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diff --git a/old/64150-0.txt b/old/64150-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e6cd9c8..0000000 --- a/old/64150-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7053 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Danforth Plays the Game, by Ralph Henry -Barbour - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Danforth Plays the Game - Stories for Boys Little and Big - -Author: Ralph Henry Barbour - -Illustrator: John A. Coughlin - -Release Date: December 27, 2020 [eBook #64150] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned - images of public domain material from the Google Books - project.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DANFORTH PLAYS THE GAME *** - - - - - DANFORTH PLAYS - THE GAME - - - - -By Ralph Henry Barbour - - -THE PURPLE PENNANT SERIES - - The Purple Pennant (_in prep._) - The Secret Play - The Lucky Seventh - - -YARDLEY HALL SERIES - - Winning his “Y” - For Yardley - Around the End - Double Play - Change Signals - Forward Pass - - -MAPLE HILL SERIES - - The Brother of a Hero - Finkler’s Field - - -THE BIG FOUR SERIES - - Four Afloat - Four Afoot - Four in Camp - - - The Half Back - For the Honor of the School - The Captain of the Crew - Behind the Line - Weatherby’s Inning - The Spirit of the School - The New Boy at Hill Top - The Junior Trophy - Benton’s Venture - On Your Mark! - - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY = Publishers = New York - - - - -[Illustration: “Tommy hit the ball smartly with his instep ... and -said, ‘Og!’”] - - - - - DANFORTH - PLAYS THE GAME - - STORIES FOR BOYS - LITTLE AND BIG - - - BY - - RALPH HENRY BARBOUR - - AUTHOR OF “THE HALF-BACK,” “FOR - THE HONOR OF THE SCHOOL,” - “DOUBLE PLAY,” ETC. - - - [Illustration] - - - ILLUSTRATED BY - JOHN A. COUGHLIN - - - NEW YORK AND LONDON - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - 1915 - - - - - Copyright, 1915, by - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - - Copyright, 1914, by the Sprague Publishing Company. - Copyright, 1913, 1914, by The Century Company. - Copyright, 1915, by Doubleday, Page & Company. - - - Printed in the United States of America - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - DANFORTH PLAYS THE GAME 3 - “BLACK-ON-BLUE” 105 - JONESIE USES HIS INFLUENCE 143 - THE MAGIC FOOTBALL 183 - SPORTSMEN ALL 221 - THE EMBASSY TO MEARSVILLE 255 - JONESIE AND THE ALL-STARS 287 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - “Tommy hit the ball smartly with his instep ... and - said, ‘Og!’” _Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - - “Harry ... catching the well-aimed pass coolly, romped - unmolested over the line” 100 - - “‘There they go! Sick ’em, pup! Go after ’em, you fool - dog!’” 242 - - “Jonesie didn’t pretend to catch them” 328 - - - - -DANFORTH PLAYS THE GAME - - -I - -“Oh, see the pretty little boy! Is the pretty little boy going to play -football? The pretty little boy is going to play football――_per-haps_!” - -The speaker, one of four youths seated on the grass near the side line, -chuckled as the subject of his humor turned inquiringly. - -“What will happen to the pretty little boy and his nice clean trousers -and his beautiful red jersey?” continued another of the quartette, -adopting the first speaker’s sing-song style. “Oh, please, teacher, I’d -rather not say! It will be a perfect shame, will it not?” - -“_It will not!_” responded a third youth promptly and emphatically. The -boys laughed enjoyably, unaffected by the fact that the “pretty little -boy” was viewing them doubtfully, uncomfortably from the distance of a -dozen yards away. - -It was hardly fair to call him pretty, although his fresh complexion, -yellow-brown hair and rather finely cut features made him strikingly -good-looking. He was fairly tall for his age, which was fifteen, well -made and carried himself with a lithe grace emphasized by the new suit -of football togs he wore. The khaki trousers were quite immaculate, and -so were the red stockings, and so was the red jersey. Even his shoes -were unscuffed, and altogether he looked very much as though he had but -a moment before stepped from the pictured advertisement of some dealer -in athletic supplies. Possibly it was the fashion-plate suggestion that -had prompted the group near by to ridicule. - -At first Harry Danforth had not associated the remarks with himself and -had looked around out of sheer curiosity. When he understood that he -was the butt of their humor the blood flooded into his cheeks and he -faced hurriedly away. Like many boys with fair complexions, he blushed -on slight provocation, and he was always ashamed of it. He walked -slowly away in an effort to evade his tormentors, but their voices -still reached him. - -“Oh, see the blush of modesty upon the face of the pretty little boy! -How beautiful is modesty!” - -There was more, but Harry didn’t hear it. Taking refuge at the edge of -a group of waiting candidates, he sought to forget his burning cheeks. -But as, at his advent, many of the fellows turned to observe him, his -embarrassment continued. - -“See the study in red,” whispered one youth laughingly to his -companion, and although he had not meant the strange boy to hear him, -the latter did hear, and felt the blood surging harder than before -into his face. He was heartily glad when, at that instant, the coach -summoned them on to the field. - -There were fully sixty candidates on hand that first afternoon of -football practice at Barnstead Academy. Some few of them were members -of the last season’s eleven, more were second-string players of the -year before, and the balance were, like Harry, new candidates. Mr. -Worden, the head coach, a finely built, pleasant-faced man of about -thirty, took the names of all who had reported. In this task he was -assisted by a boy of eighteen or so whose name Harry later learned -was Phillips. Phillips was manager of the team. Harry gave his name, -age, class, weight and details of former football experience to -Phillips and was promptly sent to the awkward squad, or Squad Z, as -the school facetiously termed it. There he was one of a group of some -twenty youths whose ages ranged from thirteen to sixteen and who, in -the course of the hour’s instruction that followed, exhibited every -phase of football inexperience. The awkward squad was in charge of a -large boy whom the coach addressed as Barrett. Barrett looked to be -about seventeen and wore a vastly bored expression all the time that he -labored with the beginners. If his features lighted at all during that -period it was when Harry showed by his handling of the pigskin that he -at least might possibly have the makings of a player. Barrett watched -him speculatively, almost interestedly, at intervals, and once even -vouchsafed a grunt of satisfaction as Harry fell neatly on a wabbling -ball and snuggled it under his chest. - -Meanwhile the more advanced candidates were punting and catching or -trotting about the field behind a shrill-voiced quarterback. Harry, -in the intervals between his own duties, had time to watch, and what -he saw he found a little bit discouraging. Where he had come from, -quite a ways beyond the New England hills that closed this pleasant -valley at the west, he had been looked on as something of a player. -On his high school team he had made a reputation for himself that -was quite remarkable considering his age, and when, in the Spring, -he had announced his impending departure for preparatory school his -schoolmates had set up a veritable howl of despair. Once reconciled, -however, they had pictured in gorgeous colors Harry’s football future. -Of course he would make the school team at Barnstead at once, would -do wonderful things there and then go up to college far-famed and -glorious. Pete Wilkinson, avid reader of romance, had drawn Harry aside -and begged him not to accept the first offer he received from college -scouts. - -“Just hold back on them and they’ll give you anything you want, Harry. -Wait till you get all the offers and then choose the best. Why, the -big colleges will do most anything for fellows who can play the game -the way you can!” - -Harry had gravely promised to be discreet in the matter, not -considering it worth while to point out to the sanguine Pete that even -if the colleges clamored and fought for him, which he didn’t in the -least consider likely, he had already made up his mind where to go and -that all the bribes in the world would not change his mind. But while -he was a person of some note at Hillston High School, he felt himself -a very small and unimportant atom here at Barnstead. He had come quite -unheralded and his fame had not preceded him. Here he was just one more -kid to be hammered into shape or, found wanting, to be tossed aside -with the other discards in the yearly game of making a football team. -And watching the play of the experienced fellows, Harry saw that there -was quite a difference between Hillston standards and Barnstead! The -team here was evidently made up of fellows much older than he, for one -thing. His roommate, a chap named Colgan, whose athletic interests -stopped at an occasional set of tennis, had told him that Coach Worden -showed a partiality for the younger candidates and that Harry’s -youthfulness would not be a disadvantage if he could play the game. But -this afternoon, with so many older fellows in sight, Harry felt that if -he made the school team inside the next two years he would be lucky. -But in spite of discouraging thoughts he paid flattering attention to -Barrett’s instructions, performed as well as he knew how and proved a -shining example to the other members of Squad Z. - -After an hour of rather wearisome instruction in the a, b, c’s of the -game the awkward squad was dismissed. Harry imagined he could hear -Barrett’s sigh of relief! Donning his sweater, Harry trotted in the -wake of the others across the end of the field, through the gate and up -the hill to the gymnasium. As he knew none of his companions, and as -the work had left them too tired to want to be sociable, he spoke to no -one until, having had his shower and dressed himself, he was walking -across the campus toward his room in Temple Hall. And even then the -conversation was none of his choosing! - -“Why, if it isn’t our friend the football hero!” exclaimed a voice. -Harry was passing a group of half a dozen boys on the main path across -the campus. Resisting the impulse to turn, he kept on his way until a -second youth called to him. - -“Hi, kid! Why so haughty?” - -“I beg pardon?” Harry paused and faced them then. They were all -rather older than he, one, a dark-complexioned fellow of seventeen or -eighteen, evidently being the leader of the party. - -“Don’t apologize,” he begged. “You don’t mind our speaking to you, do -you?” - -“No,” replied Harry quietly, feeling the blood creeping into his cheeks -and hating himself for it. “What did you want, please?” - -“Why――er――suspecting that you were a stranger to our――to these classic -shades we wouldst make thee welcome,” replied the dark chap with a -grin. “Wouldst impart to us thy cognomen?” - -“My name’s Danforth,” answered Harry shortly, facing the smiling faces -about him with a frown. - -“’Tis a fair name, my boy. Why blush for it?” - -“I’m not.” - -“You’re not!” gibed another boy. “What do you call it? Say, kid, you’re -as red as a beet. What are you ashamed of?” - -“Nothing. Is that all you want?” - -“Leave us not in anger,” begged the first speaker. “Tell us, rather, of -your doughty deeds upon yon trampled field of battle. Didst lay about -thee mightily? Didst slay the first team with thine own good right -hand?” - -“No,” replied Harry, biting his lip to keep down the anger that was -beginning to boil inside him. - -“No? And what didst thou do, O Ensanguined Knight?” - -“I minded my own business, for one thing,” answered the other shortly, -turning to go on. - -But some one seized his arm and spun him around again. - -“Is that so?” asked the dark-complexioned youth threateningly. “Say, -you’re a sort of a fresh kid, aren’t you?” - -“Not when I’m left alone.” - -“Well, suppose I don’t choose to let you alone?” The bully stepped -close to Harry and stuck his face down with an ugly leer on it. “What -would you do then, Fresh?” - -“Let him be, Perry,” said one of the group. “He’s only a kid.” - -“He’s a pretty fresh kid, though,” replied Perry. “You are, aren’t -you?” He laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder and gripped it hard. - -“If you don’t like my――my ways, let me alone,” answered Harry between -set teeth. - -“Sure I’ll let you alone!” Perry thrust his right foot forward, and -with a sudden push sent the other stumbling backward. When Harry -brought up he was seated under a bush at the side of the path and Perry -and several of the others were laughing heartily. But one of the group -had sprung forward, and now he was helping Harry to his feet. - -“Don’t mind him, kid,” he said in a low voice. “Run along now. No -harm done.” He brushed some leaves from the boy’s back and gave him a -good-natured shove in the direction of the dormitory. But Harry, his -face white now and his body trembling, strode across to the group and -faced the chief tormentor. - -“You’re a big bully, that’s what you are!” he declared hotly. “Leave -your crowd and come over here with me! I dare you to!” - -Perry growled something and lifted his hand, but the others intervened. - -“Cut it, Perry! Let the kid alone.” - -“That’s right; no scrapping, Perry. He’s too small for you.” - -“I――I’ll punch his pretty little face for him!” snarled Perry, striving -to push by his friends. - -“You touch me and I’ll show you something you won’t like,” said Harry, -standing his ground. - -“You shut up, kid, and run along home,” advised one of the crowd. -“There’s going to be no scrapping to-day. So cut it out.” - -The boy who had helped Harry to his feet laid a hand on his arm and -pulled him away. “That’ll be about all, kid. Come along.” - -“All right,” answered Harry, resisting for a moment. “But he can’t do -that sort of thing and get away with it. I’ll get even with him before -I’m through. And I’ll fight him whenever he likes.” - -“You’d put up a grand little fight, wouldn’t you?” sneered Perry across -the shoulder of one of his crowd. “Say, Fresh, you just keep away from -me or you’ll get hurt, and hurt badly. Do you hear?” - -“I hear you _talk_,” scoffed Harry. “That’s all bullies can do!” - -Then his rescuer dragged him away just as a second group of boys came -up demanding to know what the row was about. Harry accompanied his new -friend for some distance in silence. Finally, moved to defense by the -other’s unspoken censure, “Well,” he muttered, “you wouldn’t like it -yourself, I guess.” His companion smiled. Then, - -“Kid,” he said gravely, “you’ll find a lot of things you won’t like -before you get through here.” - - -II - -A week later the awkward squad ceased to exist. Some few of the -members, discouraged by the sheer irksomeness of the labor, voluntarily -resigned; others, who showed no football possibilities, were dismissed, -and the rest, perhaps ten in all, went to Squad C. Among the latter -was Harry. Hugh Barrett, the big left guard, who had reigned over the -awkward ones, had taken a sort of professional interest in Harry, an -interest evinced by muttered words or grunts of commendation at first -and by sharp criticisms later. Once he asked the younger boy: - -“You fellow in the red shirt! Where’d you learn to catch a ball that -way?” - -“At home. I played on my high school team three years,” answered Harry. -Barrett grunted. - -“Three years, eh? How old are you now?” - -“Fifteen.” - -“Must have started young,” muttered Barrett. “What’s your name?” - -“Danforth.” - -“Well, take charge here, Danforth, till I get back. Keep ’em passing.” - -Meanwhile Harry had settled down into his groove at school. Lessons -were proving a bit harder than expected, but, thanks to a summer of -coaching at the hands of one of the high school instructors, he was -keeping up his end. Tracey Colgan, with whom Harry roomed in Number -16 Temple Hall, was turning out to be a much more companionable and -likable fellow than Harry had at first hoped for. Tracey came from some -small town in the vicinity of Boston and possessed all the frigidity -of manner popularly associated with New Englanders. But underneath the -icy coating was a warm heart and a liveliness of temperament quite -unsuspected. After Harry got to know him better――and you can’t room -with a chap very long without getting to know him――he liked him very -much. He was rather tall and thin, good-looking in a way――nice-looking -would be a better word for it――and excruciatingly clean and neat. It -seemed to Harry that Tracey was forever bathing or scrubbing, while as -for his attire a badly tied scarf made him positively wretched and he -consumed more time in dressing than Harry took for his entire morning -preparations! Tracey was rather a grind, which, perhaps, was fortunate, -since just at this time Harry needed some one to set him an example in -studiousness. Not that Harry didn’t want to study, for he did. He had -no mistaken notions of what he was at Barnstead for. But football is -a hard taskmaster, he was an enthusiastic lover of it, and previous -success had made him ambitious to win further honors. In short, during -those first two months of school he was inclined to spend a little too -much time and energy on football and not enough on his lessons. - -Perry Vose, for Tracey had easily supplied the name of the boy when -Harry had recounted his adventure, had so far not troubled Harry again. -Once or twice, on the field or in School Hall, they had passed, but -there had been no display of hostility other than a scowl. After he had -cooled off Harry had been a little ashamed and regretful of his loss -of temper. As Tracey had pointed out, a new fellow was liable to a good -deal of kidding and even some roughing-up at the hands of the older -boys. It was all a part of getting settled down. Tracey thought his -chum had escaped rather easily, and to prove it narrated some fairly -hair-raising hazing exploits that he knew of. As for the chap who had -befriended him that day, Harry had only glimpsed him once or twice from -a distance, not a surprising fact when it is considered that Barnstead -Academy boasted of some two hundred and forty pupils. - -Of course life wasn’t quite all football for Harry. Recitations -averaged four hours a day for the Lower Middle Class, of which he was a -member, and the evenings were largely given over to study. And several -times he and Tracey met on the tennis court in the morning after a -hurried breakfast and played a set or more before the bell summoned -them to first recitation. And Sundays were in the nature of holidays. -There was church in the forenoon in the school chapel, but after that -the rest of the day was theirs for whatever orderly recreation they -chose. Tracey was fond of walking and he and Harry and Joe Phillips, -the football manager, often took long, wandering trips about the autumn -country. The discovery of chestnut trees was one of their delights. -The burs had not yet begun to open, but the boys set down the location -of the trees in their minds and bided their time. As the days went by -Harry’s circle of acquaintances increased in a haphazard and natural -way. You sat next to a fellow in class and spoke to him about some -trivial matter. Then you nodded to him when you passed him on the -campus. And finally you dropped into his room by invitation, or he -dropped into yours. And in dining-hall, of course, it took but one -or two days to get on speaking terms, at least, with the fellows at -your table. At the end of his first fortnight Harry was surprised to -discover how large a circle of speaking acquaintances he had. Of real -friends he had so far but one, Tracey. Friendships aren’t made in a day -even at preparatory school. Next to Tracey, Joe Phillips was the fellow -he knew best. Joe, however, was several years older than Harry and, -while he was a fine chap in every way, Harry experienced no affection -for him. Perhaps Harry made acquaintances more easily than the average -boy. He was eminently attractive to look at, had a winning smile, could -listen as well as talk, and was, in short, thoroughly companionable. - -On Squad C Harry performed creditably for a week. Work at the dummy -had begun and a provisional eleven had been made up. The first game -was but a few days away. Harry had been placed with the halfbacks, a -position for which his experience recommended him. Squad C began to -thin out as the first contest drew near. Some of the fellows went to -the first team as third substitutes, others went to Squad B, which had -now developed into the second team, in like capacities, and a few fell -out of the race. Just before the Belton game Harry was taken on to the -second and a few days later Squad C, like Squad Z, ceased to exist. By -that time the number of candidates had dwindled from sixty-odd to about -forty, and most of those who remained were certain to last the season -out either on the school team or the second, barring accidents. Harry -was glad to get into the second team fold, but he had no intention of -remaining there. - -The Belton game, looked on beforehand as not much more than a good -practice, proved a tough contest and Barnstead won out eventually by -the slim margin of a kicked goal, the final score being 7–6. That was -on a Saturday, the last Saturday but one in September, and on the -following Monday Coach Worden made a number of changes in the line-up -of the first team. Several substitutes were given opportunities to -show what they could do, while Jones, who had exhibited remarkably -poor generalship as quarter in Saturday’s game, gave place to Bob -Peel, a small, freckle-faced youth with red hair and any amount of -vim. Unfortunately, however, Peel, while a good director, was only a -mediocre player in the backfield, and that Monday afternoon a fumble -by him of a long punt paved the way for a touchdown by the second and -a subsequent victory. Harry got in that day at left halfback for a -full ten-minute period, and after the scrimmage was over the school -was relishing the knowledge of a discovery. For in ten minutes Harry, -using every bit of the daring, reckless courage that had brought him -fame at Hillston, and all the knowledge he had gained since, dashed -through the first team’s defense or around its drawn-in ends for long -gains time after time and opened Coach Worden’s eyes to the fact that -here was a youngster worth watching and cultivating. Hugh Barrett, even -when a play with Harry hugging the ball went through his position, -grunted commendation and nodded his head knowingly. He had, he told -himself, seen from the first that Danforth had something in him. So -Barnstead Academy took a sensation with it up the hill and back to -the dormitories, and the sensation was the sudden appearance on the -football horizon of a new star whose name was Danforth! - -Barnstead met Cruger’s School and Thurston Polytechnic on succeeding -Saturdays――there were no mid-week games――and scored one victory and -met one defeat. The victory was overwhelming and the defeat, at the -hands of Thurston, a heavier and far more experienced team, was -honorable. Barnstead reached the middle of the season hopeful and -determined. Harry was still on the second team and was still making -good. Of course he had much to learn, but he was learning it fast. And -the school at large, having enjoyed its sensation, settled down to a -hearty admiration of “the kid halfback,” as they called him and looked -for great things from him. Some criticism was aired because Worden -did not at once move Harry from the second to the first. There were -plenty of critics who declared that “young Danforth could play rings -around Norman.” Norman was the present first choice for left half, a -hard-working but not especially brilliant youth who had already had two -seasons on the team. But Worden, if he heard the criticisms, paid them -no heed. Harry needed training and experience in fast company before -he was ready for the School Team, and the coach meant that he should -have it. The second eleven worked prodigiously those days and the first -had all it could do to register anything like a decisive victory. To -be sure, the second had its slumps, as when, the Tuesday after the -Thurston game, it allowed the first to tally four touchdowns and only -saved itself from a shut-out by lifting the ball over the cross-bar for -a field goal. To even matters, however, the first team itself was only -human and sometimes let down in its play and allowed the second to tie -or, infrequently, to win. - -Four games remained on the schedule when October was half gone: Carver -Academy, Pleasanton High, Norwich Academy and St. Matthew’s. St. -Matthew’s was Barnstead’s dearly hated rival in every sport and the -victor in most. The Blue triumphed almost yearly on the track and won -more than her share of the baseball contests. It was only in hockey -and football that the records of the two schools came anywhere near -balancing. At hockey Barnstead, aided by better ice facilities, was -the master, while at football the Brown had almost, if not quite, as -many wins to her credit as the Blue. This year, having met defeat last -November, the Brown considered it her turn to triumph and meant to do -so. And to this end the school worked as one. - -And yet there was an exception after all, and that exception was Perry -Vose. Perry was eighteen years of age, strongly built, good-looking -in a dark and somewhat surly way and what the fellows who had seen him -perform called a corking player. But in spite of his ability Perry was -not on the team this year. Why this was so Harry learned from Tracey. - -“He played in the line two years,” said Tracey. “Left guard, I think. -Maybe he was right. Anyhow, he has a beast of a temper and can’t hold -on to it. In almost every game he was cautioned for slugging or rough -work of some sort, and several times he was put off. Worden stood a -lot from him because he was such a dandy player. But last year in the -Pleasanton game he mixed it up with the chap who played opposite him, -the umpire or the referee caught him, the other chap got a cut lip and -Perry was put off. After the game Worden told him he needn’t report -again until he could play decently and like a gentleman. Perry ‘sassed’ -him for fair, they say; I didn’t hear it; and Worden told him then -that he needn’t report again for football as long as he was coaching -because he wouldn’t have him. Faculty heard about it and Perry came -mighty near being expelled. He had to apologize to Worden and went on -probation for two months. That didn’t make him care any more for the -coach, and he still hates him like anything. Mention Worden to Perry -and he will foam at the mouth!” - -And Tracey smiled reminiscently. - -“He seems to have a good many friends, though,” said Harry. - -“Oh, he isn’t such a bad sort when he behaves. Lots of fellows like -him, or pretend to, because his folks are pretty well fixed and Perry -always has a lot of money to spend. And he spends it. Still, maybe it -isn’t only that. I dare say lots of fellows like him just for――for -himself. He can be very decent if he wants to. It’s his old temper that -plays hob with him. You and he had any more trouble?” - -“No, he’s let me alone and I’ve let him alone.” - -“Good scheme, chum. He’s a bad man in a mix-up.” - -“I’m not afraid of him,” replied Harry stoutly. “But I don’t see that -there’s any use in having a fuss. I said I’d get even with him some -day, and I intend to, but I don’t want to lose my place on the second -on his account. And it might come to that if we had a row and faculty -heard of it.” - -“You’re wise. Keep away from him. And if he tries to start anything, -run. It would be like him to get you into a rumpus just so faculty -would hear of it and, maybe, put you on pro. He’d like that because it -would lose Worden a good player.” - -“You don’t mean Vose would want to see us beaten just because he -dislikes Mr. Worden!” - -“Hm; not exactly, perhaps. Still, I wouldn’t wager much on it! If he -could get even with Worden I dare say he wouldn’t care a continental -whether we won or lost at football!” - -“He’s a dandy!” said Harry indignantly. “If that’s the way it is you -can bet I’ll keep away from him. I’ll even run if necessary! But if -ever I do run from him I’ll run back again when the football’s over! -And then he will learn something!” - -“Easy!” laughed Tracey. “Perry Vose is three inches taller than you are -and three years older――almost.” - -“He’s a bully, and I never saw a bully yet who wasn’t a coward at -heart.” - -“I wouldn’t count too much on that, Harry. He may be a bully, but -you’ll find he’s no coward. And he’s a mean chap in a fight. Take my -advice and let him alone.” - -“I mean to――at present,” replied Harry. “I can’t afford to take any -chances. I want to make the first before the season’s over. Think I -will, Tracey?” - -“Don’t see how you can help it. I’m not much of a football fan, but -I hear what the fellows say, and they all seem to think that you are -some wonder. Guess I’ll have to wander down to the field and see you in -action some day.” - -“It’s quite a sight,” laughed Harry. - -“I suppose so.” Tracey was silent a moment. Then, with a smile, “Funny -how my stock’s gone up lately,” he added. - -“How do you mean?” - -“Why, since the fellows discovered that you were a star football player -I am treated with much more respect. You see, I happen to be your -roommate. Case of reflected glory.” - -“Oh, shut up,” said Harry. - -“Fact, though. Wouldn’t be surprised if I went down to posterity as the -fellow who roomed with Harry Danforth at prep school! Say, don’t turn -me out next year, will you? Think how I’d feel!” - -“You make me sick,” grumbled Harry. “You’re twice as popular and――and -important as I am.” - -“I used to be,” sighed Tracey, “but now I’m just Danforth’s roommate. -Still, fame is fame, and――――” - -But just there Harry shied a book at him, and in the scuffle that -followed fame was forgotten. - -In the Carver game Harry had his first try on the School Eleven. -Worden put him in at the beginning of the third quarter at left half, -displacing Norman. Harry did good work against a team that averaged -several pounds lighter and established himself more firmly than ever -in the affection and admiration of his fellows. And yet when the -fourth period began it was Norman who went in at the left of quarter -and Harry retired to a blanket and the bench. Just why this was he -couldn’t see, since he was conscious of having played well, better, -he honestly believed, than Norman. But facts were facts, and he saw -the last ten minutes of a rather listless combat from the substitutes’ -bench. Barnstead had no trouble rolling up twenty-seven points and -was only scored on when Jones, who took Bob Peel’s place in the last -period, fumbled the ball on Barnstead’s thirty yards and a quick-witted -and long-legged Carver forward got it and tumbled through a broken -field for a touchdown. Poor Jones, whose fortunes were trembling in -the balance before, was a sad-faced youth as the players trotted back -to the gymnasium after the game, and Harry pitied him. From thence on -Jones was frankly a second-string quarter and Bob Peel ruled the roost. -Football, like life, is a case of the survival of the fittest, and the -boy who makes good in the first more often than not makes good in the -latter. And the lessons learned on the gridiron, lessons of obedience -to authority, confidence, unselfishness and self-control, are lessons -that stand one in good stead in the bigger game to follow. Harry, with -some dim notion of this in his mind, mentally compared Jones’ conduct -under discipline to Perry Vose’s. Jones probably had a bad hour or two -with himself, but the next Monday he turned up smiling and cheerful, -and all the rest of the season he worked hard when work was given him, -served patiently with the waiters on the bench and never once gave -voice to a disgruntled expression. Jones was a good loser, which is -scarcer than a good winner. And Harry, looking on, learned a lesson -from Jones. - -The team had its troubles that week. Plaisted, the best guard the -school had, and, with the possible exception of Captain Ted Corson, -at fullback, the best player of all, wrenched his knee in practice on -Tuesday and went off for what the doctor predicted would be a full -week. Parrett, first substitute, took his place at the right of center -and filled it fairly satisfactorily, but Plaisted was missed. I think -that if ever Worden was tempted to retract his words and offer Perry -Vose his old position it was then. But he didn’t. Nor did he show any -sign of yielding when, a week later, Plaisted returned to work, hobbled -around rather uselessly and was finally retired for good with a bad -case of water on the knee. By that time Pleasanton High had come and -gone with trailing banners and Barnstead had scored another victory. -But the Pleasanton game, although it had been won decisively, 15 to 3, -proved to Coach Worden that Parrett was not another Plaisted and that -the right of the line was now its weak place. Several experiments were -tried during the first of the week, but it was not until Captain Corson -was changed from fullback to right guard that the difficulty seemed to -be solved. Ted Corson had played guard two years before and so was no -novice in the line. To fill Corson’s place, Carstairs, right half, was -pulled back to full, and Harry Danforth at last became a member of the -School Team. Norman was moved across to the other side and Harry went -in at left half. And the school applauded. - - -III - -As the Norwich Academy game drew near the school rose rapidly toward -the zenith of football enthusiasm. Studies suffered, as they always -do at such times, and the faculty, made wise by experience, was as -lenient as possible. It was less the players and substitutes themselves -who made sorry showings in the classrooms than the school at large. -It was the non-combatants whose minds refused to mix football with -study, to the detriment of study. They not only had to watch and -speculate upon the local football situation, but must keep close tab -on the progress of the college teams as well. Nearly every preparatory -schoolboy is for one reason or another an enthusiastic partisan of -one or other of the universities. Usually he has selected his college -by the end of his first year at school and from then on, or until he -changes his inclination, he follows the fortunes of the football heroes -representing his future alma mater with breathless interest. So it can -readily be seen that the months of October and November constitute a -busy season for the schoolboy, with the interest and excitement drawing -to a breathless crisis about the middle of November. Barnstead Academy -talked football, read football and dreamed football. It had football -for breakfast, dinner and supper, and nibbled on it between meals! City -newspapers with accounts of the college and big school gridiron doings -were at a premium, while illustrated weeklies, picturing and describing -recent contests, were passed around from room to room and read and -re-read until torn and tattered. - -Tracey Colgan, who had heretofore been as little enthusiastic about -football as anyone in school, became so deeply interested that he -journeyed day after day to the field to watch the play of Harry and, -incidentally, the rest of the team. One can’t room with a football -player and listen to his talk without eventually becoming at least -mildly enthusiastic. Harry was very glad of his chum’s new-found -interest, since it gave him someone to talk things over with, someone -sympathetic. And Harry was grateful for sympathy just then, for things -weren’t going any too well and there were many hours of discouragement. -But while sympathetic, Tracey was also sane. - -“Look here,” he would say, “what’s the use of getting yourself all -stirred up about it? Supposing you don’t keep your place until the -St. Matthew’s game. What’s it going to matter a year or two from now? -There’s no use getting white hairs and wrinkles over it as far as I can -see.” - -“That’s because you’ve never played,” replied Harry mournfully. “If you -had you’d――you’d understand.” - -“I understand that you football chaps are a lot of crazy idiots for two -months every year,” answered Tracey. “Great Scott, anyone would think -that your blessed lives depended on your making the first team! Suppose -you just stop a bit and consider the fact that there are about two -hundred fellows here who never looked a football in the lacings!” - -“There aren’t; there are only two hundred and forty fellows in school -and I guess half of them have played football at some time or other.” - -“Well, I was speaking――er――approximately,” replied Tracey, undisturbed. -“What I’m trying to make you see is that you and the rest of your tribe -are taking the whole thing much too seriously and that the world’s -going to keep right on humming around whether you get a black eye in -the St. Matthew’s game or look on from the grandstand.” - -“That’s all well enough for you,” objected Harry, “but you don’t see it -the way we do. If you――――” - -“Or _you_ don’t see it the way the rest of us do,” laughed Tracey. -“All right. Go ahead and have your conniption fits. But if you keep on -worrying the way you’re worrying nowadays you’ll not only lose your -place on the team, but you’ll fill an early grave. And flowers are -expensive this time of year.” - -“I’m not worrying,” replied Harry a trifle resentfully. - -“Oh, no, not at all! You’ve been sitting there with that book in front -of you for forty-five minutes and you haven’t looked into it once. Bet -you don’t even know whether it’s an algebra or a French dictionary!” - -“I do, too! It’s”――Harry stole a glance at it――“it’s Cicero.” - -“Good stuff! Emulate our old friend then. Bet you Cicero never lost his -head over football.” - -“He never lost his head over anything,” grumbled Harry, “except his -silly old orations.” - -“He was a wise old party,” returned Tracey, who had taken a volume of -Shakespeare’s Works and was hunting through the pages. “And I wouldn’t -be surprised if he knew something about football, either. Here it is. -Listen to this. Mr. Cicero is speaking to Casca. ‘Indeed, it is a -strange-disposed time; but men may construe things after their fashion, -clean from the purpose of the things themselves.’ Yes, sir, I guess -they played football where Cicero went to school!” - -“That’s nonsense. Besides, Cicero didn’t say that; Shakespeare said it.” - -“Makes it more probable, then, that the remark refers to football,” -replied Tracey untroubledly. “For, if I remember right, they played -football in William’s time.” - -“You ought to join the Debating Society,” grunted Harry. “Shut up now, -will you, and let me study.” - -Harry’s uneasiness was due to the fact that a youth named Dyker, -familiarly known as Dutch, was pressing him closely for the position -of left halfback. Dyker had played two years on the second and had won -promotion that Fall to the first team as substitute. Just at present -Harry and Dyker were alternating in the coveted position and Harry’s -heart was filled with fear. Dyker had the advantage of years, being -seventeen, and, besides, was a rather clever punter, something which -Harry made no claim to be. Harry used to dream about this time that -he had sprained an ankle or broken an arm and that Dyker had ousted -him for the rest of the season, and groan so loudly in his sleep that -Tracey would shy a pillow across at him and beg him to turn over. - -For my part I think that many of Harry’s fears were groundless and -that in pitting the two boys against each other Worden was only -trying to develop each to the utmost. Harry’s dashing brilliancy in a -broken field kept him head and shoulders above his rival, who, even -if he could punt well and might be needed in the big game for that -accomplishment, was only a fair ground-gainer after all. But Harry -didn’t realize that and there were moments, when, as it seemed to him, -Dyker was pressing him closely for his place, that Harry could almost -find it in his heart to wish that Dutch would bust something and retire -from the struggle. - -Work grew very strenuous that last fortnight. The dummy was resurrected -and hung again on his twenty-foot railway, and for three days the first -team fellows went back to first principles, throwing themselves upon -the stuffed and headless figure at the end of the chain, falling on -wabbling, elusive balls and chasing them across the turf to catch them -on their erratic bounds. And with this primary instruction went final -polishing in signal work and the development of the attack. And almost -before anyone realized it, it was Saturday and the day of the Norwich -contest, beyond which lay but four days of practice before the final -struggle of the football season. - -Barnstead turned out to a boy that afternoon, in spite of a drizzling -rain, and practiced the songs that were to be sung at the St. Matthew’s -game and cheered on the slightest provocation at the behest of eight -tireless, merciless cheer leaders who, armed with brown megaphones, -waved their arms and shook their fists and demanded “A regular cheer, -fellows, and make it good!” on the slightest provocation. Norwich sent -over a small but determinedly noisy group of youths, who answered every -vocal challenge from across the wet field. - -Harry started the game at left half, and provided the first sensation -when, two minutes after the kick-off, he stole a forward pass and -dodged and squirmed his way through the ruck of players and sped -across seven white lines for the first score of the game. When, having -placed the pigskin squarely back of the posts with practically no -opposition, he scrambled to his feet, eight discarded brown megaphones -were tumbling about the turf in front of the stand and eight red-faced -cheer leaders were leaping and gesticulating, while from some two -hundred eager throats a vast and deafening roar of sound was sweeping -across the field. - -Later, in the second twelve-minute period, Harry again brought the -stand to its feet when, from a double pass behind the line, he got -safely away around his own right end and reeled off almost thirty yards -before he was pulled down into a puddle. But the most encouraging -feature of that game was the work of Captain Corson at right guard and -of Carstairs at fullback. Corson was as steady as a wall against the -strong attack of Norwich, while Carstairs, in a position he had played -but a few days, shone brilliantly. The first half ended with the score -7 to 6, Norwich having failed to kick goal after her touchdown in the -second period. - -Worden made several changes in the line-up when the second half began. -A new left tackle went in, a substitute center was tried, Jones took -Peel’s place at quarter and both halfbacks were fresh men. Harry viewed -Dyker’s substitution with misgiving as he drew a blanket about him and -settled down to watch the contest from the bench. He was a little -bit angry with the coach and looked so glum that Bob Peel, squeezing -himself into a seat between Harry and a substitute end, ventured -consolation. - -“Cheer up, Danforth,” said the quarter, kicking him good-naturedly on -the ankle. “You don’t know when you’re well off. All we have to do is -sit here and see those poor chaps work. It’s fine!” - -Harry smiled faintly. “That’s all right for you, Peel. You’re sure of -your place. I’m not. Just when I get going fairly well Worden yanks me -out and puts in Dyker.” - -“Oh, I guess he wants Dyker to help with the punting. It’s up to -Carstairs, and it won’t do to work him too hard to-day. As for being -sure of your place”――Peel shrugged his shoulders――“there’s no such -thing, Danforth. Any of us may wrench a knee or an ankle or something, -and then where are we? Why, it’s the uncertainty that makes half the -fun!” - -“Is it?” muttered Harry without enthusiasm. - -“Sure. What the dickens is Carstairs doing off there? He’s way out of -position if that’s a delayed pass. Thought so! Lost a yard! I suppose I -ought to be sort of pleased when Jones slips up like that, but I’m not. -He’s a good old sort, Jones. That’s better! Right through left guard -for three! If Dyker would put his head down and forget to slow up every -time he strikes the line he’d do a heap better. Let’s see how he boots -this. Not bad. Nearly forty yards, I guess. Seems to me if Worden took -him in hand he could make a real punter out of Dutch. He’s got another -year, hasn’t he?” - -“I think so,” answered Harry. “He does punt well, doesn’t he? Gets them -off quickly, too.” - -“Yes, if he could plunge as well as he can kick he’d get a place. As -it is I guess you’re pretty certain to start the game next week. Here -comes that delayed pass again. That’s a lot better. We ought to have a -score coming to us pretty soon.” - -Barnstead was down on Norwich’s thirty-three yards, and it was first -down again. Carstairs swept around the left of the Norwich line for -six yards or so, made two through center and then fell back as though -to try a drop-kick. But the ball went to Simmons, who was playing right -half, and Simmons wormed past left tackle for the necessary gain. -From the twenty-two-yard line the home team carried the pigskin to -the threshold of a score, only to lose it a yard from the last line. -Norwich held beautifully. After kicking from behind its goal line the -visiting eleven got the ball on a fumble near mid-field and started -toward Barnstead’s goal. The Brown’s defense was pretty thoroughly -tested during the ensuing five or six minutes and Norwich made the -thirty yards without losing possession of the pigskin once. There, -however, the Brown stiffened and, after two tries that netted but five -yards, Norwich made a forward pass that worked finely and took the ball -half the distance to the goal. But the Brown line was pretty tight now, -and after being thrice repulsed Norwich tried a desperate place kick -from a difficult angle and missed. With the ball back in mid-field the -quarter ended. - -“I wonder,” mused Bob Peel, “if Worden’s going to be satisfied with -what we’ve got. It’s taking chances, I say.” - -Apparently the coach had determined to play on the defensive for the -remainder of the game and made no change in the line-up. Harry, who had -hoped to get in again, scowled at Coach Worden’s back as the latter -strolled past the bench. Peel, seeing, laughed. - -“Isn’t he the mean old thing, Danforth?” he asked. “Good thing, though, -he didn’t turn around just then and see your expression. He might have -sacked you for calling him names!” - -“I wasn’t,” answered Harry, grinning in spite of himself. - -“Thinking names, then. It’s the same thing.” - -“Well, I do think he might let me play,” said the other. “You, too.” - -“Me? Oh, I don’t mind. You see, Danforth, he’s keeping us out of it -because we’re too precious to take chances with. Looking at it in that -way, you see, it’s a fine old compliment to our worth and abilities.” - -“I don’t look at it that way,” murmured Harry. - -“Might as well. Hello! Look at that!” - -A Norwich back, the ball tucked into the corner of his left arm, was -streaking down the field, evading player after player of the opposing -team and crossing one white line after another, while the stands broke -into wild, unintelligible tumult! Only Jones, playing well back, -stood between the Norwich runner and the goal, and hundreds of voices -died into silence as the two forms, one speeding desperately and one -advancing alertly and cautiously, drew near. Then a great shout of -triumph and relief from the supporters of the home team broke forth, -and Peel murmured: “Good old Jonesy! Tackled like a man!” - -For Jones had brought down the runner on the twenty-four-yard line with -as pretty a tackle as had been seen all season, and Norwich’s hope of -winning the game died a sudden death. Coach Worden hurried a new end -into the field in place of Shallcross, and the teams lined up on the -twenty-four yards. But Norwich’s bolt had been sped. Three attempts -at the tackles gained but six yards, and when the left half fell back -to kicking position and held his hands for the ball nearly half the -Barnstead forwards came rushing through upon him and the ball, striking -a leaping figure, went bounding back up the field. The substitute end -fell on it near the forty yards, and Dyker punted down the field and -out of bounds at Norwich’s thirty-yard line. Three minutes later the -game was over, and Barnstead had won by the narrow margin of one point. -Harry, trotting back to the gymnasium in the wake of the players, -forgot his enmity against the coach in the satisfaction of victory. - - -IV - -Barnstead celebrated that evening. Not that the school was unduly -elated because of the victory over Norwich, nor that the score was -anything to be especially proud of, but merely because football -enthusiasm was rampant and the afternoon’s success, slight as it was, -provided an excuse. As soon as supper was over the fellows congregated -in front of School Hall and began cheering. Songs followed the cheers, -and then a voice cried: “We want to march!” The suggestion won -immediate favor, and in almost less time than it takes to tell it the -fellows were falling into line four abreast, two hundred throats were -singing the school anthem and the march had begun. Shouting, cheering, -singing, pushing and jostling, the long column swung around the corner -and began the circuit of the campus. - -Harry found himself between Tracey, who had been with him when the -celebration began, and a substitute tackle named Cummings. Linking -arms, they followed on, adding their quota to the noise and hilarity. -The procession paused at each dormitory to cheer the resident -instructor, and wound four blocks out of bounds to reach Mr. Worden’s -rooms in a little white clapboarded cottage. The noise soon brought the -coach to the doorway and, when the throng had quieted down, he made -a short speech that rekindled the waning enthusiasm. After that the -procession headed back to the campus, paid a visit to the principal’s -residence and finally disbanded in front of School Hall. As it was a -Saturday night there was no imperative need of studying, and so Harry -and Tracey followed a discordant group of revelers across to Hutchins -Hall and spent an hour with Joe Phillips and his roommate, Bert Means, -talking football and predicting an overwhelming victory over St. -Matthew’s. - -The Sunday morning mail――one called for it at the office between -breakfast and chapel――brought a letter to Harry from Pete Wilkinson, -back home. Pete had written once before during the Fall, and as his -letters, while rambling, held a deal of home news, Harry was always -glad to get them. The present epistle, four full pages in length, -detailed the doings of mutual acquaintances since his last report and -brought the chronicles of the Hillston High School Football Team down -to date. Toward the end Pete wrote: - - Fellows think it funny we don’t see more about you in the - papers. We read most everything from around there and haven’t - seen your name in them but once some time ago. Aren’t you - on the team for regular? I see your name down at left half - sometimes and sometimes I see a fellow named Dyker down. Tom - Rawlins told George High the other day that he’d heard you - weren’t making good and George told him he didn’t know what - he was talking about. And I guess he don’t. Write me how you - are getting on, Harry, and tell me all about everything. Do - you like the school and how many fellows are there there? Who - is your coach? Are you going to try for the hockey team this - winter? I hear that Barnstead is a great place for hockey. I - wish my father would let me go there next year, but he says it - costs too much. How much does it cost, Harry? Are you coming - home at Christmas? Answer soon. All the fellows want to be - remembered to you. Good luck, Harry, and I hope you do fine a - week from to-morrow. All the fellows say the same. Your friend, - Pete. - -Harry replied that afternoon and answered Pete’s numerous questions -to the best of his ability. The effect of writing this letter and a -less lengthy one to his father and mother was to make Harry a little -bit homesick, and, after he had mailed the two epistles, he went off -alone for a long walk through a gray mist that added very little to his -spirits. - -But Monday dawned fair and crisp, and the qualm of homesickness was -gone and forgotten. Practice that afternoon was as hard as any during -the year. Coach Worden was not satisfied with the team’s defense, and -so for the better part of an hour the second was given the ball time -and time again, on the first team’s thirty yards, on its twenty and, -finally, on its five, and told to put it over. It did so at last, from -the five-yard line, but not until the first team forwards were battered -and tired out. There was signal work on the floor of the gymnasium -that evening and on the two evenings following, but the final hard -practice out of doors came on Tuesday. After that the team were given -only enough work to keep them in shape. There was a fifteen-minute -scrimmage on Wednesday and a good deal of punting and catching and some -signal practice. All the week it was Harry who had the call for left -half and Dyker got into the play but once, for a brief ten minutes or -so on Tuesday. Thursday it rained hard all day, and the short work at -signals planned to take place on the field was held in the basement -of the gymnasium. In the evening there was a chalk talk upstairs, -during which the players underwent a pretty stiff examination as to -their familiarity with the plays to be used against St. Matthew’s. The -second team disbanded Thursday afternoon and had its annual feast in the -visitors’ dining-room. Afterward it moved in a body to the auditorium -at the top of School Hall and helped make the mass meeting a howling -success. Most of the first team fellows joined the assemblage after -Coach Worden released them, arriving late, but receiving each one a -deafening cheer as he tried to slip unostentatiously into a seat at the -back of the hall. All the songs which had ever been sung at previous -games and many new ones were rehearsed, with the aid of the school -Musical Club, and every player got his share of applause. There were -speeches, too, and it was well toward ten o’clock when, after singing -the school anthem, the crowd, still joyously noisy, made its way down -the stairs. - -Harry, who had arrived at the mass meeting late and had done his best -to reach a seat undetected and had failed, met Joe Phillips on the way -downstairs and paused at the entrance to talk to him. Joe had made a -speech and was feeling exhilarated and communicative. Consequently -when Harry started off alone across the campus for his room most of -the fellows had disappeared. Overhead there were still a good many -heavy, dark clouds floating, but here and there a frosty star twinkled, -and over the top of Noyes Hall the moon was trying bravely to make a -showing. As Harry reached the corner of his dormitory he became aware -of three boys ahead of him on the flag walk. They had almost reached -the entrance when he saw them and the dim light above the doorway threw -their forms into relief without revealing their faces. They had stopped -just short of the entrance, and as Harry approached, his rubber-soled -shoes making almost no sound on the flags, one of the three raised an -arm and appeared to throw something at a window. Startledly, Harry -listened for the resultant crash of breaking glass. But there was no -sound save the scrape of feet as the trio dashed up the steps and -disappeared through the entrance. Then Harry saw that the window, which -was one of those in Mr. Adams’ bedroom, was raised at the bottom. The -room was dark. Wondering what mischief the three boys had been up to, -Harry reached the entrance almost on their heels, just in time to see -the last of the trio, apparently one of the older boys and rather -heavily built, disappear around the turn of the stairs. There was only -time to note the general build of the youth and the fact that he wore a -dark-brown sweater, at the back of which, an inch or two above the hem, -gleamed a small white tag. Then they were gone and a faint snicker of -laughter floated down from above through the empty hall. At that moment -the door of Number 2 opened quickly and Harry, one foot on the first -step, turned to find Mr. Adams confronting him, Mr. Adams pulling a -faded red dressing-gown about his gaunt form and scowling angrily. - -“You, Danforth?” - -The resident instructor’s voice held both surprise and wrath and Harry, -equally surprised and a trifle disconcerted, replied a bit uncertainly: - -“Yes, sir?” - -Mr. Adams held out a thin arm, from which the sleeve of his sleeping -garment fell away, and opened his outstretched hand. In it lay a -squashy brown mass. Harry viewed it doubtfully. - -“What――what is it, sir?” he asked. - -“You know perfectly what it is,” replied the instructor, his voice -shaking with anger. “It is an apple, a rotten apple! Your aim was so -good, sir, that it landed against my face! A rotten apple! Outrageous, -Danforth, outrageous, I say!” - -“But――but, Mr. Adams――――” - -“If that is your idea of a joke, Danforth, I fear we shall have to tame -your humor, sir. It’s insulting, sir, insulting!” - -“But I didn’t, sir!” - -“You didn’t! Oh, certainly not!” - -“I was just coming in when you opened your door and――――” - -“But I asked you and you confessed!” replied Mr. Adams triumphantly. -He was growing calmer, but the crimson spots on his thin cheeks told -plainly that his anger still held. “Don’t make matters worse by lying, -Danforth.” - -“I’m not, sir. I didn’t throw it, word of honor, Mr. Adams!” - -“A likely story! Who did, then? This――this unspeakable abomination”――the -instructor’s long nose seemed to quiver with disgust as he viewed the -object in his hand――“was thrown into my room, right on to my pillow as I -lay in bed, against my very cheek, sir! Faugh!” He made as if to hurl -the apple through the doorway, but thought better of it. “I jump from -bed, Danforth, open my door and find you here, guilt stamped eloquently -upon your face! And now you have the――the brazen effrontery to tell me -you didn’t do it! I shall see that you are severely punished, sir, and -the fact that you have added lying to your――your gutter-snipe act will -make me no more lenient, sir!” - -“But I tell you, sir,” protested Harry, flushing resentfully, “that I -did not do it! You’ve got to believe me, sir! I know that appearances -seem against me, but I was halfway between your window and the corner -of the building when the apple was thrown, sir.” - -“Indeed?” sneered Mr. Adams. “Then you saw it done, did you?” - -“Yes, sir――that is――――” - -“Well? Well? Did you or did you not? Go on with your story. Let’s see -how fertile your imagination is, Danforth. You didn’t do it yourself, -but you saw it done. Very well; pray proceed!” - -“I――I saw someone in front of the window, sir, as I came along. -They――he ran away and I came in here and you opened your door and -called my name, and I said, ‘Yes, sir.’ That’s all I know about it.” - -“Really?” Mr. Adams smiled sourly. “And the boy you saw in front of the -window? What became of him, Danforth?” - -“He――he ran away,” faltered Harry; “quickly.” - -“Very quickly indeed! So quickly that, although I fairly bounded to the -window, there was no one in sight when I reached it; no one, I should -say, but you. Sounds a likely story, Danforth, doesn’t it?” - -“I can’t help it, sir,” replied Harry doggedly. “It’s the truth.” - -“Which way did this――this figment of your imagination run, sir?” - -Harry glanced toward the stairs. Not a sound came from the upper -floors. Mr. Adams tapped impatiently on the floor with one slippered -foot. - -“I――I can’t say, sir,” answered Harry finally. - -“You can’t say! You don’t know whether he entered this dormitory or -not?” - -“I――――” Again Harry hesitated. Even if he told what he knew it was -unlikely that the boys could be detected now. “I think they came in -here, sir.” - -“You think! Don’t you know whether they―――― Look here, you said before -that there was but one boy! Now how many were there? Careful, Danforth! -You’re getting mixed!” - -“There was more than one; I think three. They came in here, sir. That’s -all I can say.” - -“You saw them enter this dormitory?” pursued Mr. Adams relentlessly. - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Did they turn to the right or to the left? Or did they go upstairs?” - -“I can’t tell you, sir. They――they came in ahead of me.” - -“That will do, my boy. Go on to your room. You’ll hear more of -this――this pleasant little escapade, this gentlemanly trick――in the -morning.” - -“Don’t――don’t you believe me, sir?” asked Harry desperately. - -Mr. Adams smiled sarcastically. “Oh, perfectly, Danforth, perfectly! -You tell a most convincing story, I assure you. Dear me, yes, most -convincing. Let us hope, Danforth, that you’ll be able to do as well -before the Principal in the morning. But don’t try to embroider -it any more, Danforth. It’s quite elaborate enough as it is.” The -instructor smiled broadly but disagreeably. “I shall――ah――preserve -this odoriferous memento of my pleasant experience, this slight token -of your respect and regard, Danforth, as Exhibit A. I’ve no doubt your -Principal will view it with interest. Good night!” - -Mr. Adams’ door closed with dignity, but as it had shut upon a corner -of the dressing-gown and had to be reopened, the effect was somewhat -marred. Harry, smarting with the injustice of the instructor’s -conviction, apprehensive of what would follow and generally discouraged, -sought his room. The light was turned low and Tracey was sleeping -audibly. After a moment of indecision, for he wanted very much to tell -his story and get sympathy, Harry undressed as noiselessly as possible -and tumbled into bed without arousing his chum. But sleep didn’t come -easily that night. Disturbing thoughts of what might lie in store for -him kept him wakeful, and when, long after eleven had struck, he fell -into slumber, equally disturbing visions haunted his sleep. - - -V - -“You haven’t much to go on,” said Tracey the next morning. “You don’t -know whether the fellows stopped on this floor or went on to the third. -And as for the brown sweater, why, there are at least a hundred in -school. You might look for a sweater with a white tag on it, I suppose. -I don’t understand the tag business. Sweaters don’t have tags on them -except when you buy them, do they? Did it look like a new one?” - -“I couldn’t tell,” replied Harry. “It was dark on the stairs and I only -saw the chap for a second.” - -“Adams is a pig-headed old codger, anyway,” said Tracey disgustedly. -“You couldn’t convince him that you didn’t do it unless you had the -fellow who did do it and go and make an affidavit before a notary! -You’re up against it, chum, I guess. Perhaps, though, Dobs”――the -Principal was called Dobs for short――“will believe you. He isn’t a -bad sort, Dobs. Neither is Adams, for that matter, except that he’s as -stubborn as a mule and as full of dignity as a――a camel!” At any other -time Harry might have protested at the simile, but this morning he -was too down in the mouth to care. “I suppose,” went on Tracey, “that -Adams didn’t mind being hit with the apple much, but the fact that it -was rotten offended his blessed dignity. If you’d only chucked a green -apple――――” - -“I tell you I didn’t!” cried Harry exasperatedly. “I don’t know -anything about it! I――――” - -“I know! I meant to say it was a pity the fellow who did it didn’t -throw a green one,” answered Tracey soothingly. Harry grunted. After a -moment’s thought: “I suppose that even if you found out who the fellow -was,” continued Tracey, “it wouldn’t do you much good. I don’t suppose -he’d ’fess up to it.” - -“He’d have to if I knew him,” replied the other grimly. “Why, confound -it, Tracey, if Dobs thinks I’m lying he will――will――――” Harry choked. -Tracey nodded sympathetically. - -“Pro,” he answered. “I know. Off goes your head! No more football. -It’s――it’s a shame, old man!” - -“And Adams will tell his story and I won’t have a show at all,” mourned -Harry. “If――if he says I can’t play any more I won’t stay here, Tracey! -I――I’ll leave!” - -“Oh, I wouldn’t do that, chum. After all, you know, things like this -are likely to happen to a fellow occasionally. And as for football, -why, there’s another year coming, and――――” - -“You make me tired! Another year coming! Just when I’ve beaten Dyker -out for my position, and the St. Matthew’s game comes to-morrow! No, -sir, if he says I can’t play to-morrow I’ll quit, Tracey! It isn’t -fair! I didn’t do anything and they’ve no right to punish me for -something I didn’t do! You――you just wait and see!” - -“You’ll think differently later, I guess,” said Tracey sympathetically. -He put an arm through Harry’s. “Come on and have some breakfast. You’ll -feel better after that.” - -“I don’t want any breakfast,” sighed Harry. But he allowed the other -to draw him to the door and down the stairs and across to the -dining-room. And afterward, had he thought about it, he would have had -to confess that Tracey’s prediction had been a true one. For he did -feel better, a whole lot better, and even began to look forward to -his visit to the office with more assurance. After all, he had done -nothing, and Dobs would just have to believe him! - -But, sad to state, Dobs didn’t, although I really think he wanted to -and tried his best to. Circumstantial evidence was overwhelmingly -against Harry and Mr. Adams had told his side of the story convincingly. -Moreover, Harry’s desire to shield the real perpetrators led to -complications. He owned to having seen three boys at the instructor’s -window and the Principal wanted to know directly why he had not stated -that number to Mr. Adams last night. Harry had difficulty in explaining -that satisfactorily, and, while it was a small matter, it caused the -Principal to entertain doubts of Harry’s candidness. In the end the -Principal, regretfully, as even Harry could see, gave the only verdict -possible: Guilty! Harry was sentenced to a month’s probation, which -meant many hardships of which but one affected him seriously. Boys on -probation were not allowed to represent the school on any athletic team. - -“I’m very sorry, Danforth,” said the Principal gently. “Let this be a -lesson to you, my boy. Take your punishment like a man, and play the -game! Remember that it is adversity that is the real test of us all!” - -Harry made no audible reply, but walked out of the office mutinous -and defiant. He would not stay there a single hour longer, he told -himself hotly. Everyone was unjust and unfair. He hated the whole -school and everyone and everything connected with it! He would go back -to his room, pack his bag and leave immediately! But the next moment -recollection of the folks at home, of what they would think of his -conduct, came to him. His parents wouldn’t understand, of course. They -might even――yes, he greatly feared they’d insist on his coming back! -Plainly, home was not the place to go to if――if he did shake the dust -of Barnstead from his shoes. And if he didn’t go home where was he -to go? He had a little money, about eight dollars, but that wouldn’t -last long; in fact, when he stopped to think about it, it wouldn’t -much more than take him home! And home――Harry shook his head and -sighed――home didn’t look very good to him. He could imagine just the -way his father would frown and click his lips impatiently. Mr. Danforth -had never played football, had hardly, in fact, even seen a game, and -Harry was pretty certain that he would never understand the motives -prompting his son to give up a school career in the middle of the first -term! And besides, he had, he reflected, grown rather fond of the -school and――and some of the fellows. And, after all, Dobs wasn’t really -a bad sort; and Dobs had told him to “play the game.” Running away -wouldn’t be playing the game, and so――so――well, he guessed he’d stay! - -The Principal rendered his verdict just before ten o’clock. By eleven, -so quickly does news circulate at school, it was very generally known -that young Danforth was on probation for something he had done to -offend Old Adams. School sentiment was divided. Some fellows condemned -Harry unheard for risking his place on the team and thereby putting -the morrow’s game in jeopardy. Others, and these were mostly fellows -who had at some time or other run foul of Mr. Adams in study hall, -declared that the instructor was always looking for trouble and that -it was a fair wager that whatever Danforth had done he did not deserve -the punishment meted out to him. But of course it was to Coach Worden -and Captain Corson that the tidings brought the most dismay. To lose a -first-string halfback on the very eve of the Big Game was a misfortune -to try their patience and fortitude. But as there was no help for -it Mr. Worden promptly drew a line through Danforth and wrote Dyker -after it. And presently, having discussed and mourned the loss of the -left half to its heart’s content, the school at large accepted the -situation, perked up and again set its gaze confidently on the morrow. - -The mass meeting that night was the biggest and most enthusiastic of -any. Coach Worden addressed the fellows, as did Captain Corson and -several members of the faculty. Neither Harry nor Tracey attended. -Harry for the reason that probation confined him to his room after -supper, and Tracey because he didn’t want to leave his chum to moon -there alone. But I fancy that these two boys were the only absent ones -that evening, and they were probably not greatly missed. Certainly the -two hundred and odd occupants of the hall managed to make plenty of -noise without them! After they had cheered and sung to their heart’s -content indoors they piled downstairs and out on to the campus and -began all over again. Tracey went to the window and watched them massed -in front of School Hall, but Harry remained at the table where, for -an hour past, he had been making a weak pretense of studying. It had -not been a very cheerful evening for Tracey, for Harry was far too -downhearted to be good company and conversation had languished early. - -“There goes Mr. Warren after them,” announced Tracey with a chuckle. -“He will break that up quick time.” - -“Hope he does,” grunted Harry. “How’s a fellow going to study with that -beastly noise going on?” - -Tracey’s prediction proved correct. The cheers died suddenly away at -the instructor’s advent across the yard and the crowd broke into small -fragments and dissolved quietly. Yet not altogether quietly, either. -For presently, from the upper end of the campus, came one shrill and -defiant cheer: - -“_Rah, rah, rah! Warren!_” - - -VI - -The day of the St. Matthew’s game dawned fair and crisp. There was -a little breeze blowing out of the northwest, but it was not of -sufficient strength to have any influence on the play, unless, as -seemed improbable, it increased by afternoon. The team piled into -a coach and were driven over to the neighboring village of Turner, -where they were to have their luncheon at the little hotel, returning -afterward just in time to warm up before the contest. St. Matthew’s -began to put in an appearance about eleven, with the arrival of the -first eastbound express. The village, bedecked with brown flags and -bunting, began to show specks of blue. The game was to start at two -o’clock, and by one the first of the invaders appeared in the persons -of two small and enthusiastic youths, who carried blue flags, wore blue -arm bands and who marched the length of the campus before proceeding -to the field, critically viewing the buildings and being greeted with -loud and ironic cheers from various windows. After that the stream from -the village set in in earnest and the blue flags fluttered into the -field by the dozens. But for every blue one there were at least twenty -brown, and later, when St. Matthew’s started the cheering, the heroic -efforts of her supports were drowned by the deafening response that -swept across the field. - -Harry and Tracey reached the field early and were lucky enough to -find seats at the end of the third row in the stand. There were -plenty of empty seats toward the top, but the boys wanted to be as -near the play as possible. At twenty minutes to two the St. Matthew’s -players, first-string men and substitutes, some thirty in all, trotted -through the end gate to the cheers of the blue contingent across -the white-streaked turf. Five minutes later the brown-clad warriors -appeared, Corson in the lead, and eight earnest, imploring cheer -leaders seized their megaphones and summoned such an outburst that the -players, doffing their blankets on the side line, viewed the sloping, -brown-flecked bank in surprise. Then came a cheer for St. Matthew’s, -and then St. Matthew’s answered it with one for Barnstead. The local -band struck up a march, flags fluttered and waved, late comers crowded -the aisles and the rival teams went through their warming-up practice. -Brown ovals arched against a cloudless blue November sky and the -thud of leather against leather punctuated the shrill cries of the -quarterbacks as they trotted their squads over the field. - -In the midst of it all Harry glanced up to see a group of three fellows -pushing their way up the aisle past his seat. They were laughing -merrily and paying not too much attention to the comfort of those in -front of them, being evidently determined to get seats at any cost -of politeness. One of the boys, daring the conventions, wore only a -brown woolen sweater over his vest, and as on such an occasion, when -parents and friends attended who could, Barnstead was very particular -to look her best, Harry looked again and a trifle disapprovingly at -the big youth. The latter turned just then to make a laughing remark -to one of his companions and Harry saw his face. He was Perry Vose. -That in a measure explained the costume, for Perry was known to take -delight in defying school conventions. As Harry’s gaze left Perry’s -countenance there was a momentary rift in the ascending file, and -the younger boy’s eyes fell on a tiny square of white just above the -bottom of the brown sweater at the back. Instantly he was on his feet, -Tracey viewing him curiously. One by one the throng in the aisle found -accommodations at left or right, but the three boys kept on, doubtless -seeking places together. Harry watched, his heart thumping against his -ribs, and ascended two or three steps in order to see better. Tracey -was anxiously demanding what was up, but Harry paid no heed to him. -Then suddenly he had a clear, unobstructed view of Perry Vose climbing -the stand above him. There was the brown sweater with the white tag -just as he had glimpsed it the other night at the turn of the dormitory -stairs. And there was the rather heavy, thick-set body he had seen. The -last doubt fled and Harry started impetuously after Perry. But a few -tiers beyond he stopped and reconsidered. Then, descending again to -his place, he spoke softly to Tracey. - -“You know Perry Vose, don’t you?” he asked. - -“Yes, pretty well. Why?” Tracey viewed his chum’s excited face uneasily. - -“I want you to go up there――I’ll show you where he is――and tell him -someone wants to speak to him at the gate. Don’t say who it is. Tell -him you don’t know. Tell him any old thing, only get him down to the -gate, and do it quick!” - -“Well, but what――――” - -“Don’t ask questions, Tracey; just do what I say, like a good pal, -won’t you?” - -“Why――why, yes, I suppose so. But look here, Harry, don’t get into any -fuss with Perry. What do you want to see him about?” - -“I’ll tell you later. Go on, please. I’ll wait down at the gate. Hurry -up; there goes the whistle!” - -Doubtfully Tracey left his seat and Harry pointed out where Perry Vose -sat near the top of the grandstand between his two companions. Then -Tracey climbed the aisle and Harry sought the gate. - -On the gridiron St. Matthew’s was just kicking off to the Brown. Harry -heard the thud of the blue-jerseyed youth’s shoe against the pigskin -and saw the ball arch into low flight down the field. Then the crowd -about the entrance hid the rest from him. Minutes sped and Vose didn’t -appear. Thrice the whistle shrilled beyond the barrier of spectators -and Harry incuriously wondered what was happening. Then a brown sweater -came into sight around the corner and Perry Vose, an impatient frown on -his face, was searching for the person who had sent for him. Back of -Perry, hovering anxiously about the corner of the stand, Harry spied -Tracey. - -“Vose!” - -Perry found the voice and stared doubtfully as Harry strode up to him. - -“Hello,” he said. “What do you want, kid?” - -“I want to speak to you a minute. Come outside here, will you?” - -“Haven’t time. I’m looking for someone.” - -“That’s all right,” answered Harry. “You’re looking for me.” - -“The dickens I am!” Perry stared blackly. “Do you mean you had the -cheek to send and get me down here?” - -“Yes. I’ve got a few words for you, Vose. Will you come outside, -please?” - -“If I do I’ll give you what for!” declared Perry angrily. But he -followed the younger boy through the gate and around to the back of the -stand. “Now, what is it?” he demanded shortly. - -“I guess,” began Harry, “that you heard I was put on probation and so -lost my place on the team.” - -Perry nodded, a gleam of understanding in his eyes. - -“Well, I worked hard for that place, Vose, and I want to play. And -what’s more, I mean to.” - -“Fine! Go ahead, kid. I don’t object,” laughed Perry. - -“I can’t unless you go with me to Mr. Adams or the Principal and tell -the truth.” - -“Tell the truth? Say, what the dickens are you talking about? I -haven’t got time to stay here and hear your silly troubles. I want to -see the game, kid.” And Perry moved away. - -“Hold on, Vose!” Perry stopped uncertainly. “Either you do what I say -or――or you fight!” - -Perry stared in amazement. The other boy’s eyes, however, stared back -just as hard and unfalteringly. Perry tried bluster. - -“I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. You must be plumb crazy! -What have I got to do with your playing on the team? Say, you make me -tired. I ought to punch your silly head for you, that’s what I ought to -do! And I’ll do it, too, if you bother me any more!” - -“That’s all right. You may have a chance to try. But what you’ve got to -do is go with me to Mr. Adams――――” - -“Oh, forget it! What would I do that for?” - -“To tell him you shied that apple at him,” replied Harry quietly. “I’m -being punished for what you did and it isn’t fair, Vose.” - -“Shied―――― Say, what are you talking about?” - -“You know very well. You threw that rotten apple into his room the -other night. I saw you do it. He thought it was me and told Dobs. -Now――――” - -“Poppycock! I never saw your old apple!” - -“Yes, you did. And either you own up and let me out or you fight.” - -“Fight, eh?” Perry scowled fiercely down at Harry. “Then I guess I’ll -fight, kid. And if I do you’ll be an awful messy-looking youngster when -I get through.” - -“Oh, you may be able to lick me――――” - -“I’ll half kill you,” growled Perry. - -“And then again you may not,” continued Harry. “Anyway, I’ll make a -bargain with you. If you lick me I’ll keep still and won’t tell. If I -lick you you’ll go with me to Mr. Adams and own up. What do you say?” - -Perry laughed ironically, but his gaze swept the lithe, clean-cut -figure before him, and there was a hint of grudging admiration in his -tones when he answered. - -“Sure, that’s a bargain! You meet me here right after the game, kid, -and I’ll give you what’s coming to you!” - -“After the game won’t do,” replied Harry firmly. “It’s got to be right -now.” - -“Nonsense, kid! I want to see what’s going on, and――――” - -“You’ll fight right now, behind the gym, Vose; that is, if you’re not -afraid to!” - -“Afraid! Afraid of you!” Perry flushed angrily. “Why, you――you――――” -He paused, cast a longing look toward the gate, from beyond which a -thunderous cheer broke onto the air at the moment, and then turned -curtly on his heel. “Come on,” he said. - - -VII - -Confidence is a fine thing. The only danger of it is that it is likely -to get too ripe; in which case it becomes overconfidence and loses -battles. And in spite of the late-season loss of Parrett and the -eleventh-hour loss of Danforth, Barnstead went on to the field that -Saturday afternoon overconfident. Why, it would be difficult to say. -There seemed no really good reason for it, for it was well known that -St. Matthew’s had more than an average team this year, with, besides, -the prestige of more victories than defeats to her credit. Facts are -facts, however, explainable or not, and the fact in this case is that -the Brown faced its opponent at the kick-off with far too good an idea -of its own ability. And when the awakening came it left Barnstead for -the moment dismayed and disorganized. - -Perhaps it was lucky that the awakening arrived early, in short at the -end of the third minute of the play. Bob Peel had taken the kick-off -and had run it in fifteen yards. Then two plunges at the Blue line and -a dash around the left end had netted but seven yards and Carstairs -had punted well into St. Matthew’s territory. Treat, the Brown’s left -end, was on the back the moment the ball fell into the latter’s arm and -tackled so hard that a fumble resulted. Norman picked up the pigskin on -the run and was not stopped until the Blue’s quarterback brought him to -earth near the twenty-yard line. - -There was great rejoicing on the Barnstead stand and Bob Peel hurried -his men into place and threw Carstairs at the middle of the Blue line. -But although the fullback gained three yards then and two more on -left tackle, it was plain that the St. Matthew’s line was stronger on -defense than it had been credited with being. A forward pass failed and -Peel chose to kick from the seventeen yards. What happened then was one -of those sudden reversals of fortune that make football the uncertain -and exciting game it is. - -Surber passed low, Carstairs was consequently slow in getting the ball -away and half the Blue line came charging through. The ball struck -someone and bounded back up the field. A blue-legged forward took it -on the bound, eluded the frantic tackle of Dyker, and tore off up -the gridiron. For the first twenty or thirty yards it seemed certain -that he would be pulled down from behind, for at least four Barnstead -players were hot upon his heels. But when he had passed the middle of -the field he was virtually alone, and although friend and foe alike -trailed after him over one white line after another, he was never -headed and so went stumbling, breathless and tuckered, between the -Brown’s goal posts for a touchdown. - -It had all happened so quickly, so unexpectedly that for a moment -Barnstead supporters merely stared at each other, while from across the -field came wild pæans of joy from where blue flags waved and tossed -ecstatically. St. Matthew’s could hardly fail of kicking the goal and -in another minute the scoreboard proclaimed: Barnstead, 0; Visitor, 7. - -If the effect on the Brown’s supporters was numbing the effect on the -home team itself was, for a few minutes, paralyzing. Surber messed -the kick-off and the ball went to the Blue on her thirty-eight yards, -from where, playing like streaks of lightning, and using a quick -shift that left Barnstead hopelessly at a loss how to meet it, she -tore off gain after gain until suddenly the Brown was well back in -her own territory, literally digging her toes in the turf in a vain -endeavor to stop the triumphant rush of the oncoming adversary. Down -near the twenty-five-yard line Barnstead did finally find herself long -enough to momentarily stay the Blue. But, finding the opposing line -strengthening, St. Matthew’s swept past Shallcross’s end and made its -first down on the twenty yards. Three plunges netted short gains and -then a long forward pass across the field gave the Blue the rest of her -distance. Barnstead made her final stand on her twelve-yard line. The -fight she put up then brought back hope to the breasts of her friends. -Thrice the Blue was hurled back for less than two yards of total gain -and St. Matthew’s was forced to try a field goal. Her kicker went back -to the twenty-five yards and dropped the ball easily over the cross-bar -for another three points. And the scoreboard changed its legend to -Barnstead, 0; Visitor, 10. - -On the kick-off Surber sent a long one that let the Brown’s ends down -the field, and when St. Matthew’s lined up it was on her twenty-two -yards. The stand she had made almost under the shadow of her goal had -given the Brown courage again, and now the Blue’s efforts were less -availing. But nevertheless the battle swayed back up the field, even if -slowly. It was taking St. Matthew’s the full four downs now to make her -distance, and she was using every play she had, every ounce of strength -and every bit of cunning in the endeavor to strike again while her -adversary was weak, arguing, no doubt, that with a sixteen or seventeen -point lead she would not have to do much later but play on the -defensive. But the quarter ended with the ball near the middle of the -field and gave the demoralized Brown warriors a few moments in which to -confer and get their bearings. Coach Worden sped in a substitute for -Shallcross, who was having very much of an off-day, and the substitute -doubtless bore instructions from the general on the side line, for the -blanketed team crowded around him when he came on. - -The second quarter showed a vast improvement in the Brown. She had -apparently found herself again. The line played lower and closer and, -although bunching the backs up to the line gave St. Matthew’s a better -opportunity for forward passes, that opportunity was taken advantage -of but once. Two minutes after the whistle piped Barnstead had gained -the ball on downs and the brown flags waved triumphantly. Five minutes -later still Barnstead was knocking importunately at St. Matthew’s -portal. But the door didn’t open, and so, to continue the metaphor, the -Brown entered by way of the window, Norman dropping a pretty field goal -from a difficult angle and placing a 3 on the scoreboard where a moment -before an obnoxious 0 had been. But that ended the scoring in that -half for either team. The battle raged fiercely from one thirty-five -yards to another, each team showing the strain, St. Matthew’s punting -on the slightest provocation and Barnstead hurling her backs at the -line in an effort to wear down her adversary. The whistle put an end -to her hopes, however, with the ball in the Brown’s possession on -St. Matthew’s thirty-eight yards. Had the period lasted five minutes -longer the wearied Blue line must have given way. With fifteen minutes -in which to recuperate, however, there was no telling what the final -outcome would be. - -It was almost at the instant that the whistle terminated the first half -that the door bell tinkled at the Principal’s house. The Principal, -kept away from the first part of the game by a press of business, was -drawing on his coat in the hallway when the maid opened the door, -revealing two boys. - -“Is the Doctor at home, please?” asked a voice. - -The maid turned inquiringly and the Principal nodded. “Tell them to -come in,” he said. Discarding his coat, he led the way to his study, -the callers following. - -“Sit down, please,” said the Principal. “Now, then―――― Hello, young -gentlemen; what’s this? Has there been an accident?” - -“No, sir,” answered the younger, who was by far the more -self-possessed of the two. “I――we――that is, sir, we had――had a slight -misunderstanding and――――” His voice trailed into silence while the -Principal gazed from one disfigured countenance to the other. I think -the Principal’s sense of humor――a sense popularly supposed not to -belong to a Principal――saved the day for the boys. A slight smile -trembled about the Principal’s mouth and he said dryly: - -“A _slight_ misunderstanding, eh? How fortunate it was not a serious -one! What is your name, my boy? Vose I have the honor of knowing.” - -“Danforth, sir. Could I――would you please let me tell you about it? We -tried to find Mr. Adams, but he was not in, and so we came to you.” - -“Explain by all means,” replied the Principal, settling himself in the -big leather chair with a sigh of resignation. “But please be as brief -as possible, Danforth.” - -“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. This is the way it all came about, sir. You -see――――” - -“Really, my boy, I’m afraid I haven’t time to hear any family -histories. Suppose you come and see me this evening after supper.” - -“But that will be too late, sir! I want to get to the field and――――” - -“That’s just what I want,” replied the Principal with a smile. “So――――” - -“There isn’t much to tell, sir,” interrupted Perry doggedly. “I threw -that rotten apple at Old――at Mr. Adams, and he thought Danforth did it, -and you put him on pro and he lost his place on the team――――” - -“Succinct, indeed, Vose!” said the Principal approvingly. “And now you -come to tell me so I’ll let Danforth get into the game, I presume? But -what about this――this slight misunderstanding? I presume that you are -both of you aware that fighting is not countenanced here?” - -“Yes, sir,” replied Harry eagerly, “but there wasn’t anything else to -do! And we thought you’d understand it if we came to you and told you -all about it, sir. He――he didn’t want to own up to it, and so I――we -decided we’d have a――just a small, harmless sort of a scrap, sir, and -if I won it he was to come with me and put me right, sir.” - -“Hm; and I presume, although your appearances might leave me in doubt, -that you――er――won, Danforth?” - -“Why――why, yes, sir. But he put up a dandy――I mean it was very close.” - -“He’s too quick for me,” growled Vose. “He won all right.” And he felt -gingerly of his nose, which had a reddened and swollen look. - -The Principal glanced at the clock on his desk. “Well, one thing is -certain, boys. None of us will see that game if we stay here much -longer.” He pressed a button and a bell tinkled somewhere at the back -of the house. “Minnie will take you to the bathroom. I’d advise you to -bathe your faces before returning to society. Here she is. Run along -now.” - -“And――and may I play, sir?” asked Harry anxiously. - -“I suppose so. You’d both better come back Monday morning and we’ll -look into this a little more closely. For the present the matter -stands. Go ahead and play, Danforth, if they need you. We’ll thresh all -this out another time.” - - -VIII - -The scoreboard still told the same tale, and the third period was -half gone. Down near the St. Matthew’s thirty-yard line the Brown was -charging desperately, and one white streak after another was passing -slowly, but, as it seemed, surely, under the grinding feet of the two -teams. St. Matthew’s was on the defensive indeed, for the intermission -had failed to bring back more than a little of the power and snap -of their early performance. It was with them now only a question of -keeping the Brown at bay, but the Brown was becoming more difficult -every minute. What Coach Worden had said to them in the gymnasium -between the halves will probably always remain a secret, but the result -was plain to all. At last Barnstead was playing as she could play, as -she might have played from the first. But the Fates were still against -her. Over-eagerness had thrice brought penalties for off-side, and -once she had lost a down by the merest fraction of an inch on the tape -measure. But, undismayed, she was fighting royally, pressing the Blue -before her, determined on crossing that last white line. Bob Peel, -disdaining the points a field goal might bring, continued to hurl his -backs against the Blue line, which gave way grudgingly, fighting over -every foot of yielded territory. Carstairs piled through left guard for -four, Dyker made a scant yard off tackle, Norman hurled himself past -left guard for two, Peel got four more around his own right end. The -pigskin was over the twenty-yard line now and the Barnstead cohorts -were shouting themselves hoarse, the cheer leaders waving and leaping, -purple-faced, perspiring, almost voiceless. Coach Worden, squatting -near the thirty yards, felt a hand on his arm and looked around. The -boy beside him had already addressed him twice without result. - -“Hello, Danforth! What is it?” - -“I’m off probation, Mr. Worden. Please may I play, sir?” - -“Eh? Off probation? Why――I don’t know, Danforth. Yes, I guess we can -use you pretty soon. You’re sure you’re all right with the Office?” Mr. -Worden observed him sharply. There had been trouble one year when a -player had allowed his desire to play to get the better of veracity. - -“Yes, sir, I’ve just come from Dobs, sir. He said I might.” - -“It looks to me as though you’d been playing already. What under the -sun have you been doing to your face? You ought to have something on -that eye, my boy, or it will be a sight by suppertime.” His glance fell -to the hand which rested on the canvas knee beside him. “Hm; I see; -been mixing it up with someone, eh? Think you can do anything if I let -you go in?” - -“Yes, sir! I’m all right. Just give me a chance, Mr. Worden.” - -The coach nodded. “All right. Warm up a bit. I guess Dyker’s about all -in.” - -Mr. Worden turned again to the game, and Harry, shedding his sweater -even more quickly than he had wormed into it at the gymnasium five -minutes before, began to limber up. - -Barnstead had thrust her way onward to the Blue’s eight yards in three -plays and a touchdown was imminent. The St. Matthew’s captain entreated -his men to hold, to throw them back. But the Blue was weary and sore -and when, on the next play, Carstairs hit the center of the line it -bent inward like cardboard, and he went sprawling through it and over -the last line for a touchdown. How Barnstead shouted! The players -turned and went leaping back up the field, patting and thumping each -other, turning handsprings in their delight. But two minutes later, -when the blue-stockinged players had ranged themselves along their goal -line and Norman’s toe had sent the ball away from under Peel’s finger, -the joy sensibly diminished, for the pigskin floated yards from its -course and passed to the left of the further upright. St. Matthew’s was -still a point to the good and the blue flags across the field waved -valiantly. - -The quarter ended after the kick-off had been received and Norman had -bounded back up the field some twenty yards. Behind the further stand -the sun had dipped long since, and a mellow glow held the world. The -ball was taken to its new location at the other end of the field, the -teams, blanketed, panting, slowly following. Captain Corson was looking -inquiringly, anxiously toward the side line. Then his unspoken question -was answered. Three figures scuttled on to the gridiron; Shallcross -was coming back at left end, Jones was succeeding Bob Peel at quarter -and Danforth was relieving Dyker. Harry’s appearance caused only mild -surprise. Corson and his players had other things to interest them than -the vagaries of the faculty. All Corson said was: - -“Good work, Danforth! Who’s out? Dyker? All right. Show us how you do -it, kid! Any instructions?” - -“Jones has them,” replied Harry, running on to report to the officials. -The whistle summoned the teams again. Jones, his face alight with the -inspiration given him by the coach the moment before, sang out his -signals cheerily. - -“Now, then, Barnstead! Every fellow into it hard! We’ve got the game -for the asking! Second formation! Get up there, Jimmy!” - -“Ready, St. Matthew’s? Ready, Barnstead?” - -“All right, sir!” The whistle shrilled. “Second formation! -21――54――76――98! 21――54――――” - -Carstairs had the ball and was sliding off right tackle. - -“Second down! Six to go!” called the referee. - -Past the center of the field Barnstead worked her way, Carstairs, -Norman and Harry hitting the line or slanting off the tackles for -short and certain gains, and Jones twice making his way on wide end -runs. It seemed that St. Matthew’s was always on the point of going to -pieces, and yet time and again she responded to the hoarse commands and -implorations of her quarter or captain and held her adversary to short -gains. But that march down the field took time. St. Matthew’s used up -the moments as best she could with injuries and substitutions. She had -almost a new team in the field when the last period was half gone, but -the new men, if fresher, were less skillful. - -On the forty yards Norman fumbled on the third down and Carstairs was -forced to punt. St. Matthew’s made a fair catch, taking no risks -now, tried an end run and failed, gained a few yards on a forward -pass and then kicked to the middle of the field. There Harry, playing -back, caught the punt and wormed his way along past three white marks -before he was thrown. Then the advance began again. Only seven minutes -remained now and the ball was a long ways from the Blue’s goal. On the -forty yards an off-side penalty set Barnstead back again, and a groan -went up from the stand. Then a wide end run from a fake forward pass -regained the penalty distance and four yards besides. Norman was hurt -and went off, and Belding took his place. A new center went in at the -same time, Surber, who had played a wonderful game, being relieved by -White. - -Belding’s first try at the line resulted in a fumble, and although -Jones fell on the ball Barnstead had lost seven yards. Carstairs, who -was weakening noticeably now, failed at a skin-tackle play, and it was -fourth down with six to go. Corson looked discouraged, and went back -to confer with Jones, while the panting St. Matthew’s players gibed. -Whatever it was that Corson suggested Jones shook his head at. It was -the quarter himself who made the required distance, running twenty -yards across the field to do it and only finding his opening at the -last moment, when Harry, forming his interference, bowled over an -opposing end. - -Then the line-smashing began again. Past the thirty yards went the -Brown, past the twenty-five, past the twenty. There were three minutes -left. Corson wanted to try a field goal, but Jones again resisted. -Harry got through between left guard and tackle and made three yards -before he was smothered. Belding redeemed himself by making four -outside of right tackle. Carstairs gained a scant yard at center. -With two to go on the fourth down, the ball close to the ten-yard -line, Jones himself cut through for the distance. They had to use -the tape again, but the verdict went to the Brown. Two minutes, -said the timekeeper. St. Matthew’s called for time. A guard had his -hand rebandaged and a new fullback, primed with advice from the St. -Matthew’s coach, loped on. Then the teams lined up again for the final -effort. - -Carstairs was called on to get past left tackle, but he was caught -back of the line for a yard’s loss. Then Jones noticed something. With -the advent of the new fullback the Blue was drawing her line closer -and the fullback and the two halves were playing up behind it. Jones -did some quick thinking then. The ball was almost on the ten-yard -line, it was second down and there was eleven to gain. And less than -a minute and a half of playing time remained. He might hammer his -way through as before for a touchdown, he might try a field goal, he -might attempt a forward pass. Any of these would be looked for by the -enemy. Of the three the forward pass promised to succeed best since -the Blue was playing her backfield up close to the line. But there was -one play that had not been used during the game. It had been devised -for use around the middle of the field, but Jones, scanning its -possibilities, couldn’t see why it should not do as well here under -the shadow of the goal. At least it had the merit of unexpectedness, -and the enemy’s present formation on defense promised success. At all -events, he decided, he would try the line once more. So, calling for -Third Formation, which put both tackles at the left of the line and -placed the left halfback at the end of the rush line on the right, the -end falling in and back, he sent Carstairs plunging at right tackle. -The play netted three yards. The timekeeper was slowly walking nearer, -watch in hand and eyes on the dial. Then: - -“Same formation!” called Jones. “37――39――164――28!” A puzzled glance -from Captain Corson rewarded him, and Belding cried “Signals!” in a -panicky voice. Jones whispered to him, shot a reassuring look at Corson -and repeated: - -“37――39――164――28! 37――39――164――――” - -Carstairs dropped back a good twelve yards behind center, Jones stepped -back mid-way between him and the line and the ball shot to Carstairs. -As it settled into his hands he poised it as though to throw it forward -and to the left. The St. Matthew’s line had concentrated on its right, -and now it struggled to break through, while the backfield started -around to intercept the pass. The Blue’s left end plunged straight -across, dodging the opposing end, and made for the fullback. Just as -he leaped forward, however, Carstairs sidestepped, passed the ball at -a quick toss to Jones, who had run back to take it, and threw himself -in front of the Blue’s end. They went down together. Jones, the ball -tucked under his arm, wheeled across the field for a dozen yards, and -then, pausing suddenly, raised the ball and sent it hurtling further -out to where, some fifteen feet from the side line, Harry awaited it. -Too late the St. Matthew’s players saw the trick. Yards separated their -nearest player from Harry as the latter, catching the well-aimed pass -coolly, romped unmolested over the line in three strides and, dodging a -blue-legged enemy, placed it fairly between the posts! - -[Illustration: “Harry ... catching the well-aimed pass coolly, romped -unmolested over the line.”] - -Two minutes later, after Corson had attempted the goal and failed and -after the scoreboard had changed its figures to 15 to 10, and after -the final whistle had shrilled, a delirious mob took possession of -Barnstead Field. Brown flags snapped and waved, caps flew into air and -rained earthward and hundreds of hoarse throats cheered and shouted. -And Harry, swaying rather dizzily about on the shoulders of two -enthusiastic admirers, following the confused line that wound its way -around the gridiron, caught sight of a grinning face in the throng -beside him and waved a hand. - -Perry Vose’s grin broadened. - -“Who gave you the black eye, kid?” he called. - -“Oh, a friend of mine,” laughed Harry. “Who spoiled your nose for you?” - -“A friend of mine!” chuckled Perry. Then, thrusting his way forward, -“Here,” he said to one of Harry’s bearers, “let me get there. You’re -too small for this job. Why, you’ve got the biggest fellow in school -there! Didn’t you know that? Vamoose, I tell you!” - -And the youth, looking doubtfully into Perry’s grinning countenance, -with its battered nose and swollen lip, finally yielded his place. It -didn’t do to make Perry Vose angry! - - - - -“BLACK-ON-BLUE” - - -I - -“Willard!” - -Mrs. Morris’s rebuke sounded only half-hearted, and she shot an -apologetic glance at Willard’s father. But for once Mr. Morris, the -sternest of disciplinarians, chose to be deaf. After all, the boy’s -disappointment was keen, and so his criticism of Grandma Pierson -elicited only the perfunctory warning from his mother. The boy’s -disappointment was shared to a scarcely lesser extent by his parents, -but they had learned to bear disappointment in silence. Willard, -waiting for his father’s reprimand, sat with downcast eyes fixed on -his untasted breakfast. Finally, however, as the storm did not break, -Willard took courage and went on, but with more caution. - -“Well, I can’t help it,” he insisted, with a gulp. “She’d ought never -to have promised if she didn’t mean to keep it!” - -“I’m certain, Will,” responded Mrs. Morris soothingly, “that your -Grandma Pierson fully meant to keep it. Mother was never the sort to -say a thing and not mean it.” - -“If she hadn’t died, she’d have done just as she said she’d do,” said -Mr. Morris. “I guess she expected to live a good many years yet. -Eighty-one isn’t very old; leastways, it wasn’t for her; she was such -an active old lady. When were we out there before this time, mother?” - -“Three years ago Christmas. That was when she made the promise. I sort -of wish she hadn’t, seeing it’s turned out as it has.” - -“She might have known she’d have to die sometime,” said Willard -rebelliously. “Seems as though she might have made a new will after she -promised what she did.” - -“Maybe she put it off, thinking there’d be more money later,” replied -Mr. Morris. “Cousin Joe writes that the whole estate won’t amount to -much more than five thousand dollars; and some of that’s in a mortgage -that’ll take a lot of handling to realize on. Fact is, mother, I don’t -just see where she expected to get the money for Will, anyway, do you?” - -Mrs. Morris shook her head thoughtfully. “Perhaps she thought that by -the time Will was ready for college she’d have the money. She certainly -meant to do something for him, George. She’d always been especially -fond of Will.” - -“Oh, she meant it, I’m sure. She asked me how much it would take to see -him through college, and I told her two thousand. It was her own idea. -There wasn’t anything actually said to that effect, mother, but I think -it was sort of understood that Will was to have that money and that we -weren’t to expect anything more. And there wasn’t any reason why we -should. She’d have done quite enough for us if――if she’d done that. As -it is, Clara and Alice get it all.” - -“I suppose that’s my fault, George. You see, I always wanted her to -think we had――had plenty. Mother was always pretty hard on folks that -couldn’t get along. And then Clara and Alice both marrying men that -couldn’t support them――――” - -“I know. I’m glad you did. And I’m not begrudging the money to your -sisters. They need it more’n we do, even if―――― Anyway, we’ve always -managed to get along pretty fair so far, haven’t we? Maybe we haven’t -had many luxuries, Jenny, but we’ve managed, eh?” - -“Of course we have. You and I don’t need luxuries. I’ve always had -everything I really wanted, George. I’d have liked Will to go to -college, seeing he’s set his heart on it, but maybe this is for the -best, too. Maybe he will be more help to you in the shop.” - -Willard, staring distastefully at his plate, frowned impatiently. -“That’s fine, isn’t it?” he demanded. “Here I’ve been telling all -the fellows that I was going to college in the fall; and I’ve gone -and taken the college course, too; and Mr. Chase has been helping me -with my Greek! And now――now I can’t go after all! I think it’s”――he -gulped――“too bad!” - -“Maybe you’ll get there, son, although I don’t see much chance of it -next fall. Maybe, though, if business picks up――――” - -He stopped with a hopeless shake of his head. Willard scowled. - -“I’ve heard that before,” he muttered, “about business picking up. It -never has, and I guess it never will.” - -“Son, you’ve said about enough,” replied his father sternly. “If I can -find the money to send you to college, you’ll go. If I can’t, you’ll -have to buckle down at the shop. There’s plenty of men doing well who -never went to college. I wanted you should go, but maybe it wasn’t -intended so.” - -“Well, I’m going, sir! When I get through high school next Spring I’m -going to find some work and make enough money to start, anyway! If I -can make good on the football team this year maybe I’ll get an offer -and college won’t cost me anything.” - -“You let me hear of you doing anything like that,” said Mr. Morris -grimly, “and I’ll take you out in the shed as I used to and just about -take the hide off you. You ain’t too big yet, my boy!” - -“He wouldn’t do a thing like that, father. He was just fooling, weren’t -you, Will?” - -“Lots of fellows do it,” muttered Willard. - -“But you’re not to be one of them,” returned his father decisively. -“Here, let me see those envelopes.” - -Willard passed the packet across to him and watched glumly while his -father slid off the faded blue ribbon that held the envelopes together. -One by one Mr. Morris held them up and peered into them for the third -or fourth time. - -“Unless she meant to put some money or a check in one of these,” he -murmured, “I can’t understand it.” He laid the six envelopes in a row -on the cloth and shook his head over them. Then he took up the papers -which, with the strange and disappointing legacy, had arrived from the -West by the morning’s mail, but they told him nothing new. Grandmother -Pierson’s will, a copy of which Cousin Joe had sent, was short and -definite. There was a legacy of some personal trinkets and a small sum -of money to an old family servant, and “To my grandson, Willard Morris, -the contents of the packet inscribed with his name, which will be found -in the mahogany workbox on the table in my bedchamber.” The rest of -the estate, real and personal, was bequeathed in equal shares to Mrs. -Morris’s two sisters. Cousin Joe’s letter was brief. In pursuance of -his duties as executor of the estate, he was forwarding the legacy -mentioned in the will; also a copy of the instrument in case they had -forgotten its provisions. Willard was to sign the accompanying receipt; -and Cousin Joe hoped they were all well. - -The package had been done up in a piece of brown paper and tied with -a white string――what Grandma Pierson would have called “tie yarn.” On -the outside, in the old lady’s shaky writing, was the legend, “For my -Grandson, Willard Morris.” Inside they had found six envelopes which, -once white, had yellowed with age. The inscription on each was the -same: “Miss Ellen Hilliard, Fayle’s Court House, Virginia,” and the -postmarks showed various dates in the years 1850 and 1851. In the upper -right-hand corner of each envelope was a stamp quite unlike any Mr. -Morris had ever seen. Five were buff and one was blue. Each was round -and about the size of a silver half dollar. They were printed in faded -black. A circlet of stars ran around the outer edge and inside was -the inscription, “Postoffice, Alexandria.” In the center was the word -“Paid,” and under it a figure “5.” - -“You say these were your father’s love letters, Jenny?” asked Mr. -Morris. - -“Yes. I have seen them many times. Mother read me parts of them, too, -sometimes. He wrote beautifully, father did. Mother always kept those -letters in that old workbox with the green velvet lining; the one the -will speaks about. It was her treasure box, and it was always kept -locked. I remember there were three or four daguerreotypes there, and -some clippings from newspapers and such things.” - -“She was careful to take the letters out,” mused Mr. Morris. - -“Maybe she had a feeling that she wouldn’t get well. I suppose she -destroyed the letters. She wouldn’t want anyone reading them afterward, -you see, mother wouldn’t. Of course, it might be that her mind wandered -a little toward the end and she thought she was really doing something -for Will when she put his name on the package.” - -“But Cousin Joe says the will was made almost a year before she died,” -objected Mr. Morris. “I guess her mind was all right then. Well, it’s -plumb funny.” He arose from the table with a sigh. “That’s what it is, -plumb funny.” He pulled out a big silver watch and looked at it. “Son, -I guess it’s time we were hiking along.” - -Willard pushed his chair back disconsolately and arose. He was -seventeen, rather tall for his age, and had strong, broad shoulders -like his father’s, or as his father’s had been before constant bending -over desk and bench had stooped them. The boy had a good-looking, frank -face and nice eyes, but just at present the brown eyes were gloomy and -the face expressed discontent. - -“Better take those envelopes before they get lost, Will,” counseled his -mother. He regarded them with a scowl of contempt. - -“I don’t want the old things,” he muttered as he left the room. Mr. -Morris, looking after him, frowned and then sighed. Mrs. Morris echoed -the sigh. - -“I guess this settles it, Jenny,” said Mr. Morris, tucking the -Audelsville _Morning Times_ in his pocket. “If I could get hold of the -money any way, he should have it, but I don’t know where to turn for -it, and that’s a fact.” - -“Never mind, dear,” said Mrs. Morris as her husband stooped over her -chair to kiss her. “There’s almost a year yet and something may turn -up. You never can tell.” - -“Well, might as well look on the bright side, I suppose,” returned Mr. -Morris, “although things haven’t been turning up my way much of late, -Jenny.” - -His gaze encountered the envelopes again, and he stared at them a -moment. Then, with a puzzled shake of his head, he passed out. - - -II - -It was a fortnight later that Willard, returning from practice with -the high school football team, and passing in front of Mrs. Parson’s -boarding-house, heard his name called and looked up to see Mr. Chase at -the open window of his room. - -“Come up and pay me a visit, Will,” said the Assistant Principal. - -Willard hesitated a moment. He had been rather avoiding Mr. Chase for -the last two weeks. Now, however, he waved his hand and, turning in at -the gate, entered the house and climbed the stairs to the teacher’s -room. Mr. Chase was seated at a small table by the window. - -“Pardon me if I don’t get up, Will,” he said. “I’ve only got two more -of these things to paste, and I want to get them in before the light -goes. Well, how are you getting on at football?” - -“Pretty fair, sir.” - -“Find it more interesting than our old friend Homer, eh? You know we -haven’t had a Greek lesson for a long time, Will.” - -“No, sir, and I――I guess there isn’t any use having any more.” - -“Why, how’s that? Think you know enough to get by those exams, do you?” - -“I’m not going to take them, sir. I――I’m not going to college, after -all.” - -Mr. Chase looked up in surprise. “Not going!” he exclaimed. “Why, Will, -I thought that was all settled. What’s changed your mind?” - -Willard very nearly replied that Grandma Pierson had changed his mind, -but he didn’t. Instead, “Father can’t afford it, sir,” he answered. - -“Dear, dear, I’m sorry! Is it――quite settled? Isn’t there any hope, -Will?” - -“No, sir, I don’t think so. Not unless I earn the money somehow, and I -guess I couldn’t do that!” - -“It would take some time,” Mr. Chase agreed dubiously. “You’d need -pretty nearly three hundred a year, Will, although you might scale -that down a little. I’m sorry, awfully sorry.” - -“Yes, sir, so’m I.” - -There was silence for a moment. Then Mr. Chase asked: “And you don’t -think you want to go on with the Greek, eh? Suppose you found next Fall -that you could go after all, my boy. You’d have hard work passing, I’m -afraid.” - -“I don’t believe there’s any hope of it, sir.” - -“Still, the unexpected sometimes happens, doesn’t it? You wouldn’t want -to lose your chance for the want of a little Greek, now, would you?” - -“No, sir, but――――” - -“Then don’t you think we’d better go on with our Friday evenings, Will? -I do. Even if you shouldn’t get to college, my boy, a working knowledge -of Greek isn’t going to be a bad thing to have. Now suppose you drop in -on Friday after supper?” - -“Very well, sir, I guess I might as well. I――I haven’t studied much -lately, though.” - -“Better look it over a bit before Friday then. There, that’s done! Now -we’ll light up and have a chat.” - -“I didn’t know you collected stamps, Mr. Chase,” said Willard as the -teacher closed the window and lighted the study lamp on the big table. - -“Haven’t I ever shown you my books?” asked Mr. Chase. “Yes, I’m a -‘stamp fiend,’ Will. It’s not a bad hobby. Expensive, though. I -couldn’t afford it if I was married. I suppose,” he added ruefully, “I -oughtn’t to afford it now.” - -“I started to collect stamps when I was a little kid,” confided Willard -as he took the chair Mr. Chase pushed forward, “but I didn’t get very -far. I don’t know what ever became of my stamps. I guess they’re in the -attic, though.” - -“Yes? Did you have many?” asked Mr. Chase as he washed the mucilage -from his fingers at the stand. - -“Only about a hundred, I guess. I had a Cape of Good Hope, though.” - -“Did you?” Mr. Chase inquired. “Which one was it?” - -“I don’t remember. Is there more than one!” - -“Quite a few,” Mr. Chase laughed. “And they differ considerably in -value. You must show me your collection sometime.” - -“I guess it isn’t worth showing,” murmured Willard. “I guess all my -stamps are just common ones. There was one, though, I paid a dollar -for. I forget what it was. I suppose you have an awful lot?” - -“About twelve hundred only, I believe, but some of them are rather -good. When I stop to consider what those stamps have cost me, though, -I have to shudder. Still, stamps――rare ones, I mean, aren’t a bad -investment. You know the good ones increase in value right along.” - -“Twelve hundred!” exclaimed Willard. “Why, I didn’t know there were so -many stamps in the world!” - -“There are a good many more than twelve hundred,” replied the teacher -with a smile. “And I don’t go in for ‘freaks’ much, either; nor -revenues. Revenues in themselves would keep a man busy.” - -“What do you mean by freaks?” asked Willard. - -“Oh, ‘splits’ and ‘blanks’ and surcharges and such. Of course, though, -I have a few surcharges.” - -“And what is a split, Mr. Chase?” - -“A split is a stamp of, say, two-cent denomination cut diagonally -across. Each half equals in value a one-cent stamp. Some time ago when -an office ran out of one-cent stamps it would cut up a lot of twos. -Sometimes a ten-cent stamp was split to make two fives, and in one -case three-cent stamps were cut in such a way that two-thirds of them -did duty for a two-cent stamp. Later, when the government ran out of -a certain issue they merely took a stamp of a lower denomination and -surcharged it, that is, printed over it the larger denomination. I have -a friend who makes a specialty of provisional stamps, such as ‘splits’ -and ‘postmasters.’ He pays no attention to anything else, and has two -full books already, I believe.” - -“Some stamps cost a lot, don’t they?” Willard asked. - -“Unfortunately, a good many of them do,” Mr. Chase chuckled. “There’s -a rumor that someone paid seventeen thousand dollars not so long ago -for a pair of Mauritius postoffice stamps, one-penny and two-penny. -Those are mighty rare and I’ve never seen them. Then there’s the -British Guiana one-cent and the Niger Coast Protectorate; one of the -latter――I forget its list number――is perhaps the rarest stamp in the -world, since only one of its kind was ever printed.” - -“My!” said Willard. “That must be worth a lot!” - -“So much that it’s never had a price put on it, I guess. Some of our -own stamps are worth quite a lot, too. Take some of the Postmasters’ -Provisionals, for instance. Only one copy is known of an issue from -Boscawen, New Hampshire, and whoever has that surely has a prize.” - -“What is a Postmasters’ Pro――what you said?” - -“Provisional?” laughed Mr. Chase. “I’ll show you.” He reached under the -table and pulled out a big square album, and Willard moved his chair -nearer. “Provisional stamps were made and issued by postmasters in the -days before we had a national postage stamp system. Here’s one issued -in Trenton, New Jersey, and here’s one from Portland, Maine. See? Some -of them are pretty simple; just the name of the office and the words -‘Paid――5.’ They’re interesting, though, and, as I say, some of them -bring a lot of money.” - -“How――how much did those cost?” asked Willard eagerly. - -“These? Oh, not much. This one was twelve and――let me see――that was -eight, I think, and――――” - -“Eight cents!” - -“Hardly! Eight dollars, my boy.” - -“Well――well, if they came from some other place would they be worth -that much?” stammered Willard. - -“Depends on how many there are; how rare they happen to be. It’s -scarcity that fixes the prices on stamps――and most other things.” - -“Supposing they were from Alexandria, Virginia,” Willard pursued rather -breathlessly. - -Mr. Chase closed the book and replaced it under the table. - -“If they came from Alexandria and were genuine, they’d be worth quite -as much as these, perhaps more. Why do you ask? You don’t happen to -have one in your collection, do you?” - -“Yes, sir! That is, not in my collection, but I’ve got some that――that -my grandmother sent me.” - -“What! Postmaster Provisionals of Alexandria, Virginia? Are you -certain? What are they like? What are they?” - -Mr. Chase was plainly interested. - -“I don’t know whether they’re Postmaster Provisionals,” replied -Willard, “but they’re a good deal like those in your book. They’re -round and sort of yellowish-brown――――” - -“Yes, buff; go on!” - -“And they have some stars around the edge and the name and ‘Paid――5’ in -the middle, just like those of yours.” - -“You say your grandmother gave them to you?” - -“Yes, sir.” And thereupon Willard told about the legacy and Mr. Chase -learned the real reason why the college career had been abandoned. And -when he had finished Mr. Chase strode to a bookshelf and returned with -a catalogue. After some excited turning of pages he paused and read -silently. “That’s right,” he said finally. “Your description tallies -with Scott’s. Where are those envelopes, Will? Can you let me see them?” - -“I guess they’re at home. I haven’t seen them since that day. I――I hope -mother didn’t throw them away!” - -“Throw them away!” Mr. Chase slammed the book shut, tossed it aside -and seized Willard’s cap from the couch. “Put this on,” he exclaimed, -“and scoot home! Find those envelopes and bring them over here! If your -mother _has_ thrown them away you’re out sixty or seventy dollars at -least!” - -“Where are those envelopes, mother?” asked Willard five minutes later, -bursting into the kitchen where Mrs. Morris was in the act of sliding a -pan of hot biscuits from the oven. The pan almost fell to the floor and -Mrs. Morris straightened up to remonstrate against “scaring a body to -death,” but the words died away when she saw Willard’s face. - -“What envelopes do you mean, Will?” she gasped. - -“The ones Grandma Pierson sent! Mr. Chase says those stamps may be -worth seventy dollars!” - -“Sakes alive, Willard Morris! You don’t mean it? Why――why――what did I -do with them? Haven’t you seen them around?” - -“No, I haven’t seen them since the day they came. Don’t you know what -you did with them, mother?” - -“Why――why,” faltered Mrs. Morris, “it doesn’t seem as if I did anything -with them, Will! I don’t recollect seeing them after you and your -father went off. Will, you don’t suppose”――her voice became scarcely -more than a whisper――“you don’t suppose I threw them away, do you?” - -“You wouldn’t be likely to, would you?” he asked anxiously. “Won’t you -please try and think?” - -“I am trying, Will, but――but I can’t remember seeing them again.” She -hurried to the dining-room, which was also the sitting-room, and began -a feverish search. Willard followed behind her and looked wherever she -did, and in two minutes the room had the appearance of having been -devastated by a cyclone. And in the midst of the confusion Mr. Morris -entered. Being excitedly informed of what was going on, he, too, took -a hand in the hunt. But ten minutes later they all had to acknowledge -that the envelopes were not in the room. - -“I don’t see what I could have done with them,” reiterated Willard’s -mother for the twentieth time. - -“Maybe you shook ’em out the door when you shook the cloth,” suggested -Mr. Morris. And his wife had to own that such a thing was quite -possible, adding, however, “Only I’d been almost certain to have seen -them when I cleared the dishes off. Are you sure you didn’t take them, -Will?” - -“I know he didn’t,” said Mr. Morris. “I remember seeing them lying -right here when I left the room.” - -“Well, then I did something with them, that’s certain,” murmured Mrs. -Morris, looking dazedly about, “but I don’t see what!” - -“I guess we’d better have supper,” said Willard’s father. “We can have -another look afterward.” - -So Mrs. Morris returned to her duties, while Willard, preparing hastily -for the meal, returned to the room and continued the search. At the -table he ate very little, and as soon as supper was over he began -rummaging again. The search ultimately led from the dining-room to the -parlor, from the parlor to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the hall -closet and from there to the bedrooms upstairs. And at eight o’clock -Mrs. Morris, lamp in hand, was peering about in the attic! At half -past eight Willard went to the telephone and, calling Mr. Chase up, -acknowledged defeat. - -“You can’t find them?” came the teacher’s voice. “That’s too bad. Are -you――er――are you quite sure you had them, Will?” - -“Yes, sir, I am,” replied Willard a trifle shortly. “If you don’t -believe me you can ask father.” - -“Have you looked in the waste baskets and the ash can and――and those -places?” - -“We’ve looked everywhere. I guess what happened was that my mother -shook the tablecloth at the back door and they were in it and fell -out.” - -“Well, I’d have another look to-morrow by daylight,” advised Mr. Chase -in disappointed tones. “Don’t give up yet, Will. You may find them -tucked away where you least expect to. I’m awfully sorry. Good-night.” - -Willard hung up the receiver. “Of course he doesn’t care,” he muttered -resentfully. “Gee, if I could find those envelopes and get seventy -dollars for the stamps, I’d have to earn only about a hundred and -eighty to have enough for the first year. He says it’ll take ’most -three hundred, but I’m sure I could do it on two hundred and fifty. -And if I could get through the first year they’d have a whole lot of -trouble keeping me away the second!” - -In the morning, after a sleep badly disturbed by dreams, Willard was up -early and, after the kitchen fire was started, was out in the back yard -searching around the kitchen doorway, amongst the currant bushes and -along the picket fence. But he found no trace of the envelopes. That -was Tuesday and hope didn’t actually fail him until Thursday. On that -day Mr. Morris put his foot down. - -“They’re gone for good, mother, and there isn’t any use fretting about -’em. So you just stop pulling the house to pieces and settle down -again. When a thing’s so, it’s so, and you can’t make it any other way, -no matter how much you worry about it. You haven’t taken time to eat a -decent meal since the pesky things were lost. Now I say let ’em go and -have an end of it!” - -That evening Willard found his old stamp book in the attic and took it -over to Mr. Chase. But although the latter went through it carefully, -he found no prizes there. The entire contents wouldn’t have brought -a dollar at a stamp dealer’s. When he was leaving Mr. Chase reminded -him that they were to begin the Greek lessons again the next evening. -Willard hesitated and then promised half-heartedly to come. What was -the good of knowing Greek if he couldn’t get to college? - -But at seventeen no disappointment is big enough to last forever, -and Friday was a wonderful Autumn day with just the right amount of -tingle in the air, and at football practice Willard played so well -that the coach promised to let him start the game against Shrevesport -High the next afternoon, and――well, after a good supper eaten with a -healthy appetite, Willard had quite forgotten about Grandma Pierson’s -legacy! And at half past seven he found his Iliad――it wasn’t an easy -task, either, because since the search for the lost envelopes scarcely -anything was where it used to be!――and set out for Mrs. Parson’s with a -light heart. - -“I didn’t have a chance to study this any,” said Willard as he seated -himself across the table from Mr. Chase. “I’ve been too busy looking -for those envelopes, you see. So you’ll have to excuse me if it comes -slow.” - -“All right, Will, I’ll forgive you this time. Do you remember where we -left off? Wasn’t it where Ulysses and Diomede are setting out to spy on -the enemy’s camp?” - -“No, sir, we were way past that. I’ve got the place marked. I think――――” - -“Hello, what’s wrong?” exclaimed Mr. Chase. - -“Why――why――here they are! They were in this book!” - -“Eh? What were in――――” - -“Those envelopes, sir! Look!” - -And there they were, sure enough; all together and with the bit of -faded blue ribbon about them! Mr. Chase, beaming, held out his hand for -them. Willard, still exclaiming, hazarding theories as to how they got -into his Iliad, followed around the table while Mr. Chase carefully -slid off the band of ribbon and looked them over. - -“‘Alexandria,’” he muttered, “‘Paid――5,’ They’re the real thing, Will! -By Jove, what a find! Perfect condition, too! Not a tear on one of -them! And no――_hello, what’s this_?” - -“What, sir?” asked Willard. - -Mr. Chase was staring at the last envelope as though he couldn’t -believe his eyes. “Why――why, it’s _blue_!” he almost shouted. - -“Yes, sir, I――I forgot that one was blue. There were five of them brown -and one blue. Isn’t――isn’t it any good?” - -“Any good!” exclaimed Mr. Chase. “Any good? It――it’s――――” - -Over went his chair and he had seized the catalogue from the shelf. -“Any good!” he muttered as he turned the pages quickly. “Any good! -Any――――” His voice died out and Willard, wondering, watched his -lips move as he read silently. Then the teacher studied the envelope -again. “‘Ditto,’ he murmured, ‘on blue.’” Then he closed the catalogue -slowly and decisively and laid it on the table. Willard watched him -fascinatedly. He had never seen Mr. Chase look so excited, so wild-eyed -as this! Was it possible that the Assistant Principal had suddenly lost -his mind? - -“Will,” said Mr. Chase slowly and solemnly, “I――I can’t be sure――I’m -afraid to be sure――but if this stamp is genuine it’s worth――――” He -stopped and shook his head. When he continued it was to himself rather -than to Willard. “There may be a mistake. Perhaps the catalogue’s -wrong. We’ll wait and see.” - -“Do you mean,” asked Willard eagerly, “that the blue one is worth more -than the others?” - -Mr. Chase laid the envelope on the table and was silent a moment. When -he answered he was quite himself again. - -“It looks so, Will. Yes, I think I may safely say that the blue stamp -is worth quite a little money. You see, there are two or three dozen -of the buff ones known of, but so far only one or two blues have ever -shown up. But I may be mistaken; don’t get your hopes up until we’ve -had it examined, my boy.” - -“How much is it worth if――if it is――what you think?” asked Willard. - -Mr. Chase shook his head. “Let’s not talk about that now. I――there’s -the possibility that I may be mistaken. Will you let me have these for -a week or so? I’d like to send them to the city and get expert advice.” - -“Of course. You do anything you like with them, sir. Only if you care -for it I’d like you to have one of them, Mr. Chase.” - -“That’s nice of you, Will, but I couldn’t take one as a gift. I’ll -gladly buy one if I can afford it. Or――wait a bit! If this blue one -is worth what I think it is, I’ll accept one of the buff stamps as a -present. How will that do?” - -“I’d like you to have one anyhow, sir. Do you think the blue stamp is -worth――worth a hundred dollars?” asked Willard. - -“Will, I don’t dare to say. Yes, perhaps a hundred; perhaps more, -much more――unless I’m making a bad mistake somehow. I’ll mail these -to-morrow and we ought to hear inside a week. Now――now let’s get back -to the lesson.” - -But Willard didn’t make much progress that evening. - - -III - -Of course Mrs. Morris remembered when Willard told her. - -“Isn’t it funny?” she asked beamingly. “It all comes back to me now. -When I went to clear off the table those envelopes were there and I -thought to myself, ‘Those are Will’s and he may want them after all, -and I’ll just tuck them in his Greek book.’ It was lying on the side -table there. And then I forgot all about it! I’m so sorry, Will!” - -“It doesn’t matter a bit now,” Willard declared. “How much do you -suppose that blue stamp will be worth, mother?” - -But Mrs. Morris shook her head. “Goodness knows, Will! But maybe it’ll -bring enough to buy you a nice suit of clothes and――――” - -“Clothes!” scoffed Willard. “That money is going to put me in college. -If there isn’t enough of it I’ll get a job somewhere next summer and -earn the difference. I heard of a fellow who made nearly three hundred -dollars one summer just selling books!” - -“It’s my opinion,” declared Mr. Morris, “that that stamp is worth a -whole lot of money and that your grandma knew it.” - -“I don’t see how she could, sir,” Willard objected. “Why, even Mr. -Chase isn’t certain about it yet.” - -“Mother was a great one to read the papers,” said Mrs. Morris, “and I -wouldn’t be surprised if she saw sometime that stamps like that were -valuable. She was forever cutting things out of newspapers and saving -them.” - -“We’ll wait and see,” said Mr. Morris. “You’ll find I’m right, son. And -if I am I’ll be mighty pleased!” - -Waiting, though, was hard work for Willard. For a week he managed to be -fairly patient, but at the end of that period he began to be uneasy. -“You don’t think they got lost in the mail, do you?” he asked Mr. Chase. - -“They couldn’t because I didn’t send them by mail. I was afraid to. I -sent them by express and put――well, a good big valuation on them. So, -even if they should be lost, Will, you’ll have a lot of money coming -to you from the express company.” - -That was comforting, anyhow, and there were times when Willard hoped -devoutly that the express company had mislaid the package. But it -hadn’t. Four days later Willard was called to the telephone at -suppertime. - -“Will, can you come over here after supper?” It was Mr. Chase’s voice. - -“Yes, sir! Have you heard――――” - -“Yes, I’ve got a letter. You come over――――” - -“Is it all right, sir? About the blue stamp, I mean.” - -“Hm; well, you come over and I’ll tell you.” Something that sounded -like a chuckle reached Willard. “Good-by!” - -“I’m going over to Mr. Chase’s,” he announced. “He’s heard about the -stamp. I don’t want any more supper!” - -“What about it, Will?” his father asked eagerly. “How much’s it worth?” - -“I don’t know yet. He wouldn’t tell me. Where’s my cap? Anyone seen―――― -Here it is! I’ll come back right away――if it’s all right!” - -“Hello, Will!” greeted Mr. Chase. “Nice evening, isn’t it?” There was a -perceptible twinkle in his eye and Willard grinned. - -“Yes, sir, it’s a fine evening,” he answered with a gulp. - -“Yes, we’re having wonderful weather for the time of year. I got a -reply from that fellow in New York. What did I do with it?” Mr. Chase -pretended to have mislaid it and dipped into one pocket after another. -Willard squirmed in his chair. “Ah, here it is,” said the teacher -finally, drawing the letter from his inside pocket. “Now, let’s see.” -He opened it with tantalizing deliberation. “I asked him to examine -those envelopes and give me an estimate of their value. I didn’t tell -him we had four more of them, by the way.” - -“No, sir,” murmured Willard. - -“Well, he says he will buy the buff one for twelve dollars. That’s less -than I hoped to get for them and maybe we might do a little better -somewhere else. What do you think?” - -“Yes, sir; I mean――I don’t know!” blurted Willard. - -“Now in regard to the blue one――――” Mr. Chase paused and looked across -at the boy. What he saw seemed to please him, for he smiled. “I’ll read -you what Watkins says about the blue one, Will. Let――me――see; here -we are! ‘Of course you know you’ve got the prize of the year in the -“black-on-blue.” I’ll take it off your hands if you want me to, but -you’d probably do better at auction. The stamp is in perfect condition -and, being on the original envelope, ought to fetch top price. There’s -a big auction in December and you’d better let me list it for that -if you want to sell it. Your letter doesn’t state whether you do or -don’t. I’m keeping the stamps until I hear further. The last Alexandria -Postmaster black-on-blue sold two years ago in this city to John -Thayer Williams of Philadelphia. It was without envelope and slightly -soiled. The price paid was twenty-six hundred. Your stamp ought to -bring a couple of hundred more at least. Awaiting your instructions, -respectfully yours, W. L. Watkins.’” - -Mr. Chase folded the letter and smiled across at the boy. - -“Well, what do you think of that, Will?” he asked. - -Willard returned the smile rather tremulously. - -“I think,” he began. Then he stopped, cleared his throat and began over -again. “I think,” he said huskily, “that Grandma Pierson is going to -send me to college after all, just as she promised!” - - - - -JONESIE USES HIS INFLUENCE - - -I - -Daniel Webster Jones, Jr., sauntered along the aisle, his trim young -body accommodating itself gracefully to the erratic swaying of the -day coach. I speak of Daniel Webster Jones, Jr., as being trim, but -you are not to picture him as slender. On the contrary, without being -fat, he had in his fourteen years and some months of existence managed -to cushion his frame with enough flesh to give him a comfortably -well-rounded appearance. It seemed probable that later on the cushion -would increase in depth and that the term trim would no longer be -applicable. In fact, Daniel Webster Jones’s father――you saw his -likeness on the cartoons holding his justly celebrated Creamette -Biscuits――was quite abundantly upholstered. But at present, what with -an easy and graceful carriage and a careful attention to the niceties -of attire, Daniel Webster Jones, Jr., presented a most pleasing -appearance. Under a straw hat which was absolutely the latest cry in -masculine fashions, the boy’s copper-brown hair was brushed sleekly -back from a well-shaped forehead. Grayish blue eyes, a nose rather -too button-like to be called classical, a cherubic mouth, a nice, -firm chin with a dimple in it, all these features set in a round, -healthy, rosy-cheeked face combined to make Daniel Webster Jones, Jr., -thoroughly attractive. Yet it was, I think, the qualities of mind -and character illumining the ingenuous countenance that won folks to -him. The gray-blue eyes seemed veritable pools of truthfulness, the -button-like nose proclaimed uncompromising integrity, the cherub lips -appeared formed for the utterance of pure and beautiful thoughts, and -when Daniel Webster Jones, Jr., smiled, one felt oh, so glad that such -innocence and candor existed in a deceitful world! - -The boy’s progress through the car was neither unnoticed nor -unheralded. Small and admiring juniors looked appealingly upward -and sought recognition with a wistful “How d’ye do, Jones,” while -upper-class fellows, rousing from the lethargy induced by a two-hour -journey on a hot September afternoon, observed his advent with -something of the same relief with which a traveler on the desert might -catch sight of an oasis and hailed him hopefully with a “Hi, Jonesie!” -But Daniel Webster Jones, Jr., merely nodded with just the correct -amount of superciliousness to the juniors――one had to keep the kids in -their place――and returned the greetings of the others with preoccupied -gravity. Oddly enough this had the effect of causing smirks and winks -and nudges amongst the older fellows and one felt glad that Daniel -Webster Jones, Jr., was unconscious of the levity. One felt certain -that it would have wounded him. - -The car was filled almost to its capacity, yet here and there a seat -held but one occupant. At such a seat, near the front of the coach, -Jonesie――for after all why should we accord him the dignity of his -full title when no one else did?――Jonesie, then, paused indecisively -and caught the shy upward glance of the seat’s only occupant, a boy of -perhaps thirteen years of age. - -“Mind if I sit here?” asked Jonesie most politely. “Sorry to bother -you, but everything’s pretty well filled up.” - -“Not――not at all!” stammered the other boy. He tugged frantically at a -fat suitcase bearing the inscription “J. A. W.” on the end and squeezed -toward the window. Jonesie murmured his thanks and seated himself with -a sigh, folding his arms and staring ahead of him with a thoughtful -frown. The train swayed onward in a cloud of gray dust. After a moment -the original occupant of the seat took courage and studied his neighbor -out of the corners of his eyes. He liked what he saw and wondered -sympathetically what weighty care was clouding the brow under the -stunning straw. At that moment Jonesie unclasped his arms and began to -study a purple blister at the base of the second finger on his right -palm. The other boy, interested, looked, too. It was a most promising -blister. He speculated as to the cause of it and considered its future -treatment rather enviously. And at that moment the proud possessor of -the blister looked up and caught his glance embarrassingly. - -“Played thirty-six holes yesterday,” said Jonesie. “Hadn’t golfed -before all summer.” He frowned at the blister, wiggling his finger -experimentally. “Beastly bother,” he added disgustedly. - -“Yes,” agreed the other, almost with enthusiasm. The sympathy seemed -to draw Jonesie’s attention to his companion for the first time and he -turned and shot a brief and speculative glance at him. Then, - -“Randall’s?” he inquired. - -“Yes, I――I’m just entering.” - -“Ah!” Jonesie beamed with a sudden friendly interest. “That’s fine. -Lower Middle, I suppose?” - -“N-no, just Junior,” returned the other apologetically. - -Jonesie nodded. “Should have thought you’d enter Lower Middle. You look -it.” The new boy flushed with pleasure at the implied tribute to his -age, wisdom and experience. “I’m in the Lower Middle myself,” continued -Jonesie, crossing one smartly clad leg over the other and assuming an -attitude promising confidential discourse. “Hope you will like the -school.” - -“I――I think so, thank you,” murmured the other. “I don’t know much -about boarding schools, though. I suppose it will be――be sort of -strange at first.” - -“Probably,” replied Jonesie sympathetically. “Of course a new boy has -quite a lot to learn, but you’ll get on to things after a bit. It isn’t -a bad school, Randall’s. I dare say you know some of the fellows?” - -“No.” The other shook his head a trifle dejectedly. “I guess I don’t -know a soul there.” - -Jonesie frowned. “That makes it harder,” he acknowledged. “But you’ll -find friends after a bit,” he added hopefully. “Sooner the better, -too, for there’s nothing like having an older fellow to――er――sort of -give you a hand over the rough places.” Jonesie regulated carefully -the expanse of violet and gray cuff showing beyond his coat sleeve. -“At least, that was my experience. Take the matter of athletics, for -instance―――― But perhaps you don’t go in for that sort of thing?” - -“Oh, yes!” replied the other eagerly, “that is, I hope to. I――I’m very -fond of football.” - -“Fine game, football,” commended Jonesie. “And that’s a――er――a case -in point. Of course you’ll want to make the School Team; every fellow -does.” - -“Oh, I wouldn’t expect to do that! Not the――the first year!” - -“Why not? Fellows have done it. Don’t know why you shouldn’t if you -buckle down to it. I dare say I had a close shave from getting on the -School myself the first year. Unfortunately illness――er”――Jonesie’s -gaze wandered along the bell rope――“illness prevented. Quite a blow to -the Coach.” - -“You――you are on the Team now?” asked the other eagerly. - -Jonesie shook his head regretfully. “No, I never got into football -after that. Doctor’s orders. Perhaps next year――I’m so much better――――” -He sighed and then smiled brightly, bravely. “Well, it doesn’t matter, -I guess.” - -“Oh, but if you’re really fond of the game,” exclaimed the other boy -feelingly, “it must be――be an awful disappointment! I――I’m sorry!” - -“Thanks. Yes, of course it _is_ a disappointment, but”――Jonesie -shrugged his shoulders――“life is full of disappointments and one soon -learns to――er――accept them philosophically. Now take your case――er―――― -You didn’t tell me your name, did you?” - -“No. It’s Wigman.” - -“Mine’s Jones, D. W. Jones. Well, as I was saying, Wigman, take your -case. You may have to――to accept disappointment, too. You see, there’ll -be piles of fellows trying for the Team, and some of them may show up -as well as you will, although I will say”――and here Jonesie turned to -scrutinize Wigman carefully and approvingly――“that from your looks -you ought to have the making of a dandy player.” Wigman flushed under -the compliment. “But there you are! Merit isn’t everything. You might -play as well as another chap and yet he’d get the call just because he -had――er――friends to speak for him. Do you see?” - -“But――but that’s hardly fair, is it?” asked Wigman. “I thought -Randall’s was a school where you――where every fellow had the same -chance as every other fellow. I――I’ve heard so.” - -“Sure! That’s so, to a certain extent. Still, you know yourself, -Wigman, that if you were captain of the Team――as you will be some day, -or I miss my guess!――you couldn’t help favoring the fellow you knew, -supposing he played as well as the other fellow, whom you didn’t know. -It’s human nature, isn’t it?” - -Wigman allowed that it was. - -“Of course! There you are, then! So what you want to do is to make -friends, Wigman; get acquainted right away and, if you can do it, find -a fellow who’s close to Bing.” - -“Bing?” faltered Wigman. - -“Yes, Carey Bingham. He’s captain this year. His chums call him -Bing for short. Nice chap, Bing. I’ve just been having a chat -with him in the smoker. Bing has a queer idea that I’m a judge of -football material. Maybe he isn’t so far wrong, either; I’ve picked -more than one green player and seen him develop into a wonder. And -I don’t believe I’ve picked a bad ’un yet. We were talking over -this year’s prospects. Bing’s inclined to be a bit discouraged -and――er――pessimistic, but I told him that to my mind we had as good an -outlook as ever we’d had. Quite cheered up, he was, when I left him. -Wanted me to stay and go over the schedule with him, but I couldn’t -stand the smoke any longer. Well, here’s the bridge. We’ll be at -Chester Hill in five minutes. I must get my things together. Awfully -glad to have met you, Wigman, and if there’s anything I can do for you -just let me know, will you?” - -“Th――thank you,” said the other boy gratefully. “But I wouldn’t think -of bothering you.” - -“No bother at all. Tell you what I’ll do, Wigman.” Jonesie drew forth a -silver card case, abstracted an oblong slip of thin cardboard bearing -his name and home address in ornate Old English letters and scrawled -a line on it with a silver pencil. “There’s where I hang out――18 -Hawthorne. Look me up as soon as you get settled or let me know where -to find you and I’ll drop in. Maybe I can put you on to the ropes a -bit, eh? Very glad to do anything I can for a new fellow. Know what it -means to be dumped down here with a couple of hundred strangers. Makes -you feel sort of lost and all that for a bit. I know! Glad to have met -you, Wigman. See you again soon, I hope.” - -Jonesie smiled his best and sweetest smile, shook hands and sauntered -off, leaving James Andrew Wigman filled with gratitude and admiration. -Halfway along the aisle an imperious hand shot out and seized on -Jonesie. Jonesie, after a vain attempt to elude his captor, faced him -innocently. - -“Hello, Carpenter,” he said sweetly. “How’s the boy?” - -“What have you been up to, Jonesie?” inquired Carpenter, a big Senior, -sternly. - -“Me?” Jonesie’s candid countenance expressed surprise. “Why, nothing!” - -“What kind of a yarn have you been stringing to that poor Fresh down -there?” persisted Carpenter. - -“You make me tired! Can’t a fellow be decent to a new boy, I’d like to -know? I’ve been cheering him up a bit, that’s all. Found him terribly -down in the dumps, poor chap. You Upper Class fellows never think of -trying to make things a bit easier for new boys.” Jonesie mingled -regret with indignation. Carpenter blinked. “Seems to me you fellows -ought to remember how you felt yourselves when you struck school and -didn’t know anyone! It――it’s mighty lonesome business, Carpenter!” - -“Is that so, Jonesie? Well, you’d better write to the _Weekly_ about -it. A fat lot of comforting you were doing, I’ll bet!” But after -Jonesie had gone on, Carpenter glanced inquiringly at Gus Peasley, who -occupied the seat with him. “Maybe Jonesie is right about it, too,” -said Carpenter. “I dare say it would be a decent thing if some of us -Upper Classmen sort of looked after the new boys a little. I remember -myself――――” - -“Piffle!” This was Peasley, grinning. “Jonesie doesn’t care a hang -whether a new boy is homesick! Bet you a dollar, Billy, he’s been up to -some more of his deviltry!” - -“Think so?” asked Carpenter doubtfully. “Maybe. I wouldn’t trust him. -Just the same, Gus, there’s something in what he said.” - -Peasley yawned as he got up to rescue his suitcase from the rack above. - -“Jonesie could talk tears out of a brick, Billy,” he replied. “He’s the -biggest little faker in school. Some day, if he doesn’t get hung first, -he’ll be President!” - - -II - -The Fall Term was three days old when James Andrew Wigman availed -himself of Jonesie’s invitation. Jonesie returned to his room that -afternoon in a condition of utter boredom. It had rained all day, there -was no promise of clearing, and Jonesie, unfortunately susceptible -to weather conditions, was as near having a case of the blues as is -possible for a healthy boy of fourteen. After slamming the door and -skimming his wet cap across the study in the general direction of the -window seat he thrust his hands into his trousers pockets and stared -disgustedly at his roommate. “Sparrow” Bowles, deep in the pages of a -paper-covered romance, never even turned his head. Sparrow was fifteen, -long, lank, dark-complexioned and lazy. Fate had thrown them together -at the commencement of their Junior Year and Jonesie had never yet -quite forgiven Fate. Finally, discovering that his scowling regard was -having no impression, he observed challengingly: - -“Crazy old bookworm!” - -Sparrow looked up and blinked. - -“What’s eating you?” he inquired. - -Jonesie grunted and sank into a chair. “Find out,” he said affably. -Sparrow shrugged his narrow shoulders and turned back to his book. -Jonesie continued to glower upon him. At length: - -“You’ll turn into a book some day,” he sneered. - -“You’ll turn into a jug of vinegar some day,” replied the other, -without looking up. But the cleverness of the retort brought a smirk -to his face. Seeing it, Jonesie reached a foot forward and dexterously -sent the paper-covered volume hurtling across the room. - -“Fresh!” he muttered. - -Sparrow viewed him angrily through the round lenses of his rubber-rimmed -spectacles. - -“You pick that up!” he demanded. - -Jonesie smiled cheerfully. “Yes, I will!” he responded. But the tone of -voice rather contradicted the statement. Sparrow glared indecisively -from his companion to the book. Sparrow was not afraid of Jonesie, but -he was far too lazy to engage in combat unless absolutely driven to it. -Finally, with a shrug: - -“It’ll stay there, then,” he said. - -“For all of me,” agreed Jonesie. - -Followed a silence. Sparrow blinked at the falling rain and the -dripping trees on the campus. Jonesie gazed speculatively at Sparrow. -But the scrap, as brief as it had been, had in a measure relieved his -feelings, and at the end of five minutes he asked: - -“What do you know?” - -Sparrow scowled and shrugged his shoulders again. - -“I know you make me sick,” he answered ungraciously. - -“You make me a heap sicker,” responded Jonesie. “Anyone been in?” - -“No――yes, there was a fellow in here half an hour ago asking for you.” - -“Who was he?” - -“Search me.” - -“What did he say?” - -“Nothing much. Left a note on the table, I think.” - -“You _think_! Don’t you ever _know_ anything?” Jonesie got up and found -the note. “It wouldn’t have hurt you a whole lot to have said something -about this when I came in, you lazy chump!” He glanced at it and thrust -it into a pocket. “It’s important, too,” he added severely. “You’re a -wonder, Sparrow!” - -“I forgot it,” said Sparrow untroubledly. “What’s it about?” - -“None of your business.” Jonesie rescued his cap from the floor, -borrowed Sparrow’s umbrella from the closet and hurried out. - -“Come back with that brulla!” shouted Sparrow. - -As this produced no result, he shrugged his shoulders, picked up his -book and started reading again. - -The note was signed “James A. Wigman,” and informed Jonesie that he -was rooming at Mrs. Sproule’s on Center Street, adding that if Jonesie -had time to drop around he’d take it as a great favor. Now Jonesie was -not the least bit in the world interested in young Mr. Wigman. He had -scraped acquaintance with him on the train for no other reason than -he had exhausted all other means of entertainment. It had amused him -to impose upon the new boy with an assumption of influence which he -by no means possessed, and, once started, it was Jonesie’s artistic -temperament which had led him to round off the incident with the -presentation of a visiting card and an avowal of friendly interest. -To-day, had there been anything else to occupy Jonesie’s talents, -young Mr. Wigman’s appeal would probably have gone forever unanswered. -But Jonesie was bored and a call on the new boy offered at least some -slight variation of the monotony of life. - -Wigman had a room to himself at Sproule’s, a dormer-windowed cell on -the third floor. Pictures, rugs, pillows and knick-knacks had, however, -lent an air of comfort to the white-walled apartment, and Jonesie, -having been gratefully welcomed by Wigman and escorted to the only -comfortable chair, affably commended the quarters. - -“It isn’t bad, is it?” asked Wigman. “I brought quite a lot of truck -from home.” - -“One has to,” replied Jonesie. “Well, how’s it going, Wigman?” - -“Very well so far, thank you. I haven’t got my courses quite -straightened out yet. I find I’ve got to take French or German, and I -didn’t expect that.” - -“Yes, one of ’em’s required. You won’t mind ’em, though. Better take -French. I did. It’s more use to you. I discovered that abroad. If you -know French you can get around anywhere, even in Germany. How are you -getting on with football?” - -“Why――why, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” said Wigman. “I -went out Wednesday, of course. I suppose I got along all right. They -put me in D Squad. But I heard to-day that Mr. Cutler is going to let -some of the fellows go Monday.” - -Jonesie nodded. “He would, you know.” - -“Yes, and――I wondered――――” Wigman hesitated and sought for the right -words. “I thought that perhaps, after what you said on the train the -other day, Jones, that perhaps you wouldn’t mind――that is――wouldn’t -mind――saying a word for me!” - -“Hm,” mused Jonesie. - -“Of course,” Wigman hastened to add, “I don’t want any favors, you -understand! And――and I don’t want you to do it if you’d rather not, -Jones. Only I thought――that if you just said a word to the Captain he -might give me a chance, you see; let me stay on a little longer. I’m -pretty sure I can make good, but I’m stale and I’m afraid they’ll let -me go Monday.” - -“I see.” Jonesie considered thoughtfully. “Of course,” he went on -presently, “there’s always the Class Team to fall back on. You’d make -that, I guess, without much trouble.” - -Wigman’s face fell. “Y-yes, but――but after what you said the other -day, Jones, I――I sort of want to make the School Team――or the Second, -anyway! You know you said first-year fellows had done it.” - -“Did I? Yes, of course I did! Quite right, too. By the way, what -position are you trying for?” - -“Quarter.” - -“Gee!” murmured Jonesie. “That――er――complicates it, doesn’t it?” In -response to Wigman’s unspoken question he went on. “I mean that -there’s only one quarterback position to fill and so, of course, it’s -harder. You see that, eh? Now, if you were trying for end or tackle or -guard or half you’d stand just twice the chance. Still――――” - -“I’ve always played quarter,” said Wigman. “I suppose I might try for -half, though.” - -“Well, there’s no hurry about that,” replied Jonesie. “I’ll speak to -Bing about you. Of course I can’t promise anything. Bing’s a most -conscientious chap and, while, of course, he’d do anything in reason -for me, he might――er――there might be some reason why he couldn’t do -this. There’s Cutler, for instance. Awfully opinionated cuss, that -Coach. Hard to work with. Bing says so himself. Still, you sit tight, -Wigman, and I’ll see what can be done.” - -“Oh, thank you a thousand times, Jones!” - -“Better not thank me until we see how it turns out,” warned Jonesie. “I -may fall down, you see.” - -“Even if you do I――I’ll feel mighty grateful to you, just the same. -And――and I hope you don’t mind my asking you?” - -“Not a bit! Glad to do anything I can, Wigman. What’s the good of -having influence if you don’t make use of it for your friends? I say, -that’s a peach of a racket you have!” - -“Yes, it isn’t bad. I have another one over there.” Wigman took down -the Smith Special and handed it across for Jonesie’s examination. “I -haven’t used it but once or twice. It’s a little too heavy for me, I -find. I do better with the other one. Do you play?” - -“Not very much. I’m fond of the game, though. Used to do fairly well -before the doctors butted in.” - -“I forgot about that,” murmured Wigman sympathetically. - -Jonesie weighed the racket in his hand, felt the grip of it, swung it -experimentally to and fro and tapped the mesh approvingly. - -“Some racket that, Wigman. Don’t know when I’ve run across one I liked -as well. Thanks.” He handed it back. Wigman accepted it, but did not -return it to its place over the narrow mantel. Instead, he swung it -nervously back and forth behind him, opened his mouth, closed it and -exhibited all the signs of embarrassment. If Jonesie saw he pretended -not to. He picked his cap up and lounged across to the bureau, bending -over the row of photographs displayed. - -“This your father, Wigman? Fine-looking chap, by Jove! You take after -him a lot, don’t you?” - -“Do you think so?” asked Wigman in permissible surprise. “Folks usually -think I look a good deal more like my mother. That’s her picture at the -end there.” - -Jonesie observed it critically, shot a look at Wigman and shook his -head. - -“N-no, I don’t think so. Of course there’s a strong likeness there, -too, but it’s your dad you resemble most, I’d say. Well, I must be -getting along. Sorry I wasn’t in when you called, Wigman. Try again, -will you? I’d like you to meet my chum, Bowles. Fine fellow, Bowles. A -bit studious for a lazy duffer like me”――Jonesie’s smile made a joke of -that!――“but we get on first chop. Come over soon, Wigman. I wish you -would.” - -“Thanks, I――I’d like to. And I’m ever so much obliged about this――this -other business. It’s frightfully decent of you, Jones!” - -“Piffle,” answered Jonesie deprecatingly. - -“It is, though,” Wigman went on earnestly. “And――and about this thing.” -He brought the racket back into view. “I never use it, Jones, and I -have another one, anyway; and it’s a lot too heavy for me, besides. -And so――so”――Wigman was making hard work of it, stammering and -blushing――“so I wish you’d take it, Jones!” - -“Take it?” echoed Jonesie uncomprehendingly. - -“As a gift, you know. I suppose it’s cheeky on my part, but――――” - -“My dear fellow!” Jonesie smiled sweetly, protestingly. “It’s certainly -fine and dandy of you, but I couldn’t think of it! Positively I -couldn’t, Wigman!” - -“Well――of course――――” The hand holding the racket fell limply. “I wish -you might, though.” - -“It’s fine of you, but――er――hang it, Wigman, it looks almost like a -bribe!” - -Wigman colored furiously. “Oh, I didn’t mean it that way. Honest I -didn’t, Jones! You――you believe me, don’t you?” - -“Of course I do! I know better, but others might think――well, you know -what fellows are!” - -“Yes, but they needn’t know, need they? I wouldn’t tell. You――you’ve -been so awfully kind to me, Jones, and I don’t know any fellows yet, -and――and I’d just like you to have it! It would be awfully good of you -if you would!” - -Jonesie was affected by this appeal. He hesitated on the very verge of -another refusal. Wigman, seeing it, renewed his appeal. - -“It isn’t as though I didn’t have another perfectly good one, Jones, -because I have. I do wish you would!” - -“Why――why, if you put it that way,” murmured Jonesie, vacillating. -“But, I say, Wigman, it’s worth five or six dollars, you know!” - -“Seven,” answered Wigman, “but that’s got nothing to do with it. I――I’d -just like you to have it. Won’t you, please?” - -“Well, if you really want me to――――” Jonesie hesitated still, but -Wigman thrust the racket into his hand. Jonesie, discovering it there, -viewed it with surprise. Then, “Thanks, Wigman, it’s awfully decent -of you, old man. I really haven’t done anything to deserve this, you -know, but I’ll accept it in――er――the spirit it is offered in. And, I -say, let’s have a set some day, will you?” - -“I’d love to!” exclaimed Wigman. - -“Good!” Jonesie changed the racket to the other hand and offered the -first to Wigman. “We’ll do it. Good luck, Wigman. Sit tight and leave -everything to me! So long!” - -Swinging the racket appreciatively as he entered the campus, Jonesie -almost collided with a tall, broad-shouldered Upper Classman. - -“Hi, kid, look where you’re going,” ejaculated the latter -good-naturedly. Jonesie stepped out of the way into a puddle. - -“Beg pardon, Bingham,” he said humbly. - - -III - -All that happened on Friday. Saturday was a wonderful sunny day, and -Jonesie, who had no recitation after half past ten in the morning, was -very, very busy. There was nine holes of golf with “Pinky” Trainor -before dinner, a visit to the village with Pinky in the afternoon -and a lovely rough-house evening of it in Steve Cook’s room. Steve -lived at Mrs. Sharp’s in Walnut Place, and as Walnut Place was a good -half mile from the nearest dormitory and Mrs. Sharp good-naturedly -lenient it was, in Pinky’s words, some party! Jonesie, Pinky and two -other campus dwellers left at a quarter past ten by way of a window -and a shed roof, skulking back to school by dark and devious ways. -Consequently it was not until Sunday morning, always a sober period to -Jonesie, that recollection of Wigman returned to him. The Smith Special -reposed on the mantel and ever and anon as Jonesie wandered about -the study donning one garment after another, his glance fell upon it -troubledly. Naturally Sparrow had been curious about the tennis racket -and Jonesie’s easy statement that he had “bought it off a fellow” only -aroused Sparrow’s incredulity. - -“_Bought_ it! Yes, you did! Bet you stole it!” jeered Sparrow. Which -unjust charge so outraged Jonesie that he refused further enlightenment. - -All during church, or more especially during the sermon――for Jonesie -solved some of his most momentous problems while the preacher’s drone -filled the quiet church――he considered Wigman. Something would have to -be done, but he couldn’t see what. He sincerely wished he had never -encountered Wigman. The whole thing was a nuisance! Of course he had -hedged enough so that if Wigman was dropped from the football squad -to-morrow Wigman couldn’t hold him to blame. Still, there was that -racket. Jonesie loved that racket and didn’t want to give it up, which, -he supposed, he’d have――well, _ought_――to do in case Wigman suffered in -the morrow’s cut. Jonesie frowned and scowled and cudgeled his brain, -but discovered no solution. During the rest of the day――especially -what time Jonesie sat and suffered in the composition of his weekly -home letter――the Smith Special looked down upon him accusingly, -reproachfully, until finally the boy arose and wrathfully cast it into -the closet. - -By Monday morning he had forgotten the Wigman problem. Nor did it occur -to him again until, returning at dusk from an afternoon on the river in -a canoe with Pinky, Sparrow growlingly indicated a note on the table. -Jonesie’s first glance was at the signature, and when he read Wigman -his heart sank uncomfortably. Then, taking a long breath, he moved his -gaze to the top of the sheet and read: - - FRIEND JONES: - - I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done. As you probably - saw by the notice they’ve kept me on and to-day Captain Bingham - put me into B Squad. He was awfully nice, too. Told me I was - doing well, and that if I stuck to it and worked hard I’d - make a good quarter. Of course I knew it was all your doing, - and so I didn’t feel too stuck up about it. I’m terribly much - obliged and I hope some time I’ll have a chance to do something - for you. If the time ever comes I’ll do it like a streak. I - haven’t forgotten your invitation to call, and I’m going to - come over some evening if you don’t mind. - - Yours, etc., - - JAMES A. WIGMAN. - -Jonesie folded the note up with a broad smile. Then, whistling softly, -he went to the closet and rescued the tennis racket. When it was once -more on the mantel he had a sudden thought and his gaze darted across -to where Sparrow sat under the drop light, reading. There was something -far too good to be true in Sparrow’s preoccupation and Jonesie scowled. -At length: - -“Anything about this note you’d like to have explained?” he asked -sarcastically. - -Sparrow looked up, blinking. Then he shook his head slowly. - -“N-no, I guess not. It’s none of my business, Jonesie.” - -“Then what did you open it for?” Jonesie exploded. - -“Why, it was sort of dark in here and I thought it was for me,” -explained Sparrow calmly. “Of course, when I saw it wasn’t――――” - -“You read it through! After this you leave my notes alone. Do you hear?” - -“Sure! I don’t want to read your old notes.” - -“Then don’t do it,” growled Jonesie. - -“All right. That fellow Wigman must be an awful fool, though.” - -“Why?” challenged the other. - -“Why, to give you that racket! I don’t know what he thinks you did for -him, Jonesie, but I’m mighty sure you didn’t do it!” - - -IV - -A fortnight later all Randall’s was talking about the new football -find. His name was Wigman, he was a Junior, he was only thirteen years -old and he was turning out to be the finest little quarterback in -years! Why, only the other day he had taken Rice’s place in the last -two periods against Mercer High and driven the team like a veteran! -To say nothing of having himself scored on one of the most daring and -brilliant end runs ever seen on Randall’s Field! - -When Jonesie heard this he smiled superiorly. “I knew that a month -ago,” he said. “Wigman and I are old friends. In fact, it was largely -due to my――my encouragement that he held on and made good. Had an idea -when he got here that things went by favoritism and was all for giving -up right at the start. ‘Don’t you do it,’ I said to him. ‘You peg -along, old man, and show ’em what you can do. If you’ve got the stuff -in you Bingham and Cutler will pull you right along. Why,’ said I, ‘a -fellow who can play the way you can ought to be Captain some day!’ My -very words. You ask Wigman if you don’t believe me.” - -“But how did you know he could play?” inquired an incredulous hearer. -“Did you know him before he came up?” - -“Never set eyes on him,” declared Jonesie truthfully, “but you can’t -fool me on football players. I can size ’em up just by looking at ’em. -And one little glance at Wigman was enough for yours truly. He hasn’t -surprised _me_ any. I _knew_!” - -Wigman had fulfilled his promise to call on Jonesie, but the latter -had been out. And as Jonesie had never returned the visit the -acquaintanceship had not flourished. Jonesie considered himself well -out of his difficulty and was fearful that Wigman might again request -him to use his influence with Captain Bingham. But, as it happened, the -new quarterback needed no one’s assistance. He was making good on his -own account, and by the time the Big Game was a fortnight away it had -become a question whether Rice, the last year’s general, could retain -his position. And that question was solved a week later. In the game -with Lakeshore School Wigman started at quarter, and it was not until -the game was safely “on ice” in the fourth period that the disgruntled -Rice succeeded to the position. That, of course, was on the Saturday -succeeding the final contest of the year, and the next afternoon, while -Jonesie was chewing the end of his penholder and scowling at the Smith -Special for inspiration in the composition of his weekly missive, there -was an apologetic knock and in walked James Andrew Wigman. - -Even Jonesie could not help but notice the change in the boy. He seemed -to have grown taller and broader and a lot more certain of himself. -Shaking hands, Jonesie was thankful that Sparrow was out of the way, -for Wigman’s countenance proclaimed that he had come on weighty -matters. “If,” said Jonesie to himself, “he wants me to ask any more -favors of Bingham I’ll just have to refuse. This thing’s gone far -enough!” - -Wigman took a chair. - -“I’m sorry to bother you, Jones,” he began soberly. - -“Not at all,” murmured his host uneasily. - -“I suppose you’ve heard that they’ve given me Rice’s place on the -School Team?” - -Jonesie nodded. “Glad to hear it,” he said. - -“Well, of course it’s mighty hard on Rice. He’s an awfully fine fellow -and he had the place cinched until I――I butted in.” - -“Fortunes of war,” said Jonesie. - -“Maybe, and I wouldn’t care if――if I wasn’t afraid that I――well, had -sort of come by my good luck unfairly.” - -“Eh?” ejaculated Jonesie. - -“You know what I mean.” - -“Can’t say I do, Wigman.” - -“Well, you can’t deny, I suppose, that if it hadn’t been for you I -wouldn’t have got the chance to show what I could do. Because it’s -dollars to doughnuts, Jones, that Cutler meant to drop me the second -week of practice. You remember?” - -“Yes, oh, yes,” answered the other hurriedly. “Still――――” - -“Well, that’s what’s bothering me. Sometimes I think I ought to drop -out and give Rice a fair show. I don’t mean that I got my place by -favoritism, exactly, but I guess there’s no use pretending that if it -wasn’t for your interceding for me with Bingham, Rice would still be -first-string quarter.” - -“Hm,” said Jonesie judicially. - -“And――and that brings me to another thing. Yesterday after the game I -got to thinking about all this and I thought I’d go to Bingham and have -a frank talk with him. So――――” - -“Good Lord!” groaned Jonesie. - -“Pardon? I thought you spoke. So I did. I told him that I was afraid it -was scarcely fair to Rice and――and suggested that maybe I ought to――to -sort of drop out for this season.” - -“What――what did he say?” asked Jonesie faintly. - -“Why, that’s the funny part of it. He said he didn’t know anything -about it! At first he even pretended he didn’t know who you were!” - -“Good Old Bing!” exclaimed Jonesie, slapping his leg and grinning. “If -that isn’t just like the boy!” - -Wigman looked puzzled. “But he said――――” - -“Wait!” Jonesie held up a hand. “I’ll tell you just what he said, -Wigman. First off he pretended he didn’t know what you were talking -about. Didn’t he?” Wigman nodded. “Then he made believe he didn’t know -who I was. When you explained he said, ‘Oh, Jonesie, you mean. Ha, ha!’ -Just like that. Then he probably told you straight out that I’d had -nothing to do with the thing, that I’d never mentioned your name to him -and that, even if I had, it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference. -Didn’t he? Isn’t that about what happened, Wigman?” - -“Yes, pretty nearly exactly. And he said that the reason they’d put me -in place of Rice was because I was playing a better all-around game and -that nothing else had anything to do with it.” - -“And there you are!” exclaimed Jonesie triumphantly. - -“But――but why should he say he didn’t know you, Jones? He does, of -course, and you have spoken to him for me, haven’t you?” - -Jonesie smiled wisely. “He says not, doesn’t he?” - -“Yes, but――――” - -“And he ought to know.” Jonesie winked meaningly. Vague comprehension -illumined Wigman’s countenance. - -“Oh!” he said doubtfully. “You mean he doesn’t want to acknowledge even -to me――――” - -“Wigman, there’s a whole lot more politics in a school like this than -you dream of,” responded Jonesie gravely. “Bing has his reason. Let it -go at that. Don’t inquire too――er――closely.” - -“Oh! Then you think――――” - -“Sure!” - -“What?” - -“Why, that you ought to take what you’ve got and ask no questions,” -said Jonesie promptly. “Get me?” - -“But if they have――have been easier with me than with other fellows――――” - -“It’s because you deserved it. Wigman, Cutler and Bing and I -have――er――done what was wisest and best for you and the School. -Remember, Wigman, there’s the School to think of, too. The greatest -good to the greatest number, you know. Got to think of that, Wigman. -It may seem a bit tough on Rice, but don’t let that worry you. Just -tell yourself that we have our reasons, Wigman, reasons which neither -Bing nor I are ashamed of. If it was necessary we’d tell ’em to the -School right out. But it isn’t. You go ahead and keep your mouth shut, -Wigman, that’s all you need do.” - -“And――and,” asked Wigman, visibly impressed, “you don’t think I’m -taking any unfair advantage of Rice?” - -“Not a bit. Take my word for it. Besides, Bing told you the same thing, -didn’t he?” - -“Yes.” - -“There you are then! Don’t you trouble. If there’s any worrying -to be done”――Jonesie arose and patted Wigman reassuringly on the -shoulder――“if there’s any of that to be done you just leave it to me -and Bing!” - - - - -THE MAGIC FOOTBALL - -A FAIRY TALE OF TO-DAY - - -I - -“I wish,” murmured Tommy Piper, “they’d let _me_ play!” - -It was a chill, cloudy November afternoon, and Tommy, sprawled in the -big armchair in front of the library fire, was very unhappy. Things -hadn’t gone well to-day at school, where the teachers had been horribly -unjust to him, nor at home, where he had been scolded for arriving -late for dinner; Billy Blue, his most particular chum, was confined to -the house with double mumps, and, to add to the burden of his woes, -or to remind him of the principal one, half a dozen fellows, togged -and sweatered, carrying a battle-scarred football and dangling their -head guards, had just passed the window on their way to the field to -practice for the final and all-important game of the year, that with -Meadowville. - -Usually Tommy went along, envious but interested, to watch the luckier -boys at work, but to-day he was at outs with the world. What was most -awfully wrong was that George Marquis, captain of the Hillside eleven, -refused to perceive in Tommy the qualities desired in a member of that -gallant band of gridiron warriors. George said that Tommy was much too -light for either line or backfield, while grudgingly acknowledging -that he _could_ kick and _was_ fast on his toes. Consequently, Tommy, -who all summer long had looked forward almost breathlessly to securing -a position at the end of the line or as a back, had been――and still -was――horribly disappointed. Of course he realized that he was pretty -light――he was only thirteen, you see, and by no means large for his -age――but he was quite convinced that he was clever enough at punting -and drop-kicking and carrying the ball to atone for his lack of weight. -But Captain Marquis didn’t think so, and Tommy was out of it for -another year at least. - -He had been trying to read a story that was all about school life and -football, but he didn’t want his fun at second-hand to-day. He wanted -to make history himself! The book toppled unnoticed to the hearth -rug and Tommy went off into a wonderful daydream, his round eyes -fixed entrancedly on the glowing coals in the grate. He saw himself -playing right halfback for Hillside in the Thanksgiving Day game with -Meadowville, making sensational rushes, kicking marvelous goals from -the field, cheered and applauded, a veritable football hero if ever -there was one! When, after an hour of desperate battle, Hillside had -conquered, and Tommy, on the shoulders of admiring comrades, was being -carried from the field, he woke from his daydream with a sigh. - -“I wish,” he said longingly, addressing no one in particular, since -there was no one there, but gazing very intently at the gloomy corner -of the room where lounge and bookcase met and formed a cavern of -shadow, “I wish I could do all that! Gee, but I do wish I could!” - -“Well,” said a small, gruff voice that made Tommy sit up suddenly very -straight and surprised in his chair, “you were long enough about it!” - -From the dark corner there emerged into the fire light the most -astonishing person Tommy had ever seen or dreamed of. He was scarcely -higher than the boy’s knee and he was lamentably thin; and his head -was quite out of proportion to any other part of him. But the queerest -thing of all was his face, which was just as round as――as, well, as -a basket ball and very much the same color. From the middle of it -protruded a long and very pointed nose. His eyes were small and sharp -and bright and his mouth was thin and reached almost from one perfectly -huge ear to the other. He was dressed in rusty black, with pointed -shoes that were ridiculously like his nose, and a sugar-loaf cap, from -which dangled dejectedly a long green feather. And under one pipestem -of an arm, clutched with long brown fingers, was a football almost as -large as he was! - -Tommy stared and stared and thought he must be dreaming. But the -strange visitor quickly put that notion out of his head. - -“Well! Well!” he said crossly. “Can’t you speak?” - -“Y-yes, sir,” stammered Tommy. “But――I――I don’t think I heard wh-what -you said!” - -“Yes, you did! You didn’t understand. Boys are all stupid. I said you -were long enough about it.” - -The visitor advanced to the hearth and took up his position on the rug, -his back to the fire and his beady eyes blinking sharply at the boy. - -“About――about what?” asked Tommy apologetically. - -“About wishing, of course! Don’t you know fairies can’t grant a wish -until it has been made three times? You wished once and then you kept -me waiting. I don’t like to be kept waiting. I’m a very busy person. -Nowadays, with everyone wishing for all sorts of silly things that they -don’t need and oughtn’t to have, a fairy’s life isn’t worth living.” - -“I’m very sorry,” murmured Tommy apologetically. “I――I didn’t know you -were there.” - -“‘Didn’t know! Didn’t know!’ That’s what every stupid person says. -You should have known. If you didn’t expect me why did you wish three -times?” - -“Why, I――I don’t know,” said Tommy. “I was just――just wishing.” - -“Oh, then maybe you don’t want your wish?” asked the other eagerly. “If -that’s it, just say so. Don’t waste my time. I’ve an appointment in -Meadowville in――in――――” He took off his funny sugar-loaf hat, rested -the end of the feather on the bridge of his long nose and spun the cap -around. “One――two――three――four――――” The cap stopped spinning and he -replaced it on his head. “In four minutes,” he ended sternly. - -“Th-that’s a funny way to tell time,” said Tommy. - -“I never tell time,” replied the stranger shortly. “Time tells me. Now, -then, what do you say?” - -“Th-thank you,” said Tommy hurriedly, remembering his manners. - -“No, no, no, no, no, no!” exclaimed the other exasperatedly. “What -about your wish? Do you or isn’t it?” - -“Why――why, if it isn’t too much trouble,” stammered Tommy, “I’d like to -have it very, very much.” - -“Of course it’s trouble,” said the fairy sharply. “Don’t be any -stupider than you have to be. But everything’s trouble; my life is full -of trouble; that’s what comes of being a D. A.” - -“If you please,” asked Tommy politely, “what does D. A. mean?” - -“Director of Athletics, of course. It couldn’t mean anything else, -could it? Really, you do ask more silly questions! Now then, now then, -look alive!” - -“Yes, sir, but――but how?” asked Tommy anxiously. - -“Repeat the incan., of course.” - -“The――the incan――――?” - -“Tation! Don’t tell me you don’t know it!” The fairy was almost tearful -and Tommy naturally felt awfully ashamed of his ignorance. But he had -to acknowledge that he didn’t, and, casting his eyes toward the ceiling -in protest, the fairy rattled off the following so rapidly that it was -all Tommy could do to follow him: - - “I wish this once, - I wish this twice! - Grant me the wish - That I wish thrice!” - -“Repeat, if you please!” said the fairy. Tommy did so, stumblingly. - -The fairy grunted. “Stupid!” he muttered. “Didn’t know the incan. What -are we coming to? What are we coming to? In the old days boys didn’t -have to be told such things. Modern education――puh!” And the fairy -fairly glared at Tommy. - -“I’m awfully sorry, Mr. Fairy,” he said. - -“Hm, at least you have manners,” said the fairy, his ill temper -vanishing. “Well, here it is.” He tapped the football he held with the -claw-like fingers of his other hand. - -“But――but I didn’t wish for a football,” faltered Tommy disappointedly. - -“Of course you didn’t! Who said you did? You wished you might play in -Thursday’s football game and be a hero and win the game for your team, -didn’t you? Or, if you didn’t, how much? Or, other things being as -stated, when?” - -“Yes, sir, I did! And could I――could you really give me my wish?” - -“Drat the boy! What am I here for? Wasting my time! Wasting my time! -Fiddledunk!” - -“I beg your pardon?” - -“I said fiddledunk. I always say fiddledunk when angry. What do you -say?” - -“I say――I say――――” Tommy had the grace to blush. - -“I know!” exclaimed the fairy triumphantly. “You say jerriwhizzum! You -shouldn’t! It’s almost swearing! You’re a very bad boy, and I don’t -know that you ought to have your wish!” - -“But I don’t!” gasped Tommy. “I never said jerriwhizzum in my life.” - -“You just said it! Don’t tell me! Don’t tell me! Guilty or not guilty? -Guilty! Remove the prisoner!” And the fairy grinned gleefully and -maliciously at Tommy. - -“But――but I meant I never said it before, sir!” - -“Why don’t you say what you mean?” demanded the other evidently -disappointed. “Are you or for what purpose did you not? Answer yes or -no immediately. No answer. Discharged! Now then, what do you say?” - -“Thank you very much,” said Tommy promptly. The fairy smiled. - -“Not at all! Not at all! Glad to be of service. You have excellent -manners――for a boy. Perhaps in time you’ll get over being so stupid. -I did. I used to be awfully stupid. You wouldn’t believe it now, would -you?” - -“Oh, no, indeed,” cried Tommy. The fairy actually beamed. - -“I took a correspondence course, you see.” - -“A correspondence course?” murmured Tommy questioningly. - -“In Non-Stupidity. Try it.” - -“Thank you, I――I might some time.” - -“Time!” exclaimed the fairy, twirling his hat again on the -tip of the feather and counting the spins; “dear me! Dear me! -I’m――seven――eight――nine――nine minutes late! Did you ever? I really must -go, I really must. Here is the Magic Football――――” - -“Oh, is it a magic football?” exclaimed Tommy in surprise. - -“Of course it is! There you go again with your silly questions! Taking -up my time! Didn’t I just tell you that I was―――― How many minutes late -did I say?” - -“Nine, I think.” - -“‘You think’! You ought to know. Now I’ll have to do it again.” He spun -the hat and it stopped at six. “I thought you were wrong,” he said in -triumph. “You said it was nine! Stupid!” - -Tommy thought it best not to argue with him. “What――what do I do with -the football?” he asked. - -“Play with it, of course. Didn’t think it was to eat, did you?” - -“N-no, but――――” - -“This football will do everything you want it to. If you want it to -come to you, you say, ‘Come’; if you want it to go, you say――――” - -“Go!” murmured Tommy. - -“Not at all!” exclaimed the fairy testily. “I wish you wouldn’t jump to -conclusions. If you want it to go you say ‘Og!’” - -“Og?” faltered Tommy. - -“Of course. When the ball comes to you it comes forward. When it goes -away from you it must go backward. And ‘go,’ backward, is ‘og.’ I never -saw anyone so stupid!” - -“Oh,” murmured the boy. “But suppose I kick the ball?” - -“Say ‘Og.’ But you’d better not kick it very hard, because if you do it -might not like it. Magic footballs have very tender feelings.” - -“But suppose I wanted to kick it a long, long distance?” - -“Then say ‘Og’ several times. You’ll have to try it for yourself and -learn the ography of it. Now call it.” - -“Come,” said Tommy doubtfully. - -The next instant the football was rolling into the fireplace, having -jumped from the fairy’s arms, collided violently with Tommy’s nose and -bounced to the floor again. - -“Save it!” shrieked the fairy, jumping excitedly about on the rug. - -But Tommy’s eyes were full of tears, produced by the blow on his nose, -and by the time he had leaped to the rescue the ball was lodged between -grate and chimney and the fairy, still jumping and shrieking, was quite -beside himself with alarm. Tommy pulled the football out before it -had begun to scorch, however, and the fairy’s excitement subsided as -suddenly as it had begun. - -“Stupid!” he said severely. “You almost made me ill. The odor of -burning leather always upsets me. It was most unfeeling of you.” - -“But I didn’t know,” replied Tommy with spirit, rubbing his nose -gingerly, “it was going to come so hard!” - -“You should have known. Seems to me, for a boy who goes to school, you -are very deficient in ography and comeology.” - -“I never studied them. We don’t have them.” - -The fairy sighed painfully. “What are we coming to? What are we coming -to? Never studied ography or comeology or non-stupidity! Oh dear! Oh -my!” His long, thin, pointed nose twitched up and down and sideways -under the stress of his emotion. “Well, well, there isn’t time to give -you a lesson now. You’ll have to do the best you can. I’m very late. -By the way, when you’re through with the football just say ‘Og!’ seven -times and it will come back to me. But be careful not to say it seven -times if you don’t want to lose it. Thank you for a very pleasant -evening.” The fairy made a ridiculous bow, hat in hand, and backed away -toward the dark corner of the room. Tommy started to remind him that it -wasn’t evening, but concluded that it would only offend him, and so he -didn’t. Instead, - -“Thank you very much for the football,” he said. “Would you mind -telling me who it is you are going to call on in Meadowville?” - -“The name is――the name is――――” The fairy lifted one foot and peered at -the sole of a pointed shoe. “The name is Frank Lester. Do you know him?” - -“N-no, but I know who he is,” answered Tommy anxiously. “He’s captain -of the Meadowville Grammar School Football Team, and I’ll just bet he’s -going to wish they’ll win the game!” - -The fairy frowned with annoyance. “I can’t have that,” he said, shaking -his head rapidly. “Besides, all the magic footballs are out. He will -have to wish for something else.” - -“But――but suppose he doesn’t?” - -“‘Suppose!’ ‘Suppose!’ I’d just like to know,” exclaimed the fairy, -“how many supposes you’ve supposed! You’re the most suppositionary boy -I ever did see!” - -“But if he _did_ wish that,” pursued Tommy, “you’d have to give him his -wish, wouldn’t you?” - -The fairy grinned slyly and put a long finger beside his nose. “If -wishes were fishes,” he said, “beggars would ride.” - -“I――I don’t think that’s just the way it goes,” said Tommy. - -“Then don’t ask me,” replied the other indignantly. “Besides, you have -kept me here until I am awfully late for my appointment. I must be――I -must be――――” - -The fairy caught off his hat and began twirling it about on the tip of -the feather. - -“One――two――three――――!” he began to count. - -The hat twirled like a top and Tommy, watching it, felt his head swim -and his eyes grow heavy. - -“Twelve――thirteen――fourteen――twenty-eight――――” came the voice of the -fairy as though from a long ways off. Tommy wanted to tell him that -twenty-eight didn’t follow fourteen, but he was too sleepy to speak. - -“Thirty-three――thirty-six――thirty-two――fifteen――――” - -It was just a whisper now, away off in the hazy distance.... - -Tommy sat up suddenly and stared. The fairy was gone. He rubbed -his eyes. After all, then, it was just a dream! But as he stirred -something rolled from his lap to the floor and went bouncing away under -the couch. It was the magic football. - - -II - -All that happened on Saturday afternoon. Monday morning Tommy sought -George Marquis at recess and asked him to let him play on the football -team. “If you do,” he said earnestly, “I’ll win the game for you.” - -George laughed amusedly. “How’ll you do it, kid?” he asked, with a wink -at Harold Newman, the quarterback. - -Tommy flushed. “I――I can’t tell you that,” he stammered. “It――it’s a -secret. But I can do it, George; honest and truly, black and bluely! -Just let me show you, won’t you?” - -“Oh, shucks,” said the captain, “if you know how to win the game you -can tell me about it, can’t you? Anyway, I guess we can win it without -you and your secrets, Tommy.” - -But Tommy looked so disappointed that George, who was kind-hearted -after all, said soothingly: “I tell you what I will do, Tommy. If -we’re ahead at the end of the third period, I’ll let you go in at half. -How’s that?” - -“You won’t be,” replied Tommy glumly. “If you really want to lick -Meadowville, George, you’d better let me play. If you don’t you’ll be -sorry for it. I can win that game for you, and I don’t believe anyone -else can.” - -George’s good nature took flight. “Oh, you run away, kid!” he said -impatiently. “Anyone to hear you talk would think you were a regular -wonder! You’re too fresh!” - -“That’s all right,” said Tommy to himself as George went off scowling, -“but you’ll have to let me play whether you want to or not! Unless,” he -added doubtfully, “that fairy is just a――a fakir after all!” - -But that didn’t seem probable, for there was the magic football, and -the magic football did just as the fairy had said it would. That -afternoon when he was let out of school half an hour late――Tommy’s head -was so filled with football these days that there was almost no room -in it for lessons and he was kept after school as a result――he hurried -home, unlocked the closet door in his bedroom and took the magic -football down from the shelf. It looked just like any other football. -There was the name of a well-known maker stamped on the clean leather -and no one would have ever suspected that there was anything unusual -about it. But there certainly was, as Tommy proceeded to prove when, -the ball under his arm, he reached the vacant lot behind the dye works -in the next street. The dye works had no windows on the back, there was -a tumble-down board fence around the other three sides of the lot and -Tommy was safe from observation. - -When he had crawled through a hole in the fence he placed the football -on the ground, swung his leg gently and said, “Og!” softly as his foot -struck the ball. He hardly more than touched it with the toe of his -scuffed shoe, but the ball flew up and away as straight as an arrow and -bounced away from the fence at the further end of the lot. Tommy looked -carefully about him. No one was within sight, and so he said, “Come!” -very softly, and the ball began rolling toward him along the ground. -That was too slow, and so Tommy said, “Come!” once more and a little -louder. Whereupon the ball left the ground and arched itself toward -him. Tommy held out his hands, and the ball settled into them. - -That day and every afternoon until Thursday Tommy continued his -practice with the magic football until finally he was able to judge -just how to address it to get the results he wanted. For a short kick -or pass one “Og,” not very loud, was enough. For a longer kick a single -“Og” spoken loudly accomplished the purpose. For a very long kick, say -thirty or thirty-five yards, beyond which Tommy had never tried to kick -a ball, three “Og’s” were sufficient. And the same rule worked when he -wanted the ball to come to him. He could make it just trickle toward -him slowly across the turf or he could make it come slam-banging to -him so hard that as often as not he jumped out of its way so it would -not knock him down. When he did that the ball, instead of going past, -stopped short in the air and dropped to the ground. In fact, Tommy -learned what the fairy had called “ography” and “comeology.” - -A funny thing happened the next day. When he got home after school――he -wasn’t kept in that afternoon, for there was a teacher’s council in -the Superintendent’s office――it occurred to him that perhaps it wasn’t -necessary for him to go up and get the ball, even though it was in the -closet with the door locked. At all events, he thought, there was no -harm in trying it. So he said “Come!” very loudly and waited halfway -up the front path. But nothing happened; not even when he said “Come!” -again, very much louder. But when, for the third time, he said “Come! -Come!” almost at the top of his lungs, something did happen. There -was a frightful noise at the top of the house, a scream from Tilda, -the maid, and a grunt from Tommy himself! When Tommy picked himself -up, gasping for breath, he was six feet nearer the front gate and the -football was bobbing up and down in front of him. It had taken him -squarely in the stomach! - -When he went into the house Tilda was sitting halfway up the stairs -having hysterics, an overturned pail beside her and a flood of soapy -water trickling down the steps. Something, declared Tilda, when she -had been calmed by the use of smelling salts and other restoratives, -something had flown at her as she was going upstairs and clean knocked -the feet from under her! Just what the something was Tilda couldn’t -say, but she was sure that it had been “as big as a washtub, mum, and -kind of yellow, with two big glaring eyes!” Tommy, hiding the magic -football behind him, crept up to his room. In the top of the closet -door was a big jagged hole and the floor was littered with splinters! - -Tommy looked and gasped. Then he stared at the magic football. “I -guess,” he muttered, “I won’t try that again!” - -On Wednesday he went out to see practice. What he saw didn’t impress -him greatly. Hillside didn’t play like a team that was going to win on -the morrow. The scrub eleven held the School Team to one touchdown and -a very lucky field goal, and, when practice was over, the supporters of -the home team came back looking very dejected. Tommy waited for George -Marquis at the gate. - -“George,” he said, twitching the captain’s sleeve, “don’t forget what I -told you!” - -Captain Marquis pulled his arm away and scowled angrily at the -youngster. “Oh, dry up, Tommy,” he muttered. “You make me tired! I’ve -got enough troubles without having to listen to your nonsense!” - -Tommy went home and wondered for the hundredth time whether that fairy -was putting up a game on him. Suppose, after all, the fairy had just -been poking fun at him! If George didn’t let him play how was he ever -going to win the game for Hillside? It was all well enough to have -a magic football that would come or go just as you wanted it to and -that would break its way through closet doors and scare folks into -hysterics, but if you didn’t get into the game what good were a dozen -such things? Tommy was sad and doubtful and pessimistic that evening. - -But the next morning he felt more hopeful. To reassure himself he went -over to the vacant lot with the football and put it through its paces -to his entire satisfaction. And then, since it was Thanksgiving Day -and the big game was to start at half past ten, he tucked the magic -football in the hollow of his arm and joined the crowd that was wending -its way to the field. He passed Billy Blue’s house on the way, and, in -answer to his whistle, Billy appeared at an upstairs window with his -face swathed in cotton batting and linen and waved to him sadly. - -“Where’d you get the football?” mumbled Billy enviously. - -“A fair――a fellow gave it to me,” answered Tommy. “Or maybe he just -loaned it to me. It――it’s a wonder!” - -“Going to the game?” - -“Yep. Wish you were, Billy.” - -“So do I! We’ll get licked, though.” - -“Bet you we don’t! Bet you we win!” - -Billy tried to say “Yah!” but it hurt too much and so he contented -himself with shaking his head and looking sarcastic. “Yes, we will!” he -mumbled. “Like fun!” - -“We will, though, and, Billy――――” Tommy sank his voice so the passers -wouldn’t hear. “Want me to tell you something nobody else knows?” - -Billy nodded. - -“I’m going to win it for ’em!” confided Tommy in a stage whisper. Then, -with a magnificent wave of his hand, he went on, pursued by Billy’s -cruel and incredulous, if much smothered, laughter. - -We needn’t dwell on that first thirty minutes of the game. From the -point of view of Hillside it was a sad affair. Meadowville outrushed, -outpunted, outgeneraled her opponent. The Hillside line couldn’t hold -against the swift, hard attack of the visitors, and the Hillside ends -were no match for the fast backs of the Meadowville team. When the -first fifteen-minute period was at an end the score was 6 to 0. When -the half was over and the rival teams trotted off the gridiron, the -score stood Meadowville, 17; Hillside, 0! - -Tommy, hunched up on a seat in the grandstand, the magic football -clasped to his breast, watched and worried and almost wept. The fairy’s -promise wasn’t coming true after all! He wasn’t to have his wish! All -his lessons in “ography” and “comeology” were to be wasted! The magic -football might just as well be back on the closet shelf, or, for that -matter, back in Fairyland! Tommy felt very sorry for himself, very -disappointed. - -But he made one last, final appeal before yielding to the inevitable. -He left his seat and squirmed through the crowd to the home team’s -bench when Captain Marquis and his players came back, blankets and -spirits both trailing. He got George’s attention for a minute finally, -and reminded him of his promise. George was cross and impatient. “You -again?” he exclaimed. “Promise? What promise? Oh, that? Well, I said if -we were ahead, didn’t I? We aren’t ahead, so that settles that. Now get -off the field, Tommy.” - -Tommy didn’t, though. He carried his football to the bench and seated -himself on it, unchallenged, among the substitutes. They were all too -discouraged to care what Tommy did. Then the whistle sounded again -and the game went on. The pigskin floated in air, was caught by a -fleet-footed Meadowville player and brought back for many yards, the -Hillside ends failing lamentably to stop the runner. A plunge at the -line and another five-yard mark was passed. A wide end run and two more -were traversed. Meadowville was literally eating up the ground, while -from across the field came the triumphant shouting of her supporters. -And then, not three minutes after the third quarter began, a strange -thing happened. - -The football in use, a perfectly good, brand-new football, supplied -by the home team at a vast expense, began to become deflated. A halt -was called and the lacings were undone and they tried to blow it up -again. But the air wouldn’t stay in it! It was most perplexing and most -annoying. No one had ever seen a football act so before. But there was -only one thing to do, and that was to find another ball. Of course, -Hillside ought to have had another one, but she didn’t; at least, not -at the field. There was an old football at George’s house, but George’s -house was a good mile and a half away. So it devolved on Meadowville to -loan her practice ball and the Meadowville captain, after sarcastically -stating what he thought of the stinginess of Hillside, consented to -have the ball used. But when they went to look for it, it couldn’t -be found! It had been there a half hour before; they were all quite -certain of that; but it wasn’t there now. Boys searched everywhere, -even behind the stand, but to no avail. And then, just when Captain -Marquis concluded that he would have to dispatch a messenger to his -house for the old football, someone brought word that Tommy Piper had -a football and that he was sitting on the bench at that moment. Over -hurried George. - -“Let’s take your ball, Tommy,” he said genially. “Ours is busted.” - -Tommy smiled and shook his head. George blustered. - -“Come on! We’ll pay you for it, if you won’t lend it! Don’t be a meany!” - -“I’ll lend it to you for nothing if you’ll let me play left halfback,” -said Tommy. A howl of derision went up from the players and -substitutes. George scowled angrily. - -“What’s the use of being a hog?” he demanded. “Come on, let’s have it!” - -But Tommy shook his head. George grabbed the ball and tried to tug it -away. Tommy said “Come!” very softly under his breath and, although -Harold Newman and Bert Jones and Gus Neely all helped their captain, -not an inch would that ball budge! They had to give it up. - -“Oh, let him play,” said Harold, very much out of breath. “It won’t -matter, George. We’re beaten anyway.” - -George, very angry, hesitated and finally yielded. “All right,” he said -gruffly. “You can play. Give us the ball. Gus, you’re off.” - -Tommy, the recipient of a look of deadly hatred from the deposed Gus, -trotted joyfully into the field and took his place. Harold whispered -the signal code into his ear. “You won’t be able to remember it,” he -added, “but you won’t get the ball, so that doesn’t matter!” - -Then the game began again. Meadowville was on her second down, with -four yards to go. The quarterback called his signals, the two lines -heaved together and―――― - -“Ball! Ball!” shouted half the players. The Meadowville quarter had -fumbled and, strange to say, it was Tommy who dropped to the turf -and snuggled the ball to him. For almost the first time the Hillside -supports had something to cheer about and they made good use of the -chance. And half the Hillside team patted Tommy on the back as he was -pulled to his feet. Of course, it was only an accident, but Tommy -deserved credit just the same! - -Hillside was on her forty-yard line when she got the pigskin and Harold -Newman elected to have Bert Jones, the big fullback, take it for a try -through right tackle. And so he called the signals, and the players -crouched in their places and the ball was snapped. And then, as Bert -leaped forward to take the pass from quarter, Tommy whispered, “Come!” - -Such a befuddled-looking backfield as that was for an instant! Bert, -expecting the pigskin, clasped empty air to his stomach and hove -himself at the line. The other backs stood and stared; all, that is, -save Tommy. Tommy was very busy. Already, with the ball snuggled in the -bend of his arm, he had crossed two white lines and he was very intent -on crossing the rest of them. That he didn’t was only because the -opposing quarterback outguessed him and brought him to earth. - -But twenty-five yards was not to be sneezed at, especially when -theretofore the most that Hillside had made in one try was a scant -six! George Marquis stopped scolding Harold and hugged Tommy instead. -Harold, too, thumped him delightedly on the back, but the quarter had -a dazed look on his face. He could have sworn that he had tossed the -ball toward Bert Jones! - -Slightly demoralized, Meadowville lined up again in front of her foe. -This time she watched Tommy as a cat watches a mouse, but when Tommy, -disregarding the play, scuttled yards across the field, the rival backs -decided that he was faking an end run and paid scant attention to him. -A moment after they saw their mistake, for the ball went to Tommy on -one of the prettiest passes ever seen, and Tommy, almost unopposed, -streaked straight for the Meadowville goal line! Only an end came near -him and Tommy eluded the end deftly. Tommy was really a clever runner, -say what you like. The opposing quarter tried desperately to intercept -Tommy before he reached the goal line, but he failed and the best he -could do was to tackle him behind and prevent him from centering the -ball. - -You can imagine how Hillside cheered then! It was deafening, terrific! -Even staid and serious-minded elderly gentlemen shouted and thumped -the stand with their gold-headed sticks. Girls screamed their pretty -throats hoarse and boys――well, boys threw their hats in air and -behaved like joyous lunatics! As for the Hillside players, they turned -handsprings and tripped each other up and behaved quite ridiculously. -All save Tommy. Tommy, a little breathless, but wearing his honors -modestly, yielded the ball and trotted back up the field amid a shower -of congratulations. And not until Bert Jones was directing the pointing -of the pigskin did it occur to George Marquis to demand of Harold why -he had signaled one thing and done another! And poor Harold, looking -very white and worried, could only shake his head and gaze fascinatedly -at Tommy! - -But why go into further details of that last half? At the end of the -third quarter Hillside was two points ahead of Meadowville, and Tommy -Piper had only to turn his head or lift his hand to have the Hillside -stand rise to its feet and cheer itself hoarse! Such runs as Tommy -made! Ten yards, twenty, even once a full thirty-five! Never was such -brilliant running and dodging seen before! Tommy could have played -that whole game alone had he wished it, but he didn’t. With the -assurance that his team would emerge victor in the end, Tommy let the -other backs have their chances. And when they were stopped in their -tracks or pushed back for a loss, then the ball went to the infallible -Thomas Piper and said Thomas reeled off a dozen yards, or two dozen, -perchance; and everything was lovely. - -When the last quarter began Meadowville was showing the strain. So was -the Hillside quarterback! Poor Harold was beginning to think that he -had gone crazy. Time after time when he tried to pass the ball to one -of the other backs or even carry it himself, he found that, for some -strange reason, without wanting to do it, he had thrown it to Tommy. -Of course, Tommy always gained and that made it all right. Only――well, -Harold was certainly worried! - -A run the entire length of the field, barring ten yards, was Tommy’s -heart-stirring contribution at the beginning of the final period, and -from that time on until, within only a minute to spare and the ball on -Hillside’s thirty-two yards, he ended the game in a final blaze of -glory, Tommy performed like a――well, like a magician. I can think of no -better word! - -But the last feat of all was the most astounding. It went down in -history, I can tell you! Even yet no other player has ever come within -at the least twenty yards of duplicating Tommy’s performance. The score -was 36 to 17 when the final sixty seconds began to tick themselves -away. Hillside had the game safe, and it didn’t matter very much what -happened then. So when Tommy said to Harold: “Let me try a field goal -from here, Harold,” the quarterback only stared and didn’t tell him he -was crazy. He only grinned. And then, since they all owed the victory -to Tommy, he consented. What did it matter how the contest ended? As -well one way as another. And he’d be pleasing the redoubtable Tommy. So -Tommy walked back to near the twenty-five-yard line and held out his -hands, and everyone stared in surprise. For why, with everything her -own way, should Hillside punt and lose possession of the ball? - -Tommy was ambitious to outdo all his previous feats, and he could think -of but one way to gain that end, and that was to make a wonderful -field goal. But when, with poised arms, he awaited the ball and looked -far down the field at the distant goal posts he began to have doubts. -Perhaps the magic football couldn’t go so far. It was an appalling -distance. But just then the ball was snapped and Tommy said, “Come!” -Straight and true it sped into his hands. Tommy measured distance and -direction again, dropped the ball and, as it bounded, hit it smartly -with his instep. And as he did so he said, “Og!” very loudly, and then, -to make very certain, he said, “Og!” again and again and many times, -and kept on saying it until the enemy came swarming down on him and -sent him sprawling on his back. - -But he was up again in a second, watching the flight of the ball, and, -lest it might falter on its journey, he said, “Og!” once more, or, -perhaps, the fifteenth time. - -Friend and foe alike turned and watched the football. Everyone held -his breath. Surely it would never travel so far! And yet it kept on -going, getting higher and higher until, by the time it reached the end -of the field, it was yards and yards and yards above the goal posts. A -great awe hushed the field. You could have heard a pin drop. And then a -great cry of amazement started and spread, for the magic football kept -on going up and up and up and getting smaller and smaller and smaller -until, at last, it was just a speck against the blue and then――why, -then it wasn’t anything at all! It had just floated out of sight like a -runaway toy balloon! - -But everyone agreed that it had passed exactly over the center of the -Meadowville goal, and so what did it matter if the ball was lost? - -Tommy, being borne off the field on the shoulders of enthusiastic -admirers, cheered and waved at, smiled modestly. But under that smile -was a sorrow. The magic football was lost to him! - -“I guess,” said Tommy, sadly, to himself, “I must have said ‘Og!’ seven -times!” - - - - -SPORTSMEN ALL - - -I - -“Want to buy him?” asked the stableman, including both boys in his -glance, but appealing more particularly to Jonesie, a healthy, -rosy-cheeked youth of fourteen with a countenance that fairly radiated -candor and innocence. Jonesie viewed the man with polite indifference. - -“What for?” he asked. The stableman, tipped back in his chair by the -door marked “Office,” shrugged his shoulders and gave the straw between -his teeth a new tilt. - -“Thought maybe you’d like a good sporting animal,” he responded. “In my -time it was considered very swell for young gentlemen to keep dogs.” - -“What do you mean ‘sporting animal’?” inquired Jonesie coldly. “Can he -hunt?” - -“Can he! Say, son, that dog’s the finest pup on――on rabbits and coons -and――and――――” - -“Bears,” suggested Pinky helpfully. He was a slim youth with a -freckled face and carroty hair. - -“Huh!” Jonesie refused to be impressed. “Any old dog can hunt. Question -is, can he catch anything except fleas.” - -“What are you talking about?” asked the man with a show of anger. “Have -a look at that coat on him, son. If you can find a flea――――” - -At that moment the dog, who had been sitting in the doorway interestedly -following the conversation, turned his head suddenly and began a hurried -and very earnest search along the inch and a half of tail that the -dictates of fashion had left to him. Jonesie chuckled. - -“No use my looking,” he said. “_He’ll_ catch ’em.” - -The stableman refused to notice the dog’s occupation. He also passed -over Jonesie’s remark. “He’s got a skin just like a baby’s, that dog -has. Three months old, and a few days over, gentlemen, and a ten-spot -takes him! What do you say, now? There ain’t a finer-bred fox terrier -in town. He’s got a pedigree as long as his tail!” - -“I guess that’s right,” replied Jonesie. - -“What’s the good of a rabbit dog when there aren’t any rabbits?” asked -Pinky. “Nor coons, neither. If you’ve got a dog that can kill rats――――” - -“Rats? _Rats!_” The stableman almost choked in his excitement. “Now -you’re talking, son! You wouldn’t believe it, I guess, if I told you -how many rats that dog killed yesterday afternoon inside of an hour and -a half, right here in this stable.” - -“Right-O!” said Jonesie. “We wouldn’t. So go ahead.” - -The stableman fixed him with a glittering eye. “Fourteen,” he said -impressively. “And one got away.” - -Pinky brightened. Jonesie looked coldly incredulous. The terrier, -having failed in his hunt, sighed and returned to his rôle of -interested audience. He was really a nice little dog. Clean him up, -thought Jonesie, and he’d look fine. He was all white except for a -dark-brown patch over his left eye and ear, which gave him a peculiarly -philosophical expression. His yellow-brown eyes were bright and -intelligent, and the occasional wag of that pathetic button that -had once been a perfectly good tail showed friendliness. Jonesie was -melting, but you’d never have suspected it. Pinky stooped and snapped -his fingers and said, “Here, pup,” in a coaxing voice. The dog wagged -the remains of his tail frantically, but moved not an inch. Jonesie -frowned. - -“Shucks, he don’t even come when he’s called!” he said. - -“Not to strangers, he don’t,” replied the stableman triumphantly. “He’s -got to know you first. Sign of a good dog, that is. He won’t never know -but one master.” Then, with a quick glance at Pinky, “Leastway, two,” -he added hurriedly. - -“Let’s buy him,” urged Pinky, sotto voce. - -“What’s the use? They won’t let you have dogs in dormitories. Besides, -he isn’t worth any ten dollars.” - -“We could keep him here at the stable,” said Pinky eagerly. “You’d -board him for us, wouldn’t you?” he asked the stableman. The latter -nodded hesitantly. - -“I guess so. I’ve got a stall he could have.” - -The boys went over and patted the dog, and the dog licked their hands -and strove to reach their faces with his eager pink tongue. “Nice -dogums,” said Pinky. “Didums want to belong to us?” - -The dog replied to the best of his ability that he did, becoming quite -wrought up about it. - -“What’s his name?” asked Jonesie. - -“Well, I call him Teddy. He ain’t rightly got a name yet.” - -“How much would you keep him for if we took him?” - -“Well, feed’s high nowadays,” replied the man thoughtfully. “But――say a -dollar and a half a week.” - -Pinky whistled and looked doubtfully at his friend. Jonesie smiled -compassionately on the owner of the dog. - -“We weren’t thinking of having him fed on steak and mushrooms,” he -explained patiently. “Just dog biscuit and a bone now and then would -do, I guess.” - -“Well, say a dollar, then.” - -“Say four dollars a month,” returned Jonesie, “and we pay the end of -the month.” - -“All right, son. What might your name happen to be?” - -“Jones.” - -“That so? Thought likely it was Isaacs.” - -“You’re a punk thinker, then. How much will you take for the flea-trap?” - -“Meaning the dog? Not a cent less’n ten dollars, son.” - -“Oh, I thought you wanted to sell him.” Jonesie, hands in pockets, -lounged back to the sidewalk. Pinky regretfully followed. “If I had ten -dollars for a dog,” continued Jonesie sarcastically, “I’d buy a good -one.” - -“You couldn’t find a better in this town,” drawled the man indifferently, -keeping, however, a watchful eye on the countenance of the boy. - -“Bet I could buy as good a one as that for two and a half,” replied -Jonesie contemptuously. The dog watched the boys anxiously from the -doorway. Pinky, observing, felt his heart melting within him. He tugged -at Jonesie’s sleeve. - -“Offer him five,” he whispered. Jonesie shrugged his shoulders. - -“Offer it to him yourself,” he said aloud, moving away, “I don’t want -him for any five dollars.” - -“Tell you what I will do,” announced the stableman, “I’ll split the -difference and call it seven-fifty. There, that’s a fair offer, ain’t -it?” - -Pinky looked undecided. Jonesie, having apparently lost all interest in -the matter, was gazing off up the village street and whistling softly. - -“Would you?” whispered Pinky. - -“No,” replied Jonesie from the corner of his mouth. “He’ll take five in -a minute. Don’t let on you want him.” Then, aloud and impatiently: “Oh, -come on, Pinky! He doesn’t want to sell; he just wants to talk!” - -“Sure I want to sell,” answered the stableman indignantly. “But I don’t -want to make any presents! Talk sense now. What’ll you give me?” - -“Five dollars,” exploded Pinky. Jonesie stared at him incredulously. - -“Don’t count me in at that price, Pinky,” he warned. “You come with me -and I’ll find you a dog for half the money.” - -“Five dollars!” ejaculated the man. “Well, what do you know about -that! Five dollars for a three months’ old fox terrier as can trace -his pedigree back to two champions!” Words appeared to fail him there -and Pinky was beginning to look utterly ashamed of himself when the -stableman found his voice again and inquired: “Cash down?” - -“Why――why, not――not all of it!” stammered Pinky. He looked appealingly -at Jonesie. “How much you got?” he asked in a hoarse aside. Jonesie -nonchalantly pulled out a pigskin coin purse and studied its depths. - -“I can lend you a dollar and a quarter,” he replied. Pinky brightened -again. - -“And I’ve got two,” he said. “Three and a quarter down now and the rest -next week.” He watched the stableman anxiously. The latter nodded. - -“All right, son. But the dog stays here until you pay the rest of it.” - -“But we don’t pay board for him until he belongs to us,” responded -Jonesie firmly. - -“Ho!” The stableman looked at him sourly. “Thought you was out o’ -this.” - -“No, I’ll go halves with my friend,” replied Jonesie generously. “We’ll -come down and see the dog every day, and if he ain’t a lot fatter -than he is now, we’ll take him away.” The stableman viewed Jonesie -resentfully but said nothing until the money was in hand. Then, - -“If you expect an active dog like that to get fat on a dollar a week -you’d better take him right along with you,” he said with deep sarcasm. -“I’ve raised a lot of dogs but I ain’t never seen no miracles!” - -After seeing the dog conducted to the empty stall that was to be his -quarters while he remained at the stable, and after petting him awhile, -the boys hurried off to school. On the way up Main Street Pinky said: - -“I wonder if he really can catch rats, Jonesie.” - -“Search me! I guess so, though. If he can we’d ought to charge Perkins -something for the use of him!” - -Pinky laughed. “We got him cheap, though, didn’t we?” - -“You mean I did,” corrected Jonesie. “You’d have gone and taken him at -ten dollars if you’d had your way.” - -“That’s right,” agreed Pinky humbly. “When he looked at me that way――――” - -“Perkins?” - -“No, the dog, you silly chump! Say, what’ll we call him?” - -“Spot?” asked Jonesie doubtfully. Pinky shook his head. - -“Every dog is named Spot――or Teddy. He’s too good a dog to have a name -like that. Let’s think up something decent.” - -For the rest of the way there was silence. - -A quarter of an hour later Mr. Broadley interrupted Sparrow Bowles with -upraised hand. - -“That’s fairly correct, Bowles,” he said. “But pardon me a moment. -Trainor!” - -“Yes, sir?” - -“You may hand that to me, if you please.” - -“What, sir?” asked Pinky innocently from the back of the room. - -“That note that Jones just passed you. Hurry, please.” - -Pinky dragged himself from his seat, spilling a Latin book on the -floor, and, under the amused regard of the rest of the class, walked -to the platform. - -“You are both aware,” went on the instructor as he accepted the piece -of paper, “that passing notes is strictly prohibited at recitations. -You will each do a page of Latin and bring it to me this evening.” - -Thereupon Mr. Broadley unfolded the paper and read: - -“Ace, you old fool. He’s got only one spot.” - - -II - -“We might have it here,” said Jonesie, “only it would make a beast of a -noise and The Terror would be sure to hear it.” - -“There’ll be no rat-killings in this study,” said Sparrow decisively. -“You fellows can jolly well go somewhere else.” - -Sparrow Bowles was Jonesie’s roommate and naturally had some rights. - -“It wouldn’t do, anyway,” responded Jonesie, addressing Pinky, who was -perched in dangerous proximity to the ink-well on the study table. “If -we let the rats out here Sparrow’d eat ’em himself.” - -“Is that so?” demanded Sparrow angrily. “Anyway, I’ll bet I’d catch -more of them than that mongrel pup of yours!” - -“Mongrel nothing!” exclaimed Pinky indignantly, up in arms at once. -“You haven’t seen Ace.” - -“Besides,” said Jonesie sweetly, “the mere fact――if it is a fact, -Sparrow,――that you’re better bred than the other dog doesn’t mean that -you can catch more rats. Now, does it?” - -“Oh, chase yourself!” growled Sparrow inelegantly. - -“Anyway, we’d better have it somewhere else,” said Jonesie, winking at -Pinky as he returned to the original subject. “I tell you what! Let’s -have it at Steve’s!” - -“Sure thing!” agreed Pinky. “Steve’ll be tickled to death. And Mrs. -Sharp doesn’t mind how much rough-house her fellows make. Let’s go and -tell him about it.” - -“Where you going to get your rats?” asked Sparrow, who was deeply -interested in the project in spite of his attitude. - -“Catch ’em,” answered Jonesie. “Perkins has four traps set under his -stable now. And we tied Ace up so he wouldn’t butt in. Oh, we’ll have -rats enough in a day or two! Don’t you say anything about it, Sparrow. -If you do you won’t be there! Also, we’ll knock your block off!” - -“Like to see you do it,” growled Sparrow. “Or a dozen fellows like you! -Domineering kid!” he added as the door closed behind the others. He -picked up the paper-covered novel he had been reading, replaced his -feet on the radiator and scowled darkly. “Good mind to put faculty on,” -he muttered resentfully. A grin overspread his thin face. “My word,” he -chuckled, “that _would_ be a lark!” - - -III - -Dear Reader, have you ever personally conducted five active and anxious -rats across a campus inhabited by hostile faculties at nine o’clock at -night? If so, you will properly appreciate the difficulties that beset -Jonesie, Pinky and Tubby Bumstead. Unfortunately Perkins’s stable lay -to the west of the school and Steve Cook was domiciled directly to the -east and the campus lay between. To have made a detour would have added -some eight or nine blocks to the journey. Hence it was decided that in -this case a straight line between two points was not only the shortest -but wisest course. With the rats confined in two wire cages, which were -in turn wrapped in oat bags, and Ace wriggling excitedly in Jonesie’s -arms, only partly hidden by another sack, the three conspirators -crossed the campus, keeping to the darker paths and avoiding buildings -as far as possible. They walked hurriedly but yet cautiously, and -as they proceeded strange sounds escaped from beneath the enfolding -bags, sounds that, had they been heard by a faculty member, would -undoubtedly have occasioned curiosity. Now it is a well-known fact that -faculties are the most curious persons in the wide, wide world; always -introducing their noses into other people’s affairs, always athirst for -knowledge that can profit them but little. Consequently the three boys -were extremely desirous, not to say anxious, that their progress should -go unnoticed. So much so, in fact, that more than once the sight of a -suspicious figure across the yard caused them to pause in the shadow -of a tree or building and, in a silence broken only by the agitated -squeals of the rats and the excited and stertorous breathing of Ace, -await the disappearance of the dim and uncertain form. There were many -anxious moments during that passage of the enemy’s country, but in -the end sheer audacity won and they climbed the further fence――there -were obvious reasons why gateways were to be avoided――and hurried -across into the gloom of a side street. From there on it was plainer -sailing. One or two townsfolk, having passed the trio, turned to peer -suspiciously after them, but no one challenged. At Mrs. Sharp’s luck -again befriended them. When they opened the front door the hall was -empty and six leaps took them up the stairs, from the summit of which -they gained Steve’s room without detection. - -The apartment presented a strangely altered appearance. The furniture -had been moved against the walls, leaving the center of the room -carpeted with a worn and stained straw-matting, clear and unobstructed. -Occupying points of vantage atop the desk and the bureau and strung out -along the window-seat, was the audience. The audience, representative -patrons of sport from the Upper and Lower Middle classes of Randall’s -School, greeted the arrival of the trio with unrestrained delight, so -unrestrained that Jonesie harshly instructed them to “cut it out!” - -“Let’s see ’em,” begged Steve and Chick Allen, and the audience climbed -down from their reserved seats and clustered about while Pinky and -Tubby proudly removed the wrappings and exhibited five badly frightened -rats. - -“Gee,” said Pill Farnham dubiously, “they aren’t very big, are they? I -thought――――” - -“You thought they were racoons,” interrupted Jonesie scathingly. -“They’re big enough; don’t you worry. Look at that old gray fellow. Bet -you he will put up a peach of a fight!” - -“Your dog doesn’t seem awfully interested in ’em,” remarked Pigeon -Brown. Which was a fact, since Ace, having been liberated, was dodging -in and out of the displaced furniture, sniffing and wagging the stump -of his tail, but apparently quite unaware of the presence of the rats. -Jonesie scowled upon him and demanded his attention, but the terrier -was too much interested in the contents of the waste-basket to heed -the summons. After a brief but interesting chase, Pinky dragged Ace -from under the bureau, to which place he had retired with a banana -peel. Ace, confronted with the rats, put his head on one side, pricked -up his ears when the rodents squealed at sight of him and wagged -his tail amiably. After that he gazed trustingly and inquiringly at -Jonesie and seemed to be asking permission to continue his interesting -investigation of the premises. Pinky’s firm grip on his collar denied -him, however, and Pill Farnham chuckled. - -“Bet you he never saw a rat before in his life, fellows!” said Pill. - -Jonesie faced him indignantly. “Didn’t he?” he inquired with deep -irony. “He’s killed more rats than you ever dreamed of.” Pill tried to -state that he was not accustomed to dreaming of rats, but Jonesie went -on with growing indignation. “You don’t expect a dog that’s seen as -many rats as he has to throw a fit, do you? You wait till we let ’em -out! Then you’ll see whether he can kill rats or not! Only thing I’m -bothering about is whether we oughtn’t to let ’em all out at once. I -dare say one or two at a time won’t be any fun for him.” - -“It’ll be more fun for us, though,” responded Steve, climbing back to -the top of the table and carefully removing his feet from proximity to -the floor. “Let her go, Jonesie!” - -“Are we all here?” asked Jonesie, looking about. “Where’s Sparrow?” - -“Isn’t coming,” answered young Fletcher. “Said he had a headache. Told -me to tell you.” - -“Headache!” jeered Jonesie. “Too lazy to walk, I guess! All right, -fellows. Get out of the way now. Which trap shall we open first, Pinky?” - -“This one,” replied Pinky, pushing forward the cage which held two rats. - -“We-ell.” Jonesie studied the scene of combat. “Now when I open the -thing you let Ace loose. Where are you going?” - -“Just――just over here,” murmured Pinky, reaching behind him for the -bureau. - -“Oh, don’t be such a coward! A rat won’t hurt you. Now, then, all -ready? Say, for the love of Mike, turn him toward the cage, can’t you? -Here, Ace? Sick ’em, sick ’em, sir!” - -“How many are you going to let out?” asked Chick from the safe altitude -of the window seat. - -“Just one this time,” replied Jonesie, struggling with the door of the -cage. “All ready now, Pinky!” - -But Jonesie was mistaken. With the door open the rats showed a strange -disinclination to leave their prison and face the enemy, even though -the enemy was showing not the slightest degree of animosity――or even -animation! - -“Get ’em out!” commanded Jonesie. - -“Sick ’em!” cried the patrons of sport in unison. - -Ace looked inquiringly at Jonesie and then about the room. Pinky shoved -him forward. This Ace took to be an invitation to play, and immediately -dashed at Pinky and licked his nose, thereby upsetting Pinky’s balance. -At the moment when Pinky’s feet were furthest from the floor and Ace -was dancing about his struggling form, the rats agreed on a sortie and -dashed from the cage together. - -“There they go!” shrieked the excited audience. “Sick ’em, pup! Go -after ’em, you fool dog!” - -[Illustration: “‘There they go! Sick ’em, pup! Go after ’em, you fool -dog!’”] - -But Ace was having such a fine time jumping upon Pinky, who was vainly -trying to get his feet under him again, that he neither saw the rats -nor heard the commands. It was only when Jonesie reached down and -delivered a sounding slap on his brown spot that Ace awoke to the fact -that possibly he had made a mistake. By that time the rats were gone -from sight. Jeers and laughter emanated from the audience. Pinky, -arising, red of face and annoyed, was confronted by an indignant -Jonesie. - -“You old fool, you!” cried Jonesie. “Why didn’t you pay attention? -Didn’t I tell you they were coming?” - -“Well, didn’t you see your fool dog knocked me over?” inquired Pinky -wrathfully. “Why didn’t you keep them in for a second?” - -“How could I keep them in when I’d opened the door? If you can’t do -your share of this decently, why, say so!” - -“Quit your jawing,” advised Steve, “and catch the rats. It won’t be any -fun now, though, because we won’t be able to see him kill ’em.” - -“Kill ’em!” jeered Pill. “That pup couldn’t kill a straw hat! If I was -you, Jonesie, I’d put him in the closet. If a rat got at him he might -get hurt.” - -“Is that so?” responded Jonesie heatedly. “You’ll get hurt if you give -me any more of your lip! Which――which way did they go, fellows?” - -The replies were confusing. Every member of the audience insisted on a -different locality as harboring the rats. Jonesie looked disgusted. - -“Seems to me you fellows might have watched them and seen which way -they went,” he said. “Got an umbrella, Steve?” - -By moving the table slightly young Fletcher, who was the smallest -there, was able to slide through into the closet. After that the hunt -began. Jonesie used the umbrella, and the rest of the audience armed -themselves with whatever they could find: tennis rackets, hockey -sticks, even a ruler. Under chairs, table, bureau the weapons were -poked and flourished. Ace, recovering from the shock of chastisement, -lent eager assistance. The noise became deafening. Once one of the -rats appeared for a brief moment on top the bureau, left it just ahead -of a racket hurriedly aimed by Pigeon, landed on the mantelpiece and -disappeared again behind the Morris chair. The only fatality was a -photograph frame. Out came the Morris chair, there was a squeal and the -rat whisked behind the bureau. Out came the bureau then, Ace barking -frantically and wagging his stumpy tail in a veritable paroxysm of -delight. This was a real game! Confusion reigned supreme. All thought -of secrecy had flown. The excitement of the chase gripped them all. -Shouts and cheers rent the air, Ace yelped and barked shrilly, sticks -banged at chair legs, furniture was whisked about on grumbling casters -and ten excited patrons of sport pursued the prey with relentless vigor -and enthusiasm. The waste basket spread its varied contents across -the floor, and even the pictures on the walls became imbued with the -contagion and danced themselves askew. - -At this moment there was a shrill and resentful expression of grief -from Ace, who, all but the stump of his tail hidden from sight beneath -the Morris chair, had encountered one of the rats behind the radiator. -A cornered rat will fight, and it was this discovery that brought the -yelp of pain from the terrier. The alacrity with which he backed out -from under the chair was remarkable. Doubtless his sole desire was to -remove himself from the vicinity of the painful indignity and consider -his wounded nose. It is not presumable that he entertained any designs -on Tubby Bumstead. What followed must be laid to Chance. In retreating -from beneath the chair Ace unfortunately obtruded his hind quarters in -the path of Tubby, who, armed with a hockey stick, was in full cry. -Tubby, being, as his nickname suggests, somewhat obese, was not able -to recover from the collision with the grace and celerity of a lither -youth. To save himself Tubby dropped his weapon and grabbed at the -arm of the Morris chair. Now it so happened that a few moments before -someone had thoughtfully transferred the unopened cage containing the -three rats in reserve from the floor to that particular arm of the -chair. It would be, perhaps, interesting to pause here and speculate -as to the thoughts and emotions which possessed those three rats as, -elevated to a position of unrestricted view, they watched the scene -before them. But there is no time. Tubby’s frantic reach for the -support of the chair dislodged the cage. The cage, in falling, struck -the already nervous Ace on top of the head. Ace, now thoroughly undone, -yielded to blind, unreasoning terror, a terror which became absolute -panic when the cage, rebounding from head to floor, threw open its -door and delivered into the confusion its three prisoners. That was -too much for Ace. With one wild and piercing howl he fled. As it was -not possible for him to flee in a straight line, he fled in a circle. -For one brief but highly colored moment life became a kaleidoscopic -nightmare of flying rats, dogs and boys. To be sure, there was but one -dog, but he rotated so rapidly that it was difficult to believe that he -was not in reality a revolving procession of dogs. And ever as he went -he howled. And ever as he howled he collided with someone’s legs, and -the owner of the legs toppled ungracefully to earth. A Futurist could -have won immortal fame by transferring that scene to canvas! And then, -at the zenith of the glorious orgy of movement and sound, the room door -opened and The Terror stood revealed in all his majesty and severity! - -Now Ace, as it happened, had reached a position in his orbit about -midway between window seat and door when the latter opened. There was -no hesitation on the part of the revolving body. Leaving its path at a -tangent it hurled itself at the doorway. It was not Ace’s fault that -Mr. Williams, Instructor in Modern Languages, was stationed midway -between lintel and lintel. Doubtless Ace tried his best to pass to one -side of The Terror’s none too sturdy legs. That he did not succeed is -not surprising when we consider the speed at which he was going and the -fact that he had been deprived of all save a scant two inches of his -rudder. Mr. Williams crumpled against the banisters across the narrow -hall with a loud and expressive grunt and Ace, rounding the post, -hurled himself down the stairs. Mrs. Sharp, nervously eavesdropping -halfway up the flight, had a momentary vision of a white streak -plunging down upon her, shrieked hysterically and rolled slowly and, -because of her well-padded condition, not uncomfortably to the bottom. -Ace disappeared into the night. - -The Terror recovered his feet and his dignity and regained his position -in the doorway. Before him ten boys and five rats maintained silence -and frozen attitudes. The five rats were not in sight. Nor was one of -the ten boys. A long moment of portentous stillness reigned. Then The -Terror, somewhat pale as yet, pronounced the names of the nine visible -patrons of sport in a voice which, while still a trifle shaky, was as -icy cold as a blast from the Pole. - -“You will all,” concluded The Terror, “report at the Office to-morrow -morning. And now return to your rooms at once.” - -One by one they recovered their caps from the confusion and filed past -him and down the stairs and into the night. Only Steve remained in -view. Then, with a final glare, Mr. Williams followed. Simultaneously -from behind the bureau appeared a cautious head. - -“Gone?” asked Jonesie hoarsely. - -Steve nodded gloomily. - -Jonesie extracted himself from concealment and crawled out of the -_débris_. In one hand he held by the tail a large gray rat, quite dead. - -“Where’d you get it?” asked Steve with a brief flash of interest. - -“Back there.” Jonesie nodded toward the bureau. “I fell on him when I -dived in.” - -“Somewhere,” responded Steve bitterly, “there are four more of the -things, and I’ve got to sleep here with ’em!” - - -IV - -A week has passed. It is a Saturday morning and Jonesie, immaculately -clad and whistling blithely, is on his way to the village to make -purchases. He has quite a number of commissions to fill, for nine of -his particular friends and cronies are suffering probation, a condition -which prevents them from leaving the confines of the school, while -another is recovering slowly from bodily injuries inflicted by Jonesie -with the whole-hearted, enthusiastic assistance of the nine. Jonesie is -in very good spirits. The sun is warm and the sky is blue, before him -lie the marts of trade stocked with delectables that appeal to hungry -boyhood, and, while others languish in durance vile, liberty is his! He -is sorry for those others――when he thinks of them――but his grief is not -deep enough to darken his life. - -As he approaches Perkins’s Livery and Sales Stable a rotund man -whittling a stick and chewing a straw in front of the office door -observes him with interest. The whittling ceases and the chair, which -has been tilted back against the stable, comes down on all four legs. - -“Hello,” greets the liveryman. “Haven’t forgot about that dog of yours, -have you? You ain’t been around to see him lately.” - -“Dog?” asks Jonesie, wrinkling his innocent young brow. “What dog?” - -The liveryman stares. - -“_What_ dog! Why, the dog you bought off me ’most two weeks ago! Ain’t -forgotten him, have you?” - -Jonesie shakes his head helplessly. “I fancy,” he responds distantly, -“you’ve made a mistake. I don’t own any dog.” - -“Don’t own any―――― Say, didn’t you and that friend of yours buy my fox -terrier a while back and pay me five dollars for him and agree to pay -me four dollars a month for boarding of him? Didn’t you and he――――” - -Jonesie shakes his head gently and passes by. - -“I don’t know anything about any dog,” he says. “Must have been someone -else.” - -“Ain’t your name Jones?” - -“Oh, yes, but it’s quite a common name.” - -“But――but didn’t you buy my dog? You and that other feller?” - -“Certainly not!” replied Jonesie in pained protest. “We are not allowed -to keep dogs at Randall’s. I wouldn’t think of transgressing the rules -of the school, you know.” - -The liveryman studies Jonesie’s guileless countenance for a moment, and -his mouth slowly falls open. Jonesie looks dreamily up the street. - -“Of course if you _have_ a dog, though, I’d advise you to keep him away -from rats,” he says kindly. “They might bite him.” - -Then, whistling blithely, Jonesie passes on. - - - - -THE EMBASSY TO MEARSVILLE - - -I - -We had beaten Yale hands-down the year before, and this year, when we -started practice, we had eight out of eleven of last season’s men, and -in spite of the fact that they had instituted a new system over in New -Haven, had a new coach at the helm and were reported to have the best -material in years, we couldn’t see how the Elis had even a show-in. -There was nothing to it, any way you figured it. We weren’t even going -to miss the three we had lost, for we had at least two good candidates -for each of them. There wasn’t anything could stop us from winning the -Eastern Championship again. That’s the way it was right up to the first -week in October. Then things began to happen. - -I guess we established the hard-luck record that Fall. Kendall went -first. He was left tackle, and a corker. He fell down in exams. Then -Penniwell, first-string quarter, got hurt in the Bates game and -developed water on the knee. Next Hanson, fullback, pulled a tendon -in practice. Of course, he would be out only a couple of weeks, but on -top of everything else it made us feel a bit sick. It reminded one of -the nursery rhyme of the Ten Little Indians. “One got charley-horse and -then there were nine.” Only it didn’t stop at nine, not by a long shot. -Stearns, our best halfback, fell down three dinky steps coming out of a -recitation hall and broke an arm. Joe Leverett said he hoped it would -be a warning to him and teach him to keep away from recitations. You’d -think we’d about reached the limit then, wouldn’t you? We thought so, -anyway. We tackled Amherst with just four of last year’s team in the -line-up and barely escaped a licking. The Amherst game was the third on -the schedule, and after that we had the big teams to meet. Of course by -that time some of the earlier invalids were getting back into shape, -and we figured that if we could stall through the next two games we’d -be in pretty good shape for Princeton and Yale. But Fate wasn’t through -with us. On the Tuesday following the Amherst scare they hurried Tom -Shawl off to the Infirmary at eleven in the morning and operated on -him for appendicitis at four P. M. Good-night! - -Of course you remember Shawl, all-America halfback two years running, -the hardest line plunger in the country and a wizard at kicking. One of -the New York papers the year before said that “yesterday, at New Haven, -Tom Shawl, assisted by the Harvard eleven, defeated Yale 17 to 0.” The -paper wasn’t so far off, either. Anyway, you can imagine what it meant -to us to lose Shawl. There was some vague talk of his getting around -in time to play against Yale, but no one believed in it. We just about -threw up our hands then. I’ll never forget the conference we had in -Pete Haskell’s room that evening. I was manager that year. There were -five of us there: the Head Coach, Porter; Jewell, who had the linemen -in charge; the trainer; Pete and myself. We were a sick and sober lot, -I can tell you. We talked and talked and snarled at each other for two -solid hours and nothing much came of it. The only thing we decided was -that Hackett, right end, would have to go into the backfield. He had -played half before they’d made an end of him, and he was a good one. -But that meant we’d have to find a corking good man for right end, and -there wasn’t one in sight. There were plenty of candidates, but not one -showed the real stuff. We talked them all over. Finally Jewell said: - -“Where’s that chap Perrin, who played left end on the Freshman team -last Fall? Isn’t he back this year?” - -Porter sat up. “He’s our man!” he cried. “He will have to come out!” - -“What’s the matter with him?” asked Jewell. - -“Folks won’t let him play,” said Pete. “He got hurt in the Yale -Freshman game last year. It wasn’t anything serious, but his folks got -scared, I guess.” - -“Piffle!” said Jewell. “Get him out. We need him.” - -“I’ll see him to-morrow,” said Porter. “Glad you thought of him, Walt.” - -We talked some more, and about ten o’clock life looked a bit brighter. -With Perrin at right end and Hackett at left half, we might get by. Of -course, losing Shawl’s goal-kicking meant that we’d have to reorganize -the whole campaign against Yale, and that there was just about three -months of hard work to do in six weeks, but we were all a bit more -hopeful when we said good-night. I stayed behind after the others went. -Billy Sawyer, who roomed with Pete and played fullback on the Second, -came in just then and we three chewed it all over again. Billy shook -his head over Perrin, though. - -“You won’t get him,” he said. “I know him pretty well. We were at -Milton together. He’s that sort.” - -“What sort?” I asked. - -“Well, the sort who keeps a promise.” - -“You mean he promised his folks not to play?” - -“Yep. He broke a bone in his hand last year in the game with the Yale -freshies and his parents got cold feet. He told me about it. Said he’d -promised to keep out of it. Sort of broke up, too, he was. Too bad, for -you know the sort of a game he put up last Fall.” - -We nodded gloomily. - -“Still,” said I, “he might get his folks to let him off.” - -Billy screwed his mouth up and shook his head. - -“Don’t think so. He’s that sort, you see.” - -“Bother your ‘sorts’! When Porter tells him we need him like everything -and reads the riot act to him I’ll bet he will squirm out of it -somehow. You’ll see. Besides, a fellow’s parents haven’t any right to -keep a chap off the team when――when the college simply has to have him!” - -“Oh, rot!” said Billy. “Parents aren’t bothering about who wins the -Yale game, Gus. Besides, they have got some rights, say what you want. -My dad’s paying a good stiff price to get me an education and if he -told me I must quit playing football I’d do it. So would you. So would -any fellow.” - -“Maybe, Billy, but any sensible parent wouldn’t do it!” - -“Why not? What’s the sense of spending a pile of money on a chap if -he’s going to break his neck or come out of college with two or three -important bones missing just where they’ll show the most? No, Bob, -Perrin’s folks have got the right idea. Merely as an investment――――” - -“Money isn’t everything,” I said. “There’s such a thing as loyalty and -duty to your college, Billy.” - -“You’re talking about Bob; I’m talking about his folks. They don’t owe -any duty to your old college, do they?” - -“Just the same――――” - -“Oh, forget it,” said Pete. “Get out of here, Gus. I’m going to bed. -It’s up to Porter, anyway. I hope he gets him, that’s all.” - -“So do I,” said Billy, “but he won’t.” - -And he didn’t. Perrin was awfully sorry about it, but he had made a -promise to his parents and he meant to keep it. Porter told him he’d -have to get his parents to let him off. Perrin said he wouldn’t ask it; -said it wouldn’t be fair. Porter raved at him and pleaded, but Perrin -just kept on saying how badly he felt about it and how much he would -like to play, but―――― - -Porter was sore that afternoon. “He’s a mule,” he said. “A stubborn -mule.” - -“So we don’t get him?” asked the trainer. - -Porter closed his eyes in a way he had and set his mouth. “We get -him, all right,” he answered grimly. “We’ve simply got to have him. -Someone’s got to go and read the riot act to those folks of his. They -live in Mearsville. Who knows him? Do you, Pete?” - -Pete shook his head. “Only to speak to. Billy Sawyer does, though. He -went to prep with him.” - -“Sawyer of the Second?” asked the coach. “He’ll do. You take Sawyer -and Gus to-morrow and go out to Mearsville and see them, Pete. I’d go -myself, but with all this mix-up on my hands I can’t miss practice. -I’ll see Wynant and get him to let Sawyer off. You have a car, haven’t -you?” - -“Yes. How far is Mearsville, and where is it?” - -“Oh, about a hundred miles; out beyond Worcester somewhere. Look it -up on the map. It’s a small place, and you’ll have no trouble finding -them, I guess. Come around to-night, the three of you, and we’ll dope -out a line of talk. Don’t let Perrin hear about it, though. He might -try to queer us. He’s a mule.” - -We left the Square the next day right after lunch in Pete’s car. It had -only one seat, and Billy Sawyer sat on the floor with his feet on the -running-board and his knees hunched up under his chin. We made good -time, for Pete’s boat is some goer, and we got to Mearsville about four -o’clock. On the way we went over our argument. Porter had told us what -we were to say and Billy was to do most of the talking. He was a peach -at talking, Billy was. He’d been on three debating teams and knew all -the tricks. Funny about him, too. You’d think with his gift for that -sort of stuff that he’d have turned into a lawyer or a statesman or -something, but he didn’t. Billy’s adding up figures in his father’s -factory to-day. Just shows that you never can tell, doesn’t it? - -It was a pretty country around Mearsville, and we made the trip on -one of those peachy Indian summer days that sometimes happen along -in October. We had a pretty good time, too. We almost ran through -Mearsville without knowing it, because there wasn’t much in sight -except a post-office and a store. We asked at the post-office where Mr. -Perrin lived, and the postmaster came out and showed us how to go. - -“Wonder,” said Billy, as we went on, “what sort his father is. If we -knew that it might help us.” - -“What’s his business?” I asked. - -“Don’t know. Don’t know a thing except that Bob’s an only child. He -seems to have plenty of money, so I suppose his old man’s fairly well -fixed. If he’s one of the crabbed kind we might as well turn around -right now and go back.” - -“Buck up,” said Pete. “When you turn that line of talk on him, Billy, -he’ll just wilt before our eyes.” - -“Huh,” said Billy. “Wish you had it to do. Don’t see what I let them -rope me into this for, anyway. It’s not my funeral.” - -“It’s what you get for knowing the chap,” said I. “Bet you that’s the -place now, the stone gate ahead of us.” - -It had solid comfort written all over it. There was an old-style white -house that rambled around behind a lot of trees and some lawn and -nearly fooled you into thinking it was a genuine antique. When you -got near it, though, you saw it was a reproduction. It looked like a -compromise between a gentleman’s estate and a nice little place out of -town. Everything was neat and well groomed, and we felt like vandals -for mussing up the newly dusted gravel drive with the automobile -tracks. Pete was whistling “This is the Life” softly as we drew up -to the door. A trim-looking maid showed us into a living-room with -about a million long French windows and a thousand dollars’ worth of -white and yellow chrysanthemums standing around in tall vases. Billy -cleared his throat and Pete sneaked away to the further side of the -room, pretending he wanted to see the view from a window. I started to -follow, but Billy grabbed me. - -Mr. Perrin came in the next instant. I don’t know what sort of a man -the others had pictured, but I know he didn’t look at all like what -I’d expected. If I’d seen him, say, in a club without knowing who he -was, and anyone had asked me to guess, I wouldn’t have thought twice. -“Noted explorer just back from successful rummage in Peru,” I’d have -answered. As Billy would say, he was that sort. He had a rather long, -lean face with a lot of lines, a wide mouth, a thin nose and a pair of -faded blue eyes that were deep set and looked lighter than they were -because his skin was as brown as a saddle. He was tall and straight and -lean and looked about as fit as any man I ever saw. I warmed up to him -right away. Couldn’t help it. There was something about that mouth and -those pale blue eyes that was awfully friendly. And when he shook hands -he did it quick and hard, and you could feel that his muscles were like -little steel wires. It was up to me to introduce myself and the others, -which I did, and as soon as I said “football” I saw by a little gleam -in his eyes that he was dead on to our game. But he told us in a nice -deep voice that he was glad to see us, got us seated in big comfortable -chairs, offered cigars and made us feel right at home. Then he waited, -smiling, for us to shoot. So Billy stuck his hands in his pockets and -opened up. - -Billy did himself proud. I wish I could remember just what he said, -but, then, it was more the way he put it over than anything else. -Porter had tipped us to be dead sober. “Make him understand that the -situation is big and serious. Don’t smile except to be polite, and -then do it as if it hurt your face.” So Billy started out as grave -as a minister. He began by outlining the condition the team was in -because of injuries and such, dwelt on the hopeless position in which -the coaches found themselves and predicted ruin and disaster unless -new material could be found to prop the tottering structure, or words -to that effect. And all the time he spoke in low, fateful tones like a -doctor breaking the news to the family after a consultation. If he had -kept it up two minutes longer I’d have been in tears. - -“I gathered from the papers,” said Mr. Perrin just as gravely, “that -things were in pretty bad shape at Cambridge. I’m very sorry, Mr. -Sawyer.” - -Then he waited again, looking appropriately funereal. But there was -a little flicker in those blue eyes of his that told me he wasn’t as -concerned as he pretended. - -Billy took a fresh start and began on Bob Perrin. He allowed you to -understand by the tone of his voice that there was a ray of hope, -after all, but that you weren’t by any means to think the patient out -of danger. He told about the fine work done by Bob last year on the -Freshman team and how if he would spring into the breach all might yet -be well. Billy said so many nice things about Bob that I couldn’t see -how his father could help looking a bit proud. He didn’t, though. He -just kept his eyes on Billy and waited. It seemed as if his watchful -waiting game was getting on Billy’s nerves, for Billy stumbled once or -twice and his voice began to flatten out a little. He took the ground -that in such a stupendous crisis as then confronted the college――the -college we all loved――Billy’s voice sort of took on a tremolo effect -there――all selfish thoughts and desires should be brushed aside. At -such a time it was the duty of all loyal sons of Harvard to――to put -their shoulders to the wheel, to banish prejudices, to forget self -and――er――strive as one man to avert the disaster that threatened to -engulf their glorious Alma Mater. - -Said Mr. Perrin: “Did Bob send you out here?” - -“No, Mr. Perrin, your son does not know of our visit. Mr. Porter, our -Head Coach, tried to persuade him to play, but he replied that he was -bound by a promise to you and that it would not be fair for him to ask -to be released from it. It was then that Mr. Porter decided to see you -himself, feeling certain, as he said, that when you once realized the -gravity of the situation you would eagerly and gladly give your consent -to Bob’s playing.” - -“Ah.” Mr. Perrin glanced at Pete and then at me. “But neither of these -gentlemen is Mr. Porter, I believe?” - -“No, sir. Mr. Haskell is Captain of the Varsity and Mr. Kirke is -Manager. Mr. Porter was unable to come since his presence at practice -is indispensable just now. We represent him, sir, and I have tried to -bring you his message just as he delivered it to me. Were he here he -could undoubtedly speak more convincingly, sir, but――――” - -“No, no,” said Mr. Perrin. “You do yourself an injustice. He could not, -I am certain, have dispatched a more capable and eloquent emissary.” -He paused and looked toward the windows. “Gentlemen, I am going to -suggest that we go outdoors. This is much too fine a day to be inside. -You will, I hope, stay to dinner with us.” - -We all said we wouldn’t think of it, but he didn’t pay much attention -to that. - -“Let me have my way, please,” he went on. “Both Mrs. Perrin and I -shall be most pleased to have you. We don’t have many opportunities to -entertain, and you really must humor us. Besides, I want you to meet -her, and just now she is unable to appear. Now let us take a walk. I -want to show you my place. You know we folks who live in the country -always drag our visitors around the grounds the first thing.” - -We went out on the porch. Mr. Perrin dropped behind to get his cap and -stick, and the three of us looked at each other questioningly. Billy -was frowning and Pete looked blank. I remember I shook my head. Mr. -Perrin joined us then, and we set out around the house. He showed us -his stable and barn and greenhouses and piggery and a cellar where -he raised mushrooms, and a lot of things like that. Pete got full of -enthusiasm right away and asked a lot of questions. Pete subscribes to -_Country Life_ and draws plans of model farms at lectures. Somehow, -out of doors we all forgot to be gloomy, and the first thing we knew -we were laughing at the colts in the paddock and chatting away just as -if there wasn’t any Stupendous Crisis. After we’d seen everything Mr. -Perrin led the way across a meadow to a little hill that had pine trees -clumped on top of it and brown needles underneath. It was when we were -climbing the hill that Mr. Perrin said: - -“You must forgive me for being a bit slow. This leg of mine isn’t as -spry on the grades.” - -I noticed then for the first time that he limped a little and bore -pretty heavily on his stick. I slowed down with him and asked: -“Accident, sir?” - -“Yes,” he said. “I broke it in football.” - -“Oh!” said I. I couldn’t think of anything else to say just then. - -“It was in a game with Pennsylvania a good many years ago now,” he -went on. “We used to play on Jarvis Field in those days.” - -“Where the tennis courts are now?” I asked. “Were you――were you on the -Varsity, sir?” - -“Yes. I was captain that year. This break kept me out of the Yale game, -and I remember that I felt pretty badly about it.” - -“It was pretty tough luck,” I muttered. I did a whole lot of thinking -the rest of the way up the hill. - -When we got to the top we sat down on the pine needles in the sunlight, -and Mr. Perrin filled a pipe. “Perhaps,” he said as he started to light -it, “I shouldn’t do this, as you chaps are in training.” Billy and Pete -told him it didn’t matter any to them. It didn’t to me because I didn’t -smoke. I’d promised my folks not to until I was twenty-one. There was -a fine view from where we sat, and the country was as pretty as a -picture, with the sun getting low and sending long shafts of golden -light across the fields. It was quiet, too, so quiet you could hear a -cowbell tinkling half a mile away. Billy put his hands under his head -and stretched himself out on his back with a sigh. Pete hugged his -knees and looked blissful. I suppose he was thinking of the place he -meant to have when he was through college. There was a rock near me -with moss growing all over it, and I settled my back against it and -blinked at the sun. After a minute Mr. Perrin said: - -“It always seems easier to me to think and talk out of doors. I suppose -it’s because I’ve spent a good deal of my life there.” And then, -speaking quietly and sort of lazily, he told us some things he’d seen -and that had happened to him. He wasn’t an explorer, after all. He was -an engineer and he had spent most of his life in the West and Southwest -building irrigating dams and canals and things. I’ll bet they were good -ones. He was that sort, as Billy would say. Some of the yarns he told -were corkers, and he told them in such a smiling, matter-of-fact way -that they sounded bully and made you want to pack up and hike out there -where such things happened. He had had adventures, all right! And he -had us laughing one minute and sitting still and gripping our hands the -next and hardly daring to breathe! Gee, if I could tell a story the -way he could, I’d never do another thing! - -“It’s a big country out there,” he said finally, “with lots of things -to be done.” - -“I should think,” said Pete, “you’d find it rather tame back here, Mr. -Perrin.” - -“Tame? Not at all. I like this best. But then, I’m getting along toward -where the quiet life begins to look pretty good, boys. I find now when -I go back out there that saddles are harder than they used to be and -ponchos aren’t as soft to sleep on as hair mattresses. But I’m always -glad to get there again――and always glad to come back. In two or three -years more I won’t have to make the trip very often, I guess. Bob will -do that for me. He’s going to have a man’s job on his hands when he’s -ready for it.” - -“Is he going to take up engineering too, sir?” I asked. - -“No, that won’t be necessary. That part of it is done. Of course it’s -best for him to know something of it, and so he and I go out there in -the summers and I show him the why and the how. I dare say he learns -as well that way as he would if he took a course at the Scientific -School. Bob’s work will be to manage what I’ve built. It will be his -after a while, you see. Bob’s the only one we have and there won’t be -any others now. It’s a good deal like putting all your eggs in one -basket, you see. When you do that you’re liable to be mighty careful of -the basket.” - -He filled his pipe again, looking off across the field toward where the -smoke was going up straight from the chimneys of the house. We didn’t -say anything. After a minute: - -“It’s a fine, comforting thing to know that there’s someone coming -after you to carry things along,” he said thoughtfully. “It makes -what’s ahead of you look pretty trifling. I always feel a deep pity for -men who haven’t sons. It seems to me that they’ve failed in what God -sent ’em here to do. I guess your fathers know what I mean, and you -will know it, too, some day――I hope. I hate to think what it must be -like for men who haven’t any children when the shadows begin to deepen. -Maybe all fathers don’t feel the way I do about it, but I guess they -must. Four of the finest words I know of are these: ‘From father to -son.’ Well, well, I’m boring you with all this stuff. And it’s getting -a little chilly now. We’ll walk back and get ready for dinner. We dine -early out here. I hope you won’t mind.” - -When we got back he took us upstairs to a fine big room, and it took -just a glance to show that it was Bob’s. There were all sorts of -photographs stuck around: school nines and elevens and track teams, -you know, with Bob’s face peering out from some of them. There was -a bookcase in one corner with all Bob’s old school books and story -books on the shelves. And there were some pewter cups on the mantel -and some pennants on the walls and a split baseball bat and a canoe -paddle with things written on it and a plaited hair bridle and a pair -of wicked-looking Mexican spurs. It was just a regular boy’s room with -all the things a fellow accumulates and hates to throw away even as he -grows older. Mr. Perrin took up some of the photographs and pointed out -Bob in them; Bob, a little kid in knickerbockers; Bob in track togs, -with his fingers tight over his grips; Bob holding a football in the -center of a group; Bob wearing chaps and a big sombrero and seated on -a cow pony. Then he went out and left us, and we washed up. No one said -very much, and we all hurried. - -Downstairs we met Mrs. Perrin. I guess you’d call her homely, but she -was the sort of homely that looks good to a fellow. She was small and -looked not very strong, but she was all right. You knew she could do -one thing to the King’s taste, and that was to be a mother. We had a -bully dinner. Nothing fluffy, but regular food that went right to the -spot and stuck. We were all of us hungry, too, all of us except, maybe, -Mrs. Perrin. I don’t think she ate much, but she surely saw to it that -we did. Billy made a great hit with her because he had been at Milton -with Bob. She didn’t talk a whole lot about Bob, but you could see -that she was pretty proud of him just the same. There wasn’t a word -said about why we were there. We were just friends or college mates of -Bob’s, and that was enough. Mrs. Perrin was full of fun in a quiet way, -and it was dandy to see how she and Mr. Perrin played up to each other. -She prompted him to tell this story or that, and he came back at her -the same way. About the middle of dinner we felt as if we’d known those -folks for years! We sure had a dandy time. - -We didn’t stay at the table after Mrs. Perrin went because we weren’t -smoking, and Mr. Perrin pretended he didn’t want to. So we went back to -the library, and the first thing I knew Pete was over at the piano with -Mrs. Perrin pulling the music about for him. Pete’s a wonder at the -ivories, and he played and we all sang; Mr. Perrin, too, when he knew -the song; and had a regular merry-merry for about an hour. Then we had -to mosey back to Cambridge, and Mr. Perrin sent out and had Pete’s car -brought around from the stable. They made us take sweaters and coats, -for we hadn’t brought any, and it was getting chilly. We were to leave -them with Bob. We said good-night to Mrs. Perrin in the library, and -she made us all promise to come again, which wasn’t hard to do, for we -were dead eager to. Mr. Perrin went out to the car with us and stood -around while we lighted up and packed ourselves in. Pete started the -engine the first time and tried not to look surprised, and we all -shook hands and Mr. Perrin said we mustn’t forget our promise to come -again, and we said he wasn’t to worry about that! But then he didn’t -move away, and we saw he had something to say and Pete throttled down -his engine. - -“There’s one thing I’d like to know,” he said earnestly, “and it’s -this. I want Harvard to win this year, boys, perhaps every bit as much -as you do. I’m afraid I haven’t appeared very sympathetic this evening, -but I do sympathize with you in your trouble. I’ve been through with -something of the same sort myself, and I haven’t forgotten. And I’m -not going to tell you that whether we win or lose the world’s going to -keep on whirling. I know it didn’t seem so to me in the old days, and -it doesn’t seem so to you. I don’t believe there’s an old player who -follows the fortunes of the Team any more closely than I do, boys. I’ve -ridden eighty miles at night to learn the result of a Yale game. I’m -telling you this because I don’t want you to think that I’ve outgrown -my devotion to the college, my loyalty to the Team.” - -He paused and Pete pretended to tinker with the switch. - -“And now one thing more,” said Mr. Perrin. “Two things, rather; for -I want to tell you that I appreciate the fine way in which you have -refrained from showing impatience or criticism of my attitude in regard -to Bob. It may be that you secretly look on me as a selfish, pig-headed -old codger――――” - -Billy started to say something, but Mr. Perrin continued: - -“And perhaps I am. But partly because you have acted like three of -God’s gentlemen and partly because――well, because an old player can -never quite forget, I’m going to leave it in your hands. If you think -the Team needs Bob more than I do, you tell him that he is to go in -there and play his level best! Good-night, boys!” - - * * * * * - -Mearsville was ten miles behind before anyone said anything. Then -it was Billy, and, since we had a hard road and the engine purred -no louder than a kitten, we heard him even though he only muttered. -“Fellows _do_ get hurt,” he growled. “You can’t deny that. Look at the -list of them just in our own time: Choate and Riley and ‘Fan’ Tanner -and a whole bunch, to say nothing of this year’s list.” - -A mile further on, I said: “I suppose a fellow with a busted leg -wouldn’t be much use out there on that job.” - -Going into Worcester, Pete said: “There’s that chap Nelson.” - -“Did well at Exeter,” said Billy. - -“With six weeks to work on him,” I murmured, “seems to me――――” - -Later Pete broke out with: “Hang him, he had no business saying that we -thought him selfish and pig-headed!” - -“Still, we did, you know,” I reminded, “before.” - -“Before, yes, but not after! Anyway, I didn’t.” - -“Mean to say I did?” demanded Billy somewhat hotly. - -“Shut up! What we’ve got to decide is this,” I said. “What are we going -to tell Porter to-morrow?” - -“Tell him?” grunted Pete, taking a corner on two wheels. “Tell him -nothing doing!” - -I showed this to Pete, who went in heavy for English Composition and -can talk you deaf, dumb and blind about characterization, climax, -crisis, suspense and _dénouement_, and he says I finished my story at -the last paragraph and that if I write any more I’ll be pulling an -anti-climax. Maybe he’s right, but I know that if I was reading this -yarn I’d want to know who won the Yale game. And so I’m going to tell -you. And if you think the way Pete does, why, you can stop up there -where it says “nothing doing.” That’s all right, isn’t it? - -Well, Bob Perrin didn’t come out for the team. Porter fumed and kicked -for a while, and then yanked Nelson off the bench and sicked half a -dozen assistant coaches on him. He had a pretty tough time of it for -about five weeks. No matter which way he turned there was always one -or more coaches waiting to grab him. I’m not sure they didn’t read him -to sleep out of the rules book and camp outside his door at night. But -they did what they set out to do, believe me! They made an All-America -end of him, even if they almost killed him in the operation. And, -although we lost to Brown, and although Princeton swamped us, we came -right back on the twenty-fourth of November and put it over the Elis, 7 -to 3. - -As Billy would say, we were that sort! - - - - -JONESIE AND THE ALL-STARS - - -I - -Joe Tyson, playing third on the Randall’s School first team, pegged the -ball across in the general direction of first base. Steve Cook stabbed -the air with a gloved hand and the ball continued blithely on its way, -disappearing behind the grandstand. Four blue-stockinged youths raced -home, the fourth registering the tenth tally for Popham Academy. - -Daniel Webster Jones, Jr., seated cross-legged in front of the bench -on the home side of the field, score book on knees, credited the enemy -with four runs and added a black dot under the “E” column and opposite -the name of Tyson. - -“Of course,” murmured Jonesie reflectively, “in order to throw to first -you’ve got to know more than the ball.” - -Of the three occupants of the bench, weary and disgruntled with -waiting, none replied to the sagacious observation. Jonesie, however, -hadn’t expected any reply. He didn’t care. When there was no one to -talk to, Jonesie talked to himself. That was much better than keeping -still. Jonesie had a horror of being bored, and nothing bored him -quicker than inactivity, either of body or tongue. That was the reason -why, on a perfectly glorious afternoon in early June, he was to be -found seated Turk-fashion here keeping score for the Team. - -Art Simpson, the manager, whose duty it was to preside over the -official score book, was in the infirmary with a delightful case -of double mumps, and Billy Carpenter, baseball captain, had, so to -speak, drafted Jonesie from a comfortable seat in the stand, thrust -a black-covered book and a leaky fountain pen upon him and bade him -keep the score. Jonesie knew how to do that after a fashion, but his -fashion was not Art Simpson’s, and he soon found the intricacies too -many for him. After Jimmy Buell had been caught flat-footed off second -and chased down between that station and third by exactly six-ninths of -the opposing team, Jonesie gave it up in despair. The only redeeming -feature of his task was the fact that it allowed him to square -accounts to some extent with one or two fellows he had grudges against. -Thus Carpenter himself, for imposing such a task on Jonesie, had been -credited with two errors when, as a matter of fact, Billy had so far -played his position faultlessly. Jimmy Buell, too, had erred, according -to the book, not once, but three times, and even Steve Cook, who was a -particular friend of Jonesie’s, had a neat period set opposite his name -in the error column. Jonesie had chuckled when he set that down. It was -always fun getting a rise out of Steve! - -Daniel Webster Jones, Jr., was a cherub-faced youth of fifteen with -coppery brown hair brushed sleekly back, gray-blue eyes that were pools -of truth and innocence, a somewhat button-like nose that attested -to good nature, and a general appearance of physical and mental -well-being. Folks generally, and nice elderly ladies in particular, -fell in love with Jonesie at first sight. They simply couldn’t -help it. Such candor and truthfulness and innocence shone from his -countenance it did one good merely to look upon it. For the rest, he -was comfortably rounded as to figure, a fact which perhaps increased -his likeness to a cherub, dressed very carefully――Jonesie was always a -little in advance of the fashions――and carried himself with an air. - -After much searching the ball was back in the pitcher’s hands. (For no -especial reason Jonesie credited Gordon, who had thrown it in, with -an assist!) Carey Bingham, football captain, who was umpiring, was -evidently getting tired of standing out there in the sun, for he called -three strikes on the Popham batsman in succession――Proudfoot, the -Randall’s slab artist, had never been known to pitch three good ones in -succession before!――and then ruled the next man out at first in spite -of the fact that Steve Cook had quite failed to tag him. But Popham -had a comfortable lead of eight runs, it was getting late and Carey -wanted to get on the river before suppertime. Popham objected only -half-heartedly to the decision, being doubtless quite willing to hurry -the battle through. - -The bench filled as the perspiring players trotted in from the field. -Billy Carpenter, squeezing in behind Jonesie, glanced at the score. - -“Ten to two, isn’t it?” he asked wearily. - -“Yes,” replied Jonesie. “Gordon up! Proudfoot on deck! Billings in the -hold!” - -“What’s the inning, Jonesie?” inquired Joe Tyson from further along the -bench. - -“Last of the ninth,” answered Jonesie promptly. - -“Get out! It’s the eighth!” declared Billy Carpenter. “Let’s see. Of -course it’s the eighth, you idiot!” - -“Is it?” murmured the non-official scorer. “All right. I just said -ninth so as you fellows would get off easier.” - -“Is that so?” said Billy unamiably. “Never you mind about us. Just -you―――― Here, what the dickens are those things over there in my -column?” - -“Those?” asked Jonesie innocently. “Oh, those are errors.” - -“Errors! When did I make an error, you lunkhead?” - -“I forget; third, I guess; maybe it was the fourth.” - -“You’re dippy! I haven’t made an error to-day! You rub those out, -Jonesie, or I’ll kick you back to school!” - -“My mistake,” replied Jonesie untroubledly, canceling the dots. “Say, -Billy, why don’t you have a good team?” - -“The team’s all right,” answered the captain, mollified as the -untruthful periods disappeared. “We’ve had perfectly rotten luck -to-day.” - -“Oh, sure!” Jonesie’s tone was maddeningly sarcastic. “Blame it on the -luck, Billy. Say, honest, Billy――――” - -“Don’t you be so fresh with your ‘Billys,’ kid,” advised the other, -prodding Jonesie’s spine with the toe of his shoe. Billy was a senior, -and at Randall’s seniors exacted proper respect from lower-class -fellows. - -“My mistake, Mr. Carpenter,” corrected Jonesie sweetly. “I was going to -say――Proudfoot up! Billings on deck!――going to say that I could make up -a team of lower-class fellows that would beat you all around the block, -Bil――er――Carpenter.” - -“You could do wonders,” responded the captain derisively. “Suppose, -though, you credit that Popham first base with a put-out if you’re not -too busy talking nonsense.” - -“No trouble at all,” murmured Jonesie, placing a period in the wrong -space and so adding to the glory of the Popham left-fielder. “The -trouble with this bunch of yours is that they can’t bat, can’t field -and can’t handle the ball. Aside from that, though, Billy, they’re -certainly a fine lot. Who threw that to first?” - -“Why don’t you watch the game and find out?” snarled Billy. - -“Call this a game? It――it’s a farce, that’s what it is, a blooming -farce!” Jonesie gave the assist to the shortstop on a chance and -chattered on. “You see, Bil――that is, Mr. Carpenter――in order to play -baseball you’ve got to know more than the ball.” - -“Oh, cut it out,” growled Billy. “A fat lot you know about it!” - -“If you mean baseball, I know a great deal. I don’t pretend that I -invented the game, Billy, but I certainly organized the Nile Valley -League and――――” - -“Say, you bum scorer, who’s up?” - -“You are, you talented right-fielder!” - -“What on earth is the Nile Valley League?” inquired Billy, who had -never heard of that mythical aggregation. Jonesie glanced around with a -look of pitying surprise. - -“And you’re captain of a ball team!” he exclaimed. He shook his head -gently. “Honest, Billy, I look at you in wonder! You’re on deck, by the -way.” - -Billy got up and selected a bat with much care. Jonesie watched him -pessimistically. - -“Say, Cap, in order to use that you’ve got to know more than the bat,” -he volunteered helpfully. Billy scowled. - -Randall’s failed to add to her score and Popham came in. With a man on -first the second batsman lined a hot one at Billy, and Billy watched -it travel into center field while he wrung a bunch of aching fingers. -Jonesie smiled and restored one of the canceled errors opposite the -captain’s name. - -“Prophetic,” he murmured. “That’s what it was, prophetic!” - -Popham added another run to her tally in that first of the ninth, -but Jonesie didn’t trouble to score it. He was too busy drawing a -picture of Steve Cook at first on the margin of the page. It wasn’t a -good likeness, but it showed a lot of action, and it pleased Jonesie. -So enthralled was he with his artistic endeavors that the teams had -changed sides before he realized it, and he hurriedly set down several -assists, put-outs and errors wherever they looked best. - -Billy was disgruntled when he got back to the bench, and he was rather -rude in the way in which he thrust Jonesie aside to get his seat. - -“Ah,” observed Jonesie, looking about with a gratified air, “the -heroes are back again! In order to catch a ball, Billy, you’ve got to -know――――” But a muscular hand closed about Jonesie’s throat from behind -and the remark was not concluded. Instead, “Buell at bat!” he announced -huskily. “Gordon on deck! Proudfoot in the hold!” - -Jonesie remained silent while Jimmy Buell fell victim to the puzzling -slants of the Popham pitcher. But he felt communicative to-day, and -after Buell had disconsolately reseated himself Jonesie went on -brightly. - -“Honest, Carpenter,” he said, “I wasn’t joshing about that.” - -“About what?” growled Billy, working the fingers of his right hand -experimentally to see if they were broken or merely dislocated. - -“About making up a team from the lower-class fellows and showing your -bunch a few of the rudiments of baseball. You see, Billy, it isn’t so -much that your fellows _can’t_ play; I think they could if they knew -how; but no one has ever shown them, do you see? Now, I think――what? -yes, you’re on deck, Billings!――I think that if you could only play a -game or two with a team that knew a little about it, do you see――――?” - -“I’ll wring your neck for you in a minute,” returned Billy angrily. -Jonesie silently considered the chances of Billy’s carrying out the -threat. It was Billy himself who made the next remark. - -“I’d like to see the bunch of players you’d get together, Jonesie,” he -said. “They’d be wonders.” He laughed most disagreeably. “Bring ’em -along some day and give us some sport, Jonesie. We need practice――――” - -“You sure do! You need more than that, though, old top; you need -to learn what to do on a ball field. For instance, now, if someone -explained to Proudfoot that a bat is made to swat the ball with and not -to hang over his right shoulder, he might do something besides posing -like one of those Roman gladiators at the circus. Yes, sir, Billy, you -fellows certainly ought to have a little instruction.” - -Captain Carpenter opened his mouth to reply hastily and angrily. But -he closed it again. After all, it was only Jonesie talking! Jonesie -indicated on the score book that Proudfoot had been hit by a pitched -ball and had taken his base and then credited the Popham pitcher with a -put-out on the ground that anyone who inflicted pain on Proudfoot was a -public benefactor and deserving of reward! Then, after another moment, -Jonesie spoke again. - -“What day will it be convenient to play us, Billy?” he asked. - -“Play who?” inquired Billy, wondering whether it was worth while to -relieve Steve Cook in the coacher’s box and try to get Proudfoot around -for a run. - -“This team I’m going to get up,” answered Jonesie. “Any day next week -will suit us.” - -Billy laughed derisively. “Cut out the comedy, Jonesie,” he begged. - -“Well, I don’t much blame you,” was the reply. “It would look bad to be -beaten by a lot of lower-class fellows. I guess you’re right to back -down, Billy.” - -“Oh, dry up, Jonesie! And credit Billings with a two-bagger, why don’t -you? Say, what sort of a score is that you’re keeping, anyway?” - -“This? This is the finest little score you ever saw. What did you say -Billings made?” - -“I said―――― _Good work, Charlie!_ Guess I’d better go out and take a -hand.” The bases were filled and Billy’s good nature was restored by -the prospect of adding a few runs to their meager score. - -“Then you mean you won’t play us?” insisted Jonesie as the older boy -pushed by him. - -“Play you? Yes, we’ll play you, Jonesie.” Billy laughed. “Bring on your -team!” - -“Next――next Thursday?” yelled Jonesie. - -“Sure thing!” - -Jonesie whistled softly to himself, not at all melodiously, and -scrawled strange forms on the margins of the score sheet. He was -thinking. When Jonesie thought it was safe to assume that sooner or -later, and probably at no very distant time, something of interest -would happen at Randall’s! - -His preoccupation was rudely dispelled by the sound of a bat striking -a ball and the frenzied shouts of the few onlookers who had survived -eight wearisome innings. Jonesie looked up to see Steve Cook legging -it to first, the Popham center-fielder racing back toward the distant -fence and the bases emptying. Behind first base Billy Carpenter was -waving and shouting. Behind third Jimmy Buell was doing likewise. -Jonesie sighed. More work for the scorer! - -And then a flat silence fell. Away out in center field a blue-stockinged -youth had, after a desperate race, put up a hand and pulled down the -ball. Steve had flied out! The game was over! Popham had won, 11 to 2! -or was it 10 to 2? - -Jonesie added an error to Billy’s column on general principles and -closed the book with a vindictive slam. - - -II - -“Sparrow,” asked Jonesie that evening, “did you ever play ball?” - -It was Saturday and so, of course, Sparrow Bowles, who was a tall -and lanky youth and, in spite of being Jonesie’s roommate, was much -disliked by that young gentleman, had a perfect right to spend his time -over one of Dumas’ most exciting romances. It might be added, however, -that Sparrow would have done just what he was doing had it been Monday -or Friday or any other day of the week. I refuse to even insinuate a -virtue that Sparrow didn’t possess. Sparrow looked up regretfully from -the book. - -“No,” he muttered. “What for?” - -“Then you’re the chap I want,” replied Jonesie cheerfully. “I’ll put -you down――――” He frowned intently for a moment at the list before him -and poised a pencil above it――“I’ll put you down for third base.” - -“You can put me down for――for batter, if you like,” jeered Sparrow, -thus showing the depths of his ignorance of the National Game, “but you -don’t get me to break my fingers!” - -Jonesie didn’t even glance up. “That just about finishes it,” he -murmured. “I think, though, I’ll put Pinky at first instead of Wigman. -Pinky says if he doesn’t play there he won’t play at all.” - -“Say, what are you talking about?” demanded Sparrow, curiosity getting -the better of an inherent contempt for any of Jonesie’s plans. - -“I’m talking,” answered Jonesie with dignity, folding his list and -returning it to a pocket, “about the All-Stars Baseball Team. You see, -I’m getting up a team to give Billy Carpenter’s bunch of amateurs a -little practice. We play them Thursday.” - -“Play the School Team!” Sparrow turned Dumas’ face down on his knees -and stared blankly at his roommate. “Say, are you funny in your head? -Why――why, they’d lick the stuffing out of any team you could make up!” - -“That’s what Billy thinks,” chuckled Jonesie. - -“Should think he might!” - -“But this team I’m getting up, Sparrow, is something a little bit out -of the ordinary. Listen to this.” Jonesie found his list again and read -it for Sparrow’s benefit. “Bumstead, pitcher; Jones, catcher; Trainor, -first base; Hoyt, second base; Bowles, third base; Wigman, shortstop; -Clint Wrenn, right field; George Wrenn, center field; Nash, left field. -What do you think of that, Sparrow?” - -“I think you’re crazy,” replied Sparrow with enthusiasm. “I’ll bet -there isn’t a fellow in the lot ever played baseball!” - -“Yes, there is,” rejoined Jonesie with a grin. “Both those Wrenns have -played a lot. I thought first I wouldn’t have them, but I couldn’t get -anyone else. You see, I told Billy I’d make up the team from the lower -classes. But I put the Wrenns in the outfield where they won’t be able -to do much harm.” - -“If they can play why don’t you let them?” asked Sparrow puzzledly. - -“‘A little learning is a dangerous thing,’” quoted Jonesie. “I’ve -tried to get fellows who never have played, because I can teach them. -You can’t teach a fellow who thinks he knows the whole thing to start -with. Do you see?” - -“No, I don’t see,” said Sparrow bluntly. “I suppose it’s another of -your silly jokes, but you don’t get me into it!” - -“Joke!” exclaimed Jonesie indignantly. “There’s no joke about this. -It’s a perfectly――er――sincere attempt to help the School Team. Didn’t -you hear what happened to them to-day? Got licked by Popham! Ten to -two――or eleven to two; there’s some doubt about the exact figures, I -think! And what’s Popham? A little old one-horse school up back there -in the woods! Don’t you see that the Team needs to go up against a -bunch that can give them a few pointers on how the game ought to be -played? Why, Billy was almost tearful when I agreed to get a nine up, -and――――” - -“Aw, piffle!” interrupted Sparrow inelegantly. Sparrow was somewhat -addicted to inelegant speech. I trust he did not learn it from Dumas. -“Why, there isn’t a fellow on that list who knows what a ball looks -like! Maybe the Wrenns do, but the rest――――” - -“You forget that we have three days to practice,” answered Jonesie -patiently. “I shall teach them――――” - -Sparrow laughed immoderately. “You! Bet you never played baseball in -your life!” - -“Right-o; at least, not much. But I’ve watched a lot of it and I’ve -got a pretty good notion of the way it ought to be played, old Sparrow -Hawk.” Jonesie found his cap, settled it on the extreme back of his -head and moved toward the door. “First practice is at three on Monday, -Sparrow.” - -“Me! You won’t get me into it,” declared Sparrow warmly. “I won’t have -anything to do with your old team!” - -Jonesie observed him in a pained way. “I’m afraid I’ll have to insist, -Sparrow,” he said gently but firmly. “You wouldn’t like it generally -known how Faculty found out about that little party at Steve Cook’s. -You know, Sparrow, I’ve never told anyone about that――yet. But if you -don’t play on the All-Stars I’ll be so dreadfully disappointed that I -may get sort of loose-tongued. Disappointment affects me that way. -Queer, isn’t it? Three o’clock, Sparrow. Ta-ta!” - -Jonesie closed the door behind him, and Sparrow could hear him tramping -down the corridor, whistling blithely; Sparrow frowned darkly at the -book on his knees. - -“And I never caught a ball in my life!” he groaned. - - -III - - SCHOOL TEAM VS. ALL-STARS! - - THERE WILL BE A GAME OF BASEBALL BETWEEN THE SCHOOL TEAM - AND JONES’S ALL-STARS ON THE PLAYING FIELD AT THREE O’CLOCK - THURSDAY. THIS IS THE ATHLETIC EVENT OF THE SEASON, AND IT IS - HOPED THAT THE SCHOOL WILL SHOW ITS APPRECIATION OF THE EFFORTS - OF THE ALL-STARS TO PROVIDE INSTRUCTION FOR THE SCHOOL TEAM BY - TURNING OUT IN FORCE. SPECIAL TRAINS WILL BE RUN, AND A RATE OF - ONE AND A HALF THE REGULAR FARE WILL BE CHARGED. - - COME ONE, COME ALL! - -This notice appeared on the bulletin board on Monday morning and -provided a deal of amusement and much speculation at Randall’s. Jonesie -was overwhelmed with requests for further particulars and offers -of skilled assistance. In every case Jonesie referred the inquirer -to the notice and informed him that the team was already made up. -Billy Carpenter cornered him in the corridor between recitations -and demanded to know what he meant by such tomfoolery. Jonesie was -surprised and pained. - -“Didn’t you agree to play my team on Thursday?” he demanded. - -“I was only in fun, you little idiot! A fine lot of ball players you’ll -get! You take that notice down, Jonesie. If you don’t, I will!” - -“Seems to me it’s a funny thing to back down now,” replied Jonesie, -more in sorrow than in anger, “after I’ve made the team up and we’re -to begin practice this afternoon. Still, of course, if you are really -afraid to play us――――” - -“Who’s on your team?” asked Billy. - -Jonesie enumerated the members of the All-Stars and Billy grinned. - -“Who’s going to pitch?” he asked. - -“Tubby Bumstead.” - -Billy’s grin broadened and he clapped Jonesie on the shoulder. “All -right,” he said gaily, “we’ll play you four innings, Jonesie, if you -last that long. It’ll be funny, anyhow, eh?” - -“Funny!” said Jonesie indignantly, even a little bitterly. “You think -it’s funny when I go to all this trouble to help you fellows out! I’ve -a good mind not to do it! I’ve a good mind to just let you fellows go -on the way you’re going and get licked by every little whippersnapper -team that comes along, Billy! Funny! Huh! You won’t think it’s so funny -when we lick you!” - -“All right, Jonesie,” Billy laughed. “We’ll play you. Who do you want -for an umpire?” - -Jonesie shrugged his shoulders. “Any fellow you like. How about Gus -Peasley?” - -“Has he ever umpired a game?” asked Billy doubtfully. - -“I’ll find out. If you don’t want Gus, though――――” - -“Sure, Gus will do. Let’s make it as funny as we can, eh?” - -And Billy went off chuckling, leaving Jonesie apparently silent with -indignation. - -At noon he sought out Gus Peasley. Gus was an Upper Middler and so, in -a way, might be considered impartial. “Ever umpire a ball game, Gus?” -asked Jonesie. - -Gus shook his head. “I was kicked by a mule once, though,” he said with -apparent irrelevancy. - -“You’re the fellow we want, then,” said Jonesie with deep conviction, -“to umpire the game on Thursday.” - -“Say, are you really going to play the School Team?” asked the other -eagerly. “Why didn’t you give me a show, Jonesie?” - -“I agreed to play only lower-classers, Gus. But Billy and I both want -you to umpire.” - -“Shucks, I never umpired a game in my life! I’d look fine, wouldn’t I?” - -“I’ll lend you a book of rules, Gus, and you can study it a bit. The -game’s on Thursday at three. Don’t forget.” - -“But―――― Here! Hold on, you silly idiot! I’m not going to umpire for -you! Don’t be a chump, Jonesie!” - -“Why not, when we both want you to? It isn’t anything to do and it’ll -be heaps of fun, Gus.” - -“Heaps of fun!” muttered Gus. “Someone’ll bump me on the head with -a bat, I suppose! Well, all right. If you can stand it I can. Don’t -forget those rules, though. Does that book tell when a foul ball is a -strike and all that sort of thing?” - -“Surest thing you know! You’ll have it all down pat by Thursday, Gus. -Thanks awfully.” - -On Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday afternoons the All-Stars were supposed -to hold practice, and about three-fourths of the school went down -to the field to enjoy the spectacle. But the All-Stars were not to -be found on any of the afternoons mentioned. That Jonesie and Pinky -Trainor and Tubby Bumstead and all the other members of the team were -busy somewhere seemed probable since none of them was visible around -the school, but they certainly were not on the playing field, and some -six score youths were correspondingly disappointed. - -But had any of them penetrated to the Games Room situated on the upper -floor of the Recitation Hall they would have been at once surprised and -interested. There, behind locked doors, the All-Stars were practicing. -The practice was novel, however. Instead of batting and fielding and -sliding to bases, the All-Stars sat in chairs or along the edge of the -billiard table and not a bat nor a ball was to be seen. But Jonesie was -coaching. - -“Now, then, take Jimmy Buell. He will play left field for them, I -suppose. Who knows anything about Jimmy?” - -No one did, apparently, until young George Wrenn hazarded: “He’s sort -of crazy about golf, isn’t he?” - -“That’s so,” agreed Tubby Bumstead. “He’s trying for the team, or he -was in the Fall.” - -“That may do,” said Jonesie thoughtfully, making a note on the sheet of -paper beside him. “We may be able to work that up. Anything else?” - -Evidently that exhausted Buell and after a moment Jonesie went on. - -“The next fellow is Gordon,” he announced. - -Several of the All-Stars chuckled, and Jonesie smiled demurely himself. - -“Onions!” said Pinky explosively, and the room rang with laughter. - -“Onions,” agreed Jonesie. “That’ll do for Gordon, I guess! And that -leaves only Proudfoot, and――――” - -“‘Quentin Durward,’” proclaimed Ernest Hoyt, “‘is probably the most -popular work of the great novelist, William Makepeace Thackeray.’” - -The All-Stars chuckled and giggled. - -“‘A lambkin,’” contributed Sparrow Bowles, “‘is a fleece-bearing -quadruped closely related to the domestic lamb or sheep.’” - -“Don’t believe he ever wrote that one,” laughed Tubby. - -“Yes, he did, too. Sumner Hayes heard Old Fury read it in class last -year.” - -“It’s great, anyway,” applauded Jonesie, scribbling feverishly on his -paper. “Lambkin for Proudfoot’s! There, that’s the lot of ’em. I’ll -have copies of this ready for you fellows to-morrow and then, next day, -we’ll have a quiz. Practice is over!” - - -IV - -“Bumstead at bat, Trainor on deck!” proclaimed Arthur Simpson, who, -released from the infirmary, was once more on hand. Not, however, that -Simpson was according this contest with the All-Stars the honor of a -score. - -“Now then, Tubby,” called Captain Jonesie from the visitors’ bench, -“remember the lesson!” - -Tubby, a little embarrassed because of the fact that he had never -played ball before so large an audience, grinned as he stepped into the -box. The audience cheered madly. Tubby dared a glance at the crowded -stand and Proudfoot sent over a perfectly good strike. Gus Peasley, -however, more ill at ease than anyone else there, proclaimed it a ball. -Rufe Brown, the School Team’s catcher, howled dismally. - -“Say, Peasley, do you know a strike when you see it?” he demanded. - -“A strike,” replied Gus, half closing his eyes as an aid to memory, -“is a ball passing over any part of the plate and between the batter’s -shoulder and knees.” - -“Well, didn’t that?” asked Rufe menacingly. - -“I dare say, but the batsman wasn’t ready for it,” replied Gus quite -calmly. He might be frightened, but he didn’t intend anyone should know -it! “Play ball!” - -Grumblingly the catcher threw the sphere back to pitcher and said -uncomplimentary things about Gus as he knelt to give his signal. -Proudfoot’s next attempt was so palpably poor that Gus merely grunted. -Then came a second strike, which Gus called by its right name, thereby -slightly mollifying the disgusted Rufe. But Proudfoot was unable to add -a third and eventually Tubby Bumstead, after some urging on the part of -his teammates and the audience, trotted to first, and Jonesie promptly -stationed himself near by to coach. The stand howled and laughed and -whistled, Pinky Trainor picked up a borrowed bat and faced the pitcher, -and Jonesie began to coach the runner. - -“Now then, Tubby, don’t forget the lesson! Take a lead; that’s it! Oh, -let him throw if he wants to. Take another yard. Whoa! Why, Steve, you -really caught it! Fellows, did you see Steve Cook catch the ball? Do it -again, Steve, will you please? They didn’t see it. All right, Tubby! -On your toes again! Ready to steal on the second ball, you know! Don’t -forget the lesson!” - -Pinky, following instructions, declined to offer at any of the balls -offered him, and was finally called out. Clint Wrenn, however, actually -had the effrontery to wallop one of Proudfoot’s best out-shoots and -send it safely between second and third, while Tubby romped to the next -station. - -“Well done, Clint!” applauded Jonesie as he strode to the plate. “Oh, -very nicely managed, sir. Ah, Mr. Proudfoot, salutations to you! And -how is your throwing arm to-day?” - -Proudfoot smiled and whipped a quick one over to first. Unfortunately -Steve Cook was so busy listening to Jonesie that the ball went past -him and Tubby legged it home, while Clint went on to second, sliding -to the bag, not because there was any actual danger of being thrown -out, but because he wanted to do the thing thoroughly. The spectators -applauded generously this gratuitous performance, and then gleefully -welcomed Tubby across the plate. Billy Carpenter, looking both puzzled -and disgusted, viewed Jonesie with suspicion. - -“Strike him out, Proud,” he directed. “He can’t hit!” - -“Ay, so do!” chanted Jonesie, circling his bat wildly about his head -and dancing a sort of Highland fling at the plate. “Be neither pitiful -nor kind, Mr. Proudfoot! Dispose of me quickly, I pray! Who am I to -stand here and dare your Jove-like bolts? Ah, Mr. Proudfoot――――” - -“Ball!” quoth Gus. - -“Get off the plate, Jonesie,” directed Rufe Brown. “Want to get one in -the ribs?” - -“Not I, forsooth! See, I retreat. Mr. Umpire, I request you to observe -that most promptly I retreat! With all my heart――――” - -“Str―――― Ball two,” said the umpire. - -“_What?_ Say, you cross-eyed chump, what do you think you’re doing -here? Are you umpiring or――or――――” Rufe choked with emotion. Proudfoot -rolled his eyes to heaven and crossed his arms to express his contempt -for the decision. Whereupon Clint Wrenn started abruptly for third base -and―――― - -“Look out!” bawled the pitcher. - -“Third! Third!” shouted Billy Carpenter frantically. - -“Out of my way!” yelled Rufe, stepping forward with the ball. - -“Where are you coming?” inquired Jonesie anxiously, stepping in front -of him. - -“Throw it!” implored the third baseman. Rufe pushed Jonesie ungently -aside and threw it. But the ball struck in front of the base and, -although Joe Tyson made a heroic effort to stop it, went rolling on -into left field, while Clint romped home into the outstretched arms of -Jonesie. Up hurried Pitcher Proudfoot and Captain Carpenter and First -Baseman Cook, each sputtering with wrath. - -“Say, you――you――――?” began Proudfoot, indicating Gus Peasley with a -clenched fist. - -“Put him back on third,” demanded Billy irately. “Jonesie got in Rufe’s -way deliberately! If you can’t umpire decently――――” - -“This isn’t baseball, anyway,” declared Steve bitterly, still smarting -from the incident of the throw that went by first. “It’s a farce!” - -“Did you see what he did to me?” asked Jonesie in hurt tones. “He -pushed me aside――violently! He said to me, ‘Look out!’ and I said, -‘Where are you coming?’ and then he distinctly pushed me! The umpire -saw it, didn’t you, Gus? And you’re perfectly _disgusted_, aren’t you? -Considering, Billy, that we are your――er――guests here to-day, I don’t -think we should be pushed and shoved about! I really don’t! Anyway, not -with violence, Billy!” - -“Oh, cut it out! If you fellows want to play ball, why, play ball, but -don’t try any baby tricks. This isn’t a――a circus!” And Billy eyed -Jonesie and Umpire Peasley with distinct displeasure. - -“Of course we want to play ball!” responded Jonesie indignantly. -“That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? That’s what we practiced for all -these days! Go on and play; we’re ready. We didn’t stop the game, did -we? Honest, Billy, you surprise me, you do really!” - -“Do they get that last run?” demanded Proudfoot truculently. - -“Sure,” answered Gus. “The runner scored, didn’t he?” - -“Jones got in Rufe’s way, though, and the ball went into the -outfield――――” - -“In order to throw to third, Mr. Proudfoot,” declared Jonesie -authoritatively, “you’ve got to know more than the ball.” - -“Oh, give them the run,” said Steve. “We’ll lick ’em to a standstill. -Come on, fellows.” - -They went, lingeringly, filled to the brim with remarks they wanted to -offer, but didn’t. After all, as Steve Cook said, it was only a farce, -a parody. Only――and Billy Carpenter picked up a pebble and hurled it -away with unnecessary violence――Jonesie did make a fellow so mad! - -Jonesie struck out miserably, and Hoyt, rolling a slow one to -Proudfoot, followed him to the bench. Then the School Team came in and -the All-Stars distributed themselves about the field, many in really -original locations. For instance, Nash, playing in left, took up a -position some twenty yards behind third base and Wigman seemed unable -to tear himself away from close proximity to the second bag. Tubby -Bumstead, who had once pitched two games for a grammar school team, -strode to the box with all the nonchalance of a Mathewson, picked up -the ball and promptly threw it over Jonesie’s head. - -“That’s the stuff, Tubby!” cried Jonesie, trotting after the sphere. -“That’s pitching, old top! You got it with you to-day! Now, then, first -man, Tubby! Don’t forget the lesson! Bingham likes ’em high. Give him -one, Tubby.” - -Tubby’s attempt was not successful, and Gus droned, “One ball!” - -“That’s the way, Tubby! Now another one a little bit higher. Bingham -doesn’t like to reach for ’em, do you, Bing?” - -“Don’t you be so fresh!” growled Bingham, who was a senior and properly -mindful of the respect due him from lower-class fellows. - -“A thousand pardons, Bing! Here it comes now! Bang it, Bing! Bing it, -Bang! Bang――――” - -Bingham swung at a wide one and missed, and Jonesie, who had never -before tried to catch behind a swinging bat, turned his back and -dexterously stopped the ball. The audience approved wildly. Bingham -scowled. Tubby, recovering some of his lost science, sent a nice -straight ball across, and Bingham, trying to shut his ears to Jonesie’s -artless prattle and not succeeding, struck too late. Jonesie stepped -nimbly aside and ducked, and the ball collided with Gus Peasley. Gus -said “Ugh!” in disgusted tones and doubled up. However, as he was -properly guarded by a body protector, no harm was done, and Jonesie -sent back the ball and followed it with a flood of conversation. - -“That was a dandy, Tubby! Sort of a fade-away, what? Say, you’ve -got it with you to-day, all right! That’s pitching ’em, Tubby! He -couldn’t even see it. His sight isn’t what it was since he blew up the -laboratory!” - -“Say!” Bingham turned threateningly upon Jonesie. “You cut that out or -I’ll beat you, you fresh kid!” - -“No offense, Bing――――” - -“And don’t call me ‘Bing’!” - -“Just as you say, old top! I only mentioned that laboratory experiment -of yours because――――” - -“You say that again and――――” - -“How was it?” demanded Jonesie as the ball settled into his mitt. - -“Strike three!” replied Gus promptly. - -“_What?_ You――you robber!” shrieked Bingham. “I’ve a good mind -to――to――――” He started toward Gus, but Jonesie interposed. - -“Don’t lose your temper,” he pleaded. “It _was_ a strike, Bing, honest -it was! Right over the middle――――” - -“You, too,” interrupted Bingham angrily. “You tried to queer me! I -wasn’t looking at the ball――――” - -“What’s the row?” demanded Carpenter, pushing his way in to the -agitated group. Bingham explained a trifle incoherently. Billy listened -and took him by the arm. - -“All right. Come on,” he said wearily. “You got caught, Bing. No use -kicking. Hit it out, Rieger.” - -And Rieger did hit it out. He sent a fine long fly into left field. -Young Nash, hands in pockets, turned and watched it descend to earth -some two hundred feet beyond him while the spectators laughed and -howled with glee. It was George Wrenn who fielded the ball to second -in time to hold Rieger at that bag. Jonesie, mask in hand, stepped -authoritatively in front of the plate. - -“Nash,” he called, “play back another foot or two!” - -Joe Tyson went to first to coach and Buell lolled over behind third. -On second Rieger seemed strangely inattentive to his duties as a base -runner. Hoyt and Wigman stood close by, and from all indications the -trio were engaged in conversation. In fact, it was possible to catch -snatches of it even in the stand: - -“I’m not saying you did, am I? Every fellow knows, though――――” - -“... Again and I’ll....” - -“Don’t rile him, Wigman! Let bygones be bygones――――” - -“Come on!” bawled Tyson exasperatedly. “Get off that base!” - -“Hey! Rieger! What’s the matter with you? Are you glued there? Come -on!” And Jimmy Buell, back of third, waved frantically. - -“... Just once more,” threatened Rieger wildly, “and I’ll come over -there and――――” - -“... Sore subject,” piped Hoyt. “As far as I’m concerned ... as long as -he owns up to a thing....” - -Steve Cook let one delivery go by and then landed on the next. By some -miracle Pinky Trainor, at first, managed to get in front of the ball -and, although it bounded away from him, he picked it up and raced -across the bag the fraction of a second ahead of Steve. The stand -applauded warmly and hilariously and Rieger went on to third. Joe -Tyson, grinning, tapped the plate with a bat and winked at Tubby. - -“A low one for Joseph,” called Jonesie. “He eats ’em alive, Tubby. Now -then, one right down here! That suit you, Joe?” - -Joe shook his head. The umpire called “Ball!” doubtfully, and Jonesie -rewarded him with a grieved look. - -“He didn’t like that one, Tubby. Try again. Here, Joe, show him where -you want it.” And Joe obligingly indicated the locality with his bat. -“Get that, Tubby?” asked Jonesie anxiously. “Now try and give him one -like that. We strive to please, Joe. That’s our motto. Right over, -Tubby, and just where the gentleman wants it! Here she comes, Joe! -Whack it! Whack it! Whack――――” - -“Strike!” proclaimed Gus. - -Joe grinned at Jonesie. “Say, that was all right,” he said. - -“Glad you liked it. If you don’t get what you want, ask for it, Joseph. -Send him another of those, Tubby. He likes ’em. Here we go! Here we go! -Don’t hit him, Tubby! One more now!” - -“Two balls!” said the umpire. - -“That’s pitching, Tubby, that’s pitching! But don’t make him reach for -’em. He’s a friend of mine. What’s the matter with your neck, Joe?” - -“Nothing.” - -“You ought to have it looked at. All right, Tubby! I knew a fellow who -had one of those things on his neck and―――― Make it good, Tubby! Sort -of low, you know!――and didn’t look after it, Joe――――” - -“Strike two!” announced Gus. - -“Say!” bawled Joe, turning wrathfully. “Keep your mouth closed for a -minute, will you? You’re worse than a phonograph! There’s nothing the -matter with my neck!” - -“Oh, all right!” Jonesie tossed the ball back. “Better hit at this one, -Joe. Tubby always makes the fourth one good. I don’t want to alarm you -about your neck, but if I had it I’d certainly have it attended to -before it got any worse. If you let it go very long they’ll have to -operate and――――” - -Against his better judgment Joe put a hand tentatively to the back of -his neck. Tubby wound up quickly and pitched. Joe’s hand came down -suddenly and grabbed at his bat, and the bat swung wildly. - -“You’re out!” cried Gus. - -Joe leaned on his bat and looked disgustedly at Jonesie. - -“You wait until this game’s over,” he said dispassionately. “I’ll see -you later, Jonesie!” - -Jonesie smiled sweetly and sorrowfully. - -The School Team took the field and the All-Stars came to bat in the -first of the second inning. But although George Wrenn found Proudfoot -for a hit that landed him on first, and although Jonesie coached him -superbly and incessantly, the next three batters went out ignobly. - -Billy Carpenter started things going for the School Team with a long -hit into center and reached second. Jimmy Buell swaggered to the plate, -tapped it knowingly and waited. - -“What does he want?” asked Tubby. - -“Ah, to be sure! What sort of a ball would you like, James?” Jonesie -inquired solicitously. Jimmy laughed. - -“Any old thing, Jonesie, as long as I can reach it.” - -“The gentleman is not particular, Tubby. Try a few of those ‘floaters’ -right over the tee. James is using a niblick this shot.” - -Jimmy stirred and muttered. - -“One ball,” said Gus. - -“Try again, Tubby! Careful of this one, James, and keep your eye on -the ball. Don’t forget the carry-through, old top. Going to try a full -swing?” - -“Aw, cut it out!” growled Jimmy. - -“Let’s see, James, you didn’t make the team last Fall, did you? It’s -simply awful the way favoritism rules in athletics here! Keep your eye -on the ball, James! Careful now!” - -“Strike one!” - -“Maybe you’d better try a brassie, old man. You want distance this -time, you know. If you get bunkered――――” - -“Keep it up! You’re not bothering me a bit, Jonesie.” - -“I’ll bet you’ll make the Golf Team yet, James. Any fellow with an eye -like yours and a――er――physical development――――” - -Jimmy let the next one pass, and Gus promptly announced another strike. -Jimmy wanted to argue about it, but Jonesie returned the ball without -delay, and Jimmy had to content himself with a few well-chosen remarks -which, owing to the fact that he umpired from a place well removed from -danger, Gus probably never heard. - -“I suppose,” continued Jonesie, “it’s awfully hard to hit a golf ball, -James. They’re so small, aren’t they? Regular little pills! Did you -ever hit one, James?” - -“I’ll hit you if you don’t close your mouth!” - -“Fie, James! You’re losing your temper! If you do that you’ll never -make the Golf Team, I know. Now then, James! Hit behind the ball; you -topped that last one, you know; and follow through, James, follow――――” - -Jimmy followed through all right, but the ball whacked against -Jonesie’s protector――Jonesie didn’t pretend to catch them when struck -at――and Gus crooned, “Striker’s out!” Tubby, running up, got the ball -in time to hold Billy Carpenter at second. Jimmy Buell retired to the -bench with dragging bat, talking all the way. Gordon, the next batsman, -played his position in right field better than he batted. But on this -occasion he found what he wanted in the first ball pitched, and swung -hard. Unfortunately the ball started straight down the third-base line, -and although Billy Carpenter bounded frantically to the left to get out -of its way, it bounded off him and rolled toward second. Billy walked -disgustedly to the bench, rubbing his leg, and Gordon proudly perched -himself on first. - -[Illustration: “Jonesie didn’t pretend to catch them.”] - -“Two gone!” called Jonesie cheerfully. “Play for the batter, fellows! -And don’t forget the lesson!” - -“Say, what’s this old lesson you’re always talking about?” asked -Proudfoot as he squared himself to the plate. - -“Never you mind, Horace Erasmus,” replied Jonesie. Proudfoot, who was -not at all proud of his name as set down in the school catalogue, -frowned. - -“And never you mind about my name,” he rejoined shortly. - -“Well, it _is_ your name, isn’t it?” - -“That’s none of your business. You’re too fresh. You――――” Proudfoot’s -further remarks were halted by the strange behavior of the All-Stars. -One by one they were edging toward the left of the field. As they went -they held their noses and looked accusingly toward first base, where -Pinky Trainor was elaborately binding a handkerchief about his face. -Even Tubby showed signs of uneasiness. Jonesie’s voice rang out sharply. - -“What’s the matter with you fellows?” he asked irately. “What are you -all doing?” - -“We can’t stand it, Cap,” called Hoyt from out in short left field. - -“Stand it! Stand what?” - -“The――the odor!” - -“What odor?” - -“Onions!” - -There was a brief moment of silence, and then the fellows in the stand -behaved most remarkably. They rocked to and fro in their seats, clung -to each other desperately and even rolled into the aisles, all the -while emitting choking, gurgling sounds that might later evolve into -laughter, but which at present more closely resembled the painful gasps -of a person lately rescued from drowning! And the same or similar -effects might be noted on the field and on the School Team’s bench. -In fact, everyone appeared to be on the verge of apoplexy save only -Mr. Gordon. Gordon, with clenched fists and crimson cheeks, faced the -world desperately. Then, while the stand still choked and sputtered, -his eyes fell on Pinky Trainor beside him, Pinky swaying dizzily as one -about to pass into unconsciousness, Pinky with his nose tightly bound -with a none too clean handkerchief. With a roar of rage Gordon sprang -and Pinky went down. But Billy Carpenter, red of face and making odd -gurgling noises in his throat, leaped weakly to the rescue and the -writhing forms were torn apart. And then――and only a few witnessed -it――Tubby, who had apparently run to the aid of his fallen teammate, -suddenly dug a hand holding a baseball into Gordon’s ribs and Gus -Peasley, with a feeble wave of his hand, gasped: - -“Out――at――first! _Oh, help!_” - -The latter part of the remark seemed addressed to no one in particular, -and Gus sat down on the turf and held his sides very tightly, rocking -to and fro, which, you must acknowledge, was a most undignified -proceeding for an umpire. - - -V - -The All-Stars met in Jonesie’s room that evening and disbanded. But -first Jonesie addressed them from the study table most eloquently. - -“As long,” declared Jonesie magnificently, “as the annals of Randall’s -School survive the fame and glory of the All-Stars will――er――illuminate -the pages of history! We have to-day performed a deathless, imperishable -deed. Summoned from――er――the humble walks of life, like the Minute Men -of old or What’s-his-name from the plow, we sprang into the breach -and――er――battled nobly and valiantly. Victory was ours! For two -hard-fought innings we held the School Team at bay and finally triumphed -by valor and science!” - -Young Nash snickered. Jonesie shot a reproving glance at him and went -on. - -“Handicapped by ignorance, by lack of practice, by youthfulness and -want of experience, we stood shoulder to shoulder upon the trampled -field and――――” - -“Joe Tyson says we didn’t win,” interrupted Tubby. “Says the game -didn’t go four and a half innings.” - -“Who cares what he says? Who cares what any of them say? They refused -to continue. They forfeited the game. The umpire said so. We won a -noble victory with the aid of courage, science and――――” - -“Onions,” murmured Pinky. - - -THE END - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes: - - ――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - - ――Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to - follow the text that they illustrate. - - ――Printer’s, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently - corrected. - - ――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. - - ――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DANFORTH PLAYS THE GAME *** - -***** This file should be named 64150-0.txt or 64150-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/1/5/64150/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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