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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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