instant
+and he was thrust, fighting, back and still back.
+But he had gained. "A yard and a half!" proclaimed
+the referee.</p>
+
+<p>"You've got to do it, Brimfield!" shouted Edwards
+intensely. "Don't let them get the jump
+on you like that! Get into it, Crewe! Watch that
+man, Gilbert! Come on now! Put it over!"</p>
+
+<p>"Signals!" shrieked Carmine. "Make it go
+this time! Over with it!"</p>
+
+<p>Back went Rollins, hands outstretched. "Fake!"
+shouted Claflin. "Watch the ball! Watch the
+ball!"</p>
+
+<p>Rollins's arms fell, empty, as St. Clair grabbed
+the pigskin and swept wide to the right. "<i>In!
+In!</i>" cried Carmine. St. Clair turned and shot
+toward the broken line. His interference did its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span>
+part, but the Claflin left end had fooled Holt and
+it was that blue-legged youth who got St. Clair
+and thumped him to the sod. An anxious, breathless
+moment followed. Brimfield called for time
+and St. Clair, on his back, kicked and squirmed
+while they pumped the air back into his lungs.
+The referee, kneeling over the ball, squinted along
+the line. Then:</p>
+
+<p>"Fourth down and about two to go!" he announced.</p>
+
+<p>St. Clair had lost a half-yard! Claflin cheered
+weakly. Steve Edwards and Carmine consulted.</p>
+
+<p>"We'd better kick it over," said Carmine.
+"They're getting the jump on us every time,
+Steve." Carmine's voice was husky and he had
+to gasp his words out. Steve, panting like an
+engine, shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"We need the touchdown," he said. "We'll
+put it over. Try 11. Tim can make it."</p>
+
+<p>St. Clair walked back to his place. The whistle
+sounded again. "Come on, Brimfield!" gasped
+Carmine. "This is your last chance! If you
+don't do it this time you'll never do it! Play like
+you meant it! Stop your fooling and show 'em
+football! Every man into this and <i>make it go!</i>
+Hall over! Signals!" Hall pushed his way to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>
+the left of the line. Claflin shuffled to meet the
+change. "Signals! 83&mdash;38&mdash;11&mdash;106!"</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Signals!</i>" cried St. Clair. Carmine turned on
+him, snarling. "Use your bean! Change signals!
+Hall over! 61&mdash;16&mdash;11&mdash;37! 61&mdash;16&mdash;11&mdash;&mdash;"</p>
+
+<p>Back shot the ball to the quarter. Off sped St.
+Clair around his end, followed by Rollins. Carmine
+crouched, back to the line, while he counted
+five. Then Tim Otis shot forward, took the delayed
+pass, jammed the ball against his stomach
+and went in past Thursby on the right.</p>
+
+<p>Tim struck the line as if shot out of a gun.
+There was no hole there, but Tim made one. If
+the secondary defence, overanxious, had not been
+fooled by that fake attack at their end Tim would
+never have gained a foot. But as it was Claflin
+was caught napping in the centre of her line. Tim
+banged against a brawny guard, Carmine, following
+him through, added impetus, the Claflin line
+buckled inward! Shouts and grunts, stifled groans
+of despair from the yielding blue line! Then
+Brimfield closed in behind Tim and he was borne
+off his feet and on and over to fall at last in a
+chaos of struggling bodies well across the goal
+line!</p>
+
+<p>The ball went over to the right of the goal and
+Carmine decided on a punt-out. Unfortunately,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>
+Thayer juggled the catch and so Brimfield lost her
+try-at-goal. But six points looked pretty big just
+then and continued to look big all the rest of the
+half and during the succeeding intermission.
+Brimfield's supporters were confident and happy.
+They sang and cheered and laughed, and the sun,
+sinking behind the wooded ridge, cast long golden
+beams on the flaunting maroon banners.</p>
+
+<p>And then the teams came trotting back once
+more and cheers thundered forth from opposing
+stands. Howard had taken St. Clair's place, it
+was seen, and Claflin had replaced her right guard.
+But otherwise the teams were unchanged. Brimfield
+kicked off and Claflin brought her supporters
+to their feet by running the ball back all the way
+to the forty-five-yard line. That was Cox, the
+fleet-footed and elusive, and the Blue's left half
+got a mighty cheer from his friends and generous
+applause from the enemy. After that Claflin tried
+a forward pass and gained another down, and
+then, from near the middle of the field, marched
+down to Brimfield's thirty-three before she was
+stopped. The Maroon-and-Grey got the ball on
+downs by an inch or two only.</p>
+
+<p>Brimfield tried the Claflin ends out pretty thoroughly
+and with Otis and Howard carrying, took
+back most of Claflin's gain. But a forward pass<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span>
+finally went to a Claflin end instead of Holt and
+the tables were suddenly turned. It was the
+Blue's ball on Brimfield's forty-six then, and
+Claflin opened her bag of tricks. Just how Cox
+got through the centre of the Brimfield line no one
+ever explained satisfactorily, but get through he
+did, and after he was through he romped past Otis
+and Rollins and raced straight for the goal. Carmine
+and Howard closed in on him and it was
+Carmine who brought him down at last on the
+twelve yards.</p>
+
+<p>How Claflin shouted and triumphed then! The
+Blue came surging down the field to line up
+against the astounded enemy, determination written
+large on every countenance. A plunge at Gilbert
+gained a yard and was followed by a three-yard
+gain off Holt. Then Claflin fumbled and recovered
+for a two-yard loss and, with eight to go
+on fourth down, decided that a goal from field
+was the best try. And, although Brimfield tried
+hard to get through to the nimble-footed Cox, and
+did smear the Blue's line pretty fairly, the ball
+went well and true across the bar, and the 0 on
+the score-board was changed to a 3!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2>
+
+<h3>LEFT GUARD GILBERT</h3>
+
+
+<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">That</span> finished the scoring in the third period. All
+that Claflin could do was to bring back Brimfield's
+punts and try desperately to find holes in the
+maroon-and-grey line that weren't there. Both
+teams were showing the effects of hard playing,
+and when the third quarter ended substitutes were
+hurried in from both benches. For Brimfield,
+McPhee relieved Carmine, Lee went in for Holt
+and Sturges for Crewe. Claflin put in a new right
+end, a fresh full-back and returned her original
+right guard to the line-up.</div>
+
+<p>McPhee brought instructions from Coach
+Robey. Brimfield was to hold what she had and
+play the kicking game. If she got within the
+Blue's thirty-yard line she was to let Rollins try
+a drop-kick.</p>
+
+<p>Rollins punted regularly on second down and
+just as regularly Claflin rushed until the fourth
+and then punted back. After five minutes of play,
+during which the ball went back and forth from
+one thirty-yard line to the other, it dawned on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>
+Claflin that she was making no progress. A new
+full-back trotted in and displayed his ability by
+sending the ball over McPhee's head on his first
+attempt. Fortunately, though, the punt, while
+long, was much too low, and McPhee had plenty of
+time to go after the pigskin, gather it in and run
+back a dozen yards before the Claflin ends reached
+him. But after that McPhee played further back
+and Rollins put still more power into his drives.</p>
+
+<p>With almost ten minutes of the final period
+gone, Claflin, grown desperate, tried what forward
+passing would do. The first time, she lost the
+ball to Thayer, and Clint got ten yards before he
+was thrown, but the second attempt went better
+and Cox, who made the catch, ran across three
+white lines and only stopped when Edwards
+dragged him down from behind. Claflin got another
+first down by two plunges at the right of the
+opponent's line and a wide end-run. Then a penalty
+set her back fifteen yards and she had to
+punt after two ineffectual attempts at rushing.
+Otis got through for five yards and then Rollins
+punted again.</p>
+
+<p>The head linesman announced five minutes to
+play. On the stands the spectators were beginning
+to depart. Claflin was back on her thirty-five
+yards, banging desperately at the maroon-and-grey<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>
+line, desperately and a bit hopelessly.
+A forward pass was knocked down by Captain
+Edwards, an assault at the left of the Brimfield
+line was smeared badly, Cox tried the other end
+and was laid low for a loss. Claflin punted.</p>
+
+<p>Howard, on a double pass, swept around the
+enemy's left for fifteen yards and then squirmed
+past tackle for six more. Rollins kicked to Claflin's
+ten and Edwards nailed the Blue's quarter
+before he could move. Brimfield cheered encouragingly.
+But Claflin, after getting four around
+Sturges, punted out of danger to Brimfield's
+forty-seven.</p>
+
+<p>"Three minutes!" announced the timekeeper.</p>
+
+<p>Otis got two at centre and Rollins again fell
+back to kick. The ball came to him low and he
+juggled it. Claflin poured through the right of
+the line, the ball bounded back from some upthrown
+arm and went dancing along the field.
+Blue players and maroon dashed after it. Hall
+almost had it, but was toppled aside by a Claflin
+man. Carmine dived for it and missed. Then
+Tim Otis and a Claflin forward dropped upon it
+simultaneously and struggled for its possession.
+Tim always maintained that he got more of it
+than his opponent, and got it first, but the referee
+awarded it to Claflin and dismayedly Brimfield<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>
+gathered together and lined up only twenty yards
+from her goal!</p>
+
+
+<p>"Two minutes, fellows!" shouted the Claflin
+quarter-back exultantly. "We've got time to do
+it! Come on now, come on! We can win it right
+now! All together, Claflin! We've got them on
+the run! They're all-in! They're ready to quit!"</p>
+
+<p>The Claflin full-back faked a kick and circled
+around Lee's end for a six-yard gain. Then the
+Blue's right half plugged the line and got three
+more past Hall. It was one to go on third down.
+Another attack on Hall was pushed back, but Claflin
+made it first down by sending Cox squirming
+around Thayer. The ball was on the eleven yards
+now. It was Brimfield's turn to know the fear of
+defeat. Edwards implored and bullied. Claflin
+banged at Gilbert for a yard. A quarter-back run
+caught Steve Edwards napping and put the pigskin
+on the seven yards. Brimfield's adherents,
+massed along the side line, shouted defiantly.
+Across the darkening, trampled field, the Claflin
+cohorts were imploring a touchdown.</p>
+
+<p>"Third down! Six to go!" shouted the referee,
+hurrying out of the way.</p>
+
+<p>"On side, Claflin right end and tackle!" warned
+the umpire.</p>
+
+<p>The signals came again and the Claflin full-back<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>
+smashed into the left of the opposing team. But
+it was like striking a stone wall that time. Perhaps
+the ball nestled a few inches nearer the goal,
+but no more than that. It was Don who bore the
+brunt of that attack and after the piled-up bodies
+had been pulled aside he and the Claflin full-back
+remained on the ground. On came the trainers
+with splashing buckets. Don came to with the
+first swash of the big, smelly sponge on his face.
+Danny Moore was grinning down at him.</p>
+
+<p>"Are ye hurt?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>Don considered that a moment. Then he shook
+his head. "I'm&mdash;all right,&mdash;Danny," he murmured.
+"Just&mdash;help me&mdash;up."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't be in a hurry. Take all the time the law
+allows ye." Danny's fingers travelled inquiringly
+over the boy's body. "Where do you feel it?" he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>Don kept his eyes stoically on the trainer's. If
+he flinched a little when Danny's strong fingers
+pressed his right shoulder it was so little that the
+trainer failed to see it. Nearby, the Claflin full-back
+was already on his feet. Tim came over and
+knelt by the trainer's side.</p>
+
+<p>"Anything wrong, Don?" he asked in a tired,
+anxious voice.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a thing," replied Don cheerfully. "Give<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>
+me a hand, will you? I'm sort of wabbly, I
+guess."</p>
+
+<p>On the side line Pryme, head-guard in hand,
+was trotting up and down. Coach Robey was looking
+across intently. Don shook himself, stretched
+his arms&mdash;no one ever knew what that cost him!&mdash;and
+trotted around a few steps. Then, out of the
+corner of his eyes, he saw the coach say something
+to Pryme, saw the disappointed look on the
+substitute's face and was half sorry for him. The
+whistle blew again and Don was crouching once
+more beside Thursby&mdash;why, no, it wasn't Thursby
+any longer! It was Peters, stout, complacent
+Peters, wearing a strangely fierce and ugly look
+on his round countenance!</p>
+
+<p>"Now hold 'em, Brimfield!" chanted McPhee.
+"Hold 'em hard! Don't let them have an inch!"</p>
+
+<p>Far easier said than done, though! A quick
+throw across the end of the line, a wild scramble
+and jumble of arms, a faint "<i>Down!</i>" and, at the
+right end of the Brimfield line, a mound of bodies
+with the ball somewhere down beneath and to all
+appearances across the goal line! Anxious moments
+then! One by one the fallen warriors were
+pulled to their feet while into the pile dove the
+referee. The timekeeper hovered nearby, watch
+in hand. Then the referee's voice:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></p>
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 291px;">
+<img src="images/gs04.jpg" width="291" height="400" alt="The runner smashed into sight, wild-faced for an instant before he put his head down and charged in" title="The runner smashed into sight, wild-faced for an instant before he put his head down and charged in" />
+<span class="caption">The runner smashed into sight, wild-faced for an instant before he put his head down and charged in</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>"Claflin's ball! First down! A foot to go!"</p>
+
+<p>"Line-up! Line-up!" shrieked the Claflin quarter.
+"We've got time yet! Put it over!"</p>
+
+<p>"Fight, Brimfield!" shouted Steve Edwards.
+"There's only forty seconds! Hold them off!
+Don't let them get it! Tom! Peters! Don! Get
+into it now!"</p>
+
+<p>"Signals! Signals!"</p>
+
+<p>Then a moment of silence save for the gasping
+breath of the players. The Claflin quarter shouted
+his signals, the ball sped back, the lines heaved.
+Straight at the left guard position plunged the
+back. "<i>Stop him!</i>" growled Peters. The secondary
+defence leaped to the rescue. Back went
+the man with the ball. "<i>Down!</i>" he cried in
+smothered tones. The referee pushed in and
+heeled the mark.</p>
+
+<p>"Second down! A foot and a half to go!"</p>
+
+<p>Don knew now that if he had fooled Danny
+Moore he had not fooled the Claflin quarter-back.
+That quarter knew or guessed that he had been
+hurt and was playing for him. Don gritted his
+teeth and ground his cleats into the sod. Well,
+they'd see!</p>
+
+<p>The signals again, broken into by Steve Edwards's
+shrill voice in wild appeal. Steve was wellnigh
+beside himself now. Peters was growling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>
+like a bear in a cage. Then again the plunge, hard
+and quick, the whole Claflin backfield behind it!
+Don felt an intolerable pain as he pushed and
+struggled. Despair seized him for an instant, for
+he was being borne back. Then someone hurtled
+into him from behind, driving the breath from his
+lungs, and he was staggering forward.</p>
+
+<p>Peters was yanking him to his feet, a wild-eyed
+Peters mouthing strange exultant words. "They
+can't do it! No, never! Not if they were to try
+all night! We put 'em back again, Gilbert! We'll
+do it again! Come on, you blue-legged babies!
+Try it again! You'll never do it!"</p>
+
+<p>Don, dazed, swaying giddily, groped back to his
+place. Thayer was muttering, too, now. Don
+wondered if they were all crazy. He was quite
+certain that he was, for otherwise things wouldn't
+revolve around him in such funny long sweeps.
+Then his mind was suddenly clear again. The
+Claflin quarter was hurling his signals out hurriedly,
+despairingly, fighting against time. Don
+didn't listen to those signals for he knew where
+the attack would come. And he was right, for
+once more the blue right guard and tackle sprang
+at him to bear him back. And then the runner
+smashed into sight, wild-faced for an instant before
+he put his head down and charged in. But<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span>
+Don didn't yield. Peters, roaring loudly, was
+fighting across him, and, front and rear, reinforcements
+hurled themselves into the m&ecirc;l&eacute;e. Don
+closed his eyes, every muscle in his body straining
+forward. A roar of voices came to him only dimly.
+Ages passed.</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>He wondered if Danny Moore had nothing better
+to do than eternally swab his face with that
+beastly old sponge! Why didn't he pick on some
+other fellow? Don felt quite aggrieved and tried
+to say so, but couldn't seem to make any sound.
+Then he realised that he had forgotten to open his
+lips. When he did he got a lot of cold water in his
+mouth and that made him quite peevish. He tried
+to raise his right hand, changed his mind about it
+and raised his left instead. With that he pushed
+weakly at the offending sponge.</p>
+
+<p>"Take it away," he muttered. "I'm&mdash;drowned."</p>
+
+<p>"Can you walk or will we carry you?" asked
+Danny in businesslike tones.</p>
+
+<p>"Walk," said Don indignantly. "Let me up."
+Recollection returned. "Did they make it?" he
+gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"They did not. Lie still a bit."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but&mdash;&mdash;" Don's voice grew faint and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>
+closed his eyes again. The sponge gave a final pat
+and disappeared. "What&mdash;what down was that?"
+asked Don anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"Third."</p>
+
+<p>"Then&mdash;then they've got another! Help me
+up, Danny, will you? We've got to stop them, you
+know. I don't believe they&mdash;can do it, do you?
+We put them back twice, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Sure you did," said the trainer soothingly.
+"Here you are, Tim. Take his feet. And you
+get your arm under his middle, Martin. So!
+Careful of the shoulder, boys. He's got a fine
+broken blade in there!"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait!" Don kicked Tim's hands away from
+his ankles as, raised to a sitting posture
+by Danny and Martin, his puzzled glance swept
+the field. "Where's&mdash;where's everyone?" he
+gasped.</p>
+
+<p>"If you mean the team," laughed Tim, "they're
+beating it for the gym."</p>
+
+<p>"Oh!" said Don. "But&mdash;but what happened?
+They didn't"&mdash;his voice sank&mdash;"they didn't do
+it, did they, Tim?"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course they didn't, old man! We pushed
+them back three times and we'd have done it again
+if the whistle hadn't saved them!"</p>
+
+<p>"Then we won!" exclaimed Don.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>"Surest thing you know, dearie! If you don't
+believe it listen to that band of wild Indians over
+in front of the gym! Now are you ready to be
+lugged along?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, thanks," sighed Don.</p>
+
+
+<h3>THE END</h3>
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3>
+
+<p>The illustrations in this html version have been relocated to match the
+page numbers given on the List of Illustrations. Their original locations were
+between pages: 86 and 87; 222 and 223; and 302 and 303, respectively.</p>
+<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p>
+
+
+<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Left Guard Gilbert, by Ralph Henry Barbour
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Left Guard Gilbert, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Left Guard Gilbert
+
+Author: Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+Illustrator: E. C. Caswell
+
+Release Date: July 29, 2008 [EBook #26149]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEFT GUARD GILBERT ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LEFT GUARD GILBERT
+
+
+
+
+_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_
+
+          LEFT END EDWARDS
+          LEFT TACKLE THAYER
+
+[Illustration: "Well, come on! How did it happen?" (Page 14)]
+
+
+
+
+Left Guard Gilbert
+
+BY
+
+RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
+
+AUTHOR OF
+
+          LEFT END EDWARDS,
+          FULL-BACK FOSTER, Etc.
+
+ILLUSTRATED BY
+
+E. C. CASWELL
+
+          GROSSET & DUNLAP
+          PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
+
+          COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY
+          DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC.
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+  CHAPTER                                         PAGE
+
+      I THE BOY FROM KANSAS                         1
+
+     II IN NUMBER SIX                              11
+
+    III AMY HOLDS FORTH                            21
+
+     IV THE FIRST GAME                             35
+
+      V DON GOES TO THE SECOND                     46
+
+     VI THE SEARCH OF ADVENTURE                    58
+
+    VII FIGHTING FIRE                              71
+
+   VIII COACHING THE TACKLES                       85
+
+     IX THE WIDTH OF A FINGER                     103
+
+      X TIM EXULTS AND EXPLAINS                   118
+
+     XI MR. BRADY FORGETS                         128
+
+    XII THE JOKE ON MR. MOLLER                    139
+
+   XIII SOUTHBY YIELDS                            155
+
+    XIV WALTON WRITES A NOTE                      166
+
+     XV A PROPOSITION                             177
+
+    XVI DON VISITS THE DOCTOR                     186
+
+   XVII DROPPED FROM THE TEAM                     195
+
+  XVIII "GOOD-BYE, TIMMY!"                        206
+
+    XIX FRIENDS FALL OUT                          216
+
+     XX AMY APPEARS FOR THE DEFENCE               231
+
+    XXI THE DOCTOR TELLS A STORY                  247
+
+   XXII COACH ROBEY IS PUZZLED                    260
+
+  XXIII CROSS-EXAMINATION                         268
+
+   XXIV "ALL READY, BRIMFIELD?"                   277
+
+    XXV TIM GOES OVER                             289
+
+   XXVI LEFT GUARD GILBERT                        300
+
+
+
+
+ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+  "WELL, COME ON! HOW DID IT HAPPEN?" (PAGE 14)           _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                                 FACING
+                                                                   PAGE
+
+  FINALLY, DON WAS UNCEREMONIOUSLY YANKED UP AND THROUGH            90
+
+  "WILL YOU UNLOCK THAT DOOR?" DEMANDED DON ANGRILY                224
+
+  THE RUNNER SMASHED INTO SIGHT, WILD-FACED FOR AN INSTANT BEFORE
+     HE PUT HIS HEAD DOWN AND CHARGED IN                           306
+
+
+
+
+LEFT GUARD GILBERT
+
+
+
+
+LEFT GUARD GILBERT
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE BOY FROM KANSAS
+
+
+"HOLD up!"
+
+Coach Robey, coatless, vestless, hatless, his old flannel trousers held
+up as by a miracle with the aid of a leather strap scarcely deserving
+the name of belt, pushed his way through the first squad players. The
+Brimfield Head Coach was a wiry, medium-sized man of about thirty, with
+a deeply-tanned face from which sharp blue eyes looked out under whitish
+lashes that were a shade lighter than his eyebrows and two shades
+lighter than his sandy hair. As the afternoon was excessively hot, even
+for the twenty-first day of September and in proximity to Long Island
+Sound, Mr. George Robey's countenance was bathed in perspiration and the
+faded blue silk shirt was plastered to his body.
+
+"That was left half through guard-tackle, wasn't it? Then don't put the
+ball in your arm, St. Clair. You ought to know better than that. On
+plays through the line hold it against your stomach with both hands. How
+long do you think you'd keep that ball in your elbow after you hit the
+line? Someone would knock it out in about one second! Now try it again
+and think what you're doing. All right, Carmine. Same play."
+
+The panting and perspiring backs crouched once more, Carmine shrilly
+called his signals, Thayer and Gafferty plunged against an imaginary foe
+as Thursby shot the ball back and St. Clair, hugging the pigskin
+ecstatically with wide-spread fingers, trotted through the hole,
+stopped, set the ball on the grass and wiped his streaming face with the
+torn sleeve of a maroon jersey.
+
+"All right," said the coach. "That will do for today. In on the trot,
+everyone!"
+
+The first squad, exhaling a long, deep sigh of relief as one man, set
+their faces toward the gymnasium and trotted slowly off, their
+canvas-clad legs _swish-swashing_ as they met. Coach Robey walked
+further down the sun-baked field to where the nearer of the remaining
+four squads was at work.
+
+"Oh, put some pep into it, McPhee!" called the coach as he approached.
+"You all look as if you were asleep! Come on now! Wake up! Jones, get up
+there. You're away out of position. That's better. Now then, Quarter!
+Hold up! What's your down?"
+
+"Third, sir, and four to go."
+
+"All right. Show me what you're going to do with it. Head up, Martin!
+Look where you're going."
+
+"36--27--43--86!" grunted the quarter-back. "36----"
+
+"Signal!" cried Gordon, at right half.
+
+McPhee straightened, cast a withering look at the half-back, wiped the
+perspiration from the end of his sun-burnt nose and repeated:
+
+"36--27--43----"
+
+Gordon shifted his feet, and--
+
+"Hold up!" barked the coach. "Gordon, don't give the play away. Shifting
+your feet like that makes it a cinch for the other fellow. Get your
+position now and hold it until the ball's passed. All right. Once more,
+Quarter."
+
+"36--27--43--86!" wailed McPhee. "36--27----"
+
+The pigskin shot into his waiting hands, Gordon leaped forward, took it
+at a hand-pass and ran out behind his line, left half in advance, turned
+sharply in and set the ball down.
+
+"First down!" called McPhee. "Sturges over."
+
+"Hold up! Try a forward pass, McPhee. You're on the ten yards and it's
+third down. Get into this, you ends. Put some pep into it!"
+
+"Signal! Martin back! 37--32--14--71--Hep!" The backs jumped to the left
+one stride. "37--32----"
+
+Back flew the ball to the full-back, right end shot out and down the
+field across the mythical last line, the defence surged against the
+imaginary enemy and Martin, poising the ball at arm's length, threw over
+the line to Lee.
+
+"All right," commented the coach. "That'll be all for today. Trot all
+the way in, fellows."
+
+Five minutes later the field was empty of the sixty-odd boys who had
+reported for the second day's practice and the sun was going down behind
+the tree-clad hill to the west. In the gymnasium was the sound of
+rushing water, of many voices and of scraping benches. Mr. Robey wormed
+his way through the crowded locker-room to where Danny Moore, the
+trainer, stood in the doorway of the rubbing-room in talk with Jim
+Morton, this year's manager of the team. Morton was nineteen, tall, thin
+and benevolent looking behind a pair of rubber-rimmed spectacles.
+
+"Did you put them on the scales, Dan?" asked the coach.
+
+"Sure, the first, second and third, sir. Some of 'em dropped a good
+three pounds today. By gorry, I feel like I'd dropped that much meself!"
+
+"It certainly is warm. Look here, Jim, is this all we get to work on?
+How many were out today?"
+
+"Sixty-two, Coach. That's not bad. I suppose there'll be a few more
+dribble along tomorrow and the next day."
+
+"Well, they look pretty fair, don't you think? Some of the new fellows
+seem to have ideas of football. All the last year fellows on hand?"
+
+"All but Gilbert. He hasn't shown up. I don't know why, I'm sure."
+
+"Better look him up," said the coach. "Gilbert ought to make a pretty
+good showing this year, and we aren't any too strong on guards."
+
+"Gilbert rooms with Tim Otis, I think," replied Morton. "Oh, Tim! Tim
+Otis!"
+
+A light-haired boy of seventeen, very straight, and very pink where an
+enormous bath-towel failed to cover him, wormed his way to them.
+
+"Say, Tim, what's the matter with Gilbert?" asked Morton. "Isn't he
+coming out?"
+
+Tim Otis shrugged a pair of broad, lean shoulders. "He hasn't got here
+yet, Morton. I don't know what's happened. He wrote me two weeks ago
+that he'd meet me at the station in New York yesterday for the
+three-fifty-eight, but he wasn't there and I haven't heard a word from
+him."
+
+"Probably missed his connection," suggested Morton. "He lives out West
+somewhere, doesn't he?"
+
+"Yes, Osawatomie, Kansas."
+
+"It probably takes a good while to get away from a place with a name
+like that," said Mr. Robey drily. "Well, when he shows up, Otis, tell
+him to get a move on if he wants a place."
+
+"Yes, sir, I will. I'm pretty certain he will be along today some time.
+I wouldn't be surprised if he was here now."
+
+"All right. By the way, Otis, how do you feel at right half? Seem
+strange to you?"
+
+"No, sir, I don't notice it. I did play right, you know, two years ago
+on the second. Seems to me it's easier to take the ball from that
+position, too."
+
+"Well, don't try the fool trick your side-partner did today," said Mr.
+Robey, smiling. "Putting the ball under your elbow for a line plunge is
+a fine piece of business for a fellow who's been playing three years!"
+
+Tim laughed. "I guess he did that because it was just practice, sir. He
+knows a lot better than to do it in scrimmage."
+
+"I hope so. Well, hurry Gilbert along, will you? If he doesn't get out
+here inside of a few days he won't find much of a welcome, I'm afraid.
+I'm not going to keep positions open for anyone this year, not with the
+first game coming along in four days!"
+
+"Don't you worry, Mr. Robey," replied Tim, with a chuckle and a flash of
+white teeth. "I'll have him out here the first day he shows up, even if
+I have to lug him all the way. Don't think I'll have to, though, for you
+couldn't keep Don from playing football unless you tied him up!"
+
+"Nice chap," commented Morton, nodding at Tim as the latter returned to
+his bench. "Awfully clean-cut sort."
+
+"A fine lad," agreed Danny Moore, and Mr. Robey nodded thoughtfully.
+
+"I don't believe we're going to miss Kendall and Freer as much as I
+thought," he said after a moment. "Otis looks to me like a fellow who
+will stand a lot of work and grow on it. Well, I'm going to get a shower
+and get out of this sweat-box. As soon as you get time, Jim, I wish
+you'd catalogue the players the way we did last year and let me have
+the list. You know how Black did it, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I'll have the list ready for you tomorrow."
+
+"Good! Got a towel I can use, Dan? I haven't brought any yet. Thanks."
+The coach nodded and sought a place to disrobe. The trainer's gaze
+followed him until he was lost to sight beyond the throng.
+
+"I wonder will he put it over again this year," he mused.
+
+"Surest thing you know," asserted Morton. "Think I'm going to have the
+team licked the year I'm manager, Danny? Not so you'd notice it!"
+
+"Well, between you and him," chuckled Danny, "I've no doubt you'll turn
+out a fine team. Say, he's the lad that can do it, though, now ain't he?
+Four years he's been at it, and it's fifty-fifty now, ain't it?"
+
+"Yes, we lost the first two years and won last year and the year before.
+It was Andy Miller's team that started the ball rolling for us. No one
+could have won those first two years, anyhow, Danny. Robey had to start
+at the bottom and build up the whole thing. We hadn't been playing
+football here for several years before that. It takes a couple of years
+at the least to get a foundation laid. If we win this year we'll have
+something to boast of. No other team ever beat Claflin three times
+running."
+
+"Maybe we won't either. I'm hoping we do, though. Still and all, it
+don't do to win too many times. You get to thinking you can't lose, d'ye
+see, and the first thing anyone knows you're all shot to pieces. I've
+seen it happen, me boy."
+
+"Oh, I dare say, Danny, but don't let's start the losing streak until
+next year. I want to manage a winning team. Well, so long. See about
+some cooler weather tomorrow, will you?"
+
+"I will so," replied the little trainer gravely. "I'll start
+arrangements to once."
+
+Meanwhile Tim Otis, again arrayed in grey flannels and a pair of tan,
+rubber-soled shoes rather the worse for a hard summer, was on his way
+along the Row to the last of the five buildings set end to end on the
+brow of the hill. As he swung in between Wendell and Torrence--the
+gymnasium stood behind Wendell, and, save for the Cottage, as the
+principal's residence was called, was the only building out of
+alignment--he saw the entrances to dormitories and Main Hall thronged
+with youths who evidently preferred the coolness of outdoors to the heat
+of the rooms, while others were seated on the grass along the walk. It
+almost seemed that the entire roster of some one hundred and eighty
+students was before him. He answered many hails, but declined all
+inducements to tarry, keeping on his way past Main Hall and Hensey until
+Billings was reached. There he turned in and tramped to the right along
+the first floor corridor to the open door of Number 6, a room on the
+back of the building that looked out upon the tennis courts and, beyond,
+the football and baseball fields. From the fact that no sound came from
+the room, Tim decided that Don Gilbert had, after all, and in spite of
+what Tim called a "hunch," failed to arrive. But when he entered his
+mistake was instantly apparent. A maroon-coloured cushion hurtled toward
+him, narrowly missing the green shade of the droplight on the study
+table and, thanks to prompt and instinctive action on the part of Tim,
+sailed on, serene and unimpeded, into the corridor. Whereupon Tim
+uttered a savage whoop of mingled joy and vengeance and, traversing the
+length of the room in four leaps, hurled himself upon the occupant of
+the window-seat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+IN NUMBER SIX
+
+
+FOR a long minute confusion and the noise of battle reigned supreme.
+Then, in response to a sudden yelp of pain from Don, Tim drew off,
+panting and grinning. Don was extending a left hand, funereally wrapped
+in a black silk handkerchief, further along the window-seat and away
+from the scene of action.
+
+"Hello!" said Tim. "What's the matter with that?"
+
+"Hurt it a little," replied Don.
+
+"Well, I supposed you had, you idiot! How? Hit it against your head?"
+
+The other smiled in his slow fashion. "We had a sort of a wreck coming
+on. Out in Indiana somewhere. I got this. That's why I'm behind time."
+
+"I'm beastly sorry, old man! I didn't notice the crepe. Did I hurt it
+much!"
+
+"No. I yelled so you wouldn't. Preparedness, you know. Safety first and
+so on. It isn't much. How's everything here?"
+
+Tim seated himself at the other end of the seat, took his knees in his
+hands, and beamed.
+
+"Oh, fine! Say, I'm tickled to death to see your ugly mug again, Don.
+You aren't a bit handsomer, are you?"
+
+"I've been told I was. Trouble with you is, you don't recognise manly
+beauty when you see it."
+
+"Oh, don't I?" Tim twirled an imaginary moustache. "I recognise it every
+time I look in the glass! Well, how are you aside from the bum fist?"
+
+"Great! I've just had a seance with Josh. I tried to register and sneak
+by, but Brooke wouldn't have it that way. 'Er, quite so, Gilbert, quite
+so, but I--er--think you had better see Mr. Fernald.' So I did, and Josh
+read me the riot act. Thought for awhile he was going to send me home
+again."
+
+"But didn't you tell him your train was wrecked?"
+
+"Yes, but he didn't believe in it much. Thought I was romancing, I
+guess. Got a railway guide and showed me how I might have got here on
+time just the same. Maybe he's right, but I couldn't figure it out in
+Cincinnati. Besides, I didn't get away with much of anything besides
+pajamas and overcoat and shoes, and so I had to refit. That lost me the
+first connection and then I got held up again at Pittsburg. So here I
+am, the late Mr. Gilbert."
+
+"Josh is an idiot," said Tim disgustedly. "Didn't he see your hand? How
+did he think you did that if you weren't in a wreck?"
+
+"Oh, I kept that in my pocket and I guess he didn't notice it. He came
+around all right in the end, though. We parted friends. At least, I
+did."
+
+"Well, what about that?" Tim nodded at the injured hand. "How'd you cut
+you, burn you?"
+
+"Yes. Things got on fire."
+
+"You're the most vivid descriptionist I ever listened to! Come across
+with the sickening details. How did it happen? I didn't see anything
+about it in the papers."
+
+"Probably wasn't on the sporting page," replied Don gravely.
+
+"Oh, dry up and blow away! Wasn't it in the papers?"
+
+"Cincinnati papers had it. I haven't read the others. It wasn't much of
+a wreck really. Engineer killed, fireman scalded, about twenty
+passengers injured more or less. Several considerably more. Express
+messenger expected to pass out. Just a nice, cosy little wreck with
+no--no spectacular features, as you might say."
+
+"Well, come on! How did it happen?"
+
+"Freight train taking a siding and went to sleep at it. Our engine
+bumped the other engine and they both went smash. Hot coals and steam
+and so on got busy. It was about five in the morning. Just getting
+lightish. Everyone snuggled up in bed. _Biff! Wow!_ I landed out on the
+floor on my hands and knees. Everyone yelled. Car turned half over and
+sat that way. Doors got jammed. We beat it out by the windows. I was a
+Roman Senator with a green berth curtain wrapped about me. Afterwards I
+sneaked back and pulled out my shoes and overcoat. Always sleep with my
+shoes under my pillow, you see. Good idea, too. If I hadn't had them
+there I'd never have got them. Couldn't get my bag out. Car was on fire
+by that time. Three others, too. They saved all but the one I was in and
+the express and baggage cars. After awhile a wrecking train came and
+then a lot of us walked to a village about a mile and a half away and
+had breakfast and went on to Cincinnati about noon."
+
+"Gee! But, still, you know, I don't see how you got burned."
+
+"Well, things were pretty hot. Some of them got burned a lot worse than
+I did. Had to pull some of them out the windows and through the roofs.
+Women, too. Lucky thing our car had only two in it. Two women, I mean.
+Things were fairly busy for awhile."
+
+"Must have been. The engineer was killed straight off, eh?"
+
+"Ours was. The other one managed to jump. Firemen got off all right,
+too. The other fireman. Ours got caught and scalded like the dickens.
+Saw the engineer myself." Don frowned and shuddered. "Nasty mess he was,
+too, poor fellow. Let's talk about something else. I don't like to
+remember that engineer."
+
+"Too bad! But, say, you were lucky, weren't you? You might have been
+killed, I suppose."
+
+"Might have, maybe. Didn't come very near it, though. First wreck I ever
+saw and don't want to see any more. Funny thing, though, I didn't mind
+it at all until I was on the train going to Cincinnati. Excitement, I
+suppose. Then I came near keeling over, honest! What do you know about
+that, Timmy?"
+
+"I guess anyone would have. How bad is your burn?"
+
+"Not bad. Hurts a bit, though. It's the inside of the fingers and the
+palm. It'll be all right in a few days, I guess. Doctor chap said I'd
+have to have it dressed every day for awhile."
+
+"But, Great Scott, Don, what about football?"
+
+"I've thought of that. Nothing doing for a week or so, I guess. Rotten
+luck, eh?"
+
+"Beastly! And Robey was telling me only half an hour ago to hurry you
+up. Said you'd have to come right out if you wanted a place. Still, when
+he understands what the trouble is----"
+
+"I'll see him tonight, I guess. Who's playing guard, Tim?"
+
+"Joe Gafferty, left; Tom Hall, right. Walton and Pryme and Lawton are
+all after places. Walton's been doing good work too, I think."
+
+"All the fellows back?"
+
+"Every last one. Remember Howard, who played sub half-back for the
+second last year? He's showing great form. Still, you can't tell much
+yet. There's to be scrimmage tomorrow. We play Thacher Saturday, you
+know. Sort of quick work and I don't believe we'll be anywhere near
+ready for them."
+
+"Thacher's easy. We beat them 26 to 3 last year."
+
+"Twenty-three to three."
+
+"Twenty-six."
+
+"Twenty-three. Bet you!"
+
+"I don't bet, Timmy. Know I'm right, though. Anyway, Thacher's easy.
+Tell me the news."
+
+"Oh, there isn't anything startling. We had the usual polite party at
+Josh's last night. Shook hands with the new chaps and told 'em how
+tickled we were to see them. Ate sandwiches and cake and lemonade
+and--by the way, we've got a new master; physics; Moller his name is;
+Caleb Moller, B.A. Quite a handsome brute and a swell dresser. Comes
+from Lehigh or one of those Southern colleges, I believe."
+
+"Lehigh's in Pennsylvania, you ignoramus."
+
+"Is it?" answered Tim untroubledly. "All right. Let it stay there.
+Anyhow, Caleb is some cheese."
+
+"Where's Rollinson gone?"
+
+"Don't know what happened to Rollo. Draper said he heard he'd gone to
+some whopping big prep school up in New Hampshire or somewhere."
+
+"Or some other Southern school," suggested Don soberly.
+
+"Dry up! And, say, get a move on. It's nearly time for eats and I'm
+starved."
+
+"Timmy, I never saw the time you weren't starved. All right. I'm sort of
+hungry myself. Haven't had anything since about ten o'clock this
+morning. Ran out of money. Got here with eight cents in my pocket. That
+and my tuition check. I'd have cashed that if I could have and had a
+dinner. I was sure hungry!"
+
+"Well, wash your dirty face and hands," said Tim, "and come along. Oh,
+say, Don, wait till you see the classy Norfolk suit I've got. I enticed
+dad into Crook's when we struck the city; told him I had to have some
+hankies and ties, you know. Then I steered him up against this here
+suit, and this here suit made a hit with him right away. If he could
+have got into it himself he'd have walked out in it. It's sort of green
+with a reddish thread wandering carelessly through it. It's some
+apparel, take it from me."
+
+"Maybe I will if it fits me," responded Don.
+
+"Will what?"
+
+"Take it from you."
+
+"Gee, but you're bright! Getting wrecked's put an edge on you, sonny.
+I'm afraid that suit wouldn't fit you, though, Don. You've grown about
+an inch since Spring, haven't you? You're beastly fat, too."
+
+"I am not," denied Don, good-humouredly indignant. "I've kept in strict
+training all summer. What you think is fat is good hard muscle, Timmy.
+Feel of that arm if you don't believe it."
+
+"Yes, quite village-blacksmithy."
+
+"Quite _what_?"
+
+"Village-blacksmithy. 'The muscles of his mighty arms were strong as
+iron bands,' or something like that. Get out of the way and let me wash
+up."
+
+Don retired to his dresser and passed the brushes over his brown hair
+and snugged his tie up a bit. The face that looked back at him from the
+mirror was not, perhaps, handsome, although it by no means merited Tim's
+aspersions. There was a nice pair of dark brown eyes, rather slumberous
+looking, a nose a trifle too short for perfection and a mouth a shade
+too wide. But it was a good-tempered, pleasant face, on the whole,
+intelligent and capable and matching well the physically capable body
+below, a body of wide shoulders and well-knit muscles and a deep chest
+that might have belonged to a youth of eighteen instead of seventeen.
+Compared with Tim Otis, who was of the same age, Don Gilbert suffered on
+only two counts--quickness and vivacity. Tim, well-muscled, possessed a
+litheness that Don could never attain to, and moved, thought and spoke
+far more quickly. In height Don topped his friend by almost a full inch
+and was broader and bigger-boned. They were both, in spite of
+dissimilarity, fine, manly fellows.
+
+Tim, wiping his hands after ablutions, turned to survey Don with a
+quizzical smile on his good-looking face. And, after a moment's
+reflective regard of his chum's broad back, he broke the silence.
+
+"Say, Don," he asked, "glad to get back?"
+
+Don turned, while a slow smile crept over his countenance.
+
+"_Su-u-re_," he drawled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+AMY HOLDS FORTH
+
+
+BRIMFIELD ACADEMY is at Brimfield, and Brimfield is a scant thirty miles
+out of New York City and some two or three miles from the Sound. It is
+more than possible that these facts are already known to you; if you
+live in the vicinity of New York they certainly are. But at the risk of
+being tiresome I must explain a little about the school for the benefit
+of those readers who are unacquainted with it. Brimfield was this Fall
+entering on its twenty-fifth year, a fact destined to be appropriately
+celebrated later on. The enrollment was one hundred and eighty students
+and the faculty consisted of twenty members inclusive of the principal,
+Mr. Joshua L. Fernald, A.M., more familiarly known as "Josh." The course
+covers six years, and boys may enter the First Form at the age of
+twelve. Being an endowed institution and well supplied with money under
+the terms of the will of its founder, Brimfield boasts of its fine
+buildings. There are four dormitories, Wendell, Torrence, Hensey and
+Billings, all modern, and, between Torrence and Hensey, the original
+Academy Building now known as Main Hall and containing the class rooms,
+school offices, assembly room and library. The dining hall is in
+Wendell, the last building on the right. Behind Wendell is the
+gymnasium. Occupying almost if not quite as retiring a situation at the
+other end of the Row, is the Cottage, Mr. Fernald's residence. Each
+dormitory is ruled over by a master. In Billings Mr. Daley, the
+instructor in modern languages, was in charge at the period of this
+story, and since it was necessary to receive permission before leaving
+the school grounds after supper, Don and Tim paused at Mr. Daley's study
+on the way out. Don's knock on the portal of Number 8 elicited an
+instant invitation to enter and a moment later he was shaking hands with
+the hall master, a youngish man with a pleasant countenance and a manner
+at once eager and embarrassed. Mr. Daley was usually referred to as
+Horace, which was his first name, and, as he shook hands, Don very
+nearly committed the awful mistake of calling him that! After greetings
+had been exchanged Don explained somewhat vaguely the reason for his
+tardy arrival and then requested permission to visit Coach Robey in the
+village after supper.
+
+"Yes, Gilbert, but--er--be back by eight, please. I'm not sure that Mr.
+Robey isn't about school, however. Have you inquired?"
+
+"No, sir, but Tim says he isn't eating in hall yet, and so----"
+
+"Ah, in that case perhaps not. Well, be back for study hour. If you're
+going to supper I'll walk along with you, fellows." Mr. Daley closed his
+study door and they went out together and, as they trod the flags of the
+long walk that passed the fronts of the buildings, Mr. Daley discoursed
+on football with Tim while Don replied to the greetings of friends. They
+parted from the instructor at the dining hall door and sought their
+places at table, Don's arrival being greeted with acclaim by the other
+half-dozen occupants of the board. Once more he was obliged to give an
+account of himself, but this time his narrative was considered to be
+sadly lacking in detail and it was not until Tim had come to his
+assistance with a highly coloured if not exactly authentic history of
+the train-wreck that the audience was satisfied. Don told him he was an
+idiot. Tim, declining to argue the point, revenged himself by stealing a
+slice of Don's bread when the latter's attention was challenged by Harry
+Westcott at the farther end of the table.
+
+Westcott, who was one of the editors of the school monthly, _The
+Review_, had developed the journalistic instinct to a high degree of
+late and had visions of a thrilling story in the November issue. But Don
+utterly refused to pose as a hero of any sort. The best Harry could get
+out of him was the acknowledgment that he had seen several persons
+removed from the wreck and had helped carry one to the relief train
+later. That wasn't much to go on, and, subsequently, Harry regretfully
+abandoned his plan.
+
+After supper Don and Tim walked down to the village and Don had a few
+minutes of talk with the coach. Mr. Robey was sympathetic but annoyed.
+Although he didn't say so in so many words he gave Don to understand
+that he had failed in his duty to the school and the team in allowing
+himself to become concerned in a train-wreck. He didn't explain just how
+Don could have avoided it, and Don didn't think it worth while to
+inquire.
+
+"You have that hand looked after properly and regularly, Gilbert," he
+said, "and watch practice until you can put on togs. Losing a week or so
+is going to handicap you. No doubt about that. And I'm not making any
+promises. But you keep your eyes open and maybe there'll be a place for
+you when you're ready to work. It's awfully hard luck, old chap. See you
+tomorrow."
+
+Don went back to school through the warm dusk slightly cast down,
+although he had previously realised that football would be beyond him
+for at least a week. It is sometimes one thing to acknowledge a fact
+oneself and another to hear the same fact stated by a second person.
+There's a certain finality about the latter that is convincing. But if
+Don was downcast he didn't show it to his companion. Don had a way of
+concealing his emotions that Tim at once admired and resented. When Tim
+felt blue--which was mighty seldom--he let it be known to the whole
+world, and when he felt gay he was just as confiding. But Don--well, as
+Tim often said, he was "worse than an Indian!"
+
+After study they sallied forth again, arm in arm, and went down the Row
+to Torrence and climbed the stairs to Number 14. As the door was half
+open knocking was a needless formality--especially as the noise within
+would have prevented its being heard--and so Tim pushed the portal
+further ajar and entered, followed by Don, on a most animated scene.
+Eight boys were sprawled or seated around the room, while another, a
+thin, tall, unkempt youth with a shock of very black hair which was
+always falling over his eyes and being brushed aside, was standing in a
+small clearing between table and windows balancing a baseball bat,
+surmounted by two books and a glass of water, on his chin. So interested
+was the audience in this startling feat that the presence of the new
+arrivals passed unnoted until the juggler, suddenly stepping back,
+allowed the law of gravity to have its way for an instant. Then his
+right hand caught the falling bat, the two books crashed unheeded to the
+floor and his left hand seized the descending tumbler. Simultaneously
+there was a disgruntled yelp from Jim Morton and a howl of laughter from
+the rest of the audience. For the juggler, while he had miraculously
+caught the tumbler in mid-air, had not been deft enough to keep the
+contents intact and about half of it had gone into the football
+manager's face. However, everyone there except Morton applauded
+enthusiastically and hilariously, and Larry Jones, sweeping his
+offending locks aside with the careless and impatient grace of a violin
+virtuoso, bowed repeatedly.
+
+"Great stuff," approved Amory Byrd, rescuing his books from the floor.
+"Do it again and stand nearer Jim."
+
+"If he does it again I'm going into the hall," said Morton disgustedly,
+wiping his damp countenance on the edge of Clint Thayer's bedspread.
+"You're a punk juggler, Larry."
+
+"All right, you do it," was the reply. Larry proffered the bat and
+tumbler, but Morton waved them indignantly aside.
+
+"I don't do monkey-tricks, thanks. Gee, my collar's sopping wet!"
+
+"Oh, that's all right," called someone. "You'll be going to bed soon.
+Say, Larry, do that one with the three tennis balls."
+
+"Isn't room enough. I know a good trick with coins, though. Any fellow
+got two halves?"
+
+Groans of derision were heard and at that moment someone discovered the
+presence of Don and Tim and Larry's audience deserted him. When the
+new-comers had found accommodations, such as they were, conversation
+switched to the all-absorbing subject of football. Most of the fellows
+assembled were members of the first or second teams: Larry Jones was a
+substitute half; Clint Thayer was first-choice left tackle; Steve
+Edwards, sprawled on Clint's bed, was left end and this year's captain;
+the short, sturdy youth in the Morris chair was Thursby, the centre; Tom
+Hall, broad of shoulders, was right guard; Harry Walton, slimmer and
+rangier, with a rather saturnine countenance, was a substitute for that
+position. Jim Morton was, as we know, manager, and only Amory--or
+"Amy"--Byrd and Leroy Draper, the tow-headed, tip-nosed youth sharing
+the Morris chair with Thursby, were, in a manner of speaking,
+non-combatants.
+
+But being a non-combatant didn't prevent Amy Byrd from airing his views
+and opinions on the subject of football, and that he was now doing.
+"Every year," he protested, "I have to hear the same line of talk from
+you chaps. It's wearying, woesomely wearying. Now, as a matter of fact,
+every one of you knows that we've got the average material and that
+we'll go ahead and turn out an average team and beat Claflin as per
+usual. The only chance for argument is what the score will be. You
+fellows like to grouse and pretend every fall that the team's shot full
+of holes and that the world is a dark, dreary, dismal place and that
+winning from Claflin is only a hectic dream. For the love of lemons,
+fellows, chuck the undertaker stuff and cheer up. Talk about something
+interesting, or, if you must talk your everlasting football, cut out the
+sobs!"
+
+"Oh, dry up, Amy," said Tom Hall. "You oughtn't to be allowed to talk.
+Someone stuff a pillow in his mouth. No one has said we were shot full
+of holes, but you can't get around the fact that we've lost a lot of
+good players and----"
+
+"Oh, gee, he's at it again!" wailed Amy. "Yes, Thomas darling, you've
+lost two fellows out of the line and two out of the backfield and
+there's nothing to live for and we'd better poison ourselves off before
+defeat and disgrace come upon us. All is lost save honour! Ah, woe is
+me!"
+
+"Cut it out, Amy," begged Edwards. "You don't know anything about
+football, you idiot."
+
+"Two in the line and two in the backfield is good," jeered Tim. "We've
+lost Blaisdell and Innes and Tyler----"
+
+"Never was any good," interpolated Amy.
+
+"And Roberts and Marvin----"
+
+"Carmine's better!"
+
+"And Kendall and Harris!" concluded Tim triumphantly.
+
+"Never mind, Timmy, you've still got me!" replied Amy sweetly. "Gee, to
+hear you rave you'd think the whole team had graduated!"
+
+"So it has, practically!"
+
+"Ah, yes, and I heard the same dope this time last year. We'd lost
+Miller and Sawyer and Williams and--and Milton and a dozen or two more
+and there wasn't any hope for us! And all we did was to go ahead and
+dodder along and beat Claflin seven to nothing! Not so bad for a
+lifeless corpse, what?"
+
+Steve Edwards laughed. "Well, maybe we do talk trouble a good deal about
+this time of year. It's natural, I guess. You lose fellows who played
+fine ball last year and you can't see just at first how anyone can fill
+their places. Someone always does, though. That's the bully part of it.
+I dare say we'll manage to dodder along, as Amy calls it, and rub it
+into old Claflin as we've been doing."
+
+"First sensible word I've heard tonight," said Amy approvingly. "I
+wouldn't kick so much if I only had to hear this sort of stuff
+occasionally, but I'm rooming with the original crepe-hanger! Clint sobs
+himself to sleep at night thinking how terribly the dear old team's shot
+to pieces. If I remark in my optimistic, gladsome way, 'Clint, list how
+sweetly the birdies sing, and observe, I prithee, the sunlight gilding
+yon mountain peak,' Clint turns his mournful countenance on me and
+chokes out something about a weak backfield! Say, I'm gladder every day
+of my life that I stayed sane and----"
+
+"Stayed _what_?" exclaimed Jim Morton incredulously.
+
+"And didn't become obsessed with football mania!"
+
+"Where do you get the words, Amy?" sighed Clint Thayer admiringly.
+
+"Amy's the original phonograph," commented Tim. "Only he's an
+improvement on anything Edison ever invented. You don't have to wind Amy
+up!"
+
+"No, he's got a self-starting attachment," chuckled Draper.
+
+"Returning to the--the original contention," continued Amy in superb
+disdain of the low jests, "I'll bet any one of you or the whole kit and
+caboodle of you that we beat Claflin again this year. Now make a noise
+like some money!"
+
+"Amy, we don't bet," remarked Tom Hall. "At least, not with money.
+Betting money is very wrong. (Amy sniffed sarcastically.) But I'll wager
+a good feed for the crowd that we have a harder time beating Claflin
+this year than we had last. And I'll----"
+
+"Oh, piffle! I don't care whether you have to work harder to do it or
+not. I say you'll do it! Hard work wouldn't hurt you, anyway. You're a
+lot of loafers. All any of you do is go out to the field and strike an
+attitude like a hero. Why----"
+
+Cries of expostulation and threats of physical violence failed to
+disturb the irrepressible Amy.
+
+"Tell you what I'll do, you piffling Greeks, I'll blow you all off to a
+top-hole dinner at the Inn if Claflin beats us. There's a sporting
+proposition for you, you undertakers' assistants!"
+
+"Yah! What do we do if she doesn't?" exclaimed Walton.
+
+Amy surveyed him coldly. He didn't like Harry Walton and never attempted
+to disguise the fact. "Why, Harry, old dear, you'll just keep right on
+squandering your money as usual, I suppose. But I don't want you to
+waste any on me. This is a one-man wager."
+
+"No, it isn't," said Leroy Draper, "I'm in on it, Amy. I'll take half of
+it."
+
+"All right, Roy. But our money's safe as safe! This bunch of grousers
+won't get fat off us, old chap!"
+
+"Say," said Walton, who had been trying to get Amy's attention for a
+minute, "what's the story about my squandering my money? Anybody seen
+you being careless with yours, Amy?"
+
+"Not that I know of. I'm not careless with it; I'm careful. But being
+careful with money is different from having it glued to your skin so you
+have to have a surgical operation before----"
+
+"Oh, cut it, Amy," said Tim.
+
+"I spend my money just as freely as you do," returned Walton hotly.
+"You talk so much with your face----"
+
+"Let it go at that, Harry," advised Tom Hall soothingly. "Amy's just
+talking."
+
+"That's all," agreed Amy sweetly. "Just talking. You're the original
+little spendthrift, Harry. I'm going to write home to your folks some
+time and warn 'em. Hold on, you chaps, don't hurry off. The night is
+still in its infancy. Wait and watch it grow up. Steve! _Sit down!_"
+
+"Thanks, I've got to be moseying along," replied Captain Edwards. "It's
+pretty near ten. I think it would be a rather good idea if we had a rule
+that football men were to be in their rooms at a quarter to ten all
+during the season."
+
+"I can see that you're going to be one of these here martinets you read
+about," said Tim with a sigh. "Steve, remember you were young once
+yourself."
+
+"He never was!" declared Amy with decision. "Steve was grown-up when he
+was quite young and he's never got over it. Thank the Fates _I_ don't
+have to be bossed by him! Are you all leaving? Clint, count the spoons
+and forks! Come again, everyone. I've got lots more to say. Good-night,
+Don. Glad to see you back again, old sober-sides. Sorry about that fin
+of yours. Be careful with him, Tim. You know how it is with the dear
+old team. We need every man we can get. Hold on, Harry! Did you drop
+that quarter? Oh, I beg pardon, it's only a button. That's right, Thurs,
+kick the chair over if it's in your way. We don't care a bit about our
+furniture. For the love of lemons, Larry, don't grin like that! Think of
+the team, man! Remember your sorrows! Good-_night_!"
+
+Half-way to Billings Don broke the silence.
+
+"Fellows are funny, aren't they?" he murmured.
+
+"Funny? How do you mean?" asked Tim.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," replied Don after a thoughtful moment.
+"They're--they're so different, I guess."
+
+"Who's different from who?"
+
+"Everyone," answered Don, smothering a yawn.
+
+Tim viewed him in the radiance of the light over the doorway with
+profound admiration. "Don, you're a brilliant chap! Honest, sometimes I
+wonder how you do it! Doesn't it hurt?"
+
+Don only smiled.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE FIRST GAME
+
+
+DON sat on the bench and watched the game with Thacher School. With him
+were nearly a dozen other substitutes, but they, unlike Don, were in
+football togs and might, in fact probably would, get into the game
+sooner or later. There was no such luck for Don so long as his hand
+remained swathed in bandages, and he was silently bewailing his luck. At
+his right sat Danny Moore, chin in hand and elbow in palm, viewing the
+contest from half-closed eyes. The trainer was small and red of hair and
+very freckled, and he was thoroughly Irish and, in the manner of his
+race, mightily proud of it. Also, he was a clever little man and a good
+trainer.
+
+An attempted forward pass by the visitors grounded and the horn squawked
+the end of the first period. Danny turned his beady green eyes on Don.
+"Likely you're wishin' yourself out there with the rest of 'em, boy," he
+said questioningly.
+
+Don nodded, smiled his slow smile and shook his head. "I guess I won't
+get into it for a week yet. Doc says this hand has got to do a lot of
+healing first. He has a fine time every day pulling and cutting the old
+skin off it. Guess he enjoys it so much he will hate to have it heal. I
+should think, Danny, that if I had a heavy glove, sort of padded in the
+palm, I might play a little."
+
+"Sure, I'll fix you up something real nate," replied Danny readily.
+"Nate an' scientific, d'ye see? An' so soon as the Doc says the word you
+come to me an' I'll be having it ready for you."
+
+"Will you? Thanks, Danny. That's great! I would like to get back to
+practice again. I'm afraid I'll be as stiff and stale as anything if I
+stay out much longer."
+
+"Go easy on your eating, lad, and it'll take you no time at all to catch
+up with the rest of 'em. Spread this hand for me while I see the shape
+of it. What happened to your finger there?"
+
+"I broke it when I was a little kid, playing baseball."
+
+"Sure, whoever set it for you must have been cross-eyed," said the
+trainer, drily. "'Tis a bum job he did."
+
+"Yes, it's a little crooked, but it works all right."
+
+"You'd have hard work gettin' your engagement ring over that lump, I'm
+thinking. It's a fortunate thing you're not a girl, d'ye mind."
+
+Don laughed. "Engagement rings go on the other hand, don't they, Danny?"
+
+"Faith, I don't know. Bad luck to him, he's done it again!"
+
+"Who? What?" asked Don startledly.
+
+"Jim Morton. That's twice today he's spilled most of the water from the
+pail. Well, I'll have to go an' fill it, I suppose."
+
+Danny went off to get the water bucket and the teams lined up again near
+the visitors' twenty-five yard line. Coach Robey had put in a somewhat
+patched-up team today. Captain Edwards was at left end, Clint Thayer at
+left tackle, Gafferty at left guard, Peters at centre, Pryme at right
+guard, Crewe at right tackle, Lee at right end, Carmine at quarter, St.
+Clair and Gordon at half and Martin at full. It was not the best line-up
+possible, but it was so far handling the situation fairly
+satisfactorily. The practice of the last two days had developed one or
+two strains and proved more than one of the first-choice fellows far
+below condition. Tim Otis was out for a day or two with a twisted knee
+and Tom Hall with a lame shoulder. Thursby had developed an erratic
+streak the day before and was nursing his chagrin further along the
+bench. Holt, the best right end, was in trouble with the faculty, and
+Rollins, full-back, had pulled a tendon in his ankle. A full team of
+second- and third-string players were having signal work on the practice
+gridiron.
+
+In the stands a fairly good-sized gathering of onlookers was applauding
+listlessly at such infrequent times as the maroon-and-grey team gave it
+any excuse. Thus far, however, exciting episodes had been scarce. The
+weather, which was enervatingly warm, affected both elevens and the
+playing was sluggish and far from brilliant. The Brimfield backs, with
+the exception of Carmine, who was always on edge, conducted themselves
+as if they were at a rehearsal, accepting the ball in an indifferent
+manner and half-heartedly plunging at the opposing line or jogging
+around the ends. As the first half drew to a close both goal lines were
+still unthreatened and from all indications would remain so for the rest
+of the contest. A slight thrill was developed, though, just before the
+second period came to an end when a Thacher half-back managed to get
+away outside Crewe and romped half the length of the field before he was
+laid low by Carmine. After that there was an exchange of punts and the
+teams trotted off to the gymnasium.
+
+Don left the bench with the others, but did not follow them to the
+dressing room. Instead, he strolled down the running track and across to
+the practice field, where Tim was superintending the signal practice.
+Don joined him and followed the panting, perspiring players down the
+field. Tim's conversation was rather difficult to follow, since he
+continually interrupted himself to instruct or admonish the toilers.
+
+"I feel like a slave-driver, pushing these poor chaps around in this
+heat. How's the game going? No score? We must be playing pretty punk, I
+guess. What sort of a team has--Jones, you missed your starting signal
+again. For the love of mud, keep your ears open!--Thacher must be as bad
+as we are. Who's playing in my place? Gordon? Is he doing anything?--Try
+them on that again, McPhee, will you? Robbins, you're supposed to block
+hard on that and not let your man through until the runner's got into
+the line.--I could have played today all right, but that idiot, Danny,
+wouldn't let me. My knee's perfectly all right."
+
+"Then why do you limp?" asked Don innocently.
+
+"Force of habit," said Tim. "What time is it?"
+
+Don consulted his silver watch and announced a quarter to four.
+
+"Thank goodness! That'll do, fellows. You'd better get your showers
+before you try to see that game. If Danny catches you over there the way
+you are he will just about scalp you! By the way, McPhee, you saw what I
+meant about that end-around play, didn't you? You can't afford to slow
+up the play by waiting for your end to get to you. He's got to be in
+position to take the pass at the right second. Otherwise they'll come
+through on you and stop him behind the line. There ought to be
+absolutely no pause between Smith's pass to you and your pass to
+Compton, or whoever the end is. You get the ball, turn quick, toss it to
+the end and fall in behind him. It ought to be almost one motion. Of
+course, I know you fellows were pretty well fagged today, but you don't
+want to let your ends think they can take their time on that play, old
+man, for it's got to be fast or it's no earthly good. Thus endeth the
+lesson. Come on, Don, and we'll go over and add the dignity of our
+presence to that little affair."
+
+They reached the bench just as the two teams trotted back and
+Brimfield's supporters raised a faint cheer. Don imagined that there was
+a little more vim in the way the maroon-and-grey warriors went into the
+field for the second half and the results proved him right.
+
+It was the home team's kick-off, and after Captain Edwards, in the
+absence of Hall, had sped the ball down to Thacher's twenty yards and a
+Thacher player had sped it back to the thirty, Brimfield settled down to
+business. Probably Coach Robey's remarks in the interim had been
+sufficiently caustic to get under the skin. At all events Brimfield
+forced Thacher to punt on third down and then almost blocked the kick.
+As it was, the ball hurtled out of bounds near the middle of the field
+and became Brimfield's on her forty-eight. Two plunges netted five
+yards, and then St. Clair, returning to form, ripped his way past tackle
+on the left and fought over two white lines before he was halted. Gordon
+and Martin made it first down in three tries and Carmine worked the left
+end for four more. Thacher stiffened then, however, and after two
+ineffectual plunges St. Clair punted and Brimfield caught on her goal
+line and ran back a dozen yards, Lee, right end, missing his tackle
+badly and Steve Edwards being neatly blocked off. But Thacher found the
+going even harder than her opponent had and in a moment she, too, was
+forced to punt.
+
+This time it was St. Clair who caught and who, eluding both Thacher
+ends, ran straight along the side line until he was upset near the
+enemy's thirty-five yards. As he went down he managed to get one foot
+over the line and the referee paced in fifteen yards, set the ball to
+earth and waved toward the Thacher goal.
+
+Martin faked a forward pass and the ball went to Gordon for a try at
+right tackle. Thayer and Gafferty opened a fine hole there and Gordon
+romped through and made eight before the Thacher secondary defence
+brought him down. Martin completed the distance through centre. From the
+twenty-four yards to the ten the ball went, progress, however, becoming
+slower as the attack neared the goal. On a shift that brought Thayer to
+the right side of the line, St. Clair got around the short end for three
+and Martin added two more, leaving the pigskin on the five-yard line. It
+was third down and Martin went back to kick. But after a moment's
+hesitation Carmine changed his signals and the ends stole out toward the
+side lines. Thacher proceeded to arrange her forces to intercept a
+forward pass and again Carmine switched. The ends crept back and Martin
+retired to the fifteen-yard line and patted the turf. Carmine knelt in
+front of him and eyed the goal. Then the signals came again, and with
+them the ball, and it was Martin who caught it and not Carmine. Two
+steps to the right, a quick heave, a frenzied shouting from the
+defenders of the goal, a confused jostling, and Captain Edwards, one
+foot over the line, reached his arms into the air, pulled down the
+hurtling pigskin, tore away from one of the enemy, lunged forward and
+went down under a mass of bodies, but well over the goal line.
+
+Brimfield found her enthusiasm then, and her voice, and cheered loudly
+and long, only ceasing when Carmine walked out with the ball under his
+arm and flung himself to the turf opposite the right hand goal post.
+Thursby, hustled in by Coach Robey, measured distance and direction,
+stepped forward and, as the line of Thacher warriors swept forward with
+upstretched hands, swung his toe against the ball and sent it neatly
+across the bar.
+
+With the score seven to nothing against her, Thacher returned to the
+fray with a fine determination, but, when the teams had changed places
+after the kick-off and the last period had begun, she speedily found
+that victory was not to be her portion. Mr. Robey sent in nearly a new
+team during that last ten minutes and the substitutes, fresh and eager,
+went at it hammer-and-tongs. Thacher enlisted fresh material, too, but
+it couldn't stop the onslaught that soon took the ball down the field to
+within close scoring distance of her goal. That Brimfield did not add
+another touchdown was only because her line, overanxious, was twice
+found off-side and penalised. Even then the ball went at last to within
+six inches of the goal line and it was only after the nimble referee had
+dug into the pile-up like a terrier scratching for a bone in an ash-heap
+that the fact was determined that Thacher had saved her bacon by the
+width of the ball. She kicked out of danger from behind her goal and
+after two plays the final whistle blew.
+
+It was a very hot and very weary crowd of fellows who thronged the
+dressing room in the gymnasium five minutes later and, above the swish
+of water in the showers, shouted back and forth and discussed the game
+from as many angles as there had been participants. Possibly Brimfield
+had no very good reason for feeling proud of her afternoon's work, for
+last year she had defeated Thacher 26 to 3. That game, however, had
+taken place two weeks later in the season, when the Maroon-and-Grey was
+better off in the matter of experience, and so perhaps was not a fair
+comparison. At all events, Brimfield liked the way she had "come back"
+in that third period and liked the way in which the substitutes had
+behaved, and displayed a very evident inclination to pat herself on the
+back.
+
+Tim, who had haled Don into the gymnasium on the way back to hall, tried
+his best to convince all those who would listen to him that they had
+played a perfectly punk game and that nothing but the veriest fluke had
+accounted for that score. But they called him a "sore-head" and laughed
+at him, and even drove him away with flicking towels, and he finally
+gave it up and consented to accompany Don back to Billings, limping a
+trifle whenever he thought no one was looking.
+
+Don missed Tim at supper, for the training tables started that evening
+and Tim went off to one of them with his napkin ring and his own
+particular bottle of tomato catsup, leaving his chum feeling forlornly
+"out of it."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+DON GOES TO THE SECOND
+
+
+LIFE at Brimfield Academy settled down for Don into the accustomed
+routine. The loss of one day made no difference in the matter of
+lessons, for with Tim's assistance--they were both in the Fifth Form--he
+easily made up what had been missed. They were taking up German that
+year for the first time and Don found it hard going, but he managed to
+satisfy Mr. Daley after a fashion. Don was a fellow who studied hard
+because he had to. Tim could skim his lessons, make a good showing in
+class and remember enough of what he had gone over to appear quite
+erudite. Don had to get right down and grapple with things. He once said
+enviously, and with as near an approach to an epigram as he was capable
+of, that whereas Tim got his lessons by inhaling them, he, Don, had to
+chew them up and swallow them! But when examination time came Don's
+method of assimilation showed better results.
+
+The injured hand healed with incredible slowness, but heal it did, and
+at last the day came when the doctor consented to let his impatient
+pupil put on the padded arrangement that the ingenious Danny Moore had
+fashioned of a discarded fielder's glove and some curled hair, and Don
+triumphantly reported for practice. His triumph was, however,
+short-lived, for Coach Robey viewed him dubiously and relegated him to
+the second squad, from which Mr. Boutelle was then forming his second
+team. "Boots" was a graduate who turned up every Fall and took charge of
+the second or scrub team. It was an open secret that he received no
+remuneration. Patriotism and sheer love of the game were the inducements
+that caused Mr. Boutelle to donate some two months of time and labour to
+the cause of turning out a second team strong enough to give the first
+the practice it needed. And he always succeeded. "Boutelle's Babies," as
+someone had facetiously termed them, could invariably be depended on to
+give the school eleven as hard a tussle as it wanted--and sometimes a
+deal harder. Boots was a bit of a driver and believed in strenuous work,
+but his charges liked him immensely and performed miracles of labour at
+his command. His greeting of Don was almost as dubious as had been Coach
+Robey's.
+
+"Of course I'm glad to have you, Gilbert, but the trouble is that as
+soon as we've got you nicely working Mr. Robey will take you away.
+That's a great trick of his. He seems to think the purpose of the second
+team is to train players for the first. It isn't, though. He gives me
+what he doesn't want every year and I do my best to make a team from it,
+and I ought to be allowed to keep what I make. Well, never mind. You do
+the best you can while you're with us, Gilbert."
+
+"Maybe he won't have me this year," said Don dejectedly. "He seems to
+think that being out for a couple of weeks has queered me."
+
+"Well, you don't feel that way about it, do you?"
+
+"No, sir, I'm perfectly all right. I've watched practice every afternoon
+and I've been doing a quarter to a half on the track."
+
+"Hm. Well, you've got a little flesh that will have to come off, but it
+won't take long to lose it this weather. Sit down a minute." They were
+in front of the stand and Mr. Boutelle seated himself on the lower tier
+and Don followed his example. "Let me see, Gilbert. Last year you played
+left guard, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"And if I remember aright your chief difficulty was in the matter of
+weight."
+
+"I'm twelve pounds heavier this fall, air."
+
+"Yes, but some of that'll come off, I guess. However, that doesn't
+matter. You were getting along pretty well at the last of the season, I
+remember. Who's ahead of you on the first?"
+
+"Well, Gafferty's got the first choice, I guess. And then there's Harry
+Walton."
+
+"You can beat Walton," said Boots decisively. "Walton lacks head. He
+can't think things out for himself. You can. What you'll have to do this
+year, my boy, is speed up a little. It took you until about the middle
+of the season to find your pace. Remember?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I know."
+
+"Well, you won't stay with us long, as I've said, and so I'm not going
+to build you into the line, Gilbert. I've got some good-looking guard
+material and I can't afford to work over you and get dependent on you
+and then have Robey snatch you away about the middle of the fall. That
+won't do. But I'll tell you what we will do, Gilbert. We'll use you
+enough to bring you around in form slowly. You'll play left guard for
+awhile every day. But what I want you to really do is to help with the
+others. You've been at it two years now and you know how the position
+ought to be played and you've got hard common-sense. I'll put the guard
+candidates in your hands. See what you can do with them. There's a
+couple of likely chaps in Kirkwell and Merton, and there are two or
+three more after positions. You take them in charge, Gilbert, and show
+me what you know about coaching. What do you say?"
+
+"Why, Mr. Boutelle, I--I don't know that I can show anyone else what to
+do. I can play the position myself after a fashion, but--well, I guess
+it's another thing to teach, isn't it?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. It is if you go into it with the idea that it is, but
+don't do that. Play the position as it ought to be played, tell the
+others why, call them down when they make mistakes, pat them on the back
+when they do right. Just forget that you're trying to teach. If a fellow
+came to you and said: 'Gilbert, I want to play guard but I don't know
+how, and I wish you'd tell me how you do it,' why, you wouldn't have any
+trouble, would you?"
+
+"N-no, sir, I guess not," replied Don a trifle doubtfully.
+
+"Well, there you are. Try it, anyway. You'll get on all right. I'll be
+right on hand to dig the spurs in when your courage fails." Mr.
+Boutelle smiled. "We're going to have a dandy second team this fall, my
+boy. We've got nothing to build on, only a lot of green material, and
+that's the best part of it. I don't care how inexperienced the material
+is if it's willing to learn and has the usual number of arms and legs
+and such things and a few ounces of grey matter in the cranium. Well,
+here we go. Nothing today but passing and punting, I guess. Sure your
+hand's all right?"
+
+"Yes, sir, thanks. I don't really need this contrivance; it's awfully
+clumsy; but Doc said I'd better wear it for a few days."
+
+"Best to be on the safe side. I'll have you take one squad of these
+chaps, I guess, and I'll give the other to Lewis. You know the usual
+stuff, Gilbert. Rest 'em up now and then; they're soft and the weather's
+warm. But work 'em when they're working. Any fellow who soldiers gets
+bounced. All out, second squad!"
+
+There wasn't anything that afternoon but the sort of drudgery that tries
+the enthusiasm of the tyro: passing the ball in circles, falling on it,
+catching it on the bound and starting. Don was surprised to discover how
+soft he was in spite of his daily exercise on the cinders. When the
+hour's practice was over he was just about as thankful as any of the
+puffing, perspiring youths around him. Considering it afterward, Don was
+unable to view the material with the enthusiasm Mr. Boutelle had
+displayed. To him the thirty-odd boys who had reported for the second
+team were a hopeless lot, barring, of course, a few, not more than four
+in all, who had had experience last season. In another week Mr. Robey
+would make a cut in the first squad and the second would find itself
+augmented by some ten or twelve cast-offs. But just now the second squad
+looked to Don to be a most unlikely lot. When he confided all this to
+Tim that evening the latter said:
+
+"Don't you worry, old man. Boots will make a team out of them. Why, he
+could make a football team out of eleven clothing store dummies!
+Sometimes I think that Boots ought to be head coach instead of Robey.
+I've got nothing against Robey, either. He's a bit of a 'miracle man'
+himself, _but_ for building a team out of nothing Boutelle has him both
+shoulders to the mat!"
+
+"I don't believe Boots would want to coach the first," replied Don.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I don't know. He's sort of--well, he kind of likes to--Oh, I don't
+know."
+
+"Very clearly explained, Donald."
+
+"Well, Boots, if he was a soldier, would be the sort that would want to
+lead a charge where the odds were against him. See what I mean?"
+
+"You mean he has a hankering for the forlorn chance business? Maybe so.
+That's not a bad name for the second, is it? The Forlorn Chances! I
+guess you've got him dead to rights, though. Boots is for the under dog
+every time. I guess coaching the first and having his pick of the
+players wouldn't make any sort of a hit with Boots. It would be too
+tame. Boots likes to take three discarded veterans, two crips and a
+handful of green youngsters and whittle them into a bunch that will make
+us sweat and toil to score on. And, what's more, he does it! Bet you
+anything, Don, this year's second will be every bit as good as last
+year's."
+
+"I won't take it, because I think so myself," laughed Don. "I can't see
+how he's going to do it, Tim, but something tells me he will!"
+
+"Oh, with you to coach the guards it will be no trick at all," said Tim,
+grinning.
+
+Don smiled thinly. "I'll make an awful mess of it, I guess," he
+muttered.
+
+"Not you, boy!" and Tim slapped him encouragingly on the back. "You'll
+blunder right ahead to glory, same as you always do. You'll make hard
+work of it and all that, but you'll get there. Don, you're exactly like
+the porpoise--no, the tortoise in the fable. You don't look fast, old
+man, but you keep on moving ahead and saying nothing and when the hares
+arrive you're curled up on the finish line fast asleep. Tortoises can't
+curl up, though, can they? And, say, what the dickens _is_ a tortoise,
+anyway? I always get tortoises and porpoises mixed."
+
+"A porpoise is a fish," replied Don gravely. "And a tortoise is a land
+turtle. But they're both anthropoids."
+
+"Are they?" asked Tim vaguely. "All right. Here, what are you grinning
+at? Anthropoids nothing! An anthropoid is a monkey or--or something."
+
+"You're an anthropoid yourself, Timmy."
+
+"Meaning I'm a monkey?"
+
+"Not at all. Here, look it up." And Don shoved a dictionary across the
+table. Tim accepted it suspiciously.
+
+"All right," he said, "but if it's what I think it is you'll have to
+fight. Anthesis, anthropocosmic----Say, I'm glad you didn't call me
+that! Here it is. Now let's see. 'Anthropoid, somewhat like a human
+being in form or other characteristics'! Something like---- You wait
+till I get you in the tank again! 'Something like a human being'! For
+two cents I'd lay you on the bed and spank you with that tennis racket!"
+
+"I've got two cents that say you can't do it," replied Don.
+
+"Well, I could if there wasn't so much of you," grumbled Tim. "Now shut
+up and let me stuff awhile. Horace has been eyeing me in a way I don't
+like lately. How's your German going?"
+
+"Not very well. It's a silly language, I think. But I guess I'll get the
+hang of it after awhile. What I want to know is why they can't make
+their letters the way we do."
+
+"Because they're afraid someone might be able to read the plaguy stuff.
+Tell you what we'll do, Don."
+
+"What'll we do?"
+
+"We'll go for a swim in the tank after study. Will you?"
+
+Don winked slowly. "Not after that threat, thanks."
+
+"I won't touch you, honest to goodness, Don! Did you learn to swim any
+better this Summer?"
+
+"Where would I learn?" asked the other. "There's no place to swim out my
+way, unless it's the river."
+
+"Well, don't the rivers in Kansas contain water?"
+
+"Yes, sometimes! Winter, usually. If you'll promise not to grab me when
+I'm not looking I'll go. I hate the taste of that tank water, Tim."
+
+"You ought to know how to swim, old man. Never mind, Mr. Conklin will
+get hold of you this Winter and beat it into you."
+
+"I can swim now," replied Don indignantly.
+
+"Oh, yes, you can swim like a hunk of lead! The last time I saw you try
+it you did five strokes and then got so elated that you nearly drowned
+yourself trying to cheer! I could teach you in three lessons if you'd
+let me."
+
+"Much obliged, but nothing doing, Timmy. I'd as lief drown by myself as
+have you hold my head under water."
+
+"That was just a joke, Don. I won't ever do it again. I wanted you to
+get used to the water, you see."
+
+"I don't mind getting used to it outside, but I hate to fill up with it,
+Tim. It tastes very nasty. You may be a good teacher, but I don't like
+your methods."
+
+"Well, we'll go and have a dip, anyway," laughed Tim. "It'll set us up
+and refresh us after our arduous stuffing."
+
+"If you don't cut out the chatter there won't be any stuffing," warned
+Don. "It's almost half-past now. And I've got three solid pages of this
+rot to do. Dry up, like a good pal."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE SEARCH OF ADVENTURE
+
+
+BY that time Brimfield had played her second game and lost it, 6 to 14,
+to Canterbury High School. Canterbury was not considered very formidable
+and Brimfield usually had little trouble with her. But this year things
+had gone wrong from the start of the game to the finish, wrong, that is,
+from Brimfield's point of view. Fumbling had been much in evidence and
+poor judgment even more. Carmine had worked like a Trojan at
+quarter-back for two periods, but had somehow failed to display his
+usually good generalship, and McPhee, who had taken his place at the
+beginning of the second half, while he ran the team well, twice dropped
+punts in the backfield, one of which accounted for Canterbury's second
+touchdown and goal. Oddly enough, it was the veterans who failed most
+signally to live up to expectations, and of all the veterans Tom Hall
+was the worst offender. Possibly Tom's shoulder still bothered him, but
+even that couldn't have accounted for all his shortcomings. Crewe, who
+played tackle beside Tom, was not a very steady man, and Tom's errors
+threw him off his game badly, with the result that, until Coach Robey
+put Pryme in for Tom in the third period, Canterbury made a lamentable
+number of gains at the right of the Brimfield line. Even Tim Otis,
+usually undisturbed by anything short of an earthquake, was affected by
+the playing of the others and finally had what he called a "brain-storm"
+in the third period, getting the signals twisted and being thrown back
+for an eight-yard loss. That misadventure bothered him so that he was
+heartily glad when Gordon was rushed in a few minutes later.
+
+The team took the beating to heart and the school at large was disposed
+to indulge in sarcasm and bitterness. Only Coach Robey seemed
+undisturbed. He lavished no praise, you may be sure, but, on the other
+hand, neither did he utter any criticism after the contest was over.
+Instead, he laid off more than half the line-up on Monday and Tuesday,
+and, since the weather continued almost unseasonably warm, the rest was
+just what the fellows needed. Wednesday's practice went with a new snap
+and vim and those who broiled in the afternoon sun and watched it found
+grounds for hope.
+
+It was on Wednesday that Don began his connection with the second team,
+and by then the injured hand was so well along that he was able to
+discard the glove. Three days of kindergarten work followed, with, on
+Saturday, a short signal drill. The first team journeyed away that
+afternoon to play Miter Hill School, and Don would have liked very much
+to have gone along. But Boots put his charges through a good, hard hour
+and a half of work, and Don had all he could attend to at home. Just
+before supper he did, however, walk down to the station and meet Tim
+when the team arrived home. Tim, who seemed remarkably fresh for a youth
+who had played through the most of four ten-minute periods, scorned the
+coach and he and Don footed it back.
+
+"Twenty to nothing, my boy," said Tim exultantly. "They never had a
+look-in. It was some game, believe me, dearie! And I want to tell you,
+too, that Miter Hill is fifty per cent better than Canterbury ever
+thought of being!"
+
+"That's fine," said Don. "What sort of a game did you play?"
+
+"Me? Oh, I was the life of the party. Got off two nice little runs, one
+for thirty and the other for forty-five yards. Got a touchdown the
+second time. I wouldn't have, though, if Steve hadn't paced me most the
+way down and put the quarter out. Old Steve played like a whirlwind
+today. We all did, I guess. There was only one fumble, and that wasn't
+anyone's fault. Holt got a forward pass and a Miter Hill chap plunged
+into him and just about knocked the breath out of him and he let go of
+the ball."
+
+"Twenty to nothing? Three touchdowns, then."
+
+"Yep, and Rollins only missed one goal. Rollins scored once, I scored
+once and Steve took over the last one."
+
+"Forward pass?"
+
+"No, end-around. It went off great, too. We were way back on the
+eighteen yards, I think it was, and we worked the fake forward pass
+play, with Steve taking the ball from Carmine. We fooled them finely.
+They never got onto it at all until Steve was over the line. Some of the
+fellows who were doing so much grousing last week ought to have come
+along today and seen some real football. Robey was as pleased as
+anything. You could tell that because he looked sort of cross and told
+us how bad we were!"
+
+"Wish I'd seen it," mourned Don.
+
+"It was some game, all right, all right! We're going to have a modest
+celebration this evening; just Tom Hall and Clint Thayer and Hap Crewe,
+maybe, and yours truly. Better come along. Will you?"
+
+"Where are you going?"
+
+"Oh, just down to the village. We'll leave the window open."
+
+"You'll get nabbed if you try that," demurred Don. "Better not, Tim."
+
+"Well, we may be back by ten. No harm in having a way open in case
+something delays us, though. We'll have a little feed at the Inn, you
+know, and----"
+
+"Don't be a chump," growled Don. "You're in training and you know mighty
+well Robey won't stand for any funny-business."
+
+"What Robey doesn't know isn't going to hurt him," replied Tim
+untroubledly. "And he won't know anything about this because he's off
+for home on the seven o'clock train. Tom heard him tell Steve he
+wouldn't be back until Monday noon."
+
+"Yes, but someone will see you and Robey'll hear of it. And then you'll
+get the dickens from him and be hauled up to the office. Better not risk
+it, Timmy."
+
+"Gee, you're worse than Mr. Poe's crow! Or was it a raven? What's the
+difference, anyhow? Now don't tell me they're both anthropeds or pods,
+or whatever it is, because I'm onto you as a disseminator of knowledge!
+I never got even with you yet for calling me 'something like a human
+being'."
+
+"I'll take it back, then; you aren't. But, just the same, Tim, I wish
+you'd cut out the celebration."
+
+"You're all the time interfering with my innocent pleasures," protested
+Tim. "Why, bless you, dearie, we aren't going to cut-up. We're merely
+going to stroll quietly to the village, trolling a song, mayhap, and
+look in the windows."
+
+"That'll take you a long time," Don laughed. "There are only half a
+dozen."
+
+"Wrong. A fellow opened a watchmaker's emporium next door to the post
+office t'other day and has a most fascinating window. It has four alarm
+clocks, three pairs of cuff-links and a chronometer in it! Oh, it's
+swell! Do you realise, Don, that slowly but surely our little village is
+taking on the--the semblance of a metropolis? All we want is a movie
+palace!"
+
+"Let's start one. They say there's a lot of money in them."
+
+"Bet there is! We've got three or four at home, and they're peaches.
+Full every minute, too. I went a lot last Summer; had filmitis, I
+guess. But how about the party? Will you come along?"
+
+"No, thanks."
+
+"Oh, come on, Don! Have a heart! Be one of our merry gang."
+
+"I'd rather not, thank you. I like Josh well enough, but I don't like to
+stand on the carpet and hear him say 'Until further notice, Gilbert.'
+Nothing doing, Tim!"
+
+And Don remained adamant the rest of the way to school and while they
+made a hurried toilet and rushed to dining hall in an effort to reach it
+before the food gave out.
+
+The team members received an ovation that evening when they entered the
+dining hall. It seemed as if the school wanted to make up for its
+unkindness of a week before. Some few of the fellows, recalling
+sarcastic comments overheard, were inclined to be haughty and
+unforgiving, but eventually they melted. Don, now at the second
+training-table, presided over by Mr. Boutelle, saw that Coach Robey's
+chair was vacant, which fact bore out Tim's statement that the coach had
+gone home over Sunday. But, even granting that, Don didn't approve of
+Tim's celebration, for, as he very well knew, after a football victory
+fellows were very likely to be carried away by their enthusiasm and to
+forget such trifling things as rules and regulations. He determined to
+try again to dissuade Tim after supper.
+
+But Tim, who was in a very cheerful and expansive mood, refused to be
+dissuaded. Instead, he turned the tables and begged so hard for Don to
+come with him that Don finally relented. After all, there was no harm in
+the excursion if they got permission and were back in hall by ten
+o'clock. And it was a wonderfully pleasant, warm evening, much too fine
+an evening to spend indoors, and--well, secretly, Don wanted some fun as
+much as any of them, perhaps!
+
+Permission was easily obtained and at seven they met Tom Hall and Clint
+Thayer in front of Torrence. Crewe failed them, but Tim said it didn't
+matter; that there were only four "Three Musketeers" anyhow! So they set
+off for the village in high spirits, through a warm, fragrant,
+star-lighted evening, with no settled plan of action in mind save to do
+about as they liked for the succeeding three hours. Clint Thayer had a
+strip of plaster across the saddle of his nose, which gave him a
+strangely benign expression. Tom walked a bit stiffly and confessed to
+"a peach of a shin," which probably meant something quite different from
+what it suggested. Only Tim, of the three first team fellows, had
+emerged unscathed, and he referred to the fact in an unpleasantly
+superior manner which brought from Tom Hall the remark that it was easy
+enough to get through a game without any knocks if you didn't do
+anything! Whereupon Tim flicked him across the cheek with an imaginary
+glove, the challenge was issued and accepted and the two fought an
+exciting duel with rapiers--as imaginary as the glove--on the sidewalk,
+feinting, thrusting, parrying, until Clint cried "The guard! The guard!"
+and they all raced down the road to the nearest lamp-post, where Tim
+insisted on looking to his wounds. To hear him tell it, he was as full
+of holes as a sieve, while, on the same authority, Tom was a dead man.
+Tom denied being dead, but Tim insisted and refused to pay any heed to
+him all the rest of the way to the village on the ground that, being
+dead, Tom had no business to talk.
+
+But when they reached what Tim called "the heart of the city" Tom was
+allowed to come to life again. The heart of the city consisted of the
+junction of two village streets whereon were located the diminutive town
+hall, the post office, a fire house and five stores. They began with the
+druggist's, ranging themselves in front of one of the two windows and
+pretending to be overwhelmed with the beauty and magnificence of the
+goods displayed.
+
+"What beautiful soap," exclaimed Tom. "I never saw such beautiful soap,
+fellows. Pink and green and white! Looks almost good enough to wash
+with, doesn't it?"
+
+"And get on to the lovely toilet set in the green velvet box," begged
+Tim awedly. "Scissors and brushes and little do-funnies and----"
+
+"I'm going to buy a bottle of that hair-grower," announced Don. "I want
+to raise a beard."
+
+"Let's get a bottle and present it to Uncle Sim," suggested Clint. Uncle
+Sim was Mr. Simkins, the Greek and Latin instructor, and was noticeably
+bald. The others chuckled and thought very well of the suggestion until
+Tom discovered that the price, as stated on the label, was one whole
+dollar. They had, they decided, better uses for what little money they
+carried. Eventually they went inside, and sat on stools in front of the
+small soda fountain and drank gaily-coloured concoctions which,
+according to Tim, later, sounded better than they tasted. Having
+exhausted the amusement to be derived from the drug store, they went to
+the fire house next door and, pressing their noses against the glass,
+debated what would happen if an alarm was rung in. There was a box
+beside the doors, a most tempting red box and Tim eyed it longingly
+until Don led him gently but firmly away from temptation.
+
+In the small store across the street they examined all the books and
+magazines displayed on the counters, which didn't take long, as
+literature was not a large part of the stock. Tim spent ten cents for a
+football guide, explaining that he had always wanted to know some of the
+rules of that game! Don bought some candy and Clint a bag of peanuts,
+although the others protested that if they ate truck they'd spoil their
+appetites for real food. The force of the protest was somewhat marred by
+the actions of the protestants, who helped themselves liberally to the
+contents of the two bags.
+
+There was a convenient fence a few steps along the street and they
+perched themselves on the top rail and consumed the peanuts and candy
+and watched the "rush of the great city," to again quote the poetic Tim.
+During the next twenty minutes exactly eight carriages and four
+automobiles entered their range of vision; and at that Clint insisted
+that they had counted one automobile twice. He accused it of going
+around the block in order to add to the confusion. Possibly some three
+dozen people passed within sight, although that may have been a too
+liberal estimate. Tom at last declared that he couldn't stand the
+excitement any longer; that his brain reeled and his eyes ached; and
+that he was going to find a quiet spot far from the dizzy whirl. So they
+adjourned to the grocery and butcher shop and talked learnedly of loins
+and shoulders and ribs. And Clint dragged what he alluded to as a
+"brisket" into the conversation to the confusion of the others, who had
+never heard of it and didn't believe in it anyway. Tom said Clint meant
+"biscuit" and that this wasn't a bakery. Then he caught sight of some
+rather pathetic and unseasonable radishes and, having a passion for
+radishes, went in and purchased four bunches. That outlay led to an
+expenditure for salt, and as a large, round pasteboard carton of it was
+the least they could buy, they retreated down the street to the Inn
+porch, trickled the salt along the top of the railing, drew up chairs
+and consumed the radishes at their leisure. All, that is, save Tim. Tim
+didn't like radishes, called them "fire-crackers" and pretended to be
+deeply disgusted with his companions for eating them.
+
+When the radishes were consumed they invaded the Inn and assaulted the
+water tank in force. Then, as there were practically no sights left to
+be viewed, they went back to their chairs and, as Tom had it, waited
+for inspiration. Don was for trolleying over to the shore, having a dip
+in the ocean and returning to school in good time. But Tim pointed out
+that the trolley line was a good half-mile distant, that he had not
+filled himself with radishes and was consequently quite famished for
+food and favoured remaining within easy distance of the Inn so that, in
+case he grew faint, he could reach sustenance. Don's motion was
+defeated. In view of what eventually occurred, that was, perhaps,
+unfortunate.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+FIGHTING FIRE
+
+
+"THIS," said Tim presently, "is a bit dull, if you ask me. I came out
+for some excitement. Let's do something."
+
+"What?" asked Clint, yawning loudly.
+
+"Let's eat."
+
+The others groaned.
+
+"That's all right for you chaps, but I'm getting hungry," Tim asserted.
+"I thought we were going to have a feed. They'll be closing this place
+up the first thing we know. How about a rarebit, fellows?"
+
+"Oh, let's wait awhile," said Don. "Let's take a walk and get up an
+appetite."
+
+"Walk!" jeered Tim. "Gee, I've walked enough. And there's nothing the
+matter with my appetite right now. Tell you what----" Tim paused. An
+automobile was stopping in front of the Inn. The headlights suddenly
+dimmed and the single occupant, a tall man in a light overcoat, got out,
+walked up the path, ascended the steps and passed into the house. "Now,
+who's he?" asked Tim. "Say, I wish he'd loan us his car for awhile."
+
+"Run in and ask him," suggested Tom. "He looked kind."
+
+"Maybe he'd give us a ride if we asked him," pursued Tim. "It's a peach
+of a car; foreign, I guess."
+
+"It's a Mercy Dear," said Tom.
+
+"Or a Fierce Sorrow," hazarded Clint.
+
+"Bet you it's a Cheerless," said Don, "or a Backhard."
+
+"Don't care what it is," persisted Tim. "I want a ride in it."
+
+"Let's go down and stand around it with our fingers in our mouths," said
+Tom, with a chuckle. "Perhaps he will take pity on us and ask us in."
+
+"Or we might open the door for him," offered Don.
+
+At that moment Clint, who had left his chair to lean across the railing
+and gaze past the end of the porch, interrupted with an exclamation.
+"Say, fellows, what's that light over there?" he asked eagerly.
+
+"Fire, by jingo!" cried Tim.
+
+"That's what!" agreed Tom. "Say, you don't suppose it's the school, do
+you?"
+
+"Of course not! The school's over that way. Besides, that fire's away
+off; maybe two miles. Come on!" And Clint started for the steps.
+
+"Wait!" called Tim. "I want to see the engine come out. Bet you it's a
+fine sight! Anyway, we can't foot it two miles."
+
+"Maybe it isn't that far," said Don. "Fires look further than they are
+sometimes."
+
+"Yes, and nearer, too," replied Tim. "Think we ought to run over and
+tell them about it?"
+
+But that question was speedily answered by the sudden clanging of a gong
+inside the fire house, followed by the sound of running footsteps and,
+an instant later, the wild alarm of the shrill-tongued bell in the
+little belfry.
+
+"My word!" exclaimed Tom. "I didn't know there were so many folks in the
+town!" Already a small-sized crowd had gathered in front of the fire
+house, some fifty yards up the street. The doors rolled open and a
+figure pushed through the throng and loped across the street and
+disappeared. The bell clanged on and on. Don and Clint and Tom made a
+dash for the steps. Tim slid over the railing. But before any of them
+had more than reached the sidewalk the tall owner of the automobile
+catapulted himself down the steps, hailing them as he came.
+
+"Where is it, boys?" he shouted.
+
+"Over there," answered Clint, pointing. But the glow in the sky was
+scarcely visible from the sidewalk and they all swarmed back to the
+porch again.
+
+"I see," said the man. "Some farm house, I guess. They'll know at the
+fire house." He sprang down the steps again, the boys streaming after
+him. He was already in the car when Tim asked breathlessly: "You going,
+sir?"
+
+"Sure! Want to come? Pile in, then. There are some packages in there.
+Look out for them."
+
+Clint had already put his foot down hard on something that, whatever it
+might be, was never meant to be walked on, but he made no mention of the
+fact. The car leaped forward, swung to the right, stopped with a jerk
+six inches from a lamp-post, backed, straightened out and careened along
+to the fire house. All was excitement there. Men were rushing into the
+building and rushing out again, agitatedly donning rubber coats and
+hats. Speculation was rife. A score of voices argued as to the location
+of the fire. The throng swayed back and forth. The man in the car
+demanded information as he drew up at the curb and a dozen answers were
+flung at him. Then a small, fat man ran up and leaned excitedly across
+the front of the auto. "Hello, Mr. Brady!" he panted. "You going out
+there?"
+
+"Yes, but I've got a load, Johnson. Where is it?"
+
+"Don't no one seem to know. Jim Cogswell knows, but he's gone for the
+horses."
+
+"Look out! Here they come!" "Get that auto out of the way there!" "Stand
+aside, everyone!" "Get a move on, Jim!" A lean little man in his shirt
+sleeves suddenly appeared leading two jogging horses, while a third
+horse trotted along behind. The crowd scampered aside and the horses
+beat a tattoo on the floor as they wheeled to their places. Mr. Brady
+jumped from his seat, pushed his way through the crowd as it closed in
+again about the doorway and disappeared. Tim whooped with delight.
+
+"What did I tell you?" he demanded. "Didn't I say it would be a great
+sight? Gee, I haven't had such a good time since I had the measles!"
+
+Mr. Brady reappeared, scrambled back to his seat and slammed the door
+behind him. "Jim says it's Corrigan's barn," he said. "Sit tight, boys!"
+The car leaped forward once more, took the first corner at twenty miles
+an hour, took the next at thirty and then, in the middle of a firm, hard
+road, simply roared away into the starlit darkness, the headlights
+throwing a great white radiance ahead. Tim, on the front seat, whipped
+off his cap and stuffed it into his pocket. Behind, the three boys
+huddled themselves low in the wide seat while the wind tore past them.
+
+"Must be going ninety miles an hour!" gasped Clint.
+
+"Suppose we bust something!" said Tom awedly.
+
+Don braced his feet against the foot-rail. "Let it bust!" he answered
+exultantly.
+
+That was a memorable ride. Tim owned afterward that he thought he had
+ridden fast once or twice before, but that he was mistaken. "I watched
+that speedometer from the time we turned the second corner," he
+declared, "and it never showed less than fifty-three and was generally
+around sixty! If I hadn't been so excited I'd been scared to death!"
+
+Now and then one of the boys behind looked back along the road, but if
+anyone was following them the fact wasn't apparent. Almost before they
+were conscious of having travelled any distance the car topped a slight
+hill at a dizzy speed and the conflagration was in sight. A quarter of a
+mile distant a big barn was burning merrily. The car slowed down at the
+foot of the descent, swung into a lane and pitched and careened toward
+the burning structure. Other buildings were clustered about the barn and
+a good-sized white dwelling house stood in dangerous proximity. Between
+house and barn, standing out black against the orange glow of the fire,
+was a group of women and children, while a few men, not more than a
+half-dozen it seemed, were wandering hither and thither in the radiance.
+A horse with trailing halter snorted and dashed to safety as the
+automobile turned from the lane and came to a stop under an apple tree.
+
+"Far as we go!" shouted Mr. Brady. "Come on, boys, and lend a hand!"
+
+The lights dimmed, the engine stopped and the occupants of the car
+scrambled out and ran up the lane. "They can't save that barn," panted
+Mr. Brady, "but they'd ought to save the rest of them."
+
+A man attired principally in a pair of overalls and a flannel shirt and
+carrying an empty bucket advanced to meet them.
+
+"Is the engine coming?" he asked listlessly.
+
+"They hadn't started when I left," answered Mr. Brady, "and I guess you
+needn't look for them for fifteen or twenty minutes. Got any water handy
+when it does come?"
+
+"I've got a tank full up there, and there's a pond behind the house. But
+I don't know's they can do anything. Looks to me like everything's bound
+to go. Well, I got insurance."
+
+"Got plenty of buckets?" asked Mr. Brady, peeling off his coat. "How
+many men are here?"
+
+"About six or seven, I guess. Yes, there's buckets enough, but the
+heat's so fierce----"
+
+"Animals all out?"
+
+"There's some pigs down there. We tried to chase 'em out, but the plaguy
+things wouldn't go. We got the horses and cows out and a couple o'
+wagons. All my hay's done for, though. And there's a heap o' machinery
+in there----"
+
+"Well, we can save the other buildings, can't we?" asked Mr. Brady
+impatiently. "Get your buckets and your men together, Corrigan. Here are
+five of us, and we can make a line and keep the roofs wet down until the
+engine comes, I guess. Send the women for all the pails and things
+you've got. Get a hustle on, man!"
+
+Mr. Corrigan hesitated a moment and then trotted away. The water supply
+was contained in a wooden tank set some ten feet above ground, and high
+beyond that, dimly discernible through the cloud of smoke, the spectral
+arms of a wind-mill revolved imperturbably. Mr. Brady, followed by the
+boys, went on around to the further side of the burning building. It was
+a huge hip-roofed structure. One end, that nearest the house, was
+already falling, and the tons of crackling hay in the mows glowed like a
+furnace. The heat, even at the foot of the wind-mill, a hundred feet or
+more away, was almost intolerable. A row of one-story buildings ran
+along one side of the barn, so near that the flying sparks blew over
+rather than on to them. Several other detached structures stood at
+greater distances. Mr. Brady, surveying the scene, shook his head
+doubtfully.
+
+"Guess he's right," he said. "There's not much use trying to save those
+nearer buildings. We couldn't stay on those roofs a minute. I guess the
+chief danger will be from sparks lighting on the house and that creamery
+there. Things are mighty dry."
+
+Four or five men dangling empty buckets, one of them Mr. Corrigan's son
+and the others neighbours, came up and asked about the fire department
+and Mr. Brady repeated what he had told the older man. "What we've got
+to do," he continued, "is to keep the roof on the house and the dairy
+wet. Those sparks are flying all over them. What's that small building
+over there?"
+
+"That's the ice-house, Mr. Brady."
+
+"Well, we won't bother about that. How many are there of us?"
+
+"Six, I guess," said one of the men, but another corrected him.
+
+"Old Man Meredith and Tom Young just drove in," he announced. "That
+makes eight of us, and there's five of you----"
+
+"Well, come on, then," Mr. Brady interrupted briskly. "You fellows get
+your pails full and look after the dairy. Get on the roof, a couple of
+you, and keep it wet down. The rest can lug water. Got a ladder handy?
+All right. Somebody fetch it in a hurry. Hold on! Isn't there water in
+the dairy?"
+
+"Yes, sir, plenty of it."
+
+"Then fill your buckets inside and hand them up to the men on the roof.
+I'll take my gang and go over to the house."
+
+The following half-hour was a busy time for the four boys. Mr. Brady and
+Don stood precariously athwart the ridge of the house roof while Tim and
+Clint and Tom, later assisted by others, filled buckets in the kitchen,
+raced up two flights of stairs and a short ladder--often losing half of
+their burden on the way--and passed them through a skylight to those
+outside. A dozen times the dry shingles caught fire under the rain of
+sparks, but Mr. Brady, climbing along the ridge like a cat, tossing
+buckets of water with unerring precision, kept the fire at bay. It was
+warm work for all. On the roof the heat of the fire was unpleasantly
+apparent, while in the house it was stiflingly close and the work of
+carrying the pails up and down stairs soon had the three boys in a fine
+perspiration and badly off for breath!
+
+When the engines arrived, heralded by loud acclaim from the onlookers,
+who had by then multiplied remarkably, the barn was merely a huge pyre
+of glowing hay and burning timbers, only one far corner remaining erect.
+The piggery and adjoining buildings were ablaze in several places. The
+creamery roof had caught once or twice, but each time the flames had
+been subdued. If the engine and hose-cart and two carriages bearing
+members of the volunteer fire department had been slow in arriving, at
+least the fire-fighters got to work expeditiously and with surprisingly
+little confusion. Don, pausing for a moment in his labour of passing
+buckets to look down, decided that Brimfield had no cause to be ashamed
+of its department. In a jiffy the hose-cart was rattling across the
+yard--and, incidentally, some flower beds--in the direction of the pond
+behind the house, and a moment or two later the engine was pumping
+vigorously and a fine stream of water was wetting down the roofs of the
+threatened structures. Axes bit into charring timbers, sparks flew,
+enthusiastic, rubber-clad firemen dashed here and there, shouting
+loudly, the audience cheered and the worst was over!
+
+With the collapse of the remaining section of barn wall the danger from
+sparks was past, and, emptying one final bucket, Mr. Brady, followed by
+a very wet, very tired and very warm Don, crept back through the
+skylight and joined the others below. Mr. Brady rescued his coat, led
+the way to the kitchen pump and drank long and copiously, setting an
+example enthusiastically emulated by the boys. Tim declared that if he
+drank as much as he wanted there wouldn't be enough water left to put
+out the fire with!
+
+"Well, boys," said Mr. Brady, finally setting down the dipper and
+drawing a long breath, "I guess we did pretty well for amateurs, eh? I
+don't know whether we get any thanks, for I've a suspicion that Corrigan
+would have been just as pleased if everything had gone. From the way he
+talked when we got here I guess he wanted the insurance more'n he did
+the buildings!" Mr. Brady chuckled. "Well, we put one over on him in
+that case, eh? Want to stick around much longer? I guess most of the
+fun's over; unless they're going to serve some of that roast pig!"
+
+"They got the pigs out," chuckled Tim. "They were running around here
+awhile ago like crazy. About twenty of them, big and little, squealing
+and getting between people's feet. Those pigs had the time of their
+lives!"
+
+"Well, then, suppose we start along home?" said Mr. Brady. "You fellows
+ready?"
+
+They agreed that they were. The remains of the barn were already
+blackening, and, while the firemen, evidently determined to make the
+most of the occasion, were still swinging axes and pouring water on the
+already extinguished and well-soaked buildings, there was no danger of
+further trouble. Mr. Corrigan, surrounded by a group of sympathetic
+neighbours, was cataloguing his losses and Mr. Brady called to him as
+they passed.
+
+"Good-night, Corrigan! Sorry for you, but you've saved your house
+anyway!"
+
+"Yes, sir, Mr. Brady. I'm greatly obliged to you, sir, and them young
+fellers, too. It's a bit of a loss, sir, but there's pretty good
+insurance."
+
+"That's fortunate. Good-night!" Mr. Brady chuckled as they went on into
+the darkness of the orchard. "Bet you he's downright peeved with us,
+boys, for wetting that roof down! I happen to know that he's been
+losing money on this place for five years and been trying to sell it for
+a twelvemonth."
+
+"You don't suppose," began Tom, "that he--er--that he----"
+
+"Set the fire? Well, I'd rather not suppose about that. As there's no
+evidence against him we'd better give him the benefit of the doubt, I
+guess."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+COACHING THE TACKLES
+
+
+THE ride back was far less exciting. Mr. Brady drove the big car
+leisurely and conversed with Clint, who had succeeded to the seat of
+honour in front. Mr. Brady, it appeared, had a poultry farm some
+distance on the other side of Brimfield. He seemed a trifle surprised
+and pained when he discovered that Clint had never heard of the Cedar
+Ridge Poultry Farm, and at once issued an invitation to visit it.
+
+"You come over some time and I'll show you some stock that'll open your
+eyes. Bring your friends along. Tell the conductor on the trolley where
+you want to go and he'll set you down right at my gate. You can't miss
+it, though, anyhow, for I've got nearly a quarter of a mile of houses
+there. Silver Campines are my specialty. Raise a few White Wyandottes,
+too. You wouldn't think to look at me that the doctors came mighty near
+giving me up ten or eleven years ago, eh? Did, though. That was just
+after I finished college. They said the only thing would save me was
+hiking out to Colorado or Arizona or New Mexico. Some said one place and
+some said another. Seeing that they couldn't decide, I settled the
+question myself. Came out here, bought ten acres of land--I've got
+nearly forty now--and lived in a tent one Summer while my house was
+building. Doctors said it wouldn't do, but I fooled them. Slept out of
+doors every night, worked like a slave fourteen hours a day and put on
+flesh right from the start. I'm not what you'd call fat now, I guess,
+but you ought to have seen me then! An old chap I had putting up my
+first chicken house told me he could work me in nicely for a roosting
+pole! Went back to one of the doctors three years ago and had him look
+me over. He had to admit that I was a pretty healthy specimen. You could
+see that he was downright peeved about it, though!" Mr. Brady chuckled.
+"Then I settled the matter to my own satisfaction by taking out some
+life insurance. When I got my policy I stopped worrying about my health.
+You drop over some afternoon and let me show you how to live like a
+white man and make a little money, too. There's no life like it, and I
+wouldn't go back to the city if they gave me the Ritz-Carlton to live
+in!"
+
+[Illustration: Finally, Don was unceremoniously yanked up and through]
+
+Clint responded that he and the others would like very much to visit
+Cedar Ridge some day, but that just now they were all pretty busy in
+the afternoons with football. That struck a responsive chord and Mr.
+Brady harked back to his school and college days when he, too, had
+fondled the pigskin. "I wasn't much of a player, though," he
+acknowledged. "I was sort of tall and puny-looking and not very strong.
+Still, I did get into my school team in my senior year and played on my
+freshman team in college. The next year I had to give it up, though. I'd
+like to come over some day and see you fellows play. I've always been
+intending to. I haven't seen a real smashing football game for years.
+That's funny, too, for I can remember the time when I used to think that
+if I could get on my 'varsity eleven I'd die happy." He laughed as he
+swept the searchlights around a corner. "A man's ambitions change, don't
+they? Now what I want to do is to raise the champion egg producer. I'm
+going to do it, too, before long."
+
+And Clint quite believed it. Any man, he told himself, who could take
+command of a situation as Mr. Brady had that evening, and who could make
+enough money in the poultry business to own a three-thousand dollar
+automobile was capable of anything!
+
+When they approached the town Mr. Brady swung off to the left,
+explaining that he would take the boys up to the school. There was a
+moment of silence and then Clint protested weakly. "Shucks," was the
+reply, "it won't take five minutes longer, and after the way you fellows
+have worked tonight you don't deserve to have to walk home!"
+
+"Well, then--then I guess you'd better let us out at the corner," said
+Tim. "We'd hate to wake up the masters, Mr. Brady."
+
+"Oh, that's it, eh?" Mr. Brady laughed loudly. "Stayed out too late,
+have you?"
+
+"I'm afraid we have, sir," said Clint. "We're supposed to be in hall
+before ten and it's long after that now. If you'll let us out at the
+corner of the grounds we can sort of sneak around back and maybe get in
+without being seen. Faculty's beastly strict about outstaying leave."
+
+The car crossed the railroad track and presently pulled up quietly in
+the gloom of the trees along the road and the four boys noiselessly
+descended, shook hands, promised to pay a visit some day to Cedar Ridge
+and stole off to the right through the darkness. A moment later the tiny
+red light of the automobile vanished from sight. Tim called a halt at
+the wall. "You'd better bunk out with us tonight, Clint," he whispered.
+"We'll beat it around back of the gym and get in the shadows of the
+buildings. Say, Don, you're sure we left that window unlatched?"
+
+"Of course we did! It hasn't been closed for a week."
+
+"Then forward, my brave comrades! If anyone sees us we'd better scatter
+and hide out for awhile."
+
+They climbed over a stone wall and made their way through a grove
+adjoining the school grounds, keeping close to the boundary fence. It
+was as dark as pitch in the woods and every now and then one or another
+would walk into a tree or fall over a root. Don's teeth were chattering
+like castanets, for the night had grown cooler and a little breeze was
+blowing from the west, and his clothing was still far from dry. They
+crept past the back of the Cottage very cautiously, for there were
+lights upstairs and down, and breathed easier when the black bulk of the
+gymnasium loomed before them and they could crawl over the fence and
+drop back into school ground. From the corner of the gymnasium to
+Billings was a long distance, and looked just now longer than it ever
+had before. Also, in spite of the fact that there was no moon, the night
+was surprisingly light and Tim scowled disapprovingly at the stars as
+they paused for an instant at the corner of the building to get their
+breaths.
+
+"Keep low," advised Tim, "and make for Torrence. Then we'll stay close
+to the walls of the buildings. You want to see if there's a window open
+in Torrence, Clint?"
+
+"No, I'll stay with you fellows. I'd probably walk into a chair or a
+table and someone would take me for a burglar."
+
+"Come on, then. Haste to yon enfolding darkness!"
+
+They "hasted," and a second or two after were creeping, doubled up lest
+their heads show above the darkened windows and arouse unwelcome
+curiosity, along the rear of Torrence. Then they raced across the space
+dividing Torrence from Main Hall and repeated the proceedings until,
+finally, they were under the windows of Number 6 Billings. Both were
+open at the bottom and their doubts and tribulations were at an end.
+Clint was assisted in first, Tom followed and then Tim and, finally, Don
+was unceremoniously yanked up and through.
+
+"Eureka!" breathed Tim. "Can you make it to your room, Tom? If you don't
+want to risk it you can bunk out here on the window-seat or somewhere."
+
+"You may have half of my bed," offered Don. But Tom was already removing
+his shoes.
+
+"If Horace hears me," he whispered, "he's got better ears than I think
+he has. Good-night, fellows. We had a bully time, even if we didn't get
+that rarebit!"
+
+Tim groaned hollowly. "There! Now you've gone and reminded me that I'm
+starved to death!"
+
+"Shut up," warned Don. "Don't forget that Horace's bedroom is right
+there." He nodded toward the wall. "Beat it, Tom, and don't fall over
+your feet!"
+
+The door opened soundlessly, closed again and Tom was gone. They
+listened, and, although the transom was slightly open, not a creak or a
+shuffle reached them. "He's all right," whispered Tim. "Me for bed,
+fellows. Want to come in with me, Clint, or will you luxuriate on the
+window-seat?"
+
+"Window-seat, thanks. Got a coat or something?"
+
+Tim pulled a comforter from the closet shelf and tossed it to him, and
+quietly and quickly they got out of their clothes and sought their
+couches. Ten minutes later three very healthy snores alone disturbed the
+silence of Number 6.
+
+The next morning Clint joined the others and walked unobtrusively along
+the Row with them in the direction of Wendell and breakfast, but when he
+reached Torrence he quite as unobtrusively slipped through the doorway
+and sought his room to repair his appearance and relieve the anxiety of
+Amory Byrd. And that seemed to conclude the adventure for all hands, and
+Don, for one, was extremely thankful that they had escaped detection and
+the punishment which would have certainly followed. But that Sunday
+afternoon, while on his way to Torrence to recover a book which Leroy
+Draper had borrowed in the Spring and neglected to return, he fell in
+with Harry Walton and made the disconcerting discovery that he had
+congratulated himself too soon. Don had no particular liking for Walton,
+although he by no means held him in the disdain that Amy Byrd and some
+others did, and he was a little surprised when Harry fell into step
+beside him.
+
+"Have a good time last night?" asked Harry with an ingratiating leer.
+
+"Last night?" echoed Don vacantly. He remembered then that Lawton roomed
+in Number 20 Billings, directly above Number 6. "What about last night?"
+
+Harry winked meaningly and chuckled. "Well, I guess there was a party,
+wasn't there? I noticed you got home sort of late."
+
+"Did I? What makes you think that?"
+
+"I happened to be looking out my window, Don. It was sort of hot and I
+wasn't sleepy. Who were the other fellows?"
+
+"Other fellows? I guess you didn't see any others, Walton."
+
+Harry's saturnine countenance again wreathed itself with a growing grin.
+"Didn't, eh? All right. I probably imagined them."
+
+"Maybe you were asleep and dreamed it," said Don gravely. "Guess you
+must have, Walton."
+
+"Oh, I'm not going to talk, Don. You needn't be afraid of that."
+
+"I'm not," responded the other drily. "Well, I'm going in here. So long,
+Walton."
+
+"Bye, Don. I'm mum."
+
+Don nodded and entered Torrence, but on the way upstairs he frowned
+disgustedly. He didn't believe for an instant that Walton would
+deliberately get them into trouble, but he might talk so much that the
+facts would eventually work around to one of the masters. Don wished
+that almost any fellow he knew save Walton had witnessed that entry by
+the window of Number 6. Later, when he returned from his visit to Roy
+Draper, without the book, by the way, since it had mysteriously
+disappeared, he recounted his conversation with Walton to Tim. Tim
+didn't let it bother him any, however.
+
+"Harry won't give us away. Why should he? Besides, if he did he would
+know mighty well that I'd spoil his brunette beauty!"
+
+"Well, he may tell it around and Horace or somebody'll hear it. That's
+all I'm worrying about."
+
+"Don't worry, Donald. Keep a clear conscience and you'll never know what
+worry is. That's my philosophy."
+
+Don smiled and dismissed the matter from consideration.
+
+On Monday he had his first try at coaching the second team tackles and
+found that, after all, he got on fairly well. There were four candidates
+for the positions and two of them, Kirkwell and Merton, promised well.
+Kirkwell, in fact, had already had a full season of experience on the
+second. Merton was a graduate from his last year's hall team. The other
+two, Brace and Goodhugh, were novices and had everything to learn, and
+it was with them that Don laboured the hardest. Monday's practice ended
+with a ten-minute scrimmage between two hastily selected teams, and
+Don, for the first time that fall, played in his old position of left
+guard. Merton, who opposed him, found that he still had much to learn.
+
+On Tuesday, after a long and grilling tackling practice at the dummy,
+Coach Boutelle announced his line-up for the scrimmage against the first
+team, and Don was disappointed to find that Kirkwell and not he was down
+for left guard. The right guard position went to Merton. Don, with Mr.
+Boutelle and a half-dozen of the more promising substitutes, followed
+their team about the field, Boots criticising and driving and Don
+breaking in with hurried instructions to the guards. The first team had
+no trouble in piling up four touchdowns that afternoon, even though
+three regulars were still out of the line-up. Between the short periods
+Don coached Kirkwell and Merton again, and Kirkwell, who was a decent
+chap but fancied himself a bit, was inclined to resent it.
+
+"Chop it off, Gilbert," he said finally. "Give a fellow a chance to use
+his own brains a little. I'm no greenhorn, you know. I played guard all
+last year on this team."
+
+"I know you did," answered Don. "And I don't say you can't play your
+position all right. But the best of us make mistakes, and Boots has told
+me to look out for them and try and correct them. I'd a lot rather be
+playing than doing this, Kirkwell, but while I am doing it I'm going to
+do it the best I know how. A fellow who isn't in the game sees a lot the
+player doesn't, and when----"
+
+"Oh, all right. Only don't tell me stuff I know as well as I know my
+name, Gilbert. Don't nag."
+
+"Sorry. I'll try not to. But you see what I mean about that stiff-arm
+business, don't you? Don't get out of position when you're not sure
+where the play's coming, Kirkwell. Stiff-arm your man and hold him off
+until you see what's doing. Then you can play him right or left or shove
+him back. Once or twice you waited too long to find out where the play
+was coming and you didn't hold your man off. Get me?"
+
+"Yes, but we don't all play the position the same way, you know. What's
+the good of sparring with your man when you've got to find where the
+play's coming? You can't watch the ball and your opponent too, can you?"
+
+"It doesn't sound reasonable," said Don, "but you can! You watch Hall do
+it, if you don't believe me. Maybe you don't actually look two ways at
+once, Kirkwell, but you can watch your man and locate the play at the
+same time. I suppose it comes with practice."
+
+"I'd like to see you do it," replied Kirkwell aggrievedly.
+
+"Watch Hall do it. He's the best guard around here. I'm not setting up
+as an example."
+
+"You talk like it," muttered Kirkwell. But Merton, who had been a silent
+audience, stepped in to Don's support.
+
+"Gilbert's only trying to help us, Ned. Quit grousing. Come on; time's
+up."
+
+In spite of mutinous objections Kirkwell profited by Don's advice and
+instruction and soon showed an improvement in his defensive playing. It
+didn't appear that day, for Kirkwell was replaced by Don before the
+second period was more than a few minutes old, while Merton gave way to
+Goodhugh. Don's advent considerably strengthened the left of the second
+team's line and more than once during his brief presence there he had
+the satisfaction of outwitting Tom Hall and once got clear through and
+smeared a play well behind the first team's line.
+
+Boots cut his squad from day to day and on Friday only some eighteen
+candidates remained. Brace went with the discard. Between parting with
+Brace and Goodhugh, Don, when consulted, chose to sacrifice the former.
+Possibly young Brace suspected Don's part in his release, for, for some
+time after that, he viewed Don with scowls.
+
+Don's hand was now entirely healed, although the scars still showed,
+and, according to the doctor, would continue to show for a long time.
+Mr. Boutelle used Don at right guard during some portion of every
+scrimmage game against the first, a fact which caused Kirkwell a deal of
+anxiety. Kirkwell had from the first, and not unreasonably, resented
+Don's appearance with the second team squad. Don had been, as every
+fellow knew, slated for the first team, and Kirkwell thought it was
+unfair of him to drop back to the second and "try to do him out of his
+place." Feeling as he did, it isn't surprising that he took more and
+more unkindly to Don's teaching. It took all of Don's good nature at
+times to prevent an open break with Kirkwell. Once the latter accused
+Don of trying to "ball him up" so that he would play poorly and Don
+would get the position. The next day, though, he made an awkward apology
+for that accusation and was quite receptive to Don's criticisms and
+instructions. But Don's task was no easy one and it grew harder as the
+season progressed and the second team, especially as to its linemen,
+failed to develop the ability Mr. Boutelle looked for. Don more than
+once was on the point of resigning his somewhat thankless task, but Tim
+refused to sanction it, and what Tim said had a good deal of influence
+with Don.
+
+"Well, then," he said moodily, "I hope Kirkwell will break something and
+get out of it."
+
+"Tut, tut," remonstrated Tim. "Them's no Christian sentiments."
+
+"I do, though. Or, anyway, I hope something will happen to let me out of
+it. Boots said he was afraid Robey would take me on the first, but I
+don't see any chance of it."
+
+"I don't see why he doesn't, though," mused Tim. "Your hand's all right
+now and you're playing a corking good game. You can work all around any
+guard he's got except, maybe, Tom. Tom's rather a bit above the average,
+if you ask me. Neither Walton nor Pryme amounts to a whole lot."
+
+"Robey's been playing Walton a good deal lately," said Don. "I wouldn't
+be surprised if he put him in ahead of Gafferty before long."
+
+"There isn't a lot to choose between them, I guess," answered Tim.
+"Gafferty's no earthly good on offence. Wait till we run up against
+Benton tomorrow. Those huskies will show Gafferty up finely. And maybe
+some more of us," Tim added with a chuckle.
+
+"Oh, well----" began Don, vaguely, after a minute.
+
+But Tim interrupted. "Know what I think? I think Robey means to take you
+on the first later and is letting you stay with Boots just so you'll get
+fined down and speeded up a bit. You know you're still a little slow,
+Donald."
+
+"I am?" Don asked in genuine surprise. "I didn't know it. How do you
+mean, slow, Tim?"
+
+Tim leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together behind his
+head. "Every way, Donald. I'm telling you this for your own good,
+dearie. I thought you realised it, though, or I'd have said it before.
+You start slow and you don't get up steam until the play's about over.
+If it wasn't that you're an indecently strong chap we'd get the jump on
+you every time. We do, as it is, only it doesn't do us much good,
+because you're a tough chap to move. Now you think it over, Don. See if
+you can't ginger up a bit. Bet you anything that when you do Robey'll
+have you yanked off that second team in no time at all!"
+
+"I'm glad you told me," said Don, after a moment's consideration. "I
+thought I was doing pretty well this fall. I know well enough it was
+being all-fired slow that kept me off the first last fall, but I surely
+thought I'd picked up a whole lot of speed. I'll have to go back to
+practising starts, I guess."
+
+"Oh, never mind the kindergarten stuff, old man. Just put more jump into
+it. You'll find you can do it all right, now that you know about it.
+Why, I'll bet you'll be performing like a Jack rabbit before the
+season's over!"
+
+"Like a jackass, more likely," responded Don ruefully.
+
+"No, for a jackass, dearie, doesn't take a hint."
+
+"Well, but I don't believe I _can_ play any faster, Tim. If I could I'd
+be doing it, wouldn't I? Just naturally, I mean."
+
+"Never mind the conundrums, Don. You try it. If you do I'll be willing
+to guarantee you a place on the first."
+
+"I guess your guarantee wouldn't cut much ice," objected Don, with a
+laugh. Then he sobered and added: "Funny game, though, me coaching
+Kirkwell and Merton and Goodhugh. Looks as if I was the one needed the
+coaching."
+
+"Sure. We all need it. No one's perfect, Don, although, without
+boasting, I will say that I come pretty near it."
+
+"You come pretty near being a perfect chump, if that's what you mean."
+
+Tim shook his head. "It isn't at all what I mean. Now cut out the
+artless prattle and let me find some sense in this history stuff--if
+there is any!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE WIDTH OF A FINGER
+
+
+AT chapel the next morning Mr. Fernald, the principal, after the usual
+announcements had been made, lifted a newspaper from the table at his
+side and ran his eyes over an item there. "I have here," he said, "a
+copy of this week's Brimfield _Times_, which tells of an incident of
+which I had not learned. In telling of a fire on Saturday night last
+which destroyed a barn and damaged other buildings on the farm of Mr.
+William Corrigan, some three miles from the village, the _Times_ makes
+mention of the valuable assistance of a Mr. Grover Brady and four boys
+of this school. According to the _Times_, Mr. Brady and four boys dashed
+to the scene in a high-powered automobile, organised a bucket brigade
+and saved"--Mr. Fernald consulted his authority again--"saved the
+dwelling house from the devouring element. The metaphor is that of the
+paper. Possibly the _Times_ is misinformed with regard to the heroic
+young firemen, although I hope not. I should be very pleased to
+discover that they were really Brimfieldians. If they were, if they are
+before me at this moment, I trust they will signify the fact by standing
+up. I'm sure we'd all like to know their identity and give them
+well-deserved applause. Now then, will the modest heroes kindly reveal
+themselves?"
+
+Silence ensued, a silence broken only by a few whispers and some
+shuffling of feet. Every fellow's eyes searched the room, or, at least,
+that is true of almost every fellow. Tim smiled innocently and
+expectantly at the principal, Clint studied the back of the head in
+front of him most interestedly, Don observed the scar in his hand
+absorbedly and Tom grinned because Steve Edwards was whispering from the
+side of his mouth: "Why don't you get up, you bloomin' hero, why don't
+you get up?" Harry Walton was smiling that knowing smile of his and
+doing his best to catch Don's eye. And Don somehow knew it and didn't
+dare look toward him.
+
+"I'm disappointed," said Mr. Fernald after a minute. "Either the paper
+is mistaken or the fellows are over-modest. Well, if they won't speak
+for themselves perhaps someone else will volunteer to wrest them from
+the obscurity they so evidently court. How about that, boys? Anyone know
+who the heroes are?"
+
+Again silence for an instant, and then, in various parts of the room,
+the sudden moving of seats or tramping of feet as though someone was
+about to get up. But no one did, and some of the younger boys in front
+began to titter nervously. Mr. Fernald smiled and laid the Brimfield
+_Times_ back on the table.
+
+"No heroes amongst us, eh? Well, doubtless if any of you had been there
+you'd have performed quite as well as these unknown young gentlemen did.
+I like to think so. Dismissed."
+
+"Do you think he suspects us?" asked Tom as he ranged himself beside Tim
+on the way out. "Gee, I thought once he was looking right at me!"
+
+"That's what it is to have a guilty conscience," replied Tim, in a
+virtuous tone. "Of course he doesn't suspect. If he did he'd have named
+us, sure as shooting. The funny part of it is that he hasn't thought
+about what time the fire was! Maybe the paper didn't say. If he knew
+that he'd probably be a sight more anxious to find us!"
+
+"I was scared stiff that Harry Walton would blab. I didn't dare look at
+him."
+
+"Harry doesn't know you were with us. He recognised Don, or says he did,
+and he naturally thinks I was along, but he doesn't know who the other
+two were. If he opens his mouth I'll brain him."
+
+"I guess he won't. He's a sort of a pup, but he isn't mean enough for
+that. Gee, but it almost ruined my appetite for breakfast!"
+
+"Even if Josh did find out," said Tim as they turned into Wendell, "he
+wouldn't do much to us, I guess. It wasn't our fault the fire was late
+in getting started, and the paper calls us heroes----"
+
+"I don't believe it does. That's some of Josh's nonsense. I'm going to
+get a copy of the _Times_ and see what it does say."
+
+"Take my advice and let the _Times_ alone," advised Tim. "Why, I
+wouldn't be seen with a copy of it in my possession! It would be
+circumstantial evidence, or corroborative evidence or something horrid,
+and I'd get pinched for sure. You keep away from the _Times_, dearie."
+
+There was a good deal of interested speculation as to the identity of
+the four youths who had participated in the rescue of Farmer Corrigan's
+dwelling, but the general opinion was to the effect that the local paper
+had erred. One fellow made the suggestion in Don's hearing that if
+faculty would look it up and see who had leave of absence Saturday night
+they might spot the chaps. Don sincerely hoped the idea wouldn't occur
+to Mr. Fernald!
+
+But interest in the matter soon waned, for Brimfield was to play Benton
+Military Academy that afternoon and what sort of a showing she would
+make against that very worthy opponent was a far more absorbing subject
+for speculation. Benton had been defeated handily enough last year, but
+reports from the military academy this Fall led Brimfield to expect a
+hard contest. And her expectations were fulfilled.
+
+Benton brought at least a hundred neatly uniformed rooters along and the
+field took on a very gallant appearance. The visitors seemed gaily
+confident of victory and from the time they marched into the field and
+took their places in the stand until the kick-off there was no cessation
+of the songs and cheers from the blue-clad cohorts. Coach Robey started
+his best men in that game and, as was quickly proved, needed to. The
+first period was a bitterly contested punting duel in which Rollins,
+and, later, St. Clair came off second best. But the difference in the
+kicking of the rival teams was not sufficient to allow of much
+advantage, and the first ten-minute set-to ended without a score. In
+fact, neither team had been at any time within scoring distance of the
+other's goal line. When play began again Benton changed her tactics and
+started a rushing game that for a few minutes made headway. But a fumble
+cost her the ball and a possible score on the Maroon-and-Grey's
+twenty-yard line and the latter adopted the enemy's plan and banged at
+the soldiers' line for fair gains. A forward pass brought the spectators
+to their feet and gained twenty-two yards for Brimfield, Steve Edwards
+being on the receiving end of a very pretty play. But Benton stiffened
+presently and Brimfield was forced to kick.
+
+That kick spelled disaster for Brimfield. Rollins dropped back to near
+his own thirty yards and sent a remarkable corkscrew punt to Benton's
+twenty. It was one of the prettiest punts ever seen on the Brimfield
+gridiron, for it was so long that it went over the quarter-back's head,
+so high that it enabled the Maroon-and-Grey ends to get well down under
+it and was nicely placed in the left-hand corner of the field. The
+Benton quarter made no effort to touch it while it was bounding toward
+the goal line, for with both Edwards and Holt hovering about him a
+fumble might easily have resulted, and it was only when the pigskin had
+settled down to a slow, toppling roll and it was evident that it did not
+mean to go over the line that the Benton quarter seized it. What
+happened then was little short of a miracle. Both Captain Edwards and
+Holt took it for granted that the quarter-back meant to drop on the ball
+and call it down, and, since there was no necessity to smother the
+opponent, each waited for the other to tackle and hold him. But the
+first thing anyone knew the Benton quarter had the ball in his hands,
+had squirmed somehow between Edwards and Holt and was speeding up the
+middle of the field!
+
+Between him and the fifty-yard line friend and foe were mingled, and to
+win through seemed a preposterous undertaking. And yet first one and
+then another of the enemy was passed, team-mates formed hasty
+interference for the runner and, suddenly, to the consternation of the
+Brimfield stand, the quarter, with the ball snuggled in the crook of his
+left elbow, was out of the melee, with a clear field before him and two
+Benton players guarding his rear. Crewe made a desperate effort to get
+him near the thirty-yard line, but the interference was too much for
+him, and after that, although Brimfield trailed the runner to the goal
+line and over, there was no doubt as to the result. And when the Benton
+quarter deposited the ball squarely between the posts and laid himself
+down beside it friend and foe alike arose from their seats and cheered
+him long and loudly. Never had a more spectacular run been made there,
+for not only had the quarter practically traversed the length of the
+field, but had eluded the entire opposing eleven.
+
+Benton deserved to secure the odd point by kicking goal, but
+goal-kicking was the quarter-back's business and he was far too tuckered
+to try, and so the player who did make the attempt failed miserably, and
+Benton had to be satisfied with those six points. Probably she was, for
+she cheered madly and incessantly while the period lasted and then spent
+the half-time singing triumphant paeans. And those military academy
+chaps could sing, too! Brimfield, a bit chastened, listened and
+applauded generously and only found her own voice when the
+Maroon-and-Grey warriors trotted back again.
+
+Carmine had given place to McPhee at quarter and Holt to Cheep at right
+end. Otherwise Brimfield's line was the same as in the first half.
+McPhee opened his bag of tricks soon after play began and double-passes
+and delayed-passes and a certain fake plunge at guard with quarter
+running wide outside the drawn-in end made good gains and took the ball
+down the field with only one halt to Benton's twenty-three yards. There
+the military academy team solved a fake-kick and St. Clair was laid low
+behind his line. Rollins made up the lost distance and a little more
+besides, and finally, with the ball on Benton's nineteen yards on fourth
+down, Captain Edwards called for a try-at-goal and Rollins dropped back
+to the thirty. Fortunately the Maroon-and-Grey forwards held back the
+plunging enemy in good style, Rollins had all the time he wanted, the
+pigskin dropped neatly over the bar, and the score-board figures
+proclaimed 6 to 3.
+
+Benton kicked off and once more Brimfield started up the field, St.
+Clair, Tim Otis and Rollins banging the line from end to end and Edwards
+varying the monotony by sweeping around behind and launching himself off
+on wide runs. But the advance slackened near the middle of the field and
+an attempted forward pass was captured by Benton. That play brought the
+ten-minute period to an end.
+
+Benton tried the Brimfield centre and got through for four yards, hit it
+again and made three and placed the ball on the home team's forty-yard
+line. Time was called for Brimfield and Danny Moore trotted on to
+administer to Gafferty. The left guard was soon on his feet again,
+although a trifle unsteady, it seemed, and Benton, with three yards to
+gain, swung into the other side and pushed a half-back through for the
+distance. Carmine replaced McPhee and Holt went back to end position.
+Benton once more thrust at Gafferty and, although the secondary defence
+plugged the hole, went through for two yards. Time was again called and
+this time the trainer led Joe Gafferty off the field, the latter
+protesting bitterly, and Harry Walton was hurried in. Benton tried a
+forward pass and made it go for a small gain and then, on third down,
+got past Thayer and reached the eighteen before Carmine tipped up the
+runner. Across the gridiron, Benton's supporters yelled mightily and a
+second touchdown looked imminent.
+
+Benton fumbled and recovered for a two-yard loss and then sent that
+heroic quarter up the field to try a drop kick. It looked easy enough,
+for the ball was near the twenty-eight yards and in front of the right
+hand goal post. Captain Edwards implored his men to block the kick and
+comparative quiet fell over the field. Back shot the ball and the
+quarter's foot swung at it, but the left side of the Benton line
+crumbled and Hall and Crewe flung themselves into the path of the ball.
+Four seconds later it was snuggled under Tim Otis's chest near the
+thirty-five yards, for Tim had followed the forwards through and
+trailed the bouncing pigskin up the field.
+
+That misadventure seemed to take the heart out of the visitors, and when
+Brimfield, with new courage and determination, smashed at her line she
+fell back time and again. Substitutes were sent in lavishly, but
+although the right side of the Benton line stiffened for awhile, the
+left continued weak. Coach Robey sent in Compton to replace Steve
+Edwards and, later, Howard for St. Clair. With the best part of five
+minutes left, Brimfield hoped to put over a winning touchdown, and the
+backs responded gallantly to Carmine's demands. Near the enemy's
+forty-yard line Rollins threw a neat forward to Holt and the latter
+raced along the side of the field for a dozen yards before he was forced
+over the line. That took the ball to Benton's twenty-one. Two tries at
+the line netted but six yards and Compton took the pigskin on an
+end-around play and just made the distance.
+
+Brimfield hammered the enemy's left wing and reached her five-yard line
+in three downs, but Benton, fiercely determined, her feet on the last
+line mark, was putting up a strong defence. Tom Hall, captain pro tem.,
+and Carmine consulted. A forward pass might succeed, and if it did would
+win the game, but Benton would be watching for it and neither Holt nor
+Compton was a brilliant catcher of thrown balls. A goal from the field
+would only tie the score, but it seemed the wisest play. So Rollins
+dropped back to the twenty and stretched his arms. But Benton was sure a
+forward was to result and when the ball went back her attempts to block
+the kick were not very enthusiastic. That was fortunate for Brimfield,
+for Thursby's pass had been short and Rollins had to pick the ball from
+the turf before he could swing at it. That delay was almost his undoing,
+since the Benton forwards were now trickling through, and it was only by
+the veriest good fortune that the ball shot between them from Rollins's
+toe and, after showing an inclination to pass to the left of the goal
+and changing its mind in mid-air, dropped over the bar barely inside the
+post. Brimfield cheered and the 3 on the board changed to 6. Coach Robey
+called Rollins and Tim Otis out, replacing them with Martin and Gordon.
+Brimfield kicked off once more and, with a scant minute and a half to
+play, the Maroon-and-Grey tried valiantly to add another score.
+
+Carmine caught on his twenty and took the ball to the thirty-six before
+he was stopped, and Brimfield cheered wildly and danced about in the
+stand. Plugging the line would never cover that distance to the farther
+goal line and so Carmine sent Gordon off around the left end. But Gordon
+couldn't find the hole and was run down for no gain. A forward pass,
+Carmine to Compton, laid the ball on the forty-eight yards. Howard slid
+off right tackle for six and, on a fake-kick play, Martin ran around
+left end for seven more. Brimfield shouted imploringly from the stand
+and, across the field, Benton cheered incessantly, doggedly, longing for
+the whistle.
+
+The Benton team used all allowable methods to waste time. The timekeeper
+hovered nearby, his eyes darting from the galloping hand of his watch to
+the players. "Twenty-nine seconds," he responded to Tom Hall's question.
+Carmine clapped his hands impatiently.
+
+"Signals now! Make this good! Left tackle over! 27--57--88--16! Hep!
+27--57--88----"
+
+The backs swung obliquely to the right, Carmine dropped from sight, his
+back to the line, Benton's left side was borne slowly away, fighting
+hard, and confusion reigned. Then Carmine whirled around, sprang,
+doubled over, through the scattered right side of the enemy's line,
+challenged only by the end, who made a desperate attempt at a tackle but
+failed, and, with only the opposing quarter between him and the goal
+line, raced like the wind. About him was a roaring babel of sound,
+voices urging him on, shouts of dismay, imploring shrieks from behind.
+Then the quarter was before him, crouching with out-reached hands, a
+strained, anxious look on his dirt-streaked face.
+
+They met near the twenty-yard line. The Benton quarter launched himself
+forward. Carmine swung to the left and leaped. A hand groped at his
+ankle, caught, and Carmine fell sprawling to the turf. But he found his
+feet like a cat, wrenched the imprisoned ankle free and went staggering,
+stumbling on. Again he fell, on the five-yard line, and again the Benton
+quarter dived for him. But Carmine was not to be stopped with the line
+only five short yards away. He wrested himself to his feet again, the
+arms of the Benton quarter squirming about his knees, plunged on a
+stride, dragging the enemy with him, found his legs locked firmly now,
+struggled desperately and then flung himself sidewise toward the last
+white streak. And as he fell his hands, clasping the ball, reached
+forward and a whistle blew.
+
+It was said afterward that a half-inch decided that touchdown. And the
+half-inch was on the wrong side of the line! Carmine wept frankly when
+he heard the decision and Tom Hall had to be held away from the referee,
+but facts were facts and Carmine had lost his touchdown and Brimfield
+the victory by the width of a finger!
+
+Benton departed joyously, cheering and singing, and Brimfield tried hard
+to be satisfied with a drawn game. But she wasn't very successful, and
+for the next few days the referee's decision was discussed and derided
+and regretted.
+
+What sorrow Don felt was largely mitigated when, after supper that
+evening, Steve Edwards found him in front of Billings. "You come to us
+Monday, Don," said the captain. "Robey told me to tell you. Joe
+Gafferty's got a rib caved in and is out of it for a fortnight at least.
+Get Tim to coach you up on the signals. Don't forget."
+
+As though he was likely to!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+TIM EXULTS AND EXPLAINS
+
+
+WHEN Don told Tim the latter insisted on performing a triumphal dance
+about the room to the tune of "Boola." When Don squirmed himself loose
+Tim continued alone until the droplight was knocked to the floor at the
+cost of one green shade. Then he threw himself, panting but jubilant, on
+his bed and hilariously kicked his feet in air. Don observed him with a
+faint smile.
+
+"You wooden Indian, you!" exclaimed Tim, sitting up and dropping his
+feet to the floor with a crash. "There you stand like a--a graven image,
+looking as though you'd just received an invitation to a funeral! Cheer,
+you idiot! Make a noise! Aren't you tickled to death?"
+
+"You bet I am!" replied Don.
+
+"Well, do something, then! You ought to have a little of my Latin
+temperament, Don. You'd be a heap easier to live with. If it was I who
+had just been waited on humbly by the first team captain and invited to
+join the eleven I'd--I'd make a--a noise!"
+
+"What do you think you've been doing?" laughed Don. "You'll have Horace
+in here in a minute. Steve says you're to coach me on the signals."
+
+"Tomorrow!" Tim waved his hand. "Time enough for that, Don. Just now it
+behooves us to celebrate."
+
+"How?" asked Don.
+
+Tim thought long and earnestly. Finally, "Let's borrow Larry Jones's
+accordion and serenade Josh!" he said.
+
+"Let's not. And let's not go to a fire, either! Think of something
+better, Timmy."
+
+"Then we'll go out and bay at the moon. I've got to do something! By the
+time Joe's got his busted rib mended you'll have that left guard
+position nailed to the planks, Don."
+
+"How about Walton?" asked Don dubiously.
+
+"A fig for Walton! Two figs for him! A whole box of figs! All you've got
+to do is speed up a bit and----"
+
+"Suppose I can't?"
+
+"Suppose nothing! You've _got_ to! If you don't you'll have me to fight,
+Donald. If you don't cinch that position in just one week I--I'll take
+you over my knee and spank you with a belt! Come on over to Clint's
+room. Let us disseminate the glorious tidings. Let us----"
+
+"I'd rather learn the signals," said Don. "There's only tonight and
+tomorrow, you know."
+
+Tim appealed despairingly to the ceiling with wide-spread hands.
+"There's no poetry in his soul," he mourned, "no blood in his veins!" He
+faced Don scornfully. "Donald P. Gilbert is your name, my son, and the P
+stands for Practical. All right, then, draw up a chair and let's have it
+over. To think, though, that I should have to sit indoors a night like
+this and teach signals to a wooden-head! I wooden do it for anyone else.
+Ha! How's that! Get a pad and a pencil and try to look intelligent."
+
+"All right? Mark 'em down, then. Starting at the left, number your holes
+1, 3, 5, 7, 8, 6, 4, 2. Got that? Number your left end 1, the next man
+3, the next 5. Omit centre. Right guard 6, right tackle 4, right end 2.
+Now, your backfield. Quarter 0, left half 7, right half 8, full-back 9."
+
+"Gee, that's hard to remember," murmured Don.
+
+"And hard to guess," answered Tim. "Now, your first number, unless it's
+under thirty, is a fake. If it's under thirty it means that the next
+number is the number of a play. Over thirty, it means nothing. Your
+second digit of your second number is your runner. The second digit of
+the third number is the hole. The fourth number, as you doubtless
+surmise, is also a fake. Now, then, sir! 65--47--23--98! What is it?"
+
+"Left half between end and tackle."
+
+"On the left. Correct. 19--87--77--29?"
+
+"I don't know. Nineteen calls for a numbered play."
+
+"Right again, Mr. Gilbert, your performance is startling! The pity of it
+is, though, that about the time you get these signals pat Robey'll
+change them for the Claflin game. So far we've only got eight numbered
+plays, and they aren't complicated. Want to go into them tonight?"
+
+"No, I guess not. I'd rather get these holes and players sort of fixed
+in my mind first. We'll go over the plays tomorrow, if you don't mind."
+
+"It will break my heart, but I'll do it for you. Now will you come over
+to Clint's?"
+
+"I'd rather not, Tim. You go. I want to mull over these signals."
+
+Presently, having exhausted his vocabulary on his room-mate, Tim went.
+Don settled his head in his hands and studied the numbered diagram for
+the better part of an hour. Don was slow at memorising, but what was
+once forced into his mind stayed there. A little before ten o'clock he
+slipped the diagram under a box in a bureau drawer and went to bed with
+a calm mind, and when Tim returned riotously a few minutes later Don was
+sleeping peacefully.
+
+On Monday, in chapel, Don and the "heroes" of Farmer Corrigan's
+conflagration had another shock, and Don, for one, wondered when he was
+to hear the last of that affair. "Since last week," said Mr. Fernald
+drily, "when I requested the four boys who helped to put out a fire at
+the Corrigan farm to make themselves known to an admiring public, I have
+gained an understanding of their evident desire to conceal their
+identities. I am forced to the conclusion that it was not altogether
+modesty that kept them silent. The fire, it appears, did not break out
+until nearly half-past nine. Consequently the young gentlemen were
+engaged in their heroic endeavours at a time when they should have been
+in their dormitories. I have not yet found out who they were, but I am
+making earnest efforts to do so. Meanwhile, if they wish to lighten the
+consequences of their breach of school regulations, I'd earnestly advise
+them to call and see me. I may add that, in view of the unusual
+circumstances, had they made a clean breast of the affair I should have
+dealt very leniently with them. That is all, I think. Dismissed."
+
+None of the culprits dared to so much as glance at the others on the way
+out of the hall, but afterward, when breakfast was over, they gathered
+anxiously together in Number 6 Billings and discussed the latest
+development with lowered voices, like a quartette of anarchists
+arranging a bomb party.
+
+"He's right up on his ear," said Clint gloomily. "If he gets us now he
+will send us all packing, and don't you doubt it!"
+
+"Piffle!" This from Tim, the least impressed of the four. "Probation is
+all we'd get. Didn't the paper say we were heroes?"
+
+"No, it didn't," answered Tom shortly. "And I wish that paper was in
+Halifax!"
+
+"Might as well be fired as put on pro," said Clint. "It would mean no
+more football this year for any of us. My word, wouldn't Robey be mad!"
+
+"Wouldn't I be!" growled Tom. "Look here, do you really suppose he's
+trying to find out who we were, or was that just a bluff to scare us
+into 'fessing up!"
+
+"Josh isn't much of a bluffer," observed Don judiciously. "What he says
+he means. What I don't savvy is why he hasn't found out already. Every
+hall master has a record of leaves."
+
+"Yes, but it was Saturday night and I'll bet half the school had leave,"
+said Tim. "I dare say, though, that if any fellows are suspected we're
+amongst 'em, Don. Being on the first floor, Josh knows we could sneak in
+easily. Still, he can't prove it on us."
+
+"I'm not so sure," replied Don thoughtfully. "Suppose he asked Mr.
+Brady?"
+
+A dismayed silence ensued until Tom laughed mirthlessly.
+
+"That's one on us," he said. "We never thought of that. Maybe he has
+asked Brady already."
+
+"Brady doesn't know our names," said Tim. "You didn't tell him, did you,
+Don?"
+
+"No, he didn't ask. But he could easily describe us so that Josh would
+recognise us, I guess."
+
+"That's the trouble with being so plaguy distinguished looking," mourned
+Tim. "Seems to me, fellows, that there's just one thing to be did, and
+did sudden."
+
+"You mean warn Mr. Brady?" asked Clint.
+
+"Exactly, my discerning young friend. Maybe the horse is stolen----"
+
+"What horse?" asked Tom perplexedly.
+
+"Merely a figure of speech, Tom. I was about to observe when so rudely
+interrupted----"
+
+"Oh, cut out the verbiage," growled Tom.
+
+"That possibly it was too late to lock the stable door," continued Tim,
+"but we'd better do it, just the same. Let's see if he has a telephone."
+
+"Of course he has," said Clint, "but I don't think it would be safe to
+call him up. We'd better see him. Or write him a letter."
+
+"He wouldn't get a letter until tomorrow, maybe," objected Don. "One of
+us had better beat it over to his place as soon as possible and ask him
+to keep mum."
+
+"I can't go," said Tom. "I've got four recits this morning and Robey
+would never let me off practice."
+
+"I don't believe any of us will do much work this afternoon," said Tim.
+"I'll go if Robey'll let me cut. I wish someone would come along,
+though. It's a dickens of a trip to make alone. You come, Clint."
+
+"I will if I can. We'll ask Robey at dinner. What shall we say to this
+Brady man?"
+
+"Just tell him what's doing and ask him to forget what we looked like if
+Josh writes to him or calls him up or anything. Brady's a good old
+scout, I'll bet," added Tim with conviction. "Maybe we'd better buy a
+setting of eggs to get on the good side of him."
+
+"Don't be a chump," begged Tim. "I don't call this a comedy situation,
+if you do, Tim. I'd certainly hate to get on pro and have to drop
+football!"
+
+"Don't be a chump," begged Tom. "I don't say it's a comedy, but there's
+no use weeping, is there? What's done is done, and we've got to make the
+best of it, and a laugh never hurt anyone yet."
+
+"Well, then, let's make the best of it," answered Tom peevishly.
+"Talking doesn't do any good."
+
+"Neither does grouching," said Tim sweetly. "You leave it all to Clint
+and me, Tom. We're a swell pair of fixers. If we can get to Brady before
+Josh does we're all right. And it's a safe wager Josh hasn't asked Brady
+yet, for if he had he'd be on to us. There's the nine o'clock bell,
+fellows, and I've got a recit. See you later. Hope for the best, Tom,
+and fear the worst!"
+
+Tim seized his books and dashed out, followed more leisurely by Clint.
+Tom remained a few minutes longer and then he, too, took his departure,
+still filled with forebodings. Don, left to himself, drew a chair to
+the table and began to study. Truth, however, compels me to state that
+what he studied was not his German, although he had a recitation coming
+in forty minutes, but two sheets of buff paper torn from a scratch-pad
+and filled with writing interspersed with numerals and adorned with
+strange diagrams, in short, Tim's elucidation of the eight numbered
+plays which up to the present comprised Brimfield's budget of tricks. It
+can't be said that Don covered himself with glory in Mr. Daley's German
+class that morning or that the instructor was at all satisfied, but Don
+had the secret satisfaction of knowing that stored away in the back of
+his brain was a very thorough knowledge of the Brimfield football signal
+code and of Mr. Robey's special plays.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+MR. BRADY FORGETS
+
+
+THAT afternoon Don's knowledge stood him in good stead, for with more
+than half the first-string players excused from practice, his services
+were called on at the start, and, with McPhee and Cotter running the
+squad, the signal drill was long and thorough. Harry Walton viewed Don's
+advent with disfavour. That was apparent to Don and anyone else who
+thought of the matter, although he pretended a good-natured indifference
+that wasn't at all deceiving. Don more than once caught his rival
+observing him with resentment and dislike, and, remembering that Harry
+Walton had been a witness of his unconventional return to hall that
+night, he experienced misgivings. Of course, Harry wouldn't "peach,"
+but--well, Don again wished anyone rather than Harry had stumbled on the
+secret.
+
+But he didn't have much time for worrying about that matter, for Coach
+Robey went after them hard that day. In the practice game with the
+second team Don started at left guard and played the position until
+within a few minutes of the whistle. Then Harry Walton, who had been
+disgruntledly adorning the bench, took his place. He didn't look at Don
+as he accepted the latter's head-guard, but Don was well aware that
+Harry felt anything but good-will for him. Naturally enough, Harry had,
+Don reflected, expected to step into Gafferty's place without opposition
+when news of the extent of the latter's injury had become known, and it
+was undoubtedly a big disappointment to him to discover that he had to
+fight a new opponent. Don could sympathise with Harry, for he had
+endured disappointments himself during his brief football career, but it
+is difficult to sympathise very enthusiastically when the subject of
+your sympathy shows his dislike for you, and Don metaphorically shrugged
+his shoulders as he trotted up to the gymnasium.
+
+"It isn't my fault," he said to himself. "I didn't bust Joe Gafferty's
+rib and I'm not responsible for Robey's taking me on the first team.
+Walton will just have to make the best of it."
+
+Don couldn't flatter himself that he had played that afternoon with
+especial brilliancy, although he had managed to hold his end up fairly
+well. The fact was that he had been so intent on getting speeded into
+his performance that he had rather skimped the niceties of line-play.
+And he wasn't at all certain that he had shown any more speed than
+usual, either. He awaited Mr. Robey's appearance in the locker-room with
+some apprehension, certain that if he had erred badly he would soon
+learn of it. When the coach did arrive at the tail of the procession of
+panting players and said his say without once singling out Don for
+special attention, the latter was relieved. He couldn't, he told
+himself, have done so very badly, after all!
+
+Tom walked back to Billings with Don to learn the result of Tim's and
+Clint's embassy to the Cedar Ridge Poultry Farm, for the two had
+obtained leave of absence from Mr. Robey and had set forth on their
+journey the minute a three o'clock recitation was finished. Tim wasn't
+in Number 6 when they reached it, but he and Clint tramped in soon
+after, dusty and weary but evidently triumphant. Tim narrated their
+experiences.
+
+"Missed the three-fifty car, just as I told Clint we would if he didn't
+hustle----"
+
+"I had to find a cap to wear, didn't I?" interpolated Clint.
+
+"Well, we found the place all right, fellows, and, say, it's some
+poultry farm, believe me, dearies! Isn't it corking, Clint?"
+
+Clint grunted assent, stretching tired legs across the floor.
+
+"There's about a thousand acres of it, I guess, and a mile of red
+chicken houses and runs, or whatever you call 'em. How many hens and
+things did he tell us he had, Clint?"
+
+"Eighteen hundred, I think. Maybe it was eighteen thousand. I don't
+remember. All I know is there were chickens as far as you could see, and
+then some."
+
+"Never mind the descriptive matter," urged Tom. "What did he say? Had
+Josh been at him? Did he promise----"
+
+"I'm coming to that, dearie. When we found him he was doing something to
+that car of his in a cute little garage. And, say, it's an
+eight-cylinder Lothrop, and a regular jim-dandy! Well, he took us into
+his house first----"
+
+Tom groaned in despair.
+
+"----And fed us on crackers and cake and ginger ale. Say, he's got a
+peach of a bungalow there; small but entire; and a cute little Jap who
+cooks and looks after things for him. Well, then he took us out and
+showed us around the place. Chickens! Gee, I didn't know there were so
+many in the world! And we saw the incubators and the--what you call
+them--brooders, and----"
+
+"For the love of mud!" exclaimed Tom. "Can't you get down to dots? _Is
+it all right or isn't it?_"
+
+Tim smiled exasperatingly. "Then he showed us----"
+
+Tom arose to his feet and took a step toward him.
+
+"It's all right," said Tim hurriedly. "Everything, Thomas! We told him
+what was up and how we didn't want Josh to find out it was us who
+attended Mr. Corrigan's fire party and asked him if he would please not
+remember what we looked like if Josh asked him. And he said----"
+
+"He laughed," interrupted Clint, and chuckled himself.
+
+"That's right! He laughed a lot. 'You're a little bit late,' he said.
+'Mr. Fernald called me up by telephone nearly a week ago, fellows, and
+wanted to know all about it.' 'You didn't tell him?' I yelped. 'No, I
+couldn't,' he said. 'You see, you hadn't told me your names, and it was
+pretty dark that night and somehow or other I just couldn't seem to
+recall what you looked like! Mr. Fernald sounded considerably
+disappointed and like he didn't quite believe me, but that can't be
+helped.' Say, fellows, I wanted to hug him! Or--or buy an egg or
+something! Honest, I did! He's all right, what?"
+
+"He's a corker!" said Tom, sighing with relief. "You don't suppose
+Corrigan or any of the others there that night would remember us, do
+you?"
+
+"Not likely. Mr. Brady didn't think so, anyway."
+
+"Then it's all to the merry!" cried Tom. "Gee, but that's a load off my
+mind!"
+
+"Off your what?" asked Tim curiously.
+
+"It's all right if Harry Walton keeps quiet," said Don. "If he gets to
+talking----"
+
+"If he does I'll beat him up," said Tim earnestly. "But he won't. He
+wouldn't be such a snip, in the first place, and he wouldn't dare to in
+the second."
+
+"N-no, I guess not," agreed Don. But his tone didn't hold much
+conviction. "Only, if----"
+
+"I'll tell you fellows one thing," announced Tom vehemently.
+
+"Don't strain yourself," advised Tim.
+
+"And that," continued the other, scowling at the interruption, "is that
+no one gets me into any more scrapes until after the Claflin game!"
+
+"Gee, to hear you talk," exclaimed Tim indignantly, "anyone would think
+we'd tied you up with a rope and forcibly abducted you! Who's idea was
+it, anyway, to go to the village that night?"
+
+"Yours, if you want to know! I don't say I didn't go along willingly
+enough, Tim. What I do say is--_never again_! Anyway," he added, "not
+until football's over!"
+
+Morgan's School, which had defeated Brimfield the year before, 6 to 3,
+came and departed. Brimfield took the visitor's measure this time, and,
+although she only scored one touchdown and failed to kick goal, the
+contest was far less close and interesting than the score would suggest.
+Brimfield played the opponents to a standstill in the first half and
+scored just before the end of it. In the third quarter Coach Robey began
+substituting and when the last ten minutes started the Maroon-and-Grey
+had only three first-string fellows in her line-up. The substitutes
+played good football and, while not able to push the pigskin across
+Morgan's line, twice reached her fifteen yards and twice tried and
+narrowly missed a goal from the field.
+
+On the whole it could not be said that Brimfield's performance that
+blustery Saturday afternoon was impressive, for she was frequently
+caught napping on the defensive, showed periods of apathy and did more
+fumbling, none of which resulted disastrously, than she should have.
+Tim Otis had a remarkably good day and was undeniably the best man in
+the backfield for the home team. Carmine played a heady, snappy game,
+and Don, who played the most of three quarters at left guard, conducted
+himself very well. Don's work was never of the spectacular sort, but at
+his best he was a steady and thoroughly reliable lineman and very
+effective on defence. He was still slow in getting into plays, a fact
+which made him of less value than Joe Gafferty on attack. Even Harry
+Walton showed up better than Don when Brimfield had the ball. But
+neither Gafferty nor Walton was as strong on defence as Don.
+
+Walton had been very earnestly striving all the week to capture the
+guard position, but the fact that Don had been played through most of
+the Morgan's game indicated that the latter was as yet a slight
+favourite in Coach Robey's estimation. During the week succeeding the
+Morgan's game the two rivals kept at it nip and tuck, and their
+team-mates looked on with interest. At practice Mr. Robey showed no
+favour to either, and each came in for his full share of criticism, but
+when, the next Saturday, the team journeyed away from home and played
+Cherry Valley, it was again Don who started the game between Thayer and
+Thursby and who remained in the line-up until the fourth period, by
+which time Brimfield had piled up the very satisfactory score of
+twenty-six points. In the final five minutes Cherry Valley managed to
+fool the visitors and get a forward pass off for a gain that placed the
+ball on Brimfield's fourteen yards, and from there her drop-kicker put
+the pigskin over the cross-bar and tallied three points. The game was
+uninteresting unless one was a partisan, and even then there were few
+thrills. Brimfield played considerably better than in the Morgan's game
+and emerged with no more important damages than a wrenched ankle, which
+fell to the share of Martin, who had taken Rollins's place in the last
+period.
+
+Joe Gafferty came back to practice the following Monday, but was missing
+again a day or two later, and the school heard with some dismay that
+Joe's parents had written to Mr. Fernald and forbidden Joe to play any
+more football that year. Joe was inconsolable and went around for the
+next week or so looking like a lost soul. After that he accepted the
+situation and helped Mr. Boutelle coach the second. That second had by
+that time been shaken together into a very capable and smooth-running
+team, a team which was giving the first more and more trouble every
+day. Coach Robey had again levied on it for a player, taking Merton to
+the first when Gafferty was lost to him, and again Mr. Boutelle growled
+and protested and, finally, philosophically shrugged his shoulders. A
+week later Merton was released to the second once more and Pryme, who
+had been playing at right guard as a substitute for Tom Hall, was tried
+out on the other side of centre with good results. Pryme's advent as a
+contender for the left guard position complicated the battle between Don
+and Harry Walton, and until after the Southby game the trio of
+candidates indulged in a three-cornered struggle that was quite pretty
+to watch.
+
+Unfortunately for Don, that struggle for supremacy threatened to affect
+his class standing, for it occupied so much of his thought that there
+was little left for study. When, however, the office dropped a hint and
+Mr. Daley presented an ultimatum, Don realised that he was taking
+football far too seriously, and, being a rather level-headed youth, he
+mended his ways. He expected, as a result, to find himself left behind
+in the race with Walton and Pryme, but, oddly enough, his game was in no
+degree affected so far as he could determine. In fact, within a few days
+the situation was simplified by the practical elimination of Pryme as a
+contender. This happened when, just before the Southby game, Tom Hall,
+together with eight other members of Mr. Moller's physics class went on
+probation, and Pryme was needed at right guard.
+
+I have mentioned Tom's probation very casually, quite as if it was a
+matter of slight importance, but you may be sure that the school viewed
+it in no such way. Coming as it did little more than a fortnight before
+the big game, it was looked on as a dire catastrophe, no more and no
+less; and the school, which had laughed and chuckled over the incident
+which had caused the catastrophe, and applauded the participants in it,
+promptly turned their thumbs down when the effect became known and
+indignantly dubbed the affair "silly kid's play" and blamed Tom very
+heartily. How much of the blame he really deserved you shall judge for
+yourself, but the affair merits a chapter of its own.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE JOKE ON MR. MOLLER
+
+
+AMY BYRD started it.
+
+Or, perhaps, in the last analysis, Mr. Moller began it himself. Mr.
+Moller's first name was Caleb, a fact which the school was quick to
+seize on. At first he was just "Caleb," then "Caleb the Conqueror," and,
+finally, "The Conqueror." The "Conqueror" part of it was added in
+recognition of Mr. Moller's habit of attiring himself for the class room
+as for an afternoon tea. He was a new member of the faculty that fall
+and Brimfield required more than the few weeks which had elapsed since
+his advent to grow accustomed to his grandeur of apparel. Mr. Caleb
+Moller was a good-looking, in fact quite a handsome young man of
+twenty-five or six, well-built, tall and the proud possessor of a
+carefully trimmed moustache and Vandyke beard, the latter probably
+cultivated in the endeavour to add to his apparent age. He affected
+light grey trousers, fancy waistcoats of inoffensive shades, a frock
+coat, grey gaiters and patent leather shoes. His scarf was always
+pierced with a small black pearl pin. There's no denying that Mr. Moller
+knew how to dress or that the effect was pleasing. But Brimfield wasn't
+educated to such magnificence and Brimfield gasped loudly the first time
+Mr. Moller burst on its sight. Afterward it laughed until the novelty
+began to wear off. Mr. Moller was a capable instructor and a likeable
+man, although it took Brimfield all of the first term to discover the
+latter fact owing to the master's dignified aloofness. Being but a scant
+eight years the senior of some of his pupils, he perhaps felt it
+necessary to emphasise his dignity a little. By the last of October,
+however, the school had accepted Mr. Moller and was, possibly, secretly
+a little proud to have for a member of its faculty one who possessed
+such excellent taste in the matter of attire. He was universally voted
+"a swell dresser," and not a few of the older fellows set themselves to
+a modest emulation of his style. There remained, however, many
+unregenerate youths who continued to poke fun at "The Conqueror," and of
+these was Amy Byrd.
+
+It isn't beyond the bounds of reason that jealousy may have had
+something to do with Amy's attitude, for Amy was "a swell dresser"
+himself and had a fine eye for effects of colour. Amy's combinations of
+lavender or dull rose or pearl-grey shirts, socks and ties were
+recognised masterpieces of sartorial achievement. The trouble with Amy
+was that when the tennis season was over he had nothing to interest
+himself in aside from maintaining a fairly satisfactory standing in
+class, and I'm sorry to say that Amy didn't find the latter undertaking
+wildly exciting. He was, therefore, an excellent subject for the
+mischief microbe, and the mischief microbe had long since discovered the
+fact. Usually Amy's escapades were harmless enough; for that matter, the
+present one was never intended to lead to any such unfortunate results
+as actually attended it; and in justice to Amy it should be distinctly
+stated that he would never have gone into the affair had he foreseen the
+end of it. But he couldn't see any further into the future than you or
+I, and so--yes, on the whole, I think it may be fairly said that Amy
+Byrd started it.
+
+It was on a Tuesday, what time Amy should have been deep in study, that
+Clint Thayer, across the table, had his attention wrested from his book
+by the sound of deep, mirthful chuckles. He glanced over questioningly.
+Amy continued to chuckle until, being bidden to share the joke or shut
+up, he took Clint into his confidence. Clint was forced to chuckle some
+himself when he had heard Amy through, but the chuckles were followed by
+earnest efforts to dissuade his friend from his proposed scheme.
+
+"He won't stand for it, Amy," Clint protested. "He will report the lot
+of you to Josh and you'll be in a peck of trouble. It would be terribly
+funny, all right, but you'd better not try it."
+
+"Funny! My friend, it would be excruciating! And I certainly am going to
+have a stab at it. Let's see who will go into it. Steve Edwards--no,
+Steve wouldn't, of course. Tom Hall will, I'll bet. And Roy Draper and
+Harry Wescott, probably. We ought to get as many of the fellows as we
+can. I wish you were in that class, Clint."
+
+"I don't. You're a chump to try such a trick, Amy. You'll get pro for
+sure. Maybe worse. I don't believe Moller can take a joke; he's too
+haughty."
+
+"Oh, rot! He will take it all right. Anyway, what kick can he have? We
+fellows have just as much right to----"
+
+"You'll wish you hadn't," said Clint. "See if you don't!"
+
+Clint's prophecy proved true, and Amy did wish he hadn't, but that was
+some days later, and just now he was far too absorbed in planning his
+little joke to trouble himself about what might happen as a result. As
+soon as study hour was over he departed precipitately from Number 14.
+Torrence and Clint saw no more of him until bedtime. Then his questions
+met only with more chuckles and evasion.
+
+The result did not appear until two days later, which brings our tale to
+the forenoon of that unlucky Thursday preceeding the Southby contest.
+Mr. Moller's class in Physics 2 met at eleven o'clock that morning.
+Physics was an elective course with the Fifth Form and a popular one,
+many of the fellows taking it only to fill out their necessary eighteen
+hours a week. Mr. Moller, attired as usual with artistic nicety, sat in
+his swivel chair, facing the windows, and drummed softly on the top of
+the desk with immaculate finger-tips and waited for the class to
+assemble.
+
+Had he been observing the arriving students instead of the tree-tops
+outside he might have noticed the peculiar fact that this morning, as
+though by common consent, the students were avoiding the first two rows
+of seats nearest the platform. But he didn't notice it. In fact, he
+didn't turn his head until the gong in the lower hall struck and,
+simultaneously, there sounded in the room the carefully-timed tread of
+many feet. Then "The Conqueror" swung around in his chair, felt for the
+black ribbon which held his tortoise shell glasses and, in the act of
+lifting the glasses to his well-shaped nose, paused and stared.
+
+Down the side aisle of the room, keeping step, grave of mien, walked
+nine boys led by the sober-countenanced Amy Byrd. Each was attired in as
+near an approach to Mr. Moller's style as had been possible with the
+wardrobes at command. Not all--in fact, only two--wore frock coats, and
+not all had been able to supply themselves with light grey trousers, but
+the substitutions were very effective, and in no case was a fancy
+waistcoat wanting. Wing collars encircled every throat, grey silk
+scarves were tied with careful precision, stick-pins were at the proper
+careless tilt, spats, some grey, some tan, some black, covered each
+ankle, a handkerchief protruded a virgin corner from every right sleeve
+and over every vest dangled a black silk ribbon. That only a few of them
+ended in glasses was merely because the supply of those aids to vision
+had proved inadequate to the demand. Soberly and amidst an appalling
+silence the nine exquisites paced to the front of the room and disposed
+themselves in the first two rows.
+
+Mr. Moller, his face extremely red, watched without word or motion. The
+rest of the class, their countenances too showing an unnatural
+ruddiness, likewise maintained silence and immobility until the last of
+the nine had shuffled his feet into place. Then there burst upon the
+stillness a snigger which, faint as it was, sounded startlingly loud.
+Whereupon pent up emotions broke loose and a burst of laughter went up
+that shook the windows.
+
+It seemed for a minute that that laughter would never stop. Fellows
+rolled in their seats and beat futilely on the arms of their chairs,
+gasping for breath and sobriety. And through it all Mr. Moller stared in
+a sort of dazed amazement. And then, when the laughter had somewhat
+abated, he arose, one hand on the desk and the other agitatedly
+fingering his black ribbon, and the colour poured out of his cheeks,
+leaving them strangely pallid. And Amy, furtively studying him, knew
+that Clint had been right, that Mr. Moller couldn't take a joke, or, in
+any event, had no intention of taking this one. Amy wasn't frightened
+for himself, in fact he wasn't frightened at all, but he did experience
+a twinge of regret for the others whom he had led into the affair. Then
+Mr. Moller was speaking and Amy forgot regrets and listened.
+
+"I am going to give you young gentlemen"--was it imagination on Amy's
+part or had the instructor placed the least bit of emphasis on the last
+word--"two minutes more in which to recover from your merriment. At the
+end of that time I shall expect you to be quiet and orderly and ready to
+begin this recitation." He drew his watch from his pocket and laid it on
+the desk. "So that you may enjoy this--this brilliant jest to the full,
+I'll ask the nine young gentleman in the front rows to stand up and face
+you. If you please, Hall, Stearns, Draper, Fanning, Byrd----"
+
+It was several seconds before this request was responded to. Then Amy
+arose and, one by one, the others followed and faced the room. Amy
+managed to retain his expression of calm innocence, but the others were
+ill at ease and many faces looked very sheepish.
+
+"Now, then," announced Mr. Moller quietly. "Begin, please. You have two
+minutes."
+
+A dismal silence ensued, a silence broken at intervals by a nervous
+cough or the embarrassed shuffling of feet. Mr. Moller calmly divided
+his attention between the class and the watch. Surely never had one
+hundred and twenty seconds ticked themselves away so slowly. There was a
+noticeable disinclination on the part of the students to meet the gaze
+of the instructor, nor did they seem any more eager to view the various
+and generally painful emotions expressed on the countenances of the
+nine. At last Mr. Moller took up his watch and returned it with its
+dangling fob to his pocket, and as he did so some thirty sighs of relief
+sounded in the stillness.
+
+"Time's up," announced the instructor. "Be seated, young gentlemen.
+Thank you very much." The nine sank gratefully into their chairs. "I am
+sure that we have all enjoyed your joke vastly. You must pardon me if,
+just at first, I seemed to miss the humour of it. I can assure you that
+I am now quite--quite _sympathique_. We are told that imitation is the
+sincerest flattery, and I accept the compliment in the spirit in which
+you have tendered it. Again I thank you."
+
+Mr. Moller bowed gravely and sat down.
+
+Glances, furtive and incredulous, passed from boy to boy. Amy heaved a
+sigh of relief. After all, then, Mr. Moller could take a joke! And for
+the first time since the inception of the brilliant idea Amy felt an
+emotion very much like regret! And then the recitation began.
+
+That would have ended the episode had not Chance taken a hand in
+affairs. Mr. Fernald very seldom visited a class room during
+recitations. One could count such occurrences on one hand and the result
+would have sufficed for the school year. And yet today, for some reason
+never apparent to the boys, Mr. Fernald happened in.
+
+Harry Westcott was holding forth when the principal's tread caught his
+attention. Westcott turned his head, saw and instantly stopped.
+
+"Proceed, Westcott," said Mr. Fernald.
+
+Westcott continued, stammeringly and much at random. Mr. Fernald quietly
+walked up the aisle to the platform. Mr. Moller arose and for a moment
+the two spoke in low tones. Then the principal nodded, smiled and turned
+to retrace his steps. As he did so his smiling regard fell upon the
+occupants of the two front rows. A look of puzzlement banished the
+smile. Bewilderment followed that. Westcott faltered and stopped
+altogether. A horrible silence ensued. Then Mr. Fernald turned an
+inquiring look upon the instructor.
+
+"May I ask," he said coldly, "what this--this quaint exhibition is
+intended to convey?"
+
+Mr. Moller hesitated an instant. Then: "I think I can explain it better,
+sir, later on," he replied.
+
+Mr. Fernald bowed, again swept the offenders with a glance of withering
+contempt and took his departure. Mr. Moller looked troubledly after him
+before he turned to Westcott and said kindly: "Now, Westcott, we will
+go on, if you please."
+
+What passed between principal and instructor later that day was not
+known, but the result of the interview appeared the next morning when
+Mr. Fernald announced in chapel that because they had seen fit to
+publicly insult a member of the faculty he considered it only just to
+publicly inform the following students that they were placed on
+probation until further notice. Then followed the names of Hall,
+Westcott, Byrd, Draper and five others. Mr. Fernald added that but for
+the intercession of the faculty member whom they had so vilely affronted
+the punishment would have been far heavier.
+
+Nine very depressed youths took their departure from chapel that
+morning. To Tom Hall, since the edict meant that he could not play any
+more football that season, unless, which was scarcely probable, faculty
+relented within a week or so, the blow was far heavier than to any of
+the others. Being on probation was never a state to be sought for, but
+when one was in his last year at school and had looked forward to ending
+his football career in a blaze of glory, probation was just about as bad
+as being expelled. In fact, for a day or two Tom almost wished that Mr.
+Fernald had selected the latter punishment. What made things harder to
+bear was the attitude of coaches and players and the school at large.
+After the first shock of surprise and dismay, they had agreed with
+remarkable unanimity that Tom had not only played the fool, but had
+proved himself a traitor, and they didn't fail to let Tom know their
+verdict. For several days he was as nearly ostracised as it was possible
+to be, and those days were very unhappy ones for him.
+
+Of course Tom was not utterly deserted. Steve Edwards stood by him
+firmly, fought public opinion, narrowly escaped a pitched battle with
+the president of the Sixth Form, worried Coach Robey to death with his
+demands that that gentler man intercede for Tom at the office and tried
+his best all the time to keep Tom's spirits up. Clint and Don and Tim
+and a few others remained steadfast, as did Amy, who, blaming himself
+bitterly for Tom's fix, had done everything he could do to atone.
+Following that edict in chapel, Amy had sought audience with Mr. Fernald
+and begged clemency for the others.
+
+"You see, sir," Amy had pleaded earnestly, "I was the one who started
+it. The others would never have gone into it if I hadn't just simply
+made them. Why----"
+
+Mr. Fernald smiled faintly. "You're trying to convince me, Byrd, that
+boys like Draper and Hall and Stearns and Westcott are so weak-willed
+that they allowed you to drag them into this thing against their better
+judgment and inclinations?"
+
+"Yes, sir! At least--perhaps not exactly that, Mr. Fernald, but I--I
+nagged them and dared them, you see, sir, and they didn't like to be
+dared and they just did it to shut me up."
+
+"It's decent of you, Byrd, to try to assume all the blame, but your
+story doesn't carry conviction. Even if it did, I should be sorely
+tempted to let the verdict stand, for I should consider boys who were so
+easily dragged into mischief badly in need of discipline. I do wish
+you'd tell me one thing, Byrd. How could a fellow, a manly, decent
+fellow like you, think up such a caddish trick? Wounding another man's
+feelings, Byrd, isn't really funny, if you stop to consider it."
+
+"I didn't mean to hurt Mr. Moller's feelings, sir," replied Amy
+earnestly. "We--I thought it would just be a--a sort of a good joke to
+dress like him, sir, and--and get a laugh from the class. I'm sorry. I
+guess it was a pretty rotten thing to do, sir. Only I didn't think about
+it that way."
+
+"I believe that. Since you've been here, Byrd, you've been into more or
+less mischief, but I've never known you to be guilty before of anything
+in such utterly bad taste. Unfortunately, however, I can't excuse you
+because you didn't think. You should have thought."
+
+"Yes, sir," agreed Amy eagerly, "and I don't expect to be excused, sir.
+I only thought that maybe you'd let up on the others if you knew how it
+all happened. I thought maybe it would do just as well if you expelled
+me, sir, and let the other fellows off easy. Tom Hall----"
+
+"I see. It's Hall who's worrying you, is it? You're afraid Hall's
+absence from the team may result disastrously! Possibly it will. If it
+does I shall be sorry, but Hall will have to take his medicine just like
+the rest of you. Perhaps this will teach you all to think a little
+before you act. No, Byrd, I shall have to refuse your offer. Expelling
+you would not be disciplining the rest, nor would it be an equitable
+division of punishment. The verdict must stand, my boy."
+
+Amy went sorrowfully forth and announced the result to Clint. "I think
+he might have done what I wanted," he complained a trifle resentfully.
+
+"You're an utter ass," said Clint with unflattering conviction. "What
+good would it do you to get fired in your last year?"
+
+"None, but if he'd have let the others off----"
+
+"Do you suppose that the others would have agreed to any such bargain?
+They're not kids, even if you try to make them out so. They went into
+the thing with their eyes open and are just as much to blame as you are.
+They wouldn't let you be the goat, you idiot!"
+
+"They needn't have known anything about it, Clint. Oh, well, I suppose
+there's no use fussing. I don't care about the others. It's Tom I'm
+sorry for. And the team, too. Pryme can't fill Tom's shoes, and we'll
+get everlastingly walloped, and it'll be my fault, and----"
+
+"Piffle! Tom's a good player, one of the best, but he isn't the whole
+team. Pryme will play the position nearly as well. I'm sorry for Tom,
+too, but he's the one who will have to do the worrying, I guess. Now you
+buck up and quit looking like a kicked cur."
+
+"If only the fellows didn't have it in for him the way they have,"
+mourned Amy. "Everyone's down on him and he knows it and he's worried to
+death about it. They're a lot of rotters! After the way Tom's worked on
+that team ever since he got on it! Why, he's done enough for the school
+if he never played another lick at anything! And I'll tell you another
+thing. Someone's going to get licked if I hear any more of this
+knocking!"
+
+"You'll have to lick most of the school then," replied Clint calmly.
+"Try not to be a bigger chump than nature made you, Amy. You can't blame
+the fellows for being a bit sore at Tom. I am myself. Only I realise
+that he didn't mean to get into trouble with the office, and the rest of
+them don't, I reckon. It'll all blow over in a few days. Cheer up. A
+month from now you won't care a whoop."
+
+"If we're beaten by Claflin I'll get out of school," answered Amy
+dolefully.
+
+"All right, son, but don't begin to pack your trunk yet. We won't be."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+SOUTHBY YIELDS
+
+
+THE game with Southby Academy that week was played away from home. As a
+general thing Southby was not a formidable opponent and last year's
+contest had resulted in a 17 to 3 win for Brimfield. But this Fall
+Southby had been piling up larger scores against her opponents and her
+stock had risen. Consequently Brimfield, being deprived of Tom Hall's
+services at right guard and of Rollins's at full-back, journeyed off
+that morning more than a little doubtful of the result of the coming
+conflict. Most of the school went along, since Southby was easily
+reached by trolley and at a small outlay for fares, and Brimfield was
+pretty well deserted by one o'clock. Out of some one hundred and eighty
+students a scant forty remained behind, and of that two-score we can
+guess who nine were!
+
+The game started with Edwards at left end for Brimfield, Thayer at left
+tackle, Gilbert at left guard, Peters at centre, Pryme at right guard,
+Sturges at right tackle, Holt at right end, Carmine at quarter, St.
+Clair at left half, Otis at right half and Martin at full-back. Later
+on, toward the end of the second quarter, Thursby went in at centre, and
+in the fourth period several substitutes had their chances, amongst them
+Harry Walton.
+
+Walton had begun to realise that he was playing a losing game. Since
+Pryme had been shifted back to the right side of the line Don Gilbert
+had come more than ever to the fore and Harry had spent a deal more time
+with the substitute squad in practice and on the bench during scrimmage
+than he approved of. Harry had a very special reason for wanting to win
+that left guard position and to play in it during the Claflin game, and
+this afternoon, sitting on the side line with a dozen other blanketed
+substitutes and enviously watching Don in the coveted place, his brain
+evolved a plan that promised so well that by the time the second period
+had started he was looking almost cheerful. And that is saying a good
+deal, since Harry Walton's countenance very seldom expressed cheer.
+
+Southby showed her mettle within five minutes of the kick-off, when,
+getting the ball on a fumble on her forty-five yard line, she tore off
+thirty-three yards on a complicated double-pass play and then, ripped
+another down from the astonished adversary. On the Maroon-and-Grey's
+nine yards, however, her advance was halted, and after two downs had
+resulted in a loss, she sent her kicker back and placed a neat drop over
+the cross-bars, scoring three points before the stop-watch had ticked
+off six minutes of playing time.
+
+That score was apparently just what Brimfield needed to bring her to her
+senses, for the rest of the period was marked by brilliant defensive
+work on her part, followed toward the end of the twelve minutes by some
+equally good attacks. When the teams changed places Brimfield had the
+pigskin on Southby's thirty-eight yards with four to go on third down. A
+forward pass, Carmine to St. Clair, produced three of the required four
+and Martin slipped through between left guard and tackle for the rest.
+After that ten well-selected plays took the ball to the sixteen yards.
+But there Southby rallied, and Steve Edwards, dropping back as if to
+kick, tore off five more around the left end. A touchdown seemed
+imminent now, and the hundred or so Brimfield rooters shouted and
+cheered madly enough. But two plunges at the right of the Southby line
+were stopped for scant gain and, with Martin back, a forward pass to
+Holt missed that youth and fell plump into the hands of a Southby end,
+and it was Southby's ball on her eight yards when the dust of battle
+had cleared away.
+
+That was Brimfield's last chance to score in that half and when the
+whistle sounded Southby had the pigskin once more in her adversary's
+territory.
+
+So far the teams had proved evenly matched in all departments, with a
+possible slight superiority in punting belonging to the visitors. St.
+Clair and Martin divided the punting between them and together they
+managed to outmatch the efforts of the Southby kicker. In the line both
+teams were excellent on defence, and both showed similar weakness in
+attack. In Tom Hall's place Pryme had worked hard and had, on the whole,
+done all that was expected of him. But he wasn't Tom Hall, and no amount
+of coaching would make him Tom's equal that Fall. Pryme lacked two
+factors: weight and, more especially, experience. Southby had made some
+good gains through him in the first half and would have made more had
+not Peters and Sturges helped him valiantly. As to the backfields, a
+disinterested spectator would have liked the Brimfield players a bit the
+better, less perhaps for what they actually accomplished that day than
+for what they promised. Even with Rollins out, the Maroon-and-Grey backs
+showed a fine and consistent solidarity that was lacking in the
+opponents. Coach Robey was a believer in team-play as opposed to the
+exploitation of stars, while Southby, with a remarkable half-back in the
+person of a blonde-haired youth named Elliston, had built her backfield
+about one man. As a consequence, when Elliston was smothered, as was
+frequently the case, since Southby's opponents naturally played for him
+all the time, the play was stopped. Today Captain Edwards had displayed
+an almost uncanny ability to "get" Elliston when the play was in his
+direction, and so far the blonde-haired star had failed to distinguish
+himself save in that one thirty-three-yard gambol at the beginning of
+the contest. What might happen later was problematical, but so far
+Brimfield had solved Elliston fairly well.
+
+A guard seldom has an opportunity to pose in the limelight, and so you
+are not to hear that Don pulled off any brilliant feats that afternoon.
+What he did do was to very thoroughly vindicate Mr. Robey's selection of
+him for Gafferty's position by giving an excellent impersonation of a
+concrete block on defence and by doing rather better than he had ever
+done before when his side had the ball. Don had actually speeded up
+considerably, much as Tim had assured him he could, and while he was
+still by no means the snappiest man in the line, nor was ever likely to
+be, he was seldom far behind his fellows. For that matter the whole line
+of forwards was still much slower than Mr. Robey wanted them at that
+time of year, and Don showed up not badly in comparison. After all, what
+is needed in a guard is, first and foremost, fighting spirit, and Don
+had that. If he was a bit slower to sense a play, a little later in
+getting into it, at least when he did start he started hard and tackled
+hard and always played it safe. In the old days when a guard had only
+his small territory between centre and tackle to cover, Don would have
+been an ideal player for the position, but now, when a guard's duties
+are to free-lance, so to speak, from one end of the line to the other
+and to get into the play no matter where it comes, Don's qualifications
+were more limited. A guard in these amazing times is "soldier and sailor
+too," and Don, who liked to deal with one idea at a time, found it a bit
+confusing to have to grapple with a half-dozen!
+
+Brimfield returned to the battle at the beginning of the second half
+highly resolved to take no more fooling from her opponent. Fortune
+ordered it that the south goal should fall to her portion and that a
+faint but dependable breeze should spring up between the halves. That
+breeze changed Coach Robey's plans, and the team went on with
+instructions to kick its way to within scoring distance and then batter
+through the line at any cost. And so the spectators were treated to a
+very pretty punting exhibition by both teams, for, wisely or unwisely,
+Southby accepted the challenge and punted almost as often as her
+adversary. That third period supplied many thrills but no scoring, for
+although Brimfield did manage to get the ball on Southby's
+twenty-five-yard line when a back fumbled, the advantage ended there.
+Two rushes failed, a forward pass grounded and when St. Clair tried to
+skirt his own left end he was pulled down just short of his distance and
+Southby soon punted out of danger.
+
+When time was called both teams made several substitutions. Don yielded
+his place to Harry Walton, Crewe went in at right tackle and McPhee took
+Carmine's position at quarter. With the advantage of the wind no longer
+hers, Brimfield abandoned the kicking game and used her backfield for
+all it was worth. From the middle of the field to Southby's thirty yards
+she went without much difficulty, St. Clair, Martin and Tim Otis
+carrying the ball for short but consistent gains. But at the thirty
+Southby braced and captured the pigskin on downs by a matter of inches.
+It was then that Elliston repeated. Following two attempts at Pryme's
+position, which yielded a scant four yards, Elliston got away around
+Steve Edwards's end and, with some good interference for the first ten
+or twelve yards, passed the whole field except McPhee and was only
+brought down by that player after he had run to Brimfield's twenty-six
+yards.
+
+Southby's adherents cheered wildly and demanded a touchdown, and it
+looked for awhile as though their team was to give them what they asked
+for. Southby twice poked a back through the centre of the
+maroon-and-grey line and then tore off ten yards around Clint Thayer,
+Steve Edwards being put wholly out of the play. Then, however, Brimfield
+dug her cleats and held the enemy, giving a very heartening exhibition
+of stubborn defence, and again Southby decided that half a loaf was
+better than none and tried a field-goal. She ought never to have got it,
+for the left side of her line was torn to ribbons by the desperate
+defenders. But she did, nevertheless, the ball in some miraculous manner
+slipping through the upstretched hands and leaping bodies and just
+topping the bar.
+
+Those three added points seemed to spell defeat for Brimfield, and many
+of her supporters in the stand conceded the victory to Southby then and
+there. But the team refused to view the matter in that light and came
+back fighting hard. With only some seven minutes of the twelve left,
+McPhee opened the line when Southby had finally been forced to punt from
+her twelve yards and St. Clair had caught on his forty-five, and started
+a series of direct-pass plays that, coming as they did on the heels of
+an afternoon of close-formation plays, confused the enemy until the ball
+had been planted near her thirty-five yards. Brimfield fought
+desperately then, closing her line again and sending Edwards off on an
+end-around run that took the pigskin eight yards nearer the last white
+mark.
+
+It was then that St. Clair really showed what was in him. Four times he
+took the ball and four times he plunged, squirming, fighting, through
+the Southby centre and, with the Brimfield shouts cheering him on, put
+the leather down at last on Southby's eighteen. Otis got three off left
+tackle and McPhee tried the same end for no gain. Martin went back and,
+faking a kick, threw forward to Edwards, who romped to the nine yards
+before he was smothered. It was fourth down then, with less than a yard
+to go, and St. Clair was called on. A delayed-pass did the business and
+Southby was digging her toes into her seven yards. Martin slid off right
+tackle for two, bringing the ball nearly in front of goal, and the
+defenders again fell back.
+
+Carmine was sent in again for McPhee and Lawton took Pryme's place.
+Carmine evidently brought instructions, for Captain Edwards fell back to
+kicking position after the conference, and the ball was passed to him.
+But with only five to go and three downs to do it in a drop-kick was not
+likely, especially as three points would still leave Brimfield beaten,
+and so Southby disregarded the bluff. But if a kick was out of the
+question a forward pass was not, and it was a forward pass that Southby
+set herself for. And so, with her ends drawn out and her backs spread,
+the touchdown came easily. For Steve faked a throw to the right, where
+Holt apparently waited, and then dashed straight ahead, the ball against
+his ribs, his head down and his feet flying, struck the hastily-formed
+massing of Southby's centre like a battering ram and literally tore his
+way through until, when he was at last pulled down, he was five yards
+over the line!
+
+Since Brimfield needed that goal badly, Rollins, in spite of bandages,
+was sent in for Martin, and, when Carmine had canted the ball to his
+liking, very calmly put it squarely between the uprights above the bar.
+
+The remaining minute and a half of play brought no results and Brimfield
+trotted off victor by the narrow margin of one point, while her
+adherents flowed across the field cheering and flaunting their banners
+in triumph.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+WALTON WRITES A NOTE
+
+
+THE Southby game was played on the sixth of November, a fortnight before
+the final contest with Claflin School, and practically marked the end of
+the preparatory season. Brimfield would meet her blue-legged rival with
+what plays she had already learned and the time for instruction was
+passed. The remaining two weeks, which held but ten playing days, would
+be devoted to perfecting plays already known, to polishing off the rough
+angles of attack and defence and to learning a new set of signals as a
+matter of precaution. Those ten days were expected to work a big
+improvement in the team. Whether they would or not remained to be seen.
+
+On the whole, Brimfield had passed through a successful season. She had
+played seven games, of which she had lost one, won five and tied one.
+Next week's adversary, Chambers, would in all likelihood supply a sixth
+victory, in which case the Maroon-and-Grey would face Claflin with a
+nearly clean slate. Claflin, on her part, had hung up a rather peculiar
+record that Fall. She had played one more game than Brimfield, had won
+four, lost one and tied three. She had started out strongly, had had a
+slump in mid-season and was now, from all evidence at hand, recovering
+finely. On comparative scores there was little to choose between the
+rivals. If any perceptible advantage belonged to Brimfield it was only
+because she had maintained a steadier pace.
+
+There was a lay-off for most of the first-string players on Monday, a
+fact which gave Harry Walton a chance to conduct himself very capably at
+left guard during the four ten-minute periods of scrimmage with the
+second. Don didn't go near the field that afternoon and so was saved any
+of the uneasiness which the sight of Walton's performance might have
+caused him. Rollins got back for a short workout and showed few signs of
+his injury. The second team, profiting by some scouting done by Coach
+Boutelle and Joe Gafferty on Saturday, tried out the Claflin formation
+and such Claflin plays as had been fathomed against the first team and
+made some good gains thereby until the second-string players solved
+them. On Tuesday Harry Walton disgruntledly found himself again
+relegated to the bench during most of the practice game and saw Don open
+holes in the second team's line in a style that more than once brought
+commendation from Coach Robey. Walton glowered from the bench until
+Cotter disgustedly asked if he felt sick. Whereupon Walton grinned and
+Cotter, with a sigh, begged him to scowl again!
+
+The first team presented its full strength that afternoon, and Mr.
+Boutelle's Claflin plays made little headway. With Rollins back in
+place, the first team scored almost at will during three periods, and
+even after an entirely new backfield was put in it continued to smash
+the second up very effectually. Mr. Boutelle scolded and raved and
+threatened, but all to scant purpose. The first got its plays off very
+smoothly, played low and hard and, for once, played together. The final
+score that day was the biggest ever piled up in a practice contest, 30
+to 3. Had Mr. Robey allowed Rollins to try goals from touchdowns it
+would have been several points larger.
+
+Tom Hall had so far carefully avoided the field, but today he appeared
+there and sat in the stand with Roy Draper and tried his best to be
+cheerful. But his best wasn't very good. Already the feeling against him
+had largely subsided, and the school, realising, perhaps, that Tom's
+loss to the team did not necessarily spell defeat for it, was inclined
+to be sorry for him. But Tom didn't realise that, since he still kept to
+himself and was suspicious of advances. He hadn't quarrelled with the
+school's verdict, but it had hurt him and, as he didn't like being hurt
+any more than most of us, he avoided the chance of it. In those days he
+stuck pretty close to his room, partly because the office required it
+and partly because he had no heart for mingling with his fellows. Roy
+Draper had to plead long and earnestly that afternoon to get him to the
+gridiron. As badly as he felt about losing his place on the team,
+however, Tom didn't begrudge Pryme his good fortune, and he was honestly
+pleased to see that the latter, in spite of his deficiencies, would
+doubtless fill the right guard position very capably in the Claflin
+game. He studied Pryme's work attentively that afternoon, criticised it
+and praised it and showed no trace of animosity.
+
+"He will do all right," he confided to Roy. "Crewe will help him a lot,
+and so will Thursby. If he could use his hands a bit better he'd be
+fine. He holds himself nicely, doesn't he? On his toes all the time. I
+hate to see a lineman play flat-footed. That's one trouble with Don
+Gilbert. Don's doing a heap better than he did last year, though. I
+guess he's every bit as good as Joe Gafferty. He's a regular whale on
+defence, isn't he? He's a queer chap, Don, but a mighty nice one."
+
+"Don," replied Roy in his somewhat didactic manner, "is the sort of
+fellow I'd pick out to be cast away on a desert island with. He isn't so
+scintillant, you know, but he'd wear forever."
+
+"That's him to a T." Tom chuckled. "They tell me Harry Walton is as mad
+as a hatter because Don butted in and grabbed that position away from
+him. Can't say I altogether blame him, either. That is, there's no use
+getting mad about it, but it is tough luck. Harry isn't a half-bad
+guard, either."
+
+"If he can play good football," answered Roy, "I'm glad to know it. I've
+always wondered what Walton was for."
+
+Tom laughed. "Oh, he isn't so bad, I guess. His manner's against him."
+
+"I've noticed it," said Roy drily. "Also his looks and his remarks and a
+number of other things. Larry Jones says he comes from the best sort of
+family."
+
+"A fellow's family doesn't prove anything, I guess."
+
+"Evidently not. There's the whistle. Let's go back." Presently Roy
+added, as they headed for Torrence: "I can quite understand why
+Walton's family sent him to school."
+
+"Why they sent him to school?" repeated Tom questioningly.
+
+"Yes, it was to get rid of him."
+
+"You've certainly got your little hammer with you," said Tom, with a
+smile. "What's Harry done to you?"
+
+"Not a thing. I wouldn't advise him to, either. I just don't like him,
+Tom. Can't stand being in the same room with him. Well, see you later,
+old chap. And, say, think over what I said about--you know."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," replied Tom, with a shrug of his broad
+shoulders. "Fellows can think what they like about me. I don't blame
+them. But you can't expect me to like it!"
+
+"I know, Tom, but they don't feel that way now. It was just for a day or
+two. I've heard a lot of fellows say lately that it's nonsense blaming
+you, Tom. So come out of your shell, like a sensible chap, and show that
+you don't feel any--any ill-will."
+
+"Well, I don't, I suppose. As for coming out of my shell, I'll be
+crawling out pretty soon. Don't bother about me, Roy. I'm feeling fine.
+So long."
+
+Perhaps what Tom really meant was that he was feeling a whole lot better
+than he had a few days before, for he certainly had not become quite
+reconciled to the loss of his position with the team. He was getting
+used to the idea, but he wasn't happy over it. When he squarely faced
+the fact that when Claflin came trotting onto the field on the twentieth
+he would be sitting in the grand stand instead of being out there in
+togs, his heart sank miserably and he hardly knew whether he wanted to
+kick something or get off in a corner and cry. At such moments the
+question of whether his school fellows liked him or detested him
+bothered little. If he could only play against Claflin, he assured
+himself, the school might hate him to its heart's content!
+
+Going on to Billings and his room, he considered what Roy had told him
+of the altered sentiment toward him, but somehow he didn't seem to care
+so much today. Watching practice had brought back the smart, and being
+liked or disliked seemed a little thing beside the bigger trouble.
+Still, he thought, if Roy was right perhaps he had better meet fellows
+half-way. There was no use in being a grouch. As a starter and in order
+to test the accuracy of Roy's statement, he decided that he would drop
+in on Carl Bennett, who roomed in Number 3. Bennett was a chap he
+rather respected and, while they had never been very close friends, Tom
+had seen a good deal of the other during the Fall. But Bennett was not
+in and Tom was making his way back to the stairs when the door of Number
+6 opened and Harry Walton came out. Perhaps it was Roy's dressing-down
+of that youth that prompted Tom to be more decent to him than usual. At
+all events, Tom stopped and hailed him and they conversed together on
+their way up the stairs. It wasn't until later that Tom, recalling
+Harry's grudge against Don, wondered what had taken him to the latter's
+room. Then he concluded that Harry had probably been calling on Tim, and
+thought no more of it. Just now he asked Harry how he was getting on
+with the team and was a little puzzled when Harry replied: "All right, I
+guess. Of course, Gilbert's got the call right now, but I'm going to
+beat him out before the big game. Did you see practice today?"
+
+"Yes. You fellows put up a great game, Harry."
+
+"I didn't get into it for more than ten minutes. Robey's playing Don
+Gilbert for all he knows." Harry laughed disagreeably. "Robey's a bit of
+a fox."
+
+"How's that!" Tom inquired.
+
+"Oh, he's sort of keeping me guessing, you see. Thinks I'll get worried
+and dig harder."
+
+"Huh. I see. You seem mighty certain of that place, Harry."
+
+"Sure, I'm certain. You just wait and see, old top." Harry nodded and
+entered his room across the hall, leaving Tom a trifle more sympathetic
+toward Roy's estimation of him. Walton certainly did have a disagreeable
+manner, he reflected.
+
+As a matter of fact, Harry hadn't been calling on anyone in Number 6 for
+the simple reason that he had found no one at home. Moreover, he had
+expected to find no one, for he had left Tim at the gymnasium and seen
+Don and Harry Westcott sitting in the window of the latter's room in
+Torrence as he passed. What he had done was leave a hastily scrawled
+note for Don on the table in there, a note which Don discovered an hour
+later and which at once puzzled and disturbed him.
+
+"Come up and see me after supper will you," the note read, with a superb
+disdain of punctuation, "I want to see you. Important. H. Walton."
+
+"What's he want to see you about?" asked Tim when Don tossed the note to
+him to read.
+
+"I don't know." Don frowned thoughtfully.
+
+"I hope he isn't going to make trouble about that old business."
+
+"What old business?" asked Tim carelessly, more interested in a set of
+bruised knuckles than anything else just then.
+
+"Why, you know Harry saw us climbing in the window that night."
+
+"Saw us climb--Well, what of it? That was years ago. Why should he want
+to make trouble about that? And how could he do it? I'd like to see him
+start anything with me."
+
+"Oh, well, I just happened to think of that."
+
+"More likely he's going to ask you to break a leg or something so he can
+get your place," chuckled Tim. "Don't you do it, Don, if he does. It
+doesn't pay to be too obliging. Ready for eats?"
+
+"In a minute." Don dropped the note and began his toilet, but he didn't
+speak again until they were on their way down the stairs. Then: "If it
+should be that," he remarked, "I wouldn't know whether to punch his head
+or laugh at him."
+
+"Don't take any chances," advised Tim grimly. "Punch his head. Better
+still, bring the glad tidings to me and let me do it. Why, if that idiot
+threatened to open his face about us I'd give him such a walloping that
+his own folks wouldn't recognise the remnants! Gee, but I'm hungry
+tonight! Toddle along faster and let's get there before Rollins and Holt
+and the rest swipe all the grub."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+A PROPOSITION
+
+
+DON sought Harry Walton's room soon after supper was over and found
+neither Harry nor his room-mate, Jim Rose, at home. He lighted the
+droplight, found a magazine several months old and sat down to wait. He
+had, however, scarcely got into a story before Harry appeared.
+
+"Hello," greeted the latter. "Sorry I was late. Had to stop at the
+library for a book." In proof of it he tossed a volume to the table. "I
+asked you to come up here, Gilbert, because I have a proposition to make
+and I thought you wouldn't want anyone around." Harry seated himself,
+took one knee into his clasped hands and smiled at the visitor. It was a
+peculiarly unattractive smile, Don decided.
+
+"Proposition?" Don frowned perplexedly. "What sort of a proposition,
+Walton?"
+
+"Well, I'll tell you. It's like this, Gilbert. You see, old man, you and
+I are fighting like the mischief for the left guard position and so far
+it's about nip-and-tuck, isn't it?"
+
+Don viewed the speaker with some surprise. "Is it?" he asked. "I thought
+I had rather the best of it, Walton."
+
+Harry smiled and shrugged. "That's only Robey's foxiness. I'm not saying
+he might not pick you for the place in the end, of course, but I stand
+just as good a show. Robey doesn't like to show his hand. He likes to
+keep you guessing. I'm willing to bet that if nothing happened he'd drop
+you next week and stick me in there. Of course you might get in for
+awhile in the Claflin game, if I got hurt, but I wouldn't advise you to
+bank much on that because I'm rather lucky about not getting hurt.
+Honestly, Gilbert, I don't really think you've got much of a chance of
+final selection."
+
+Don observed his host's countenance with some bewilderment. "Well," he
+said at last, "that may be so or not. What is it you want me to do?"
+
+"I'll tell you." Harry tried hard to look ingenuous, but only succeeded
+in grinning like a catfish. "It's this way. My folks are coming up for
+the Claflin game; father and mother and kid brother, you know. Well,
+naturally, I'd like to have them see me play. They think I'm going to,
+of course, because I've mentioned it once or twice in my letters. I'd
+feel pretty cheap if they came up here and watched me sitting on the
+bench all through the game. See what I mean, old man?"
+
+Don nodded and waited.
+
+"Well, so I thought that as your chance is pretty slim anyway maybe you
+wouldn't mind dropping out. I wouldn't ask you to if I really thought
+you had much chance, you know, Gilbert."
+
+"Oh! That's it? Well, I'm sorry if you're folks are going to be
+disappointed, Walton, but I don't feel quite like playing the goat on
+that account. You might just write them and sort of prepare them for the
+shock, mightn't you? Tell them there's a bare chance that you won't get
+into the fracas, you know. I would. It would soften the blow for them,
+Walton."
+
+Walton scowled. "Don't be funny," he said shortly. "I've given you the
+chance to drop out gracefully, Gilbert, and you're a fool not to take
+it."
+
+"But why should I drop out! Don't you suppose I want to play in the
+Claflin game just as much as you do?"
+
+"Perhaps you do, but you won't play in it any way you figure it. If you
+don't quit willingly you'll quit the other way. I'm giving you a fair
+chance, that's all. You've only got to make believe you're sick or play
+sort of rottenly a couple of times. That will do the trick for you and
+there won't be any other trouble."
+
+"Say, what are you hinting at?" demanded Don quietly. "What have you got
+up your sleeve?"
+
+"Plenty, Gilbert. I've got enough up my sleeve to get you fired from
+school."
+
+There was a moment of silence. Then Don nodded thoughtfully. "So that's
+it, is it?" he murmured.
+
+"That's it, old man." Harry grinned. "Think it over now."
+
+"What do you think you've got on me?" asked Don.
+
+"I don't think. I know that you and three other fellows helped put out
+that fire that night and that you didn't get back to hall until long
+after ten-thirty." Harry dropped his knee, thrust his hands into his
+pockets, leaned back in his chair and viewed Don triumphantly. "I don't
+want to go to faculty with it, Gilbert, although it's really my duty and
+I certainly shall if you force me."
+
+"Hm," mused Don. "But wouldn't faculty wonder why you'd been so long
+about it?"
+
+"Probably. I'd have to tell the truth and----"
+
+"I guess that would hurt," interpolated the other drily.
+
+"And explain that I'd tried to shield you fellows, but that my
+conscience had finally prevailed." And Harry grinned broadly. "Josh
+wouldn't like it, but he wouldn't do anything to me. What he'd do to
+you, though, would be a plenty, Gilbert. It would be expulsion, and you
+know that as well as I do."
+
+"Yes, I do." Don dropped his gaze to his hands and was silent a moment.
+Then: "Of course you've thought of what it would mean to you, Walton? I
+wouldn't be likely to keep you out of it, you know."
+
+Harry shrugged. "Fellows might talk some, but I'd only be doing my duty.
+As long as my conscience was clear----"
+
+"You're a dirty pup, Walton," said Don, "and if I wasn't afraid of
+getting the mange I'd give you the beating you deserve."
+
+"Calling names won't get you anything, Gilbert. I'm not afraid of
+anything you could do to me, anyway. I may be a pup, but I'm where I can
+make you sit up and beg, and I'm going to do it."
+
+"You think you are," said Don contemptuously. "Let me tell you now that
+I'd rather be fired a dozen times than make any bargains with a common
+skunk like you!"
+
+"That means you want me to go ahead and tell Josh, does it?"
+
+"It means that you can do anything you want to, Walton." Don stood up.
+"But if you do go to faculty with the story you'll get the worst licking
+you ever had or heard of, and fellows will make it so unpleasant here
+for you that you won't stay much longer than I do. Now _you_ think it
+over!"
+
+"What fellows say or think won't hurt me a mite, thank you, and I'm not
+afraid of you or any of your friends, Gilbert. Wait a minute now. We're
+not through yet."
+
+"I am, thanks," replied Don, moving toward the door.
+
+"Oh, no you're not. You may feel heroic and all that and too mad to give
+in just now, but you're not considering what it will mean if you make me
+squeal to faculty. Why, we wouldn't have a ghost of a show with
+Claflin!"
+
+"I thought you considered yourself quite as good a guard as me, Walton,"
+answered Don.
+
+"I do, old man. But I don't think I'm able to take the places of all the
+other fellows who would be missing from the team."
+
+Don turned, with his hand on the door-knob, and stared startledly.
+"What do you mean by that?" he asked.
+
+"I thought that would fetch you," chuckled Harry. "I mean that you're
+not the only one who would quit the dear old school, Gilbert. You
+haven't forgotten, I suppose, that there were three other fellows mixed
+up in the business?"
+
+"No, but faculty would have to know more than I'd tell them before
+they'd find out who the others were."
+
+"Oh, you wouldn't have to tell them, old man."
+
+"Meaning you would? You don't know, Walton."
+
+"Don't I, though? You bet I do! I know every last one of them!"
+
+"You told me----"
+
+"Oh, I let you think I didn't, Gilbert. No use telling everything you
+know."
+
+"I don't believe it!" But, in spite of the statement, Don did believe it
+and was trying to realise what it meant. .
+
+"Don't be a fool! Why wouldn't I know? If I could see you why couldn't I
+see Clint Thayer and Tim Otis and Tom Hall? You were all as plain as
+daylight. Of course, Tom's out of it, anyway, but I guess losing a left
+tackle and a right half-back a week before the game would put rather a
+dent in our chances, what? And that's just what will happen if you make
+me go to Josh with the story!"
+
+"You wouldn't!" challenged Don, but there was scant conviction in his
+tone. Harry shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Oh, I'd rather not. I don't want to play on a losing team, and that's
+what I'd be doing, but you see I've sort of set my heart on playing
+right guard a week from Saturday, Gilbert, and I hate to be
+disappointed. Hate to disappoint my folks, too."
+
+"They must be proud of you!"
+
+"They are, take it from me." Harry's smile vanished and he looked ugly
+as he went on. "Don't be a fool, Gilbert! You'd do the same thing
+yourself if you had the chance. You're playing the hypocrite, and you
+know it. I've got you dead to rights and I mean to make the most of it.
+If you don't get off the team inside of two days I'll go to Josh and
+tell him everything I know. It isn't pretty, maybe, but it's playing
+your hand for what there is in it, and that's my way! Now you sit down
+again and just think it all over, Gilbert. Take all the time you want.
+And remember this, too. If I keep my mouth shut you've got to keep yours
+shut. No blabbing to Tim Otis or Clint Thayer or anyone else. This is
+just between you and me, old man. Now what do you say?"
+
+"The thing's as crazy as it is rotten, Walton! How am I to get off the
+team without having it look funny?"
+
+"And how much do I care whether it looks funny or not? That's up to you.
+You can play sick or you can get out there and mix your signals a few
+times or you can bite Robey in the leg. I don't give a hang what you do
+so long as you do it, and do it between now and Saturday. That's right,
+sit down and look at it sensibly. Mull it over awhile. There's no
+hurry."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+DON VISITS THE DOCTOR
+
+
+"WHAT did Walton want of you?" asked Tim a half-hour later, when the
+occupants of Number 6 were settled at opposite sides of the table for
+study.
+
+"Walton?" repeated Don vaguely. "Oh, nothing especial."
+
+"Nothing especial? Then why the mysterious summons? Did he make any
+crack about that little escapade of ours?"
+
+"He mentioned it. Shut up and let me get to work, Tim."
+
+"Mentioned it how? What did he say? Any chance of beating him up? I've
+always had a longing, away down deep inside me, Donald, to place my fist
+violently against some portion of Walton's--er--facial contour. Say,
+that's good, isn't it? Facial contour's decidedly good, Don."
+
+"Fine," responded the other listlessly.
+
+Tim peered across at him under the droplight. "Say, you look as if you'd
+lost a dozen dear friends. Anything wrong? Look here, has Walton been
+acting nasty?"
+
+"Don't be a chump, Tim. I'm all right. Or, anyway, I'm only sort
+of--sort of tired. Dry up and let me stuff."
+
+"Oh, very well, but you needn't be so haughty about it. I don't want to
+share your secrets with dear Harry. Everyone to his taste, as the old
+lady said when she kissed the cow."
+
+Tim's sarcasm, however, brought no response, and presently, after
+growling a little while he pawed his books over and dropped the subject,
+to Don's relief, and silence fell. Don made a fine pretence of studying,
+but most of the time he couldn't have told what book lay before him.
+When the hour was up Tim, who had by then returned to his usual
+condition of cheerful good nature, tried to induce Don to go over to
+Hensey to call on Larry Jones, who, it seemed, had perfected a most
+novel and marvellous trick with a ruler and two glasses of water. But
+Don refused to be enticed and Tim went off alone, gravely cautioning his
+room-mate against melancholia.
+
+"Try to keep your mind off your troubles, Donald. Think of bright and
+happy things, like me or the pretty birds. Remember that nothing is ever
+quite as bad as we think it is, that every line has a silver clouding
+and that--that it's always dawnest before the dark. Farewell, you old
+grouch!"
+
+Don didn't have to pretend very hard the next day that he was feeling
+ill, for an almost sleepless night, spent in trying to find some way out
+of his difficulties, had left him hollow-eyed and pale. Breakfast had
+been a farce and dinner a mere empty pretence, and between the two meals
+he had fared illy in classes. It was scarcely more than an exaggeration
+to tell Coach Robey that he didn't feel well enough to play, and the
+coach readily believed him and gave him over to the mercies of Danny
+Moore.
+
+The trainer tried hard to get Don to enumerate some tangible symptoms,
+but Don could only repeat that he was dreadfully tired and out of sorts.
+"Eat anything that didn't agree with you?" asked Danny.
+
+"No, I didn't eat much of anything. I didn't have any appetite."
+
+"Sure, that was sensible, anyway. I'll be after giving you a tonic, me
+boy. Take it like I tell you, do ye mind, keep off your feet and get a
+good sleep. After breakfast come to me in the gym and I'll have a look
+at you."
+
+Don took the tonic--when he thought of it--ate a fair supper and went
+early to bed, not so much in the hope of curing his ailment as because
+he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He slept pretty well, but was
+dimly conscious of waking frequently during the night, and when morning
+came felt fully as tired as when he had retired. Breakfast was beyond
+him, although Mr. Robey, his attention drawn to Don by Harry Walton's
+innocent "You're looking pretty bum, Gilbert," counselled soft boiled
+eggs and hot milk. Don dallied with the eggs and drank part of the milk
+and was glad to escape as soon as he could.
+
+Danny gave him a very thorough inspection in the rubbing room after
+breakfast, but could find nothing wrong. "Sure, you're as sound as Colin
+Meagher's fiddle, me boy. Where is it it hurts ye?"
+
+"It doesn't hurt anywhere, Danny," responded Don. "I'm all right, I
+suppose, only I don't feel--don't feel very fit."
+
+"A bit fine, you are, and I'm thinking you'd better lay off the work for
+today. Be outdoors as much as you can, but don't be tiring yourself out.
+Have you taken the tonic like I told ye?"
+
+"I've taken enough of the beastly stuff," answered Don listlessly.
+
+Danny laughed. "Sure, it's the fine-tasting medicine, lad. Keep at it.
+And listen to me, now. If you want to play agin Claflin, Donny, you do
+as I'm tellin' you and don't be thinkin' you know more about it than I
+do. Sure, Robey won't look at ye at all, come a week from tomorrow, if
+you don't brace up."
+
+"Oh, I'm all right, Danny, thanks. Maybe if I rest off today I'll be
+fine tomorrow."
+
+"That's what I'm tellin' you. See that ye do it."
+
+That afternoon he watched practice from the bench without getting into
+togs and saw Harry Walton play at left guard. He would much rather have
+remained away from the field, but to have done so might, he thought,
+have looked queer. Coach Robey was solicitous about him, but apparently
+did not take his indisposition very seriously. "'Take it easy, Gilbert,"
+he said, "and don't worry. You'll be all right for tomorrow, I guess.
+You've been working pretty hard, my boy. Better pull a blanket over your
+shoulders. This breeze is rather biting. Can't have you laid up for
+long, you know."
+
+Harry Walton performed well that afternoon, playing with a vim and dash
+that was something of a revelation to his team-mates. Tim was evidently
+troubled when he walked back to hall with Don after practice. "For the
+love of mud, Don," he pleaded, "get over it and come back! Did you see
+the way Walton played today? If he gets in tomorrow and plays like that
+against Chambers Robey'll be handing him the place! What the dickens is
+wrong with you, anyway?"
+
+"I'm just tired," responded Don.
+
+"Tired!" Tim was puzzled. "What for? You haven't worked since day before
+yesterday. What you've got is malaria or something. Tell you what we'll
+do, Don; we'll beat it over to the doctor's after supper, eh?"
+
+But Don shook his head. "Danny's tonic is all I need," he said. "I dare
+say I'll be feeling great in the morning."
+
+"You dare say you will! Don't you feel sure you will? Because I've got
+to tell you, Donald, that this is a plaguy bad time to get laid off,
+son. If you're not a regular little Bright Eyes by Monday Robey'll can
+you as sure as shooting!"
+
+"I wouldn't much care if he did," muttered Don.
+
+"You wouldn't much---- Say, are you crazy?" Tim stopped short on the
+walk and viewed his chum in amazement. "Is it your brain that's gone
+back on you? Don't you _want_ to play against Claflin?"
+
+"I suppose so. Yes, of course I do, but----"
+
+"Then don't talk like a piece of cheese! You'll come with me to the
+doctor after supper if I have to drag you there by one heel!"
+
+And so go he did, and the doctor looked at his tongue and felt his pulse
+and "pawed him over," as Don put it, and ended by patting him on the
+back and accepting a nice bright half-dollar--half-price to Academy
+students--in exchange for a prescription.
+
+"You're a little nervous," said the doctor. "Thinking too much about
+that football game, I guess. Don't do it. Put it out of your mind. Take
+that medicine every two hours according to directions on the bottle and
+you'll be all right, my boy."
+
+Don thanked him, slipped the prescription in a pocket and headed for
+school. But Tim grabbed him and faced him about. "You don't swallow the
+prescription, Donald," he said. "You take it to a druggist and he gives
+you something in a bottle. That's what you swallow, the stuff in the
+bottle. I'm not saying that it mightn't do you just as much good to eat
+the paper, but we'd better play by the rules. So come on, you
+lunk-head."
+
+"Oh, I forgot," murmured Don.
+
+"Of course you did," agreed the other sarcastically. "And, look here, if
+anyone asks you your name, it's Donald Croft Gilbert. Think you can
+remember that? Donald Croft----"
+
+"Oh, dry up," said Don. "How much will this fool medicine cost me?"
+
+"How much have you got?"
+
+"About eighty cents, I think."
+
+"It'll cost you eighty cents, then. Ask me something easier. I don't
+pretend to know how druggists do it, but they can always look right
+through your clothes and count your money. Never knew it to fail!"
+
+But it failed this time, or else the druggist counted wrong, for the
+prescription was a dollar and Tim had to make up the balance. He
+insisted on Don taking the first dose then and there, so that he could
+get in another before bedtime, and Don meekly obeyed. After he had
+swallowed it he begged a glass of soda water from the druggist to take
+the taste out of his mouth, and the druggist, doubtless realising the
+demands of the occasion, stood treat to them both. On the way back Tim
+figured it that if they had only insisted on having ice-cream sodas they
+would have reduced the price of the medicine to its rightful cost. Don,
+though, firmly insisted that it was worth every cent of what he had paid
+for it.
+
+"No one," he said convincedly, "could get that much nastiness into a
+small bottle for less than a dollar!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+DROPPED FROM THE TEAM
+
+
+WHETHER owing to Danny Moore's tonic, the doctor's prescription or a
+good night's rest, Don awoke the next morning feeling perfectly well
+physically, and his first waking moments were cheered by the knowledge.
+Then, however, recollection of the fact that physical well-being was
+exactly what wasn't required under the circumstances brought quick
+reaction, and he jumped out of bed to look at himself in the mirror
+above his dresser in the hope of finding pale cheeks and hollow eyes and
+similar evidences of impending dissolution. But Fate had played a sorry
+trick on him! His cheeks were not in the least pale, nor were his eyes
+sunken. In short, he looked particularly healthy, and if other evidence
+of the fact was needed it was supplied by Tim. Tim, when Don turned
+regretfully away from the glass, was sitting up and observing him with
+pleased relief.
+
+"Ata boy!" exclaimed Tim. "Feeling fine and dandy, aren't you? I guess
+that medicine was cheap at the price, after all! You look about a
+hundred per cent better than you did yesterday, Donald."
+
+Don started to smile, caught himself in time and drew a long sigh. "You
+can't always tell by a fellow's looks how he's really feeling," he
+replied darkly.
+
+"Oh, run away and play! What's the matter with you? You've got colour in
+your face and look great."
+
+"Too much colour, I'm afraid," said Don, shaking his head
+pessimistically. "I guess--I guess I've got a little fever."
+
+Tim stared at him puzzledly. "Fever? What for? I mean---- Say, are you
+fooling?"
+
+"No. My face is sort of hot, honest, Tim." And so it was, possibly the
+consciousness of fibbing and the difficulty of doing it successfully was
+responsible for the flush. Tim pushed his legs out of bed and viewed his
+friend disgustedly.
+
+"Don, you're getting to be one of those kleptomaniacs--no, that isn't
+it! What's the word? Hydrochondriacs, isn't it? Anyway, whatever it is,
+you're it! You've got so you imagine you're sick when you aren't. Forget
+it, Donald, and cheer up!"
+
+"Oh, I'll be all right, thanks," responded the other dolefully. "I
+guess I'm lots better than I was."
+
+"Of course you are! Why, hang it, man, you've simply got to be O. K.
+today! If you're not Robey'll can you as sure as shooting! Smile for the
+gentleman, Don, and then get a move on and come to breakfast."
+
+"I don't think I want any breakfast, thanks."
+
+"You will when you smell it. Want me to start the water for you?"
+
+"If I was a hydrochondriac I wouldn't want any water, would I?"
+
+"Hypochondriac's what I meant, I guess. Hurry up before the mob gets
+there."
+
+Tim struggled into his bath-robe and pattered off down the corridor,
+leaving Don to follow at his leisure. But, instead of following, Don
+seated himself on the edge of his bed and viewed life gloomily. If Tim
+refused to believe in his illness, how was he to convince Coach Robey of
+it? He might, he reflected, rub talcum on his face, but he was afraid
+that wouldn't deceive anyone, the coach least of all. And, according to
+his bargain with Harry Walton, he must sever his connection with the
+team today. If he didn't Walton would go to the principal and tell what
+he had witnessed from his window that Saturday night, and not only he,
+but Tim and Clint as well, would suffer. And, still worse, the team
+would be beaten by Claflin as surely as--as Tim was shouting to him from
+the bathroom! He got up and donned his bath-robe and set off down the
+corridor with lagging feet, so wretched in mind by this time that it
+required no great effort of imagination to believe himself ailing in
+body.
+
+To his surprise--and rather to his disgust--he found himself intensely
+hungry at breakfast and it was all he could do to refuse the steak and
+baked potato set before him. Under the appraising eye of Mr. Robey, he
+drank a glass of milk and nibbled at a piece of toast, his very soul
+longing for that steak and a couple of soft eggs! Afterward, when he
+reported to Danny, the trainer produced fresh discouragement in him.
+
+"Fine, me boy!" declared the trainer. "You're as good as ever, aren't
+you? Keep in the air all you can and go light with the dinner."
+
+"I--I don't feel very fit," muttered Don.
+
+"Get along with you! You're the picture of health! Don't be saying
+anything like that to Mr. Robey, or he might believe it and bench you.
+Run along now and mind what I tell you. Game's at two-fifteen today."
+
+It was fortunate that Don had but two recitations that morning, for he
+was in no condition for such unimportant things. His mind was too full
+of what was before him. At dinner it was easy enough to obey Danny's
+command and eat lightly, for he was far too worried to want food. The
+noon meal was eaten early in order that the players might have an hour
+for digestion before they went to the field. Chambers came swinging up
+to the school at half-past one, in all the carriages to be found at the
+station, while her supporters trailed after on foot. The stands filled
+early and, by the time the Chambers warriors trotted on to the gridiron
+for their practice, looked gay and colourful with waving pennants.
+
+Don kept close to Tim from the time dinner was over until they reached
+the locker-room in the gymnasium. Tim was puzzled and disgusted over his
+chum's behaviour and secretly began to think that perhaps, after all, he
+was not in the condition his appearance told him to be. Don listlessly
+dragged his playing togs on and was dressed by the time Coach Robey came
+in. He hoped that the coach would give him his opportunity then to
+declare his unfitness for work, but Mr. Robey paid no attention to him.
+He said the usual few words of admonition to the players, conferred with
+Manager Morton and the trainer and disappeared again. Captain Edwards
+led the way out of the building at a few minutes before two and they
+jogged down to the field and, heralded by a long cheer from the stand,
+took their places on the benches. It was a fine day for football, bright
+and windless and with a true November nip in the air.
+
+Chambers yielded half the gridiron and Coach Robey approached the bench.
+"All right, first and second squads," he said cheerfully. "Try your
+signals out, but take it easy. Rollins, you'd better try a half-dozen
+goals. Martin, too. How about you, Gilbert? You feeling all right?"
+
+Don felt the colour seeping out of his cheeks as the coach turned toward
+him, and there was an instant of silence before he replied with lowered
+eyes.
+
+"N-no, sir, I'm not feeling very--very fit. I'm sorry."
+
+"You're not?" Mr. Robey's voice had an edge. "Danny says you're
+perfectly fit. What's wrong?"
+
+"I--I don't know, sir. I don't feel--well."
+
+A number of the players still within hearing turned to listen. Mr. Robey
+viewed Don with a puzzled frown. Then he shrugged impatiently.
+
+"You know best, of course," he said shortly, "but if you don't work
+today, Gilbert, you're plumb out of it. I can't keep your place open for
+you forever, you know. What do you say? Want to try it?"
+
+Don wished that the earth under his feet would open up and swallow him.
+He tried to return the coach's gaze, but his eyes wandered. The first
+time he tried to speak he made no sound, and when he did find his voice
+it was so low that the coach impatiently bade him speak up.
+
+"I don't think it would be any good, sir," replied Don huskily. "I--I'm
+not feeling very well."
+
+There was a long silence. Then Mr. Robey's voice came to him as cold as
+ice. "Very well, Gilbert, clean your locker out and hand in your things
+to the trainer. Walton!"
+
+"Yes, sir?"
+
+"Go in at left guard on the first squad." Mr. Robey turned again to Don.
+"Gilbert," he said very quietly, "I don't understand you. You are
+perfectly able to play, and you know it. The only explanation that
+occurs to me is that you're in a funk. If that's so it is a fortunate
+thing for all of us that we've discovered it now instead of later.
+There's no place on this team, my boy, for a quitter."
+
+Coach and players turned away, leaving Don standing alone there before
+the bench. Miserably he groped his way to it and sat down with hanging
+head. His eyes were wet and he was horribly afraid that someone would
+see it. A hand fell on his shoulder and he glanced up into Tim's
+troubled face.
+
+"I heard, Don," said Tim. "I'm frightfully sorry, old man. Are you sure
+you can't do it!"
+
+Don shook his head silently. Tim sighed.
+
+"Gee, it's rotten, ain't it? Maybe he didn't mean what he said, though.
+Maybe, if you're all right Monday, he'll give you another chance.
+I'm--I'm beastly sorry, Don!"
+
+The hand on his shoulder pressed reassuringly and drew away and Tim
+hurried out to his place. Presently Don took a deep breath, got to his
+feet and, trying his hardest to look unconcerned but making sorry work
+of it, skirted the stand and retraced his steps to the gymnasium. His
+one desire was to get out of sight before any of the fellows found him,
+and so he pulled off his togs as quickly as he might, got into his other
+clothes, made a bundle of his suit and stockings and shoes and left them
+in the rubbing-room where Danny could not fail to find them and then
+hurried out of the building and through the deserted yard to Billings
+and the sunlit silence and emptiness of his room.
+
+There was very little consolation in the knowledge that he had done only
+what was right. Martyrdom has its drawbacks. He had lost his position
+with the team and had been publicly branded a quitter. The fact that his
+conscience was not only clear but even approving didn't help much. Being
+thought a quitter, a coward, hurt badly. If he could have got at Harry
+Walton any time during the ensuing half-hour it would have gone hard
+with that youth. After a time, though, he got command of his feelings
+again and, since there was nothing better to do, he seated himself at
+the window and watched as much of the football game as was visible from
+there. Once or twice he was able to forget his trouble for a brief
+moment.
+
+Chambers put up a good game that day and it was all the home team could
+do to finally win out by the score of 3 to 0. For two periods Chambers
+had Brimfield virtually on the run, and only a fine fighting spirit that
+flashed into evidence under the shadow of her goal saved the latter from
+defeat. As it was, luck took a hand in matters when a poor pass from
+centre killed Chambers's chance of scoring by a field-goal in the second
+quarter.
+
+Brimfield showed better work in the second half and twice got the ball
+inside the visitor's twenty-yard line, once in the third period and
+again shortly before the final whistle blew. The first opportunity to
+score was lost when Carmine called for line-plunges to get the pigskin
+across and Howard, who was playing in St. Clair's position because of a
+slight injury to the regular left half, fumbled for a four-yard loss.
+Chambers rallied and took the ball away a minute later. In the fourth
+period dazzling runs outside of tackles by Tim Otis and hard
+line-plugging by Rollins and Howard took the ball from Brimfield's
+thirty-five to the enemy's twenty-five. There a forward pass
+grounded--Chambers had a remarkable defence against that play--and, on
+third down, Rollins slid off left tackle for enough to reach the twenty.
+But with only one down remaining and time nearly up, a try-at-goal was
+the only course left, and Rollins, standing squarely on the thirty-yard
+line, drop-kicked a scanty victory.
+
+In some ways that contest was disappointing, in others encouraging.
+Team-play was more in evidence than in any previous game and the
+maroon-and-grey backfield had performed prodigiously. And the plays had,
+as a general thing, gone off like clock-work. But there were weak places
+in the line still. Pryme, at right guard, had proved an easy victim for
+the enemy and the same was true, in a lesser degree, of Harry Walton, on
+the other side of centre. And Crewe, at right tackle, had allowed
+himself to be boxed time after time. It might be said for Crewe,
+however, that today he was playing opposite an opponent who was more
+than clever. But the way in which Chambers had torn holes in Brimfield's
+first defence promised poorly for next Saturday and the spectators went
+away from the field feeling a bit less sanguine than a week before. "No
+team that is weak at both guard positions can hope to win," was the
+general verdict, and it was fully realised that Claflin's backs were
+better than Chambers's. For a day or two there was much talk of a
+petition to the faculty asking for the reinstatement of Tom Hall, but it
+progressed no further than talk. Josh, it was known, was not the kind to
+reverse his decision for any reason they could present.
+
+And yet, although the weekly faculty conference on Monday night had no
+written petition to consider, the subject of Tom's reinstatement did
+come before it and in a totally unprecedented manner.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+"GOOD-BYE, TIMMY!"
+
+
+TIM found a dejected and most unsatisfactory chum when he got back to
+the room after the Chambers game that Saturday afternoon. All of Tim's
+demands for an explanation of the whole puzzling affair met only with
+evasion. Don was not only uncommunicative, but a trifle short-tempered,
+a condition quite unusual for him. All Tim could get from him was that
+he "felt perfectly punk" and wasn't going to try to change Mr. Robey's
+decision.
+
+"I'm through," he said. "I don't blame Robey a bit. I'm no use on the
+team as I am. He'd be foolish to bother with me."
+
+"Well, all I can say," returned Tim, with a sigh of exasperation, "is
+that the whole thing is mighty funny. I guess there's more to it than
+you're telling. You look like thirty cents, all right enough, but I'll
+wager anything you like that you could go out there and play just as
+good a game as ever on Monday if Robey would let you and you cared to
+try. Now couldn't you!"
+
+"I don't know. What does it matter, anyhow? I tell you I'm all through,
+and so there's no use chewing it over."
+
+"Oh, all right. Nuff said." Tim walked to the window, his hands thrust
+deep in his pockets, and, after a minute's contemplation of the
+darkening prospect without, observed haltingly: "Look here, Don. If you
+hear things you don't like, don't get up on your ear, eh?"
+
+"What sort of things?" demanded the other.
+
+Tim hesitated a long moment before he took the plunge. Then: "Well, some
+of the fellows don't understand, Don. You can't altogether blame them, I
+suppose. I shut two or three of them up, but there's bound to be some
+talk, you know. Some fellows always manage to think of the meanest
+things possible. But what fellows like that say isn't worth bothering
+about. So just you sit snug, old man. They've already found that they
+can't say that sort of thing when I'm around."
+
+"Thanks," said Don quietly. "What sort of things do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, anything."
+
+"You mean that they're calling me a quitter?"
+
+"Well, some of them heard Robey get that off and they're repeating it
+like a lot of silly parrots. I called Holt down good and hard. Told him
+I'd punch his ugly face if he talked that way again."
+
+"Don't bother," said Don listlessly. "I guess I do look like a quitter,
+all right."
+
+"Piffle! And, hang it all, Robey had no business saying that, Don! He
+couldn't really believe it."
+
+"Why couldn't he? On the face of it, Tim, I'd say that I looked a whole
+lot like a quitter."
+
+"But that's nonsense! Why would you or any fellow want to quit just
+before the Claflin game? Why, all the hard work's done with, man! Only a
+little signal practice to go through with now. Why would you want to
+quit? It's poppycock!"
+
+"Well, some fellows do get cold feet just before the big game. We've
+both known cases of it. Look at----"
+
+"Yes, I know what you're going to say, but that was different. He never
+had any spunk, anyway. Nobody believed in him but Robey, and Robey was
+wrong, just as he is about you. Anyway, all I'm trying to say is that
+there's no use getting waxy if some idiot shoots off his mouth. The
+fellows who really count don't believe you a--a quitter. And the whole
+business will blow over in a couple of days. Look how they talked about
+Tom at first!"
+
+"They didn't call him a quitter, though. They were just mad because he'd
+done a fool thing and lost the team. I wouldn't blame anyone for
+thinking me a--a coward, and I can't resent it if they say it."
+
+"Can't, eh? Well, I can!"
+
+Don smile wanly. "Thought you were telling me not to, Tim."
+
+Tim muttered. There was silence for a minute in the twilit room. Then
+Tim switched on the lights and rolled up his sleeves preparatory to
+washing. "The whole thing's perfectly rotten," he growled, "but we'll
+just have to make the best of it. Ten years from now----"
+
+"Yes, but it isn't ten years from now that troubles me," interrupted Don
+thoughtfully. "It--it's right this minute. And tomorrow and the next
+day. And the day after that. I've a good mind to----"
+
+"To what?" demanded Tim from behind his sponge.
+
+"Nothing. I was just--thinking."
+
+"Well, stop it, then. You weren't intended to think. You always do
+something silly when you get to thinking. Wash up and come on to
+supper."
+
+"I'm not going over tonight," answered Don. "I'm not hungry. And,
+anyway, I don't feel quite like facing it yet."
+
+"Now, look here," began Tim severely, "if you're going to take it like
+that----"
+
+"I'm not, I guess. Only I'd rather not go to supper tonight. I am
+through at the training-table and I funk going back to the other table
+just now. Besides, I'm not the least bit hungry. You run along."
+
+Tim observed him frowningly. "Well, all right. Only if it was me I'd
+take the bull by the horns and see it through. Fellows will talk more if
+you let them see that you give a hang."
+
+"They'll talk enough anyway, I dare say. A little more won't matter."
+
+"I just hope Holt gets gay again," said Tim venomously, shying the towel
+in the general direction of the rack and missing it by a foot. "Want me
+to bring something over to you?"
+
+"No, thanks. I don't want a thing."
+
+"We-ell, I guess I'll beat it then." Tim loitered uncertainly at the
+door. "I say, Donald, old scout, buck up, eh?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I'll be all right, Timmy. Don't you worry about me. And--and
+thanks, you know, for--for calling Holt down."
+
+"Oh, that!" Tim chuckled. "Holt wasn't the only one I called down
+either." Then, realising that he had not helped the situation any by the
+remark, he tried to squirm out of it. "Of course, Holt was _the_ one,
+you know. The others didn't really _say_ anything, or--or mean
+anything----"
+
+Don laughed. "That'll do, Tim. Beat it!"
+
+And Tim, red-faced and confused, "beat it."
+
+For the next five minutes doors in the corridor opened and shut and
+footfalls sounded as the fellows hurried off to Wendell. But I doubt if
+Don heard the sounds, for he was sunk very low in the chair and his eyes
+were fixed intently on space. Presently he drew in his legs, sat up and
+pulled his watch from his pocket. A moment of speculation followed. Then
+he jumped from the chair as one whose mind is at last made up and went
+to his closet. From the recesses he dragged forth his bag and laid it
+open on his bed. From the closet hooks he took down a few garments and
+tossed them beside the bag and then crossed to his dresser and pulled
+open the drawers. Don had decided to accept Coach Robey's title. He was
+going to quit!
+
+There was a train at six-thirty-four and another at seven-one for New
+York. With luck, he could get the first. If he missed that he was
+certain of the second. The dormitory was empty, it was quite dark
+outside by now and there was scarcely a chance of anyone's seeing him.
+If he hurried he could be at the station before Tim could return from
+supper. Or, even if he didn't get away until the seven-one train, he
+would be clear of the hall before Tim could discover his absence and
+surmise the reason for it. To elude Tim was the all-important thing, for
+Tim would never approve and would put all sorts of obstacles in his way.
+In fact, it would be a lot like Tim to hold him back by main force!
+Don's heart sank for a moment. It was going to be frightfully hard to
+leave old Timmy. Perhaps they might meet again at college in a couple of
+years, but they would not be likely to see each other before that time,
+and even that depended on so many things that it couldn't be confidently
+counted on.
+
+Don paused in his hurried selection of articles from the dresser drawers
+and dropped into a chair at the table. But, with the pad before him and
+pen in hand, he shook his head. A note would put Tim wise to what was
+happening and perhaps allow him to get to the station in time to make a
+fuss. No, it would be better to write to him later; perhaps from New
+York tonight, for Don was pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to get a
+through train before morning. So, with another glance at his watch, he
+began to pack again, throwing things in every which-way in his feverish
+desire to complete the task and leave the building before Tim got back.
+He came across a scarf that Tim had admired and laid it back in the top
+drawer. It had never been worn and Tim should have it. And as he hurried
+back and forth he thought of other things he would like Tim to have.
+There was his tennis racket, the one Tim always borrowed when Don wasn't
+using it, and a scarf-pin made of a queer, rough nugget of opal matrix.
+He would tell Tim he was to have those and not to pack them with the
+other things. The thought of making the gifts almost cheered him for
+awhile, and, together with the excitement of running away, caused him to
+hum a little tune under his breath as he jammed the last articles in the
+bag and snapped it shut.
+
+It was sixteen minutes past now. He would, he acknowledged, never be
+able to make the six-thirty-four, with that burden to carry. But the
+seven-one would do quite as well, and he wouldn't have to hurry so. In
+that case, then, why not leave just a few words of good-bye for Tim? He
+could put the note somewhere where Tim wouldn't find it until later;
+tuck it, for instance, under the bed-clothes so that he would find it
+when he pulled them down. He hesitated a moment and then set his bag
+down by the door, dropped his overcoat and umbrella on the bed and
+seated himself again at the table. Tim was never known to take less than
+a half-hour for supper and he still had a good ten minutes' leeway:
+
+          "Dear Timmy [he wrote hurriedly], I'm off. It's no
+          use sticking around any longer. Fellows aren't
+          going to forget as soon as you said and I can't
+          stay on here and be thought a quitter. So I'm
+          taking the seven-one to New York and will be home
+          day after tomorrow. I wish you would pack my
+          things up for me when you get time. There isn't
+          any great hurry. I've got enough for awhile.
+          You're to keep the racket and the blue and white
+          tie and the opal matrix pin and anything else you
+          like to remember me by. Please do this, Tim. I'll
+          write from home and tell you about sending the
+          trunk. I'm awfully sorry, Tim, and I'm going to
+          miss you like anything, but I shan't ever come
+          back here. Maybe we will get together again at
+          college. I hope so. You try, will you? Good-bye,
+          Tim, old pal. We've had some dandy times together,
+          haven't we? And you've been an A1 chum to me and I
+          wish I wasn't going off without saying good-bye to
+          you decently. But I've got to. So good-bye, Timmy,
+          old man. Think of me now and then like I will of
+          you. Good-bye.
+
+                                      "Your friend always,
+                                                      "DON."
+
+That note took longer to write than he had counted on, and when he got
+up from the table and looked at his watch he was alarmed to find that it
+was almost half-past six. He folded the paper and tucked it just under
+the clothes at the head of Tim's bed, took a last glance about the room,
+picked up coat and umbrella and turned out the light. Then he strode
+toward the door, groping for his bag.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+FRIENDS FALL OUT
+
+
+TIM didn't enjoy supper very much that evening. The game had left him
+pretty weary of body and mind, and on top of that was Don and his
+trouble, and try as he might he couldn't get them out of his thoughts.
+Mr. Robey was not at table; someone said he had gone to New York for
+over Sunday; and so Tim didn't have to make a pretence of eating more
+than he wanted. And he wanted very little. A slice of cold roast beef,
+rather too rare to please him, about an eighth of one of the inevitable
+baked potatoes, a few sips of milk and a corner of a slice of toast as
+hard as a shingle, and Tim was more than satisfied. Tonight he was not
+especially interested in the talk, which, as usual after a game, was all
+football, and didn't see any good reason for sitting there after he had
+finished and listening to it. All during his brief meal he was on the
+alert for any mention of Don's name, and more than once he glared,
+almost encouragingly, at Holt. But Holt had already learned his lesson
+and was doing very little talking, and none at all about Don. Nor was
+the absent player's name mentioned by anyone at that table, although
+what might be being said of him at the other Tim had no way of knowing.
+He stayed on a few minutes after he had finished, eyeing the apple-sauce
+and graham crackers coldly, and then asked Steve Edwards to excuse him.
+
+"Off his feed," remarked Carmine as Tim passed down the dining hall on
+his way out. "First time I ever saw old Tim have nerves."
+
+"It's Don Gilbert, probably," said Clint Thayer. "They're great pals.
+Tim's worried about him, I guess."
+
+"What do you make of it, Steve?" asked Crewe, helping himself to a third
+slice of meat.
+
+"What is there to make of it?" asked Steve carelessly. "The chap's all
+out of shape, I suppose. I don't know what his trouble is, but I guess
+he's a goner for this year."
+
+"It's awfully funny, isn't it?" asked Rollins. "Gilbert always struck me
+as an awfully plucky player."
+
+"Has anyone said he isn't?" inquired Clint quietly.
+
+"N-no, no, of course not!" Rollins flushed. "I didn't mean anything like
+that, Clint. Only I don't see----"
+
+"He hasn't been looking very fit lately," offered Harry Walton. "I
+noticed it two or three days ago. Too bad!"
+
+"Yes, you're feeling perfectly wretched about it, I guess," said big
+Thursby drily, causing a smile around the table. Walton shrugged and
+rewarded the speaker with one of his smiles that were always
+unfortunately like leers.
+
+"Oh, I can feel sorry for him," said Walton, "even if I do get his
+place. Gilbert gave me an awfully good fight for it."
+
+"Oh, was there a fight?" asked Thursby innocently. "I didn't notice
+any."
+
+Thursby got a real laugh this time and Harry Walton joined in to save
+his face, but with no very good grace.
+
+"If anyone has an idea that Don Gilbert is scared and quit for that
+reason," observed St. Clair, "he'd better keep it to himself. Or,
+anyhow, he'd better not air it when Tim is about. He nearly bit my head
+off in the gym because I said that Don was a chump to give up like this
+a week before the Claflin game. Tim flared up like--like a gasoline
+torch and wanted to fight! I didn't mean a thing by my innocent remark,
+but I had the dickens of a time trying to prove it to Tim! And he almost
+jumped into you, too, didn't he, Holt?"
+
+"Yes, he did, the touchy beggar! You all heard what Robey said, and----"
+
+"I didn't hear," interrupted Steve, "and----"
+
+"Why, he said----"
+
+"And, as I was about to remark, Holt, I don't want to. And it will be
+just as decent for those who did hear to forget. Robey says lots of
+things he doesn't mean or believe. Perhaps that was one of them. I'm for
+Don. If he says he's sick, he is sick. You've all seen him play for two
+years and you ought to know that there isn't a bit of yellow anywhere in
+his make-up."
+
+"That's so," agreed several, and others nodded, Holt amongst them.
+
+"I didn't say he was a quitter, Steve. I was only repeating what Robey
+said, and Tim happened to hear me. Gee, I like Don as well as any of
+you. Gee, didn't I play a whole year with him on the second?"
+
+"Gee, you did indeed!" replied Crewe, and, laughing, the fellows pushed
+back their chairs and left the table.
+
+Tim didn't hurry on his way along the walk to Billings, for he was
+earnestly trying to think of some scheme that would take Don's mind off
+his trouble that evening. Perhaps he could get Don to take a good, long
+walk. Walking always worked wonders in his own case when, as very
+infrequently happened, he had a fit of the blues. Yes, he would propose
+a walk, he told himself. And then he groaned at the thought of it, for
+he was very tired and he ached in a large number of places!
+
+Only a few windows were lighted in Billings as he approached it, for
+most of the fellows were still in dining hall and the rule requiring the
+turning out of lights during absence from rooms was strictly enforced.
+Only the masters were exempted, and Tim noticed as he passed Mr. Daley's
+study that the droplight was turned low by one of those cunning dimming
+attachments which Tim had always envied the instructor the possession
+of. Tim would have had one of those long ago could he have put it to any
+practical use. He passed through the doorway and down the dimly lighted
+corridor, the rubber-soled shoes which he affected in all seasons making
+little sound. He was surprised to see that no light showed through the
+transom of Number 6, and he paused outside the door a moment. Perhaps
+Don was asleep. In that case, it would be just as well to not disturb
+him. But, on the other hand, he might be just sitting there in the dark
+being miserable. Tim turned the knob and pushed the door open.
+
+The light from the corridor and the fact that Don had stopped startledly
+at the sound of the turning knob prevented an actual collision between
+them. Tim, pushing the door slowly shut behind him, viewed Don
+questioningly. "Hello," he said, "where are you going?"
+
+"For a walk," replied Don.
+
+"Why the coat and umbrella? And--oh, I see!" Tim's glance took in the
+bag and comprehension dawned. "So that's it, eh?"
+
+There was an instant of silence during which Tim closed the door and
+leaned against it, hands in pockets and a thoughtful scowl on his face.
+Finally:
+
+"Yes, that's it," said Don defiantly. "I'm off for home."
+
+"What's the big idea?"
+
+"You know well enough, Tim. I--I'm not going to stay here and be--be
+pointed out as a quitter. I'm----"
+
+"Wait a sec! What are you doing now but quitting, you several sorts of a
+blind mule? Think you're helping things any by--by running away? Don't
+be a chump, Donald."
+
+"That's all well enough for you. It isn't your funeral. I don't care
+what they say about me if I don't have to hear it. I'm sorry, Tim,
+but--but I've just got to do it. I--there's a note for you in your bed.
+I didn't expect you'd be back before I left."
+
+"I'll bet you didn't, son!" said Tim grimly. "Now let me tell you
+something, Don. You're acting like a baby, that's what you're doing!
+It's all fine enough to say that you don't care what fellows say as long
+as you don't hear it, but you don't mean it, Don. You would care. And so
+would I. If you don't want them to think you a quitter, for the love of
+mud don't run away like--like one!"
+
+"I've thought of all that, Tim, but it's the only thing to do."
+
+"The only thing to do, your grandmother! The thing to do is to stick
+around and show folks that you're _not_ a quitter. Don't you see that
+getting out is the one thing that'll make them believe Robey was right?"
+
+"Oh, I dare say, but I've made up my mind, Tim. I'm going to get that
+seven-one train, old man, and I'll have to beat it. If you want to walk
+along to the station with me----"
+
+"And carry your bag?" asked Tim sweetly. He turned the key in the lock
+and then dropped it in his pocket. Don took a stride forward, but was
+met by Tim's challenging frown. "There's no seven-one train for you
+tonight, Donald," said Tim quietly, "nor any other night. Put your bag
+down, old dear, and hang your overcoat back in the closet."
+
+[Illustration: "Will you unlock that door?" Demanded Don angrily]
+
+"Don't act like a silly ass," begged Don. "Put that key back and let me
+out, Tim!"
+
+"Yes, I will--like fun! The only way you'll get that key will be by
+taking it out of my pocket, and by the time you do that the seven-one
+train will be half-way to the city."
+
+"Please, Tim! You're not acting like a good chum! Just you think----"
+
+"That's just what I am acting like," returned Tim, stepping past the
+other and switching on the lights. "And you'll acknowledge it tomorrow.
+Just now you're sort of crazy in the head. I'll humour you as much as
+possible, Donald, but not to the extent of letting you make a perfect
+chump of yourself. Sit down and behave."
+
+"Tim, I want that key," said Don sternly.
+
+Tim shrugged. "Can't have it, Don, unless you fight for it. And I'm not
+sure you'd get it then. Now look here----"
+
+"You've no right to keep me here!"
+
+"I don't give a hang whether I've got the right or not. You're going to
+stay here."
+
+"There are other trains," said Don coldly. "You can't keep that door
+locked forever."
+
+"I don't intend to try, but it'll stay locked until the last train
+tonight has whistled for the crossing back there. Make up your mind to
+that, son!"
+
+Don looked irresolutely from Tim to the door and back again. He didn't
+want to fight Tim the least bit in the world. He wasn't so sure now that
+he wanted to get that train, either. But, having stated his purpose, he
+felt it encumbent on him to carry it out. Then his gaze fell on the
+windows and he darted toward them.
+
+But Tim had already thought of that way of escape and before Don had
+traversed half the distance from door to windows Tim had planted himself
+resolutely in the way. "No you don't, Donald," he said calmly. "You'll
+have to lick me first, boy, and I'm feeling quite some scrappy!"
+
+"I don't want to lick you," said Don irritably, "but I mean to get that
+train. You'd better either give up that key or stand out of my way,
+Tim."
+
+"Neither, thanks. And, look here, if we get to scrapping Horace will
+hear us and then you won't get away in any case. Be sensible, Don, and
+give it up. It can't be done, old man."
+
+"Will you unlock that door?" demanded Don angrily.
+
+"No, confound you, I won't!"
+
+"Then I'm going out by the window!"
+
+"And I say you're not." Tim swiftly peeled off his coat. "Anyway, not in
+time to get that train."
+
+Don dropped his bag to the floor and tossed overcoat and umbrella on his
+bed. "I've given you fair warning, Tim," he said in a low voice. "I
+don't want to hurt you, but you'd better stand aside."
+
+"I don't want to get hurt, Don," replied the other quietly, "but if you
+insist, all right. I'm doing what I'd want you to do, Don, if I went
+crazy in the head. You may not like it now, but some day you'll tell me
+I did right."
+
+"You're acting like a fool," answered Don hotly. "It's no business of
+yours if I want to get out of here. Now you let me pass, or it'll be the
+worse for you!"
+
+"Don, will you listen to reason? Sit down calmly for five minutes and
+let's talk this thing over. Will you do that?"
+
+"No! And I won't be dictated to by you, Tim Otis! Now get out of the
+way!"
+
+"You'll have to put me out," answered Tim with set jaw. "And you're
+going to find that hard work, Donald. We're both going to get horribly
+mussed up, and----"
+
+But Tim didn't finish his remark, for at that instant Don rushed him.
+Tim met the onslaught squarely and in a second they were struggling
+silently. No blows were struck. Don was bent only on getting the other
+out of the way and making his escape through the open window there,
+while Tim was equally resolved that he should do nothing of the sort. In
+spite of Don's superior weight, the two boys were fairly equally
+matched, and for a minute or two they strained and tussled without
+advantage to either. Then Tim, his arms wrapped around Don's body like
+iron bands, forced the latter back a step and against a chair which went
+crashing to the floor. Don tore at the encircling arms, panting.
+
+"I don't--want to--hurt you," he muttered, "but--I will--if you
+don't--let go!"
+
+There was no answer from Tim, but the grip didn't relax. Don worked a
+hand under the other's chin and tried to force his head back. Tim gave a
+little and they collided with the window-seat, stumbled and slid
+together to the floor, Don on top. For a moment they writhed and
+thrashed and then Don worked his right arm loose, slowly tore Tim's
+left hand away and held it down to the floor.
+
+"Let go or I'll punch you, Tim," he panted.
+
+"Punch--ahead!"
+
+Don strained until he felt Tim's other hand giving, and then, with a
+sudden fling of his body, rolled clear and jumped to his feet. But Tim
+was only an instant behind him and, panting and dishevelled, the two
+boys confronted each other, silent.
+
+"I'm going out there," said Don after a moment.
+
+Tim only shook his head and smiled crookedly.
+
+"I am, Tim, and--and you mustn't try to stop me this time!"
+
+"I've--got to, Don!"
+
+"I'm giving you fair warning!"
+
+"I know."
+
+Don took a deeper breath and stepped forward. "Don't touch me!" he
+warned. But Tim was once more in his path, hands stretched to clutch and
+hold. "Out of my way, Tim! Fair warning!" Don's face was white and his
+eyes blazing.
+
+"No!" whispered Tim, and crouched.
+
+Then Don went on again. Tim threw himself in the way, a fist shot out
+and Tim, with a grunt, went back against the pillows and slipped
+heavily to the floor.
+
+Don's hands fell to his sides and he stared bewilderedly. Then, with a
+groan, he dropped to his knees and raised Tim's head from the floor.
+"Gee, but I'm sorry, Timmy!" he stammered. "I didn't mean to do it,
+honest! I was crazy, I guess! Timmy, are you all right!"
+
+Tim's eyes, half-closed, fluttered, he drew a deep breath and his head
+rolled over against Don's arm.
+
+"Timmy!" cried Don anxiously. "_Timmy!_ Don't you hear me! I didn't hit
+you awfully hard, Timmy!"
+
+Tim sighed. "What--time is it?" he murmured.
+
+"Time? Never mind the time. Are you all right, Tim?"
+
+Tim opened his eyes and grinned weakly. "Hear the birdies sing, Don! It
+was a lovely punch! Help me up, will you?"
+
+Don lifted him to the window-seat. "I'm horribly sorry, Tim," he said
+abjectedly. "I--I didn't know what I was doing, chum! I wish--I wish
+you'd hand me one, Tim! Go on, will you?"
+
+Tim laughed weakly. "It's all right, Donald. Just give me a minute to
+get my breath. Gee, things certainly spun around there for a second!"
+
+"Where'd I hit you?"
+
+"Right on the point of the jaw." Tim felt of the place gingerly. "No
+harm done, though. It just sort of--jarred me a bit. What time is it?"
+
+Don glanced at the tin alarm clock on his dresser. "Ten of seven," he
+answered. "What's that got to do with it?"
+
+"Well, you can't make the seven-one now, Donald, unless you fly all the
+way, can you?"
+
+"Oh!" said Don, rather blankly. "I--I'd forgotten!"
+
+"Good thing," muttered Tim. "Wish you'd forgotten before! If anyone ever
+tells you you're a nice good-natured, even-tempered chap, Don, don't you
+believe him. You send 'em to me!"
+
+"I didn't know I could lose my temper like that," replied the other
+shamefacedly. "Timmy, I'm most awfully sorry about it. You believe that,
+don't you?"
+
+"Sure!" Tim laughed. "But I'll bet you're not half as sorry as you would
+have been tomorrow if I'd let you go! Don, you're an awful ass, now
+aren't you?"
+
+Don nodded. "I guess I am, Timmy. And you're a--a brick, old man!"
+
+"Huh! Any more trains to New York tonight?"
+
+"There's one at twelve-something," answered Don, with a grin.
+
+"Thinking of catching it?"
+
+"Not a bit!"
+
+"All right then." Tim dug in his pocket and then tossed the door-key
+beside him on the cushion. "Better unpack your bag, you silly ass. Then
+we'll go out and get some air. I sort of need it!"
+
+Some three hours later Tim, tossing back his bed-clothes, exclaimed:
+"Hello! What have we here?"
+
+"That's just a note I wrote you," said Don hurriedly. "Hand it here,
+Tim."
+
+"I should say not! I'm going to read it!"
+
+"No, please, Tim! It's just about two or three things I was going to
+leave you! Hand it over, like a good chap!"
+
+"Something you were going to leave me?" said Tim as he let Don wrest the
+sheet of paper from him. "Oh, I see. Well,"--he felt carefully of the
+lump on his chin--"I guess you left me enough as it is, dearie!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+AMY APPEARS FOR THE DEFENCE
+
+
+PRACTICE on Monday was a wretched affair. To be sure, many of the
+fellows who had played in the Chambers game had been excused, but that
+didn't account for the fact that those who did take part went at their
+work as if half asleep. Both McPhee and Cotter failed to get any life
+into the first, and the second, while it, too, seemed to have taken part
+in the general slump, managed to score twice while the first was with
+difficulty wresting three touchdowns from its opponent. Mr. Robey
+shouted himself red in the face, Steve Edwards, who followed practice,
+pleaded and exhorted, and a stocky, broad-shouldered, bearded individual
+who made his appearance that afternoon for the first time frowned and
+shook his head, and all to small purpose. The players accepted scoldings
+and insults as a donkey accepts blows, untroubledly, apathetically, and
+jogged on at their own pace, guilty of all the sins of commission and
+omission in the football decalogue.
+
+There was much curiosity about the newcomer and many opinions as to his
+identity were hazarded on the bench that afternoon. It was quite evident
+that he was a football authority, for Coach Robey consulted him at times
+all during practice. And it was equally evident that they were close
+friends, since the stranger was on one occasion seen to smite the head
+coach most familiarly between the shoulders! But who he was and what he
+was doing there remained a secret until after supper. Then it became
+known that his name was Proctor, Doctor George G. Proctor, that he was a
+practising physician some place in the Middle West and that he was
+visiting Coach Robey. But that was unsatisfactory data and some
+enterprising youth hunted back in the football records and, lo, the
+mystery was explained. Eight years before "Gus" Proctor had played
+tackle on the Princeton eleven and in his junior and senior years had
+been honoured with a position on the All-American Team. Subsequently he
+had coached at a college in Ohio and had put said college on the map.
+Now, having stolen away from home to see Princeton and Yale play next
+Saturday, he was staying for a day or two with Mr. Robey. After that
+became generally known Doctor Proctor was gazed at with a new respect
+whenever he appeared on field or campus.
+
+Don and Tim went up to Number 12 that night after supper to call on Tom
+Hall. Tim was having hard work making Don face the music. If Don could
+have had his way he would have kept to himself, but Tim insisted on
+dragging him around. "Just keep a firm upper lip, Donald," he
+counselled, "and show the fellows that there's nothing in it. That's the
+only way to do. If you keep skulking off by yourself they'll think
+you're ashamed."
+
+"So I am," muttered Don.
+
+"You're not, either! You've done nothing to be ashamed of! Keep that in
+mind, you silly It. Now come along and we'll go up and jolly Tom a bit."
+
+Steve Edwards was not at home, but Amy Byrd was enthroned on the
+window-seat when they entered in response to Tom's invitation, and Amy
+had evidently been holding forth very seriously on some subject.
+
+"Don't mind us," said Tim. "Go ahead, Amy, and get it off your chest."
+
+"Hello," said Amy. "Hello, Don, old man. Haven't seen you for an age.
+Make yourselves at home. Never mind Tom, he's only the host. How did you
+like the practice today, Tim?"
+
+"I didn't see it, but I heard enough about it. It must have been
+fierce!"
+
+"It was perfectly punk," growled Tom. "I should think Robey would want
+to throw up his hands and quit!"
+
+"Did you see it, Don?" asked Amy.
+
+"No, I didn't go over. What was the trouble?"
+
+"Well, I'm no expert," replied Amy, taking his knees into his arms and
+rocking gently back and forth on the seat, "but I'd say in my ignorant
+way that someone had unkindly put sleeping-potions in the milk at
+training-table! The only fellow who seemed to have his eyes more than
+half open was McPhee. Mac showed signs of life at long intervals. The
+rest sort of stumbled around in their sleep. I think Peters actually
+snored."
+
+"Oh, we're going to get a fine old drubbing next Saturday," said Tom
+pessimistically. "And what a fine exhibition for that chap Proctor! I'll
+bet Robey could have kicked the whole team all the way back to the gym.
+He looked as though it would have done him a world of good to have a try
+at it!"
+
+"Oh, well, these things happen," said Tim cheerfully. "It's only a
+slump. We'll get over it."
+
+"Slump be blowed!" said Tom. "This is a fine time to slump, five days
+before the game!"
+
+"I know that, too, but there's no use howling about it. What we need,
+Tom, is to have you get back there at right guard, old man."
+
+"That's what I've been saying," exclaimed Amy earnestly. "I want Tom to
+go to Josh and ask him to let him play, but he won't. Says it wouldn't
+be any good. You don't know whether it would or not, Tom, until you try
+it. Look here, Josh doesn't want us to get beaten Saturday any more than
+we want it ourselves, and if you sort of put it up to him like that----"
+
+"I'd look well, wouldn't I?" laughed Tom. "Telling Josh that unless he
+let me off pro the team would get licked! Gee, that's some modest, isn't
+it?"
+
+"You don't have to put it like that," replied Amy impatiently. "Be--be
+diplomatic. Tell him----"
+
+"What we ought to do," interrupted Tim, "is get up a petition and have
+everyone sign it."
+
+"I thought of that, too," said Amy, "but this dunder-headed Turk won't
+stand for even that."
+
+"Why not, Tom?" asked Don.
+
+"Because."
+
+"And after that?" asked Amy sweetly.
+
+"Well, look here, you chaps." Tom scowled intently for a moment. "Look
+here. It's this way. Josh put a bunch of us on pro, didn't he? Well,
+what right have I to go and ask to be let off just because I happen to
+be a football man? You don't suppose those other fellows like it any
+better than I do, do you?"
+
+"Oh, forget that! I'm one of them, and I'm having the time of my life.
+It's been the making of me, Tom. I'm getting so blamed full of learning
+that I'll be able to loaf all the rest of the year; live on my income,
+so to say." And Amy beamed proudly.
+
+"That's all right," answered Tom doggedly, "but I don't intend to
+cry-baby. I'm just as much in it as any of you. If Josh wants to let us
+all off, all right, but I'm not going to ask for a--a special
+dispensation!"
+
+"You don't need to," said Tim. "Let the fellows do it. That has nothing
+to do with you. What's to keep us from going ahead and getting up a
+petition?"
+
+"Because I ask you not to," replied Tom simply. "It's only fair that we
+should all be punished alike."
+
+"But you're not," said Don.
+
+"We're not? Why aren't we?" asked Tom in surprise.
+
+"Because you're getting it harder than Amy and Harry Westcott and the
+others," answered Don quietly. "They aren't barred from any sport, and
+you are."
+
+"By Jove, that's a fact!" exclaimed Amy.
+
+"But--but we all got the same sentence," protested Tom.
+
+"I know you did, but"--Don smiled--"put it like this. I hate parsnips;
+can't bear them. Suppose you and I were punished for something we'd done
+by being made to eat parsnips three times a day for--for a month! You
+like them, don't you? Well, who'd get the worst of that? The sentence
+would be the same, but the--the punishment would be a heap worse for me,
+wouldn't it?"
+
+"'Father was right'!" said Tim.
+
+"Oh, father never spoke a truer word!" cried Amy, jumping up from the
+window-seat. "That settles it, Tom! Get some paper, Tim, and we'll write
+that petition this minute and I'll guarantee to get fifty signatures
+before ten o'clock!"
+
+"You'll do nothing of the sort," said Tom stubbornly. "Don talks like a
+lawyer, all right, but he's all wrong. And, anyway, I'm out of football
+and I'm going to stay out for this year. I've quit training and I
+probably couldn't play if Josh said I might. So that----"
+
+"Oh, piffle," said Amy. "Quit training! Everyone knows you never quit
+training, Tom. You could go out there tomorrow and play as good a game
+as you ever did. Don't talk like a sick duck!"
+
+"There's no reason why I should play, though. Pryme's putting up a bully
+game----"
+
+"Pryme is doing the best he knows how," said Tim, "but Pryme can't play
+guard as you can, Tom, and he never will, and you know it! Now have a
+grain of sense, won't you? Just sit tight and let us put this thing
+through. There isn't a fellow in school who won't be tickled to death to
+sign that petition, and I'll bet you anything you like that Josh will be
+just as tickled to say yes to it. Whatever you say about Josh Fernald,
+you've got to hand it to him for being fair and square, Tom."
+
+"Josh is all right, sure. I haven't said anything against him, have I?
+But I won't stand for any petition, fellows, so you might as well get
+that out of your heads. Besides, my being on the team or off it isn't
+going to make a half of one per cent's difference next Saturday."
+
+There was silence in the room for a moment. Then Amy went dejectedly
+back to the window-seat and threw himself on it at full length. "I think
+you might, Tom," he said finally, "if only on my account!"
+
+"Why on your account?" laughed Tom.
+
+"Because I'm the guy that got you all into the mess, that's why. And
+I've felt good and mean about it ever since. And now, when we think up a
+perfectly good way to--to undo the mischief I made, you act like a mule.
+Think what a relief it would be to my conscience, Tom, if you got off
+pro and went back and played against Claflin!"
+
+"I don't care a continental about your conscience, Amy. In fact I never
+knew before that you had one!"
+
+"I've got a very nice one, thanks. It's well-trained, too. It----" Amy's
+voice trailed off into silence and for the next five minutes or so he
+took no part in the conversation, but just laid on the cushions and
+stared intently at the ceiling. Then, suddenly, he thumped his feet to
+the floor and reached for his cap.
+
+"What time is it?" he demanded.
+
+"Most eight," said Tim. "We'd better beat it."
+
+"What time----" began Amy. Then he stopped, pulled his cap on his head
+and literally hurled himself across the room and through the door,
+leaving the others to gaze at each other amazedly.
+
+"Well, what's wrong with him?" gasped Tim.
+
+"He's got something in that crazy head of his," answered Tom uneasily.
+"Don't let him start that petition business, Tim, will you? I don't want
+to seem mean or anything, you know, but I'd rather let things be as they
+are. Come up again, fellows. And maybe today's showing doesn't mean
+anything, Tim, just as you said. We'll hope so, eh?"
+
+Faculty conferences took place on Monday evenings at half-past seven in
+the faculty meeting room in Main Hall. At such times, with the
+principal, Mr. Fernald, presiding at the end of the long table and all
+members of the faculty able to attend ranged on either side, all and
+sundry matters pertaining to the government of the school came up for
+discussion. The business portion of the conference was followed by an
+informal half-hour of talk, during which many of the students were
+subjected to a dissection that would have surprised them vastly had they
+known of it. Tonight, however, the executive session was still going on
+and Mr. Brooke, the secretary, was still making notes at the foot of the
+table, when there came a rap at the door.
+
+Mr. Fernald nodded to Mr. Brooke. "See who it is, please," he said.
+
+The secretary laid down his pen very carefully on the clean square of
+blue blotting-paper before him, pushed back his chair and opened the
+door a few inches. When he turned around his countenance expressed a
+sort of pained disapprobation. "It's Byrd, sir," announced Mr. Brooke in
+a low, shocked voice. "He says he'd like to speak to you."
+
+"Byrd? Well, tell him I'm busy," replied the principal. "If he wants to
+wait I'll see him after the conference. Although"--Mr. Fernald glanced
+at the clock--"it's only four minutes to eight and he'd better get back
+to his room. Tell him I'll see him at the Cottage at nine, Mr. Brooke.
+As I was saying," and Mr. Fernald faced the company again, "I think it
+would be well to arrange for a longer course this Winter. Last year, as
+you'll recall---- Eh? What is it?"
+
+"He says, sir, that it's a faculty matter," announced Mr. Brooke
+deprecatingly, "and asks to be allowed to come in for a minute."
+
+"A faculty matter? Well, in that case----All right, Mr. Brooke, tell him
+to come in."
+
+As Amy entered eight pairs of eyes regarded him curiously; nine, in
+fact, for Mr. Brooke, closing the door softly behind the visitor, gazed
+at him in questioning disapproval.
+
+"Well, Byrd, what can we do for you?" Mr. Fernald smiled, doubtless with
+the wish to dispel embarrassment. But he needn't have troubled about
+that, for Amy didn't look or act in the least embarrassed. "I'm afraid,"
+continued the principal, "that I can't offer you a chair, for we're
+rather busy just now. What was it you wanted to speak of?"
+
+"I guess it looks pretty cheeky, sir, for me to butt in here," replied
+Amy, with a smile, "but it's rather important, sir, and--and if
+anything's to be done about it it'll have to be done tonight."
+
+"Really? Well, it does sound important. Suppose you tell us about it,
+Byrd."
+
+"Thank you, sir." Amy paused, gathering his words in order. "It's this,
+Mr. Fernald: when we fellows were put on pro--probation, I mean, it was
+intended that we should all get the same punishment, wasn't it, sir?"
+
+"Let me see, that was the affair of---- Ah, yes, I recall it. Why, yes,
+Byrd, naturally it was meant to treat you all alike. What complaint have
+you?"
+
+"It isn't exactly a complaint, sir. But it's this way. There were nine
+of us altogether. It was my fault in the first place because I put them
+up to it. They'd never thought of it if I hadn't." Amy glanced at Mr.
+Moller. "It was a pretty silly piece of business, sir, and we got what
+we deserved. But--but none of us meant to--to hurt anyone's feelings,
+sir. It was just a lark. We didn't think that----"
+
+"We'll allow that, Byrd. Please get down to the purpose of this unusual
+visit," said Mr. Fernald drily.
+
+"Yes, sir. Well, eight of us it doesn't matter so much about. We aren't
+football men and being on probation doesn't cut so much--I mean it
+doesn't matter so much. But Tom Hall's a football man, sir, and it's
+different for him. This is his last year here and losing his place on
+the team was hard lines. That's what I'm trying to get at, sir. You
+meant that we were all to be punished the same, but we weren't. It's
+just about twice as hard on Tom as it is on the rest of us. You see
+that, sir, don't you?"
+
+There was a moment of silence and then Mr. Simkins coughed. Or did he
+chuckle? Amy couldn't tell. But the principal dropped his eyes and
+tapped his blotter with the tip of the pencil he held. At last:
+
+"That's a novel point of view, Byrd," he said. "There may be something
+in it. But I must remind you that the Law--and the faculty stands for
+the Law here--takes no cognisance of conditions existing--hem!" Mr.
+Fernald glanced doubtfully down the table. "Perhaps it should, though.
+We'll pass that question for the moment. What is it you suggest, Byrd?"
+
+"Well, sir, the team's in punk shape. It was awful today. It needs Tom,
+sir; needs him awfully. I don't say that we'll beat Claflin if he should
+play, Mr. Fernald, but I'm mighty sure we won't if he doesn't. And it
+seemed to me that maybe you and the other faculty members hadn't thought
+of how much harder you were giving it to Tom than to the rest of us, and
+that if you did know, realise it, sir, you'd maybe consider that he'd
+had about enough and let him off so he might play Saturday. The rest of
+us haven't any kick coming, sir. It's just Tom. And he doesn't know that
+I'm here, either. We tried to get him to let us petition faculty, but he
+wouldn't. He said he was going to take the same punishment as the rest
+of us."
+
+"Then he doesn't agree with your contention, Byrd?"
+
+"Oh, he sees I'm right, Mr. Fernald, but he--he's obstinate!"
+
+Mr. Fernald smiled, as did most of the others.
+
+"Byrd, I think you ought to take a law course," said the principal. "I
+might answer you as I started to by pointing out that it is no business
+of ours whether a punishment is going to hit one fellow harder than
+another; that just because it might should make that one fellow more
+careful not to transgress. But you've taken the wind out of my sails by
+getting me to testify that we intended the punishment to be the same for
+all. You've put us in a difficult place, Byrd. If we should lift
+probation in Hall's case it would seem that we had different laws for
+team members than for boys unconnected with athletics. You've made a
+very eloquent plea, but I don't just see----" Mr. Fernald hesitated.
+Then: "Possibly someone has some suggestion," he added, and it seemed to
+Amy that his gaze rested on Mr. Moller for an instant.
+
+At all events it was the new member of the faculty who spoke. "If I
+might, sir," he said hesitatingly, "I'd like to make the suggestion that
+probation be lifted from all. It seems to me that that would--would
+simplify things, Mr. Fernald."
+
+"Hm. Yes. Possibly. As the target of the extremely vulgar proceeding,
+Mr. Moller, the suggestion coming from you bears weight. Byrd, you'd
+better get to your studies. You'll learn our decision in the morning.
+Your action is commendable, my boy, and we'll take that into
+consideration also. Good-night."
+
+"Good-night, sir. Good-night, sirs. Thank you."
+
+Amy retired unhurriedly, unembarrassedly, and with dignity, as befitted
+one who had opened the eyes of Authority to the error of its ways!
+
+The next morning Mr. Fernald announced in chapel that at the request of
+Mr. Moller, and in consideration of good behaviour, the faculty had
+voted to lift probation from the following students: Hall----
+
+But just there the applause began and the other eight names were not
+heard.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE DOCTOR TELLS A STORY
+
+
+TUESDAY, with the return of all first-string players to the line-up and
+the appearance of Tom Hall once more at right guard, practice went about
+a hundred per cent better, and those who turned out to watch it went
+back to the campus considerably encouraged. The showing of the team
+naturally had an effect on the spirit of the mass meeting that evening.
+Ever since the Southby game the school had been holding meetings and
+"getting up steam" for the Claflin contest, but they had been tame
+affairs in contrast with tonight's. Brimfield was football-crazy now,
+for the Big Game loomed enormous but four days away. Fellows read
+football in the papers, talked football and, some of them, dreamed
+football. The news from Claflin was read and discussed eagerly. The
+fortunes of the rival eleven were watched just as closely as those of
+the home team. When a Claflin player wrenched an ankle Brimfield gasped
+excitedly. When it was published that Cox, of the blue team, had dropped
+fourteen goals out of twenty tries from the thirty-five-yard line and
+at a severe angle, depression prevailed at Brimfield. The news that the
+Claflin scrubs had held the first to only one touchdown in thirty
+minutes of play sent Brimfield's spirits soaring! Fellows neglected
+lessons brazenly and during that week of the final battle there was a
+scholastic slump that would undoubtedly have greatly alarmed the faculty
+if the latter, rendered wise by experience, hadn't expected it.
+
+The first team players were excused from study hour subsequent to Monday
+in order that they might attend blackboard lectures and signal drills in
+the gymnasium. On Tuesday night, after an hour's session, and in
+response to public clamour, they filed onto the platform just before the
+meeting was to begin at nine-fifteen and, somewhat embarrassedly, seated
+themselves in the chairs arranged across the back. Mr. Fernald was
+there, and Mr. Conklin, the athletic director, and Coaches Robey and
+Boutelle, and Trainer Danny Moore, and Manager Morton and Childers,
+captain of the baseball team. And Steve Payne was at the piano. Also,
+sitting beside Mr. Robey, was Doctor Proctor.
+
+Childers, who was cheer leader that Fall, presided, and, after the
+assemblage had clapped and shouted "A-a-ay!" as each newcomer appeared
+on the platform, opened proceedings with the School Song. Then Mr.
+Fernald spoke briefly, Captain Edwards followed, each being cheered
+loudly and long, and Childers introduced Mr. Robey. "What we are all
+anxious to know tonight," said Childers, "is whether we're going to win
+next Saturday. Mr. Fernald has said that he _hopes_ we shall, Captain
+Edwards has said that he _thinks_ we shall, and now we're going to hear
+from the only one who _knows_! Fellows, a long cheer for Mr. Robey, and
+make it good! Are you all ready? Now then! One--two--three!"
+
+"Brimfield! Brimfield! Brimfield! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah,
+rah, rah! Brimfield! Brimfield! Brimfield! Robey!"
+
+When the cheering, and the shouting and clapping and stamping that
+followed for good measure, had quieted down, Mr. Robey said: "Fellows,
+Captain Childers is much too flattering. I'm not gifted with
+second-sight, even if he thinks so. I don't know any more than he does
+or you do whether we're going to win on Saturday. Like Mr. Fernald, I
+_hope_ we are and, like Captain Edwards, I _think_ we are." Cheers
+interrupted then. "But I don't want to make any prediction. I'll say one
+thing, though, and that is this: If the team plays the way it _can_
+play, if it makes full use of the ability that's in it, there's only one
+thing that can happen, and that's a Brimfield victory! I've got every
+reason to expect that the team _will_ do its utmost, and that is why I
+say that I think we'll win. We must remember that we're going up against
+a strong team, a team that in some ways has shown itself so far this
+season our superior. I don't say that the Claflin eleven is any better
+than ours. I don't _think_ so, not for a moment. Our team this Fall is
+as good as last year's team. We've had our little upsets; we always do;
+but we've come down to practically the eve of the game in good shape.
+Every fellow has done his best and, I am firmly convinced, is going to
+do a little better than his best on Saturday afternoon. And that little
+better is what will decide the game, fellows. After the coaches have
+done their part and the players have toiled hard and earnestly and
+enthusiastically, why then it all comes down to _fight_! And so it's
+fight that's going to win the game.
+
+"You fellows must do your part, though. You must be right back of the
+team, every minute--and let them know it. Cheering helps a team to win,
+no matter what anyone may say to the contrary. Only cheer at the right
+times, fellows. Just making a noise indiscriminately is poor stuff. But
+I don't need to tell you this, I guess, because your cheer leader knows
+what to do better than I do. But let the team know that you're right
+with them, backing them up all the time, fighting behind them, boosting
+them along! It counts, fellows, take my word for it!
+
+"And now there's one other thing I want to say before I make way for
+someone who can really talk. It's this, fellows. Don't forget the team
+that has helped us all season, the team that doesn't get into the
+limelight. And don't forget the coach, who has worked just as hard,
+perhaps a good deal harder, to develop that team than I've worked. I'm
+going to ask you to show your appreciation of the unselfish devotion of
+Coach Boutelle and one of the finest second teams Brimfield has ever
+had!"
+
+Mr. Robey bowed and retreated and Childers jumped to his feet.
+
+"A cheer for Coach Boutelle, fellows!" he shouted. "A long cheer and a
+whopper!" And, when it had been given lustily: "And now one for the
+second team!" he cried. "Everyone into it! One--two--three!" The
+enthusiasm was mounting high now, and, after the cheer had died away,
+there were demands for a song. "We want to sing!" proclaimed the
+meeting. "_We want to sing!_"
+
+Childers held up a hand. "All right, fellows! Just a minute, please!
+We've got a guest with us this evening, an honoured guest, fellows.
+Those of you who know football history know his name as well as you know
+the names of Heffelfinger and DeWitt and Coy and Brickley and--and many
+others in the Football Hall of Fame! I know you want to hear from him
+and I hope he will be willing to say a few words." Childers glanced at
+Doctor Proctor and the latter, smiling, shook his head energetically.
+"He says he will be glad to, fellows," continued Childers mendaciously,
+amidst laughter, "and so I'm going to call first for a cheer for--if the
+gentleman will pardon me--'Gus' Proctor, famous Princeton and
+All-America tackle, and after that we're going to listen very
+attentively to him. Now, then, everyone into this! A long cheer for
+Doctor Proctor!"
+
+"I'm an awfully poor speaker, fellows," began the doctor, when he had
+advanced to the front of the platform. "I appreciate this honour and if
+I don't do justice to the fine reputation your--your imaginative cheer
+leader has provided me with you must try to forgive me. Speaking isn't
+my line. If any of you would like to have a leg sawed off or something
+of that sort I'd be glad to do it free of charge just to prove
+that--well, that there's something I _can_ do fairly decently!
+
+"I saw your team practice yesterday and I thought then that perhaps an
+operation would benefit it. Then I saw it again today and discovered
+that my first diagnosis was wrong. Fellows, I call it a good team. I
+think you've got material there that's equal to any I've ever seen on a
+school team. Your coach says he won't prophesy as to your game on
+Saturday. I've known George Robey for ten years. He isn't a bad sort,
+take him all around, but he's a pessimist of the most pessimistic sort.
+He's the kind of chap who, if you sprang that old reliable one on him
+about every cloud having a silver lining, would shrug his shoulders and
+say, 'Humph! More likely nickel-plated!' That's the sort he is, boys.
+Now I'm just the opposite, and, at the risk of displeasing George, I'm
+going to tell you that, from what I've seen of the Brimfield football
+team in practice, I'm firmly convinced that it's going to win!"
+
+Loud and prolonged cheering greeted that prediction, and it was fully a
+minute before the speaker could proceed.
+
+"I've played the game in my day and I've coached teams, boys, and I
+think I've got a little of what your coach disclaimed. I mean a sort
+of--well, not second-sight, but a sort of ability to tell what a team
+will do from the looks of the players on it. In my profession we have to
+study human nature a lot and we get so we can classify folks after we've
+looked them over and watched them awhile. We make mistakes sometimes,
+but on the whole we manage fairly well to put folks in the classes they
+belong in. Doing that with the members of your team I find that almost
+without exception they class with the kind of fellows who _don't like to
+be beaten_! And when a fellow doesn't like to be beaten he isn't--not
+very often.
+
+"I think I can read in the faces I see here tonight a great deal of that
+same spirit, and if the team has it and you fellows behind the team have
+it, why, I wouldn't give a last year's plug-hat for Claflin's chances
+next Saturday!
+
+"Football," continued Doctor Proctor presently, "is a fine game. It's
+fun to play and it's a wonderful thing to train a fellow's body and
+mind. I've heard lots of folks object to it on various scores, but I've
+never heard an objection yet that carried any weight. More often than
+not those who run football down don't know the game. Why, if it did no
+more than teach us obedience and discipline it would be worth while. But
+it does far more than that. It gives us strong, dependable bodies, it
+teaches us to think--and think quick, and it gives us courage, physical
+and moral. I'm going to tell you of an incident that I witnessed only a
+few weeks since if you'll let me. I fear I'm taking up too much
+time----"
+
+There were cries of "No, no!" and "Go ahead!"
+
+"I'll try to be brief. Last Fall I was travelling on a train out my way,
+to be exact some eighty miles west of Cincinnati, when we had an
+accident. A freight train was slow about taking a side track and we came
+along and banged into it. It was about five o'clock in the morning and
+most of the passengers were asleep. A wreck's a nasty thing in any case,
+but when it happens at night or before it is light enough to see it is
+worse. The forward cars of our train and the freight caught fire from
+the engines, and there was a good deal of loose steam around, and things
+were pretty messy for awhile. There happened to be another doctor on the
+train and, as soon as we got our bearings, we started a first-aid camp
+alongside the track. Some of the passengers, mostly in the day coaches
+up front, were badly burned and we had our hands full.
+
+"There is always more or less confusion in an affair of that sort and
+it was some minutes after the accident before the rescue work got under
+way. But one of the first rescuers I noticed was a young chap, a boy in
+fact, probably about seventeen years old. He didn't have a great deal
+on, I remember, but he was certainly Johnny-on-the-spot that morning! It
+was he who brought the first patient to me, a little dried-up Hebrew
+peddler I judged him, who had been caught under some wreckage in the
+forward day-coach. He had a broken forearm and while I was busy with him
+I saw this young chap climbing in and out of windows and wading through
+wreckage and always coming out again with someone. How many folks he
+pulled away from the flames and the scalding steam I don't know, but I
+never saw anyone work harder or more--more efficiently. Yes, efficiently
+is just the word I want! And I said to myself at the time: 'That fellow
+is a football man! And I'll bet he's a good one!' You see, it wasn't
+only that he had courage to risk himself, but he had the ability to see
+what was to be done and to do it, and do it quick! Why, he was pulling
+injured women and children and men from those burning, overturned cars
+before a grown-up man had sensed what had happened! And later on, when
+we'd done what we could for the burned and scalded bodies and limbs, I
+got hold of the boy for a moment. I asked him his name and he told it,
+and then I said: 'You've played football, haven't you?' And he said he
+had, a little. He wasn't much of a talker, and when some of us said some
+nice things about what he had done he got horribly fussed and tried to
+get away. But someone wanted to shake hands with him, and he wouldn't,
+and I saw that his own hand was burned all inside the palm, deep and
+nasty. 'How did you do that?' I asked him as I dressed it. Oh, he didn't
+know. He thought he'd got his hand caught between some beams or
+something; couldn't get it out for a minute. It wasn't much of a burn!
+Well, the wrecking train and a hospital train came along about then and
+I lost sight of that chap, and I didn't see him again.
+
+"I've told the story because I think it bears me out when I say that
+football is fine training. I don't say that that boy wouldn't have been
+just as brave and eager to help if he hadn't been a football player, but
+I do maintain that he wouldn't have known what to do as readily or how
+to do it and wouldn't have got at it as quickly. And when the flames are
+eating their way back from car to car quickness means a whole lot!
+That's the end of my story, boys. But while I've been telling it I've
+been looking for some sign to tell me that you recognised the hero of
+it. I don't find the sign and I'm puzzled. Perhaps you're so accustomed
+to heroes here at Brimfield that one more or less doesn't stir you. For
+the satisfaction of my own curiosity I'm going to ask you if you know
+who I've been talking about."
+
+A deep silence was the only answer. The doctor's audience looked
+extremely interested and curious, but no one spoke.
+
+"I see. You don't know. Well, perhaps I'd better not tell then." But a
+chorus of protest arose. The doctor hesitated, and his gaze seemed to
+rest intently on a spot at one side of the hall and about half-way back.
+Finally, when silence had fallen again: "I guess I will tell," he said.
+"It can't do him or you any harm. It may help a little to know that
+there's one amongst you fine enough to do what I've described. I've
+never seen that boy from the moment the wrecking train reached the scene
+of the wreck until tonight, and so I've never spoken to him again. But
+as I sat on the platform here awhile ago I looked and saw him. I don't
+forget faces very easily, and as you can understand, I wasn't likely to
+forget his. As I say, I haven't spoken to him yet, but I'm going to
+now."
+
+There was a silence in which a dropped pin would have made a noise like
+a crowbar. Half the audience had turned their heads in the direction of
+Doctor Proctor's smiling gaze, but all eyes were fixed on his lips. The
+breathless silence lengthened. Then the doctor spoke.
+
+"How is your hand, Gilbert?" he asked.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+COACH ROBEY IS PUZZLED
+
+
+SOME twenty minutes later Don dropped into a chair in Number 6 and
+heaved a deep sigh of relief. "Gee," he muttered, "I wouldn't go through
+that again for--for a million dollars!"
+
+Tim chuckled as he seated himself beyond the table. "Why not?" he asked
+innocently. "I thought everyone treated you very nicely."
+
+A smile flitted across Don's face. "I suppose they did, only--I guess
+that was the trouble! I felt like an awful fool, Tim! Look here, what
+did he have to go and tell everything he knew for? I was afraid he was
+going to and I wanted like anything to sneak out of there, but the place
+was so quiet I didn't have the nerve! At first I didn't suspect that he
+had seen me. I didn't recognise him until he stood up to speak this
+evening. Yesterday I thought he looked sort of familiar, but I couldn't
+place him. He--he talks too much!"
+
+"He said some awfully nice things about you, old man."
+
+"He said a lot of nonsense, too! Exaggerated the whole thing, he did.
+Why, to listen to him you'd think I saved about a thousand people from
+certain death! Well, I didn't. I helped about six or seven folks out of
+those cars. They were sort of rattled and didn't seem to know enough to
+beat it."
+
+"They weren't in any danger, then?"
+
+"No, not much. All they had to do was crawl out of the way."
+
+"Then they weren't any of them burned, Don?"
+
+"A few were."
+
+"How about the man with the broken arm?"
+
+"Oh, he'd got caught somehow." Don looked up and saw Tim's laugh.
+"Well," he added defensively, "he needn't have told about it like that,
+right out in front of the whole school, need he?"
+
+"You bet he need! Donald, you're a bloomin', blushin' hero, and we're
+proud of you! And when I say blushing I mean it, for you haven't stopped
+yet!"
+
+"I guess you'd blush," growled Don, "if it happened to you!"
+
+"I dare say, but it never will. _I'll_ never have the whole school get
+up on their feet and cheer me like mad for three solid minutes! And I'll
+never have Josh shake my hand off and beam at me and tell me I'm a
+credit to the school! Such beautiful things are not for poor little
+Tim!"
+
+Don sighed. "Well, it's over with, anyway."
+
+"Over with, nothing! It won't be over with as long as you stay here,
+Donald. A hero you are and a hero you remain, old chap. And--and I'm
+mighty proud of you, you old humbug! Telling us you didn't do anything
+but help lug folks to the relief train, or something!"
+
+"I didn't say that," replied Don defensively.
+
+"You let us think it. Gee, if I'd done anything like that I'd have put
+it in the papers!" Tim chuckled and then went on seriously. "You don't
+need to worry about the fellows thinking you a quitter any more, do you?
+I guess Proctor settled that once and for all, Don. And suppose you'd
+run away home the other night. This wouldn't have happened and fellows
+would have said you had a yellow streak. I guess it was a mighty lucky
+thing you have little Tim to look after you, dearie!"
+
+"I'm glad I didn't," said Don earnestly. "I'd have made a worse mess of
+it, shouldn't I? I--I'm sorry you got that punch, though, Timmy."
+
+"Forget it! It was worth it! Being the room-mate of a hero atones for
+everything you ever did to me, Donald. I'm that proud----"
+
+But Tim didn't finish, for Don started around the table for him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At the time this conversation was taking place Mr. Robey and Doctor
+Proctor were walking back to the former's room in the village through a
+frosty, starlit night.
+
+"You certainly managed to spring a sensation, Gus," observed the coach
+as they turned into the road.
+
+"I should say so! Well, that boy deserved all the cheering and praise he
+received. And I'm glad I told that story."
+
+"Well, it's got me guessing," responded the other. "Look here, Gus, take
+a chap like the one you described tonight. What would you think if he
+quit cold a week before the big game?"
+
+"Quit? How do you mean, George?"
+
+"Just that. Develops an imaginary illness. Tells you he doesn't feel
+well enough to play, in spite of the fact that he has nothing more the
+matter with him than you or I have. Probably not so much. Shows absolute
+relief when you tell him he's dropped. What would you say to that?"
+
+"You mean Gilbert did that?" Mr. Robey assented. "I wondered why he
+wasn't on the platform with the rest of the team," mused the doctor.
+"I'd say there was something queer about it, George. When did this
+happen?"
+
+"Last week. Thursday or Friday, I think. He'd been laid off for a day or
+so and I thought he'd gone a bit fine, although he's rather too
+phlegmatic to suffer much from nerves. Some of the high-strung chaps do
+go to pieces about this time and you have to nurse them along pretty
+carefully. But Gilbert! Well, on Saturday--yes, that was the day--he'd
+been reported perfectly fit by the trainer and just as a matter of form
+I asked him if he was ready to play. And, by Jove, he had the cheek to
+face me and say he wasn't well enough! It was nonsense, of course. He'd
+simply got scared. I told him so and dropped him. But it's curious that
+a boy who could do what you told of this evening could prove a quitter
+like that."
+
+"You say he seemed relieved when you let him go?"
+
+"Yes, he showed it plainly."
+
+"That is funny! I wonder what the truth of it is?"
+
+"Nerves, I suppose. Cold feet, as the fellows say."
+
+"Never! There's something else, old man, that you haven't got hold of.
+Can he play?"
+
+"Y-yes. Yes, he can play. He's the sort that comes slow and plays a bit
+logy, but he's steady and works hard. Not a brilliant man, you know, but
+dependable. He's been playing guard. Losing him has left us a bit weak
+on that side, too."
+
+"Why not take him back then? Look here, George, you're a good coach and
+all that, but you're a mighty poor judge of human nature."
+
+"Piffle!"
+
+"It's so, though. You've only got to study that chap Gilbert to see that
+he isn't the quitting kind. His looks show it, his manner shows it, the
+way he talks shows it. He's the sort that might want to quit; we all do
+sometimes; but he couldn't because he's got stuff in him that wouldn't
+let him!"
+
+"That's all well enough, Gus, but facts are facts. Gilbert _did_ quit,
+and quit cold on me. So theories don't count for much. And this human
+nature flapdoodle----"
+
+"I don't say he didn't quit. But I do say that you've made the wrong
+diagnosis, George. Did you talk to him? Ask him what the trouble was? Go
+after the symptoms?"
+
+"No, I'm no physician. He said he wasn't feeling well enough to play. I
+told him we had no place for quitters on the team. He had nothing to
+say to that. If you think I can feel the pulse and look at the tongue of
+every fellow----"
+
+Doctor Proctor laughed. "And take his temperature too, eh? No, I don't
+expect you to do that, George. But I'll tell you what I would do, and
+I'd do it tomorrow too. I'd call around and see Gilbert. I'd tell him
+that I wasn't satisfied with the explanation he'd made and I'd ask him
+to make a clean breast of the trouble, for he must be in some trouble or
+he wouldn't thank you for firing him. And then I'd stop cutting off my
+nose to spite my face and I'd reinstate him tomorrow afternoon!"
+
+"Hmph! The trouble with you doctors is that you're too romantic. You
+imagine things, you----"
+
+"We have to imagine, George. If we stuck to facts we'd never get
+anywhere in our profession! You try a little imagination, old chap.
+You're too matter-of-fact. What you can't see you won't believe in."
+
+"I certainly won't! As the kids say, seeing's believing."
+
+"Well, there's a very unattractive board fence across the road, George.
+On the other side of it there are shrubs and grass. I can't see them,
+but I know they're there."
+
+"More likely tin-cans and ashes," grunted Mr. Robey.
+
+"Pessimist!" laughed the other. "But never mind; ashes or grass,
+something's there, and you can't see it and yet you've got to
+acknowledge the existence of it. Now haven't you?"
+
+"I suppose so, but"--Mr. Robey laughed--"I'd rather see it!"
+
+"Climb the fence and have a look then! But you'll try my plan with the
+boy, won't you?"
+
+"Yes, I will. If only to satisfy my curiosity, Gus. Hang it, the chap
+_can't_ be a quitter!"
+
+"He isn't. I'll stake my reputation as--as a romanticist on that! I'd
+like mighty well to stay and solve the mystery with you, but I'll have
+to jump for that early train. I wish, though, that you'd drop me a line
+and tell me the outcome. I'm interested--and puzzled."
+
+"All right. I'm not much of a letter-writer, though. I'll see you before
+you go back and tell you about it. You'll be in New York on Sunday,
+won't you?"
+
+"Until two o'clock. Have lunch with me and see me off. Come to the hotel
+as early as you can and we'll hold post-mortems on the games. Let's hope
+that Princeton and Brimfield both win next Saturday, George!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+CROSS-EXAMINATION
+
+
+DON found being a hero an embarrassing business the next day. The
+masters bothered him by stopping and shaking hands and saying nice
+things, and the fellows beamed on him if they weren't well enough
+acquainted to speak and insisted on having a full and detailed history
+of that train-wreck if they were! Of course they all, masters and
+students, meant well and wanted to show their admiration, but Don wished
+they wouldn't. It made him feel horribly self-conscious, and feeling
+self-conscious was distinctly uncomfortable. At breakfast table his
+companions referred to last evening's incident laughingly and poked fun
+at Don and enjoyed his embarrassment, but it wasn't difficult to tell
+that Doctor Proctor's narrative had made a strong impression on them and
+increased their liking for Don. When, just before Don had finished his
+meal, Mr. Robey left the training-table and crossed the room toward him
+he braced himself for another scene in which he would have to stand up
+and be shaken by the hand, and possibly, and worst of all, listen to
+some sort of an apology from the coach. But Don was spared, for Mr.
+Robey only placed a hand on the back of his chair, included the rest of
+the occupants of the table in his "Good-morning," and said carelessly:
+"Gilbert, I wish you'd drop over to Mr. Conklin's office some time this
+morning and see me. What time can you come?"
+
+"Half-past ten, sir?"
+
+"That will be all right, thanks."
+
+The coach returned to his table, leaving Don wondering what was up.
+Possibly, he thought, the coach wanted to make some sort of retraction
+of his accusation of Saturday, although Don didn't believe that Mr.
+Robey was the sort to funk a public apology. If it wasn't that it could
+only be that he was to be offered his place on the team again. Don
+sighed. That would be beastly, for he would have to tell more fibs, and
+brand new ones, too, since not even a blind man would believe him ill
+now! It was something of a coincidence that Don should run across Walton
+in the corridor a few minutes later. Don was for passing by with no
+recognition of the other, but Walton, with a smirk, placed himself
+fairly in the way.
+
+"Great stuff, Gilbert," he said with an attempted heartiness. "Some
+hero, eh, what?"
+
+"Drop it, Walton!" Don lowered his voice, for others were passing toward
+the doorway. "And I'll thank you not to speak to me. You know my opinion
+of you. Now shut up!"
+
+Walton found nothing to say until it was too late. Don approached the
+gymnasium after his ten o'clock recitation with lagging feet. He had
+scant taste for the impending interview and would have gladly avoided it
+if such a thing had been possible. But he didn't see any way out of it
+and he heard the big door bang to behind him with a sinking heart. Why,
+he hadn't even thought up any new excuse!
+
+Mr. Robey and Mr. Conklin, the athletic director, were both in the
+latter's room when Don knocked at the half-opened door. Mr. Conklin said
+"Good-morning" and then followed it with: "I've got something to attend
+to on the floor, Robey, if you'll excuse me," and went out, closing the
+door behind him. Don wished he had stayed. He took the chair vacated by
+the director and faced Coach Robey with as much ease as he could assume,
+which was very little. The coach began without much preamble.
+
+"I didn't ask you over here to talk about last night, Gilbert, or to
+offer you any apology for what I said on the field last Saturday. I
+don't believe much in spoken apologies. If I'm wrong I show it and
+there's no mistake about it. I think I was wrong in your case, Gilbert.
+And I'll say so, if you like, very gladly, and act so if you'll prove
+it."
+
+"I don't want any apology, sir," answered Don. "I guess you were right
+enough."
+
+"Well, that's what I want to find out. What _was_ the trouble, Gilbert?"
+
+"Why, just what I said, Coach. I--I didn't feel very fit and I didn't
+think it would be any use playing, feeling like I did. If you don't feel
+well you can't play very well, and so I thought I'd say so. I didn't
+mind being dropped, sir. I deserved it. And--and that's quite all
+right." Don got up, his eyes shifting to the door.
+
+"Wait a minute! Let's get the truth of this. You're lying, aren't you?"
+
+Don tried to look indignant and failed, tried to look hurt and failed
+again. Then he gave it up and dropped his gaze before the searching eyes
+of the other. "I'm feeling some better now," he muttered.
+
+Coach Robey laughed shortly. "Gilbert, you can't lie worth a cent! Now,
+look here. I'm your friend. Why not come across and tell me what's up? I
+know you weren't sick. Danny gave you a clean bill of health that
+morning. And I know you haven't got any nerves to speak of. There's
+something else, Gilbert. Now what is it?"
+
+"Nothing, sir."
+
+"Then why did you act that way?"
+
+"I--I just didn't want to play."
+
+"Didn't want to play! Why not?"
+
+"I wasn't doing very well, and it was pretty hard work, and there was
+Walton after the place, too. He could play better than I could."
+
+"Who told you so? Walton?" asked the coach drily.
+
+"I could see it," murmured Don.
+
+"So you were suddenly afraid of hard work, eh? It had never bothered you
+before, had it? Last year or this year either?"
+
+"No, I guess not."
+
+"Perhaps it was more because you felt that Walton would be a better man
+for the place, then?" surmised the coach.
+
+Don agreed eagerly. It was a case of any port in a storm by now and he
+was glad enough to have the coach find an explanation. "Yes, sir, I
+guess that was it."
+
+"Well, that was generous of you," said the other approvingly. "But
+didn't it occur to you that perhaps I would be a better one to decide
+that matter than you? You've never known me to keep a fellow on the team
+for sentimental reasons, have you?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Hm. Now when was it--I mean how long before last Saturday was it--that
+you and Walton talked it over?"
+
+"Sir?" Don looked up startledly. "I--we--there wasn't any talk about
+it," he stammered.
+
+"Well, what did Walton say?"
+
+Don hesitated, studying Mr. Robey's face in the hope of discovering how
+much that gentleman knew. Finally: "When do you mean?" he asked.
+
+"I mean the time you and Walton talked about which was the best man for
+the position," replied the other easily. To himself he reflected that he
+was following Gus Proctor's advice with a vengeance! But he was by this
+time pretty certain of his ground.
+
+"I don't remember that we ever--exactly did that," Don faltered. "There
+was some talk, maybe, but he--he never said anything like that."
+
+"Like what?"
+
+"Why, that he was a better guard."
+
+"Then what put the idea in your head, Gilbert?"
+
+"I suppose I just saw it myself."
+
+"But you were playing the position pretty regularly before Thursday or
+whatever day it was you were taken ill, weren't you?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Then how could you tell that Walton was better?"
+
+"I don't know. He--he seemed better. And then Tim told me I was too
+slow."
+
+"Tim Otis? Otis had better mind his own business," grumbled the coach.
+"So that was it, then. All right. I'm glad to get the _truth_ of the
+matter." The little tightening of Don's mouth didn't escape him. "Now,
+then, I'm going to surprise you, Gilbert. I'm going to surprise you
+mightily. I'm going to tell you that Walton is _not_ a better left guard
+than you. He isn't nearly so good. That does surprise you, doesn't it?"
+
+Don nodded, his eyes fixed uneasily on the coach's.
+
+"Well, there it is, anyway. And so I think the best thing for all of us,
+Gilbert, is for you to come back to work this afternoon."
+
+Don's look of dismay quite startled the other.
+
+"But I'd rather not, sir! I--I'm out of practice now. I've quit
+training. I've been eating all sorts of things; potatoes and fresh bread
+and pastry--no end of pastry, sir!--and--and candy----"
+
+Mr. Robey grunted. "You don't show it," he said. "Anyway, I guess that
+won't matter. I'll chance it. Three o'clock, then, Gilbert."
+
+Don's gaze sought the floor and he shook his head. "I'd rather not, sir,
+if you don't mind," he muttered.
+
+"But I do mind. The team needs you, Gilbert! And now that I know that
+you didn't quit because you were _afraid_----"
+
+"I did, though!" Don looked up desperately. "That was the truth of it!"
+
+Mr. Robey sighed deeply. "Gilbert," he said patiently, "if I couldn't
+lie better than you can I wouldn't try it! You weren't afraid and you
+aren't afraid and you know it and I know it! So, then, is it Walton?"
+
+After a moment Don nodded silently.
+
+"You think he's a better man than you are, eh?"
+
+Don nodded again, but hesitatingly.
+
+"Or you've taken pity on him and want him to play against Claflin,
+perhaps."
+
+"Yes, sir. You see, his folks are going to be here and they'll expect
+him to play!"
+
+"Oh, I see. You and Walton come from the same town? But of course you
+don't. How did you know his folks were coming, then?"
+
+"He told me."
+
+"When?"
+
+"About--some time last week."
+
+"Was it the day you had that talk about the position and which of you
+was to have it?"
+
+"I guess so. Yes, sir, it was that time."
+
+"And he, perhaps, suggested that it would be a nice idea for you to back
+out and let him in, eh?"
+
+Don was silent.
+
+"Did he?" insisted the coach.
+
+"He said that his folks were coming----"
+
+"And that he'd like to get into the game so they wouldn't be
+disappointed?"
+
+"Something like that," murmured Don.
+
+"And you consented?"
+
+"Not exactly, but I thought it over and--and----"
+
+Mr. Robey suddenly leaned forward and laid a hand on Don's knee.
+
+"Gilbert," he asked quietly, "_what has Walton got on you_?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+"ALL READY, BRIMFIELD?"
+
+
+THOSE who braved a chill east wind and went out that afternoon to watch
+practice enjoyed a sensation, for when the first team came trotting over
+from the gymnasium, a half-hour later because of a rigorous signal quiz,
+amongst them, dressed to play, was Don Gilbert! A buzz of surprise and
+conjecture travelled through the ranks of the shivering onlookers, that
+speedily gave place to satisfaction, and as Don, tossing aside his
+blanket, followed the first-string players into the field a small and
+enthusiastic First Form youth clapped approvingly, others took it up and
+in a moment the applause crackled along the side line.
+
+"That's for you," whispered Tim to Don. "Lift off your head-guard!"
+
+But Don glanced alarmedly toward the fringe of spectators and hid as
+best he could behind Thursby! Practice went with a new vim today.
+Doubtless the return of Don heartened the team, for one thing, and then
+there was a snap of winter in the air that urged to action. The second
+was as nearly torn to tatters this afternoon as it had ever been, and
+the first scored twice in each of the two fifteen-minute periods.
+"Boutelle's Babies" were a lame and tired aggregation when the final
+whistle blew!
+
+Later it became known that Walton was out of it, had emptied his locker
+and retired from football affairs for the year. All sorts of stories
+circulated. One had it that he had quarrelled with Coach Robey and been
+incontinently "fired." Another that he had become huffy over Gilbert's
+reinstatement and had resigned. None save Don and Coach Robey and Walton
+himself knew the truth of the matter for a long time. Don did tell Tim
+eventually, but that was two years later, when his vow of secrecy had
+lapsed. Just now he was about as communicative as a sphinx, and Tim's
+eager curiosity had to go unsatisfied.
+
+"But what did he _say_?" Tim demanded after practice that afternoon. "He
+must have said _something_!"
+
+Don considered leisurely. "No, nothing special. He said I was to report
+for work."
+
+"Well, what did _you_ say?"
+
+"I said I would!"
+
+"Well, what about Walton? Where does he get off?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Tim gestured despairingly. "Gee, you're certainly a chatty party! Don't
+tell me any more, please! You may say something you'll be sorry for!"
+
+"I'll tell you some day all about it, Tim. I can't now. I said I
+wouldn't."
+
+"Then there is something to tell, eh? I knew it! You can't fool your
+Uncle Dudley like that, Donald! Tell me just one thing and I'll shut up.
+Did you and Walton have a row the time you went to see him in his room?"
+
+Don shook his head. "No, we didn't."
+
+"Well, then, why----"
+
+"You said you'd shut up," reminded the other.
+
+"Oh, all right," grumbled Tim. "Anyway, I'm mighty glad. Every fellow on
+the team is as pleased as Punch. I guess the whole school is, too. It
+was mighty decent of Robey, wasn't it? Do you know, Don, Robey's got a
+lot of sense for a football coach?"
+
+Don often wondered what had occurred and been said at the interview
+between Mr. Robey and Harry Walton. The coach had sworn Don to silence
+at the termination of their interview. "If Walton asks you whether you
+told me about the business you can say you did, if you like. Or tell
+him I wormed it out of you, which is just about what I did do. But don't
+say anything to anyone else about it; at all events, not as long as
+Walton's here. I'm going to find him now and have a talk with him. I
+don't think you need be at all afraid of anything he may do after I get
+through with him. You fellows clearly did wrong in outstaying leave that
+night, but you had a fairly good excuse and if you'd had enough sense to
+go to faculty the next morning and explain you'd have all got off with
+only a lecture, I guess. Your mistake was in not confessing. However, I
+don't consider it my place to say anything. It's an old story now,
+anyhow. Be at the gym at three with your togs, Gilbert, and do your best
+for us from now on. I'm glad to have you back again. What I said that
+afternoon you'd better forget. I'll show the school that I've changed my
+mind about you. I suppose I ought to make some sort of an apology,
+but----"
+
+"Please don't say anything more about it, sir," begged Don.
+
+"Well, I'll say this, Gilbert: You acted like a white man in taking your
+medicine and keeping the others out of trouble. You certainly deserve
+credit for that."
+
+"I don't see it," replied the boy. "I don't see what else I _could_ have
+done, Mr. Robey!"
+
+The coach pondered a moment. Then he laughed. "I guess you're right, at
+that! Just the same, you did what was square, Gilbert. All right, then.
+Three o'clock." He held out his hand and Don put his in it, and the two
+gripped firmly.
+
+Hurrying back to Main Hall, Don regretted only one thing, which was that
+he had in a way broken his agreement with Walton to say nothing about
+their bargain. Coach Robey, though, had pointed out that the agreement
+had been terminable by either party to it, and that in confessing to him
+Don had been within his rights. "Walton can now go ahead and take the
+matter to faculty, as he threatened to do," said the coach. "Only, when
+I get through talking to him I don't think he will care to!"
+
+And apparently he hadn't, for no dire summons reached Don from the
+office that day or the next, nor did he ever hear more of the matter.
+Walton displayed a retiring disposition that was new and novel. On such
+infrequent occasions as Don ran across him Walton failed to see him. The
+day of the game the latter was in evidence with his father, mother and
+younger brother; Don saw him making the rounds of the buildings with
+them and he wondered in what manner Walton had accounted to his folks
+for his absence from the football team. Walton stayed on at school, very
+little in evidence, until Christmas vacation, but when the fellows
+reassembled after the recess he was not amongst them. Rumour had it that
+he had been taken ill and would not be back. Rumour was proved partly
+right, at all events, for Brimfield knew him no more.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The first and second teams held final practice on Thursday. The first
+only ran through signals for awhile, did some punting and catching and
+then disappeared, leaving the second to play two fifteen-minute periods
+with a team composed of their own second-string and the first team's
+third-string players. After that was over, the second winning without
+much effort, the audience, which had cheered and sung for the better
+part of an hour, marched back to the gymnasium and did it some more, and
+the second team, cheering most enthusiastically for themselves and the
+first and the school and, last but by no means least, for Mr. Boutelle,
+joyously disbanded for the season.
+
+There was another mass-meeting that evening, an intensely fervid one,
+followed by a parade about the campus and a good deal of noise that was
+finally quelled by Mr. Fernald when, in response to demands, he appeared
+on the porch of the Cottage and made a five-minute speech which ended
+with the excellent advice to return to hall and go to bed.
+
+The players didn't attend the meeting that night, nor were they on hand
+at the one that took place the night following. Instead, they trotted
+and slithered around the gymnasium floor in rubber-soled shoes and went
+through their entire repertoire of plays under the sharp eyes of Coaches
+Robey and Boutelle. There was a blackboard lecture, too, on each
+evening, and when, at nine-thirty on Friday, they were dismissed, with
+practice all over for the year, most of them were very glad to slide
+into bed as quickly as possible. If any of them had "the jumps" that
+night it was after they were asleep, for the coach had tired them out
+sufficiently to make them forget that such things as nerves were a part
+of their system!
+
+But the next morning was a different matter. Those who had never gone
+through a Claflin contest were inclined to be finicky of appetite and to
+go off into trances with a piece of toast or a fork-full of potato
+poised between plate and mouth. Even the more experienced fellows
+showed some indication of strain. Thursby, for instance, who had been
+three years on the first team as substitute or first-choice centre, who
+had already taken some part in two Claflin games, and who was apparently
+far too big and calm to be affected by nerves, showed a disposition to
+talk more than was natural.
+
+Don never really remembered at all clearly how that Saturday morning
+passed. Afterward he had vague recollections of sitting in Clint
+Thayer's room and hearing Amy Byrd rattle off a great deal of
+nonsensical advice to him and Clint and Tim as to how to conduct
+themselves before the sacrifice (Amy had insisted that they should line
+up and face the grand-stand before the game commenced, salute and recite
+the immortal line of Claudius's gladiators: "_Morituri te salutant!_");
+of seeing Manager Jim Morton dashing about hither and thither, scowling
+blackly under the weight of his duties; of wandering across to the woods
+beyond the baseball field with Tim Otis and Larry Jones and some others
+and sitting on the stone wall there and watching Larry take acorns out
+of Tim's ears and nose; and, finally, of going through a perfectly
+farcical early dinner in a dining hall empty save for the members of
+the training-table. After that events stood out more clearly in his
+memory.
+
+Claflin's hosts began to appear at about half-past one. They wore blue
+neckties and arm-bands or carried blue pennants which they had the good
+taste to keep furled while they wandered around the campus and poked
+inquisitive heads into the buildings. Then the Claflin team, twenty-six
+strong, rolled up in two barges just before two, having taken their
+dinner at the village inn, disembarked in front of Wendell and meandered
+around to the gymnasium laden with suit-cases and things looking
+insultingly care-free and happy, and, as it couldn't be denied,
+particularly husky!
+
+Don, observing from the steps of Torrence, wondered how they managed to
+appear so easy and careless. No one, as he confided to Tom Hall and Tim,
+would ever suspect that they were about to do battle for the
+Brimfield-Claflin championship!
+
+"Huh," said Tom, "that's nothing. That's the way we all do when we go
+away to play. It's this sticking at home and having nothing to do but
+_think_ that takes the starch out of you. When you go off you feel as if
+you were on a lark. Things take your mind off your troubles. But, just
+the same, a lot of those grinning dubs are doing a heap of worrying
+about now. They aren't nearly as happy as they look!"
+
+"They're a lot happier than they're going to be about three hours from
+now," said Tim darkly. That struck the right note, and Tom and Don
+laughed, and Tim laughed with them, and they all three put their
+shoulders back and perked up a lot!
+
+And then it was two o'clock and they were pulling on their togs in the
+locker-room; and Danny Moore was circulating about in very high spirits,
+cracking jokes and making them laugh, and Coach Robey was dispatching
+Jim Morton and Jim's assistant on mysterious errands and referring every
+little while to his red-covered memorandum book and looking very
+untroubled and serene. And then there was a clamping of feet on the
+stairs above and past the windows some two dozen pairs of
+blue-stockinged legs moved briskly as the visitors went across to the
+field for practice. And suddenly the noise was stilled and Coach Robey
+was telling them that it was up to them now, and that they hadn't a
+thing in the world to do for the next two hours but knock the tar out of
+those blue-clad fellows, and that they had a fine day for it! And then,
+laughing hard and cheering a little, they piled out and across the
+warm, sunlit grass, past the line of fellow-students and home-folks and
+towners, with here and there a pretty girl to glance shyly and
+admiringly at them as they trotted by, and so to the bench. Nerves were
+gone now. They were only eager and impatient. "Squads out!" sang Mr.
+Robey. Off came sweaters and faded blankets and they were out on the
+gridiron, with Carmine and McPhee cheerily piping the signals, with
+their canvas legs rasping together as they trotted about, and with the
+Brimfield cheer sounding in their ears, making them feel a little
+chokey, perhaps, but wonderfully strong and determined and proud!
+
+And presently they were back in front of the bench, laughing at and
+pummelling one another, and the rival captains and the referee were
+watching a silver coin turn over and over in the sunlight out there by
+the tee in midfield. Behind them the stand was packed and colourful.
+Beyond, Brimfield was cheering lustily again. Across the faded green, at
+the end of the newly-brushed white lines, nearly a hundred Claflin
+youths were waving their banners and cheering back confidently.
+
+"Claflin kicks off," sang Captain Edwards. "We take the west goal. Come
+on, fellows! Everyone on the jump now!"
+
+A long-legged Claflin guard piled the dirt up into a six-inch cone, laid
+the ball tenderly upon it, viewed the result, altered it, backed off and
+waited.
+
+"All ready, Claflin? All ready, Brimfield?"
+
+The whistle blew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+TIM GOES OVER
+
+
+COACH ROBEY put his best foot forward when the first period started by
+presenting the strongest line-up he had. Fortunately, Brimfield had
+reached the Claflin game with every first-string man in top shape,
+something that doesn't often happen with a team. There was Captain
+Edwards at left end, Thayer at left tackle, Gilbert at left guard,
+Thursby at centre, Hall at right guard, Crewe at right tackle, Holt at
+right end, Carmine at quarter, St. Clair at left half, Otis at right
+half and Rollins at full.
+
+Opposed to them was a team fully their equal in age, weight and
+experience. The Claflin forwards were a bit taller and rangier, and
+their centre, unlike Thursby, was below rather than above average size.
+Behind their line, the four players were, with the exception of Grady,
+full-back, small and light. But they were known to be fast and heady and
+Claflin didn't make the mistake of underestimating their ability. The
+left half, Cox, was a broken-field runner of renown as well as
+Claflin's best goal-kicker. Perhaps it would have been difficult that
+fall to have picked two teams to oppose each other that were more evenly
+matched than those representing the Maroon-and-Grey and the Blue.
+
+For the first few minutes of play each eleven seemed to be feeling out
+its opponent. Two exchanges of punts gained ground for neither side.
+Brimfield got her backfield working then on her twenty yards and St.
+Clair and Tim tried each side of the blue line and in two downs gained a
+scant six yards. Rollins punted out at Claflin's forty-seven. The Blue
+got past Hall for two and slid off Holt for three more. The next rush
+failed and Claflin punted to Carmine on the fifteen. The Blue's ends
+were down on Carmine and he was stopped for a five-yard gain. Rollins
+tried a forward pass to Edwards, but threw short and the ball grounded.
+Tim Otis ran the left end for four and, on a delayed pass, Rollins
+heaved himself through centre for the distance, and Brimfield cheered
+loudly when the linesmen pulled up stakes and trailed the chain ten
+yards nearer the centre of the field.
+
+A second forward pass was caught by Holt, but he was brought down for a
+scant three-yard gain. Once more Rollins attempted the centre of the
+blue line, but this time he was stopped short. On third down Rollins
+punted and Claflin caught on her forty and ran the ball back to the
+middle of the field. Claflin then found Crewe for four yards and
+completed her distance on a straight plunge between Gilbert and Thayer.
+It was the Blue's turn to cheer then and she performed valiantly.
+Claflin tried Edwards's end, but made nothing of it, poked Cox past
+Crewe for a couple of yards, made three around Holt and then punted. St.
+Clair misjudged the distance and the ball went over his head and there
+was a scamper to the goal line. Carmine finally fell on the ball for a
+touchback and the excitement in the stands subsided. Brimfield smashed
+Otis at the Blue's centre and reached the twenty-five-yard line. St.
+Clair made three on a skin-tackle play at the right and Rollins got the
+distance on a plunge after a fake-kick. Brimfield again made first down
+on the forty-two yards and her supporters howled gleefully. A moment
+later they had new cause for rejoicing when Rollins pegged the ball
+across the field to Edwards and the Maroon-and-Grey's captain scampered
+and dodged along the side of the field for thirteen yards before he was
+tackled. Time was called for a Claflin back and Brimfield drew off for
+a consultation, the result of which was seen in the next play.
+
+Carmine called Gilbert to the right side of centre, the backs spread
+themselves in wide formation ten yards behind the line and Steve
+Edwards, as the first signal began, ran back, straightened out as the
+ball was snapped, raced along behind his forwards and swept around his
+right end. Claflin's right end and half-back plunged outside of Thayer,
+were met by St. Clair and Rollins, and Carmine, having taken the ball on
+a long pass from Thursby, raced past them and then swung quickly in and
+found an almost clear field ahead.
+
+Two white lines passed under his twinkling feet and then, near the
+twenty, he was challenged by a Claflin back. Carmine eluded him, crossed
+a third line, found himself confronted by the Blue's quarter, attempted
+to slip by on the outside, was tackled and borne struggling across the
+side line and deposited forcibly on the ground.
+
+When the ball was stepped in by the referee it was set down some four
+inches inside the fifteen-yard line. In the stands and along the side of
+the field Brimfield was cheering triumphantly, imploringly, and waving
+her banners. The linesmen scampered in obedience to the referee's waving
+arm.
+
+"First down!" shouted the official. "All right, Brimfield? Ready,
+Claflin?" The whistle piped again.
+
+Rollins was stopped squarely on a try at right guard and Otis made a
+scant three past the left tackle. Under the shadow of her goal-posts,
+Claflin was digging her cleats in the turf and fighting hard. Rollins
+went back. "Get through, Claflin! Block this kick!" cried the Blue's
+quarter-back. "_Get through! Get through!_" Back went the ball from
+Thursby, a trifle high but straight enough, Rollins poised it, swung his
+leg, and then, tucking the pigskin under his arm, sprang away to the
+left. Shouts of alarm, cries of warning, the hurried rush of feet and
+rasping of canvas! Bodies crashed together and went down. Rollins, at
+the ten yards now, side-stepped and got past a blue-legged defender,
+turned in and went banging straight into the melee. Arms clutched at
+him. He was stopped momentarily. Then he wrested free, plunged on for
+another yard and went to earth.
+
+"Second down!" cried the referee when he had bored through the pile of
+squirming bodies and found the ball. He glanced along the five-yard
+line, set the pigskin to earth again, and "About two feet to go!" he
+added. Brimfield was shouting incessantly now, standing and waving.
+"_Touchdown! Touchdown! Touchdown!_" Across the field Claflin sent back
+a dogged chant: "_Hold 'em, Claflin! Hold 'em, Claflin! Hold 'em,
+Claflin!_"
+
+But surely Claflin couldn't do that! It seemed too much to ask or
+expect. Otis made it first down off left tackle, placing the ball on the
+three yards. Before the next play could be started the period ended and
+the teams flocked to the water pails and then tramped down to the other
+end of the field. The cheering never paused, even if the playing did.
+Childers, red-faced and perspiring, kept the Brimfield section busy
+every instant. "Once more, now! A long cheer with nine 'Brimfields'!
+That's good! Keep it up! We're going to score, fellows! Let's have it
+again! All into it!"
+
+Only three yards to go and four downs to do it! Claflin lined up
+desperately, her forwards digging their toes barely inside their last
+line, her backfield men skirmishing anxiously about behind it. "Push 'em
+back, Claflin! You can do it! Don't give 'em an inch! Stop 'em right
+here, fellows! Low, low, get _low_, you fellows! Charge into 'em and
+smother this play!" The Claflin quarter, pale of face, thumped crouching
+backs and watched the foe intently.
+
+"Put it over now!" shrilled Carmine. "Here we go! Get down there, Hall!
+Signals!"
+
+Rollins leaped forward, took the ball from Carmine and smashed straight
+ahead. There was a moment of doubt. His plunging body stopped, went on,
+stopped, was borne back.
+
+"Second down! Two and a half to go!"
+
+Again the signals, the line shifted, Claflin changed to meet the shift.
+St. Clair slewed across and slammed past the Claflin left tackle. But
+the secondary defence had him in the next instant and he was thrust,
+fighting, back and still back. But he had gained. "A yard and a half!"
+proclaimed the referee.
+
+"You've got to do it, Brimfield!" shouted Edwards intensely. "Don't let
+them get the jump on you like that! Get into it, Crewe! Watch that man,
+Gilbert! Come on now! Put it over!"
+
+"Signals!" shrieked Carmine. "Make it go this time! Over with it!"
+
+Back went Rollins, hands outstretched. "Fake!" shouted Claflin. "Watch
+the ball! Watch the ball!"
+
+Rollins's arms fell, empty, as St. Clair grabbed the pigskin and swept
+wide to the right. "_In! In!_" cried Carmine. St. Clair turned and shot
+toward the broken line. His interference did its part, but the Claflin
+left end had fooled Holt and it was that blue-legged youth who got St.
+Clair and thumped him to the sod. An anxious, breathless moment
+followed. Brimfield called for time and St. Clair, on his back, kicked
+and squirmed while they pumped the air back into his lungs. The referee,
+kneeling over the ball, squinted along the line. Then:
+
+"Fourth down and about two to go!" he announced.
+
+St. Clair had lost a half-yard! Claflin cheered weakly. Steve Edwards
+and Carmine consulted.
+
+"We'd better kick it over," said Carmine. "They're getting the jump on
+us every time, Steve." Carmine's voice was husky and he had to gasp his
+words out. Steve, panting like an engine, shook his head.
+
+"We need the touchdown," he said. "We'll put it over. Try 11. Tim can
+make it."
+
+St. Clair walked back to his place. The whistle sounded again. "Come on,
+Brimfield!" gasped Carmine. "This is your last chance! If you don't do
+it this time you'll never do it! Play like you meant it! Stop your
+fooling and show 'em football! Every man into this and _make it go_!
+Hall over! Signals!" Hall pushed his way to the left of the line.
+Claflin shuffled to meet the change. "Signals! 83--38--11--106!"
+
+"_Signals!_" cried St. Clair. Carmine turned on him, snarling. "Use your
+bean! Change signals! Hall over! 61--16--11--37! 61--16--11----"
+
+Back shot the ball to the quarter. Off sped St. Clair around his end,
+followed by Rollins. Carmine crouched, back to the line, while he
+counted five. Then Tim Otis shot forward, took the delayed pass, jammed
+the ball against his stomach and went in past Thursby on the right.
+
+Tim struck the line as if shot out of a gun. There was no hole there,
+but Tim made one. If the secondary defence, overanxious, had not been
+fooled by that fake attack at their end Tim would never have gained a
+foot. But as it was Claflin was caught napping in the centre of her
+line. Tim banged against a brawny guard, Carmine, following him through,
+added impetus, the Claflin line buckled inward! Shouts and grunts,
+stifled groans of despair from the yielding blue line! Then Brimfield
+closed in behind Tim and he was borne off his feet and on and over to
+fall at last in a chaos of struggling bodies well across the goal line!
+
+The ball went over to the right of the goal and Carmine decided on a
+punt-out. Unfortunately, Thayer juggled the catch and so Brimfield lost
+her try-at-goal. But six points looked pretty big just then and
+continued to look big all the rest of the half and during the succeeding
+intermission. Brimfield's supporters were confident and happy. They sang
+and cheered and laughed, and the sun, sinking behind the wooded ridge,
+cast long golden beams on the flaunting maroon banners.
+
+And then the teams came trotting back once more and cheers thundered
+forth from opposing stands. Howard had taken St. Clair's place, it was
+seen, and Claflin had replaced her right guard. But otherwise the teams
+were unchanged. Brimfield kicked off and Claflin brought her supporters
+to their feet by running the ball back all the way to the
+forty-five-yard line. That was Cox, the fleet-footed and elusive, and
+the Blue's left half got a mighty cheer from his friends and generous
+applause from the enemy. After that Claflin tried a forward pass and
+gained another down, and then, from near the middle of the field,
+marched down to Brimfield's thirty-three before she was stopped. The
+Maroon-and-Grey got the ball on downs by an inch or two only.
+
+Brimfield tried the Claflin ends out pretty thoroughly and with Otis and
+Howard carrying, took back most of Claflin's gain. But a forward pass
+finally went to a Claflin end instead of Holt and the tables were
+suddenly turned. It was the Blue's ball on Brimfield's forty-six then,
+and Claflin opened her bag of tricks. Just how Cox got through the
+centre of the Brimfield line no one ever explained satisfactorily, but
+get through he did, and after he was through he romped past Otis and
+Rollins and raced straight for the goal. Carmine and Howard closed in on
+him and it was Carmine who brought him down at last on the twelve yards.
+
+How Claflin shouted and triumphed then! The Blue came surging down the
+field to line up against the astounded enemy, determination written
+large on every countenance. A plunge at Gilbert gained a yard and was
+followed by a three-yard gain off Holt. Then Claflin fumbled and
+recovered for a two-yard loss and, with eight to go on fourth down,
+decided that a goal from field was the best try. And, although Brimfield
+tried hard to get through to the nimble-footed Cox, and did smear the
+Blue's line pretty fairly, the ball went well and true across the bar,
+and the 0 on the score-board was changed to a 3!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+LEFT GUARD GILBERT
+
+
+THAT finished the scoring in the third period. All that Claflin could do
+was to bring back Brimfield's punts and try desperately to find holes in
+the maroon-and-grey line that weren't there. Both teams were showing the
+effects of hard playing, and when the third quarter ended substitutes
+were hurried in from both benches. For Brimfield, McPhee relieved
+Carmine, Lee went in for Holt and Sturges for Crewe. Claflin put in a
+new right end, a fresh full-back and returned her original right guard
+to the line-up.
+
+McPhee brought instructions from Coach Robey. Brimfield was to hold what
+she had and play the kicking game. If she got within the Blue's
+thirty-yard line she was to let Rollins try a drop-kick.
+
+Rollins punted regularly on second down and just as regularly Claflin
+rushed until the fourth and then punted back. After five minutes of
+play, during which the ball went back and forth from one thirty-yard
+line to the other, it dawned on Claflin that she was making no
+progress. A new full-back trotted in and displayed his ability by
+sending the ball over McPhee's head on his first attempt. Fortunately,
+though, the punt, while long, was much too low, and McPhee had plenty of
+time to go after the pigskin, gather it in and run back a dozen yards
+before the Claflin ends reached him. But after that McPhee played
+further back and Rollins put still more power into his drives.
+
+With almost ten minutes of the final period gone, Claflin, grown
+desperate, tried what forward passing would do. The first time, she lost
+the ball to Thayer, and Clint got ten yards before he was thrown, but
+the second attempt went better and Cox, who made the catch, ran across
+three white lines and only stopped when Edwards dragged him down from
+behind. Claflin got another first down by two plunges at the right of
+the opponent's line and a wide end-run. Then a penalty set her back
+fifteen yards and she had to punt after two ineffectual attempts at
+rushing. Otis got through for five yards and then Rollins punted again.
+
+The head linesman announced five minutes to play. On the stands the
+spectators were beginning to depart. Claflin was back on her thirty-five
+yards, banging desperately at the maroon-and-grey line, desperately and
+a bit hopelessly. A forward pass was knocked down by Captain Edwards, an
+assault at the left of the Brimfield line was smeared badly, Cox tried
+the other end and was laid low for a loss. Claflin punted.
+
+Howard, on a double pass, swept around the enemy's left for fifteen
+yards and then squirmed past tackle for six more. Rollins kicked to
+Claflin's ten and Edwards nailed the Blue's quarter before he could
+move. Brimfield cheered encouragingly. But Claflin, after getting four
+around Sturges, punted out of danger to Brimfield's forty-seven.
+
+"Three minutes!" announced the timekeeper.
+
+Otis got two at centre and Rollins again fell back to kick. The ball
+came to him low and he juggled it. Claflin poured through the right of
+the line, the ball bounded back from some upthrown arm and went dancing
+along the field. Blue players and maroon dashed after it. Hall almost
+had it, but was toppled aside by a Claflin man. Carmine dived for it and
+missed. Then Tim Otis and a Claflin forward dropped upon it
+simultaneously and struggled for its possession. Tim always maintained
+that he got more of it than his opponent, and got it first, but the
+referee awarded it to Claflin and dismayedly Brimfield gathered
+together and lined up only twenty yards from her goal!
+
+[Illustration: The runner smashed into sight, wild-faced for an instant
+before he put his head down and charged in]
+
+"Two minutes, fellows!" shouted the Claflin quarter-back exultantly.
+"We've got time to do it! Come on now, come on! We can win it right now!
+All together, Claflin! We've got them on the run! They're all-in!
+They're ready to quit!"
+
+The Claflin full-back faked a kick and circled around Lee's end for a
+six-yard gain. Then the Blue's right half plugged the line and got three
+more past Hall. It was one to go on third down. Another attack on Hall
+was pushed back, but Claflin made it first down by sending Cox squirming
+around Thayer. The ball was on the eleven yards now. It was Brimfield's
+turn to know the fear of defeat. Edwards implored and bullied. Claflin
+banged at Gilbert for a yard. A quarter-back run caught Steve Edwards
+napping and put the pigskin on the seven yards. Brimfield's adherents,
+massed along the side line, shouted defiantly. Across the darkening,
+trampled field, the Claflin cohorts were imploring a touchdown.
+
+"Third down! Six to go!" shouted the referee, hurrying out of the way.
+
+"On side, Claflin right end and tackle!" warned the umpire.
+
+The signals came again and the Claflin full-back smashed into the left
+of the opposing team. But it was like striking a stone wall that time.
+Perhaps the ball nestled a few inches nearer the goal, but no more than
+that. It was Don who bore the brunt of that attack and after the
+piled-up bodies had been pulled aside he and the Claflin full-back
+remained on the ground. On came the trainers with splashing buckets. Don
+came to with the first swash of the big, smelly sponge on his face.
+Danny Moore was grinning down at him.
+
+"Are ye hurt?" he asked.
+
+Don considered that a moment. Then he shook his head. "I'm--all
+right,--Danny," he murmured. "Just--help me--up."
+
+"Don't be in a hurry. Take all the time the law allows ye." Danny's
+fingers travelled inquiringly over the boy's body. "Where do you feel
+it?" he asked.
+
+Don kept his eyes stoically on the trainer's. If he flinched a little
+when Danny's strong fingers pressed his right shoulder it was so little
+that the trainer failed to see it. Nearby, the Claflin full-back was
+already on his feet. Tim came over and knelt by the trainer's side.
+
+"Anything wrong, Don?" he asked in a tired, anxious voice.
+
+"Not a thing," replied Don cheerfully. "Give me a hand, will you? I'm
+sort of wabbly, I guess."
+
+On the side line Pryme, head-guard in hand, was trotting up and down.
+Coach Robey was looking across intently. Don shook himself, stretched
+his arms--no one ever knew what that cost him!--and trotted around a few
+steps. Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the coach say
+something to Pryme, saw the disappointed look on the substitute's face
+and was half sorry for him. The whistle blew again and Don was crouching
+once more beside Thursby--why, no, it wasn't Thursby any longer! It was
+Peters, stout, complacent Peters, wearing a strangely fierce and ugly
+look on his round countenance!
+
+"Now hold 'em, Brimfield!" chanted McPhee. "Hold 'em hard! Don't let
+them have an inch!"
+
+Far easier said than done, though! A quick throw across the end of the
+line, a wild scramble and jumble of arms, a faint "_Down!_" and, at the
+right end of the Brimfield line, a mound of bodies with the ball
+somewhere down beneath and to all appearances across the goal line!
+Anxious moments then! One by one the fallen warriors were pulled to
+their feet while into the pile dove the referee. The timekeeper hovered
+nearby, watch in hand. Then the referee's voice:
+
+"Claflin's ball! First down! A foot to go!"
+
+"Line-up! Line-up!" shrieked the Claflin quarter. "We've got time yet!
+Put it over!"
+
+"Fight, Brimfield!" shouted Steve Edwards. "There's only forty seconds!
+Hold them off! Don't let them get it! Tom! Peters! Don! Get into it
+now!"
+
+"Signals! Signals!"
+
+Then a moment of silence save for the gasping breath of the players. The
+Claflin quarter shouted his signals, the ball sped back, the lines
+heaved. Straight at the left guard position plunged the back. "_Stop
+him!_" growled Peters. The secondary defence leaped to the rescue. Back
+went the man with the ball. "_Down!_" he cried in smothered tones. The
+referee pushed in and heeled the mark.
+
+"Second down! A foot and a half to go!"
+
+Don knew now that if he had fooled Danny Moore he had not fooled the
+Claflin quarter-back. That quarter knew or guessed that he had been hurt
+and was playing for him. Don gritted his teeth and ground his cleats
+into the sod. Well, they'd see!
+
+The signals again, broken into by Steve Edwards's shrill voice in wild
+appeal. Steve was wellnigh beside himself now. Peters was growling like
+a bear in a cage. Then again the plunge, hard and quick, the whole
+Claflin backfield behind it! Don felt an intolerable pain as he pushed
+and struggled. Despair seized him for an instant, for he was being borne
+back. Then someone hurtled into him from behind, driving the breath from
+his lungs, and he was staggering forward.
+
+Peters was yanking him to his feet, a wild-eyed Peters mouthing strange
+exultant words. "They can't do it! No, never! Not if they were to try
+all night! We put 'em back again, Gilbert! We'll do it again! Come on,
+you blue-legged babies! Try it again! You'll never do it!"
+
+Don, dazed, swaying giddily, groped back to his place. Thayer was
+muttering, too, now. Don wondered if they were all crazy. He was quite
+certain that he was, for otherwise things wouldn't revolve around him in
+such funny long sweeps. Then his mind was suddenly clear again. The
+Claflin quarter was hurling his signals out hurriedly, despairingly,
+fighting against time. Don didn't listen to those signals for he knew
+where the attack would come. And he was right, for once more the blue
+right guard and tackle sprang at him to bear him back. And then the
+runner smashed into sight, wild-faced for an instant before he put his
+head down and charged in. But Don didn't yield. Peters, roaring loudly,
+was fighting across him, and, front and rear, reinforcements hurled
+themselves into the melee. Don closed his eyes, every muscle in his body
+straining forward. A roar of voices came to him only dimly. Ages passed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He wondered if Danny Moore had nothing better to do than eternally swab
+his face with that beastly old sponge! Why didn't he pick on some other
+fellow? Don felt quite aggrieved and tried to say so, but couldn't seem
+to make any sound. Then he realised that he had forgotten to open his
+lips. When he did he got a lot of cold water in his mouth and that made
+him quite peevish. He tried to raise his right hand, changed his mind
+about it and raised his left instead. With that he pushed weakly at the
+offending sponge.
+
+"Take it away," he muttered. "I'm--drowned."
+
+"Can you walk or will we carry you?" asked Danny in businesslike tones.
+
+"Walk," said Don indignantly. "Let me up." Recollection returned. "Did
+they make it?" he gasped.
+
+"They did not. Lie still a bit."
+
+"Yes, but----" Don's voice grew faint and he closed his eyes again. The
+sponge gave a final pat and disappeared. "What--what down was that?"
+asked Don anxiously.
+
+"Third."
+
+"Then--then they've got another! Help me up, Danny, will you? We've got
+to stop them, you know. I don't believe they--can do it, do you? We put
+them back twice, you know."
+
+"Sure you did," said the trainer soothingly. "Here you are, Tim. Take
+his feet. And you get your arm under his middle, Martin. So! Careful of
+the shoulder, boys. He's got a fine broken blade in there!"
+
+"Wait!" Don kicked Tim's hands away from his ankles as, raised to a
+sitting posture by Danny and Martin, his puzzled glance swept the field.
+"Where's--where's everyone?" he gasped.
+
+"If you mean the team," laughed Tim, "they're beating it for the gym."
+
+"Oh!" said Don. "But--but what happened? They didn't"--his voice
+sank--"they didn't do it, did they, Tim?"
+
+"Of course they didn't, old man! We pushed them back three times and
+we'd have done it again if the whistle hadn't saved them!"
+
+"Then we won!" exclaimed Don.
+
+"Surest thing you know, dearie! If you don't believe it listen to that
+band of wild Indians over in front of the gym! Now are you ready to be
+lugged along?"
+
+"Yes, thanks," sighed Don.
+
+
+THE END
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
+
+Page 22, "usully" changed to "usually" (Daley was usually)
+
+Page 24, "acknowlegement" changed to "acknowledgment" (the
+acknowledgment that)
+
+Page 65, "Muskateers" changed to "Musketeers" (four "Three Musketeers")
+
+Page 89, "castenets" changed to "castanets" (chattering like castanets)
+
+Page 115, "rom" changed to "from" (darting from the galloping)
+
+Page 129, "disgruntedly" changed to "disgruntledly" (had been
+disgruntledly)
+
+Page 136, "that's" changed to "that" (that Joe's parents had)
+
+Page 145, "startingly" changed to "startlingly" (sounded startlingly
+loud)
+
+Page 167, "disgruntedly" changed to "disgruntledly" (Walton
+disgruntledly found)
+
+Page 172, "positon" changed to "position" (of his position with)
+
+Page 223, "Demanded" changed to "demanded" on illustration caption.
+(demanded Don angrily)
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Left Guard Gilbert, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
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