CHAPTER IX
M'NATT ON SCIENCE
The boy in the green sweater, if left to his own devices, would havepassed Willard some fifteen feet away, but curiosity got the better ofthe latter and when the other was opposite to him he spoke.
"Hello," he said.
The fellow stopped, turned his head and viewed the boy on the stonewall, quite without surprise, for a long moment. Then he shifted hisgaze to the forked stick that he still held extended before him andshook his head slowly.
"I suppose I haven't got the power," he remarked thoughtfully.
"What power?" asked Willard.
"Why, the power, or whatever you like to call it, to make this thingwork. Have you ever tried it?"
"I don't know what you're doing," answered Willard, getting down fromthe wall. "What's the branch for?"
"Haven't you ever seen a water-finder?" Willard shook his head,puzzled. "Well, you take a piece of witch-hazel or willow--some sayalder or ash will do--and hold it like this by the top branches andwalk over the ground. When you come to a place where there's waterbelow, the lower end there will tilt downwards. I've seen it donetwice."
"Oh, I've heard of that, but I never saw it tried," answered Willardinterestedly. "I supposed it was just nonsense. Did you ever see itsucceed?"
The other nodded soberly. "Both times. Old Man Hildreth, back home, didit twice one time for my father, and when we dug where he told us towe came to water. One time it was a regular spring that we found andthe other time it was more like a well. I mean we had to dig pretty fardown before we came to the water. Old Man Hildreth used witch-hazel,and that's what I've got here. I had to hunt nearly an hour before Ifound any."
"Let's see." Willard took the Y-shaped piece and looked at itcuriously. There was, however, nothing about its appearance to indicatethe power attributed to it by the boy in the green sweater. Willardshrugged. "I guess you've got to go where you know there's water," hesaid. "It doesn't look to me as if there'd be much water on top ofthis hill."
"You mostly find springs on hillsides," replied the other mildly, "andthat's why I've been looking around here. Maybe I'm too high up now,though."
Willard seized the branches as he had seen the other hold them andexperimentally walked a few steps forward. Nothing happened. For thatmatter, he hadn't expected anything would happen.
"You must hold them tight," advised the other, "so you'll feel theinfluence."
Willard gripped harder and circled about the green sweater. Once,possibly because his muscles were so tense, he thought he felt atremor, but, when he turned and went back over the spot, the phenomenonwas not repeated. "Look here," he asked, "what do you want to findwater for, anyway? There's a whole river just full of it down there."
"I wanted to see if I could do it," answered the other.
"Oh!" Willard looked at the witch-hazel wand in his hands and down thegently sloping meadow. "Let's go down there and try it," he suggestedfinally.
"Very well." Side by side, Willard still holding the water-finder, thetwo went down the hill. Willard's countenance, although he didn't knowit, wore an expression of concentration and expectancy. At the foot ofthe hill his companion seated himself on a rock and Willard began asystematic exploration of the surrounding territory. When ten minutesor so had passed it dawned on him that he was extremely warm and that,while there was bound to be water underground, since the river was notfar distant and very little lower, the forked stick had absolutelyfailed to register even a tremor of interest! He joined the youth inthe green sweater and handed the stick to him in disgust.
"That's no good," he said. "Why, I could find water two feet from hereif I had a shovel! That's just bunk!"
"I suppose you and I haven't the right powers of divination," repliedthe other composedly. "I'll try again some day with a piece of willow."
Willard said "Humph!" as he seated himself on the rock, and a minute'ssilence ensued. Then: "I've seen you at school, haven't I?" Willardasked.
"I presume so. My name is McNatt, and I'm in Upton. What is yourclass?"
"Junior," replied Willard. "This is my first year. I suppose you are inthe senior class."
McNatt nodded. "I've been here four years. This is my fifth. I was sickmy sophomore year and had to go home twice. Once I was away two monthsand another time I was gone five weeks. That put me behind and I hadto take the year over. I guess I could have made it up, but the doctorwouldn't allow it. I don't mind at all, though. I like it here. Theonly thing is that the fellows I came along with have gone and I don'tknow many now. But then I never was much for making acquaintances."
Willard viewed him curiously. McNatt was perhaps nearly nineteen,he thought. His head was large and his features prominent: a verybeak-like nose extended well over a wide mouth, his rather pale eyes,which might have been either green or blue for all Willard coulddetermine, were deepset under heavy brows and his chin jutted outalmost aggressively. But in spite of his features McNatt did notimpress Willard as being a forceful youth, nor did his expression,voice or manners suggest it. He had a pleasant, deep voice and spokeslowly, almost hesitantly, and, while he didn't smile frequently, hiscountenance bespoke good humor. He had very dark-brown hair, and therewas a good deal of it, and it was perceptibly wavy under the rim ofhis straw hat. The straw hat, like the rest of his attire, had seenbetter days. In fact, McNatt's trousers, of blue serge that had changedto plum-color on the knees, would not have greatly interested an oldclothes man! The garment that clothed the upper part of his body wasequally disreputable, a dark-green coat-sweater with many darns and onepocket that was trying hard to get away. The shoes alone appeared to beof recent origin, but as they were caked with mud along the soles thefact would have escaped casual observation.
"What made you think of this stunt?" asked Willard, nodding at thewitch-hazel stick.
McNatt's countenance expressed faint surprise. "Why, I've always beenvery interested in scientific matters," he replied gravely.
"Oh," said Willard, "do you call that science?"
"I'm not sure," answered the other slowly. "The diving-rod, as it issometimes called, has been in use a great many years both for thediscovery of water and metals. Taking science in its broader senseof truth ascertained and systematized, almost anything not capableof classification as an art may well be termed a science. Whilethe affinity existing between the diving-rod and water or metalsunderground may be viewed as a phenomenon, yet when we make use of thataffinity to produce systematic results we enter the realm of science."
Willard blinked. "I--I suppose so," he agreed vaguely. "Can you findgold that way, too?"
"It has been done, I think," said McNatt. "I haven't been able to findmuch data on that subject, though."
Willard looked more respectfully at the witch-hazel switch. "I guess itwouldn't be much use looking for gold around here, though," he said."How would you know whether you had found gold or water if the thingdipped?"
McNatt considered in silence a moment. Then he shook his head. "Ican't say," he replied. "Perhaps you couldn't tell. Though, as goldis generally located away from water you would hardly expect that thediving-rod was indicating anything but gold."
"Isn't gold sometimes found in the beds of rivers and streams?" askedWillard. "Seems to me your diving-rod would get sort of mixed, wouldn'tit? And how about silver? Can you find silver that way, too?"
McNatt looked almost distressed. "As a matter of fact," he said, "Ihaven't devoted any study to the use of the diving-rod in the locationof metals. Your questions open up an interesting field, though, andsome time I'll go into the subject thoroughly. And still, as I haven'tyet demonstrated the--ah--power of the instrument in the finding ofwater, possibly it would be idle to extend the experiments. There'sone possible explanation of failure that just occurs to me. Old ManHildreth said he used a hazel stick. He didn't say whether it was thehazel of the nut tribe--"
"I think it must have been," said Willard emphatically.
"Or the witch-hazel. The ordin
ary hazel is a member of the oak family,but does the witch-hazel belong to the same family? There are certainsimilarities between the two, and yet they may not be botanicallyrelated." McNatt presented a puzzled countenance to Willard. "Whatwould be your opinion?"
"Search me," said Willard cheerfully. "I thought a hazel was a hazel."
"I'm afraid not. That may account for my lack of success. You see,I jumped to the conclusion that the witch-hazel was the proper one,probably because the word 'witch' suggested--ah--divination. So I mayhave been wrong." McNatt's face cleared and he looked quite cheerfulagain. "I'll have to try again. Only--" He paused and pursed his lipsdubiously. "Do you happen to know if the hazel grows about here?"
"Haven't the slightest idea," said Willard.
"Nor I. I'll have to look that up when I get back. It's strange thatthe encyclopedias give so little information on the subject of thediving-rod. I wonder--" McNatt fell silent, and after a minute Willardarose.
"Well, I guess I'll be getting back," he announced. It was, heconcluded, too late to meet Martin and the others now.
"Back?" repeated McNatt, coming out of his trance. "Yes, that's so.It must be--" He searched under the edge of his sweater for somethingevidently not there. "Have you a watch? I seem to have forgotten mine."
"Twenty to five," said Willard.
"Then we'd better start." McNatt gazed thoughtfully, almost sorrowfullyat his witch-hazel stick and laid it gently on the rock. "I may trythat again some time, but I rather think I was mistaken; I rather thinkit should have been the corylus americana."
"Something nutty sounds more likely," said Willard gravely. To hissurprise, the other chuckled.
"That hadn't occurred to me," he replied. "You see, some of the fellowscall me McNutt. By the way, what's your name?"
Willard told him and McNatt nodded. "Harmon: the name's familiar. Iremember now. There is a fellow of that name who plays football. Quitea remarkable full-back, I think."
"Gordon Harmon? Did you know him?"
"I read about him. He played on one of the high school teams in NewYork City, I believe. Is he a relation of yours?"
"Brother."
"Really?" McNatt turned and viewed Willard with real interest. "Well!Think of that! I dare say you're sort of proud of him."
"I suppose so," replied Willard doubtfully. "I don't think I everthought whether I am or not," he added, laughing.
"You should be if what they say of him is true," said McNatt earnestly."I followed his work last season with much interest. A natural-bornfull-back, I'd call him. By the way, do you play, too?"
"A little. I'm out for the team."
"Full-back? But no, you'd be too light. End, maybe?"
"Half," said Willard. "I've played there some."
"Hm." McNatt looked him over critically. "Yes, you might do well there.You look fast. Ten pounds more wouldn't hurt you, though."
"You talk like a football chap yourself," said Willard. "Do you play?"
McNatt shook his head. "I used to, but I got--ah--out of sympathy withit. You see, Harmon, football is capable of being reduced to an exactscience, but played in the haphazard manner that they play it here itlacks interest. I haven't played recently."
"Well, I don't see how you can reduce it to any exact science," Willardobjected. "Of course, if you knew beforehand what the other fellow wasgoing to do--"
"You miss my meaning," interrupted the older boy. "See here, Harmon.You start with a playing space so many yards in length and so manyyards in width. You oppose a team of eleven players with a team ofa like number. You may do a certain number of things legitimately.Each situation developed in the course of a football game calls for acertain move. But that's what coaches and quarter-backs don't realize.They think that a situation is unprecedented and, instead of making themove that is called for, they confusedly try something they shouldn't,a play never intended for the situation."
"But how the dickens are you going to know what play the situationdoes call for?" demanded Willard. "The situations make themselves, andthey're all different!"
"Not at all. There are only a certain number of situations that caneventuate and they are quite capable of tabulation. For the purpose ofargument, suppose we set the number at three hundred. Very well, thereare consequently three hundred correct moves. Suppose it is A's ball onB's twenty-yard-line on third down with five to go, B has demonstratedthat gains between her tackles are practically impossible. A is weak atkicking field-goals, but has proved capable of gaining on runs outsideB's right tackle. B has a good defense against forward-passes and hasdefeated A's attempts to gain that way. Now, then, what is A's correctplay?"
"Why, a skin-tackle play, of course, at the weak end," replied Willard."At least, theoretically. But suppose the back who carries the ballslips or turns in too soon or--"
"No science, no matter how exact, is proof against the fallibility ofthose engaged in its demonstration," said McNatt gravely. "The pointI am trying to prove is that here is a situation that is neitherunprecedented nor novel and that, capable of being recognized, has itsproper solution which may be scientifically applied."
"Maybe," said Willard, "but, gee, how many situations would there be torecognize? About a thousand, I'd say!"
"Many less, I think. I've never attempted to tabulate them, but itwould not be a difficult task. Science has performed far more difficultfeats."
"I dare say, but--but--look here, McNatt, if each team played footballlike that, I mean if each team had the right answer to every situationthat might happen, why, gee, neither one would win!"
"You're wrong, Harmon. You're forgetting the element of humanfallibility. Put two chess players at the board, give them each asimilar knowledge of the game, and what happens? Do they play to a tie?Very seldom. One wins and the other loses. So it would be in footballwith each team applying science. One team would excel because sheapplied it more exactly, perhaps more instantly."
Willard shook his head. "It sounds crazy to me," he said. "And I don'tthink I'd want to play if everything was cut-and-dried like that. Hangit, McNatt, it's accident and chance that makes the game interesting."
"I don't agree with you. I think those things retard the developmentof it, Harmon. As it is now, individual skill rules. Why, look here.Suppose armies fought that way. Suppose a field general said to hissubordinates: 'I don't know how to meet this situation. You fellows seewhat you can do. Maybe we can push back his left wing or maybe we canpunch a hole in his center, do something, but don't bother me!'"
Willard laughed. "That's not a fair comparison, though, McNatt," heanswered. "At least, in football, the coach or the quarter-back has aplan and carries it out, even if it isn't the right one!"
"A wrong plan is no better than no plan. Haphazard football is just assilly as haphazard war would be, Harmon. Fellows who teach footballtalk about the science of it, but they don't study it. Their sciencebegins and ends with finding out the other fellow's weak spot andattacking it."
"Sounds like pretty good science to me," said Willard.
"It is good as far as it goes, but it's only the beginning. Well,here's my way. I'm glad to have met you, Harmon. I'd be glad tocontinue the subject sometime if you care to visit me. I'm in Number49. I've got some things that might interest you, too; rather a goodcollection of minerals gathered around here, for one thing: nearly twohundred specimens."
"Thanks, I'll look you up some time," said Willard, "but I guess I'vehad enough of that argument. It's too deep for me, McNatt! So long."
Willard turned toward Haylow and, when he had gone a little way, lookedback. McNatt had stopped near Lawrence Hall and was staring up intothe sky. All Willard could see there was a streaky white cloud. Heshook his head as he went on again. "'McNutt' is right, I guess," hemuttered.