CHAPTER XXIV
STEWART’S REVENGE
The tennis tournament began two days after the pow-wow between thequartet on the lawn. In spite of Trevor’s wishes on the subject, hefound himself drawn for the preliminary round, and opposed to a lowermiddle boy named Page. But he had no trouble in winning two setsrunning, and so qualified for the finals.
The tournament went slowly, for those were busy days at Hillton,and allowances had to be made for the demands of crew and baseballtraining. But Friday night left only four contestants--Trevor, Stewart,Hollis, and Montgomery. Play in the semifinal round began earlySaturday morning. Trevor defeated Montgomery 3-6, 6-2, 6-2, and Stewartwon from Hollis 6-3, 7-5. After a half-hour’s rest Trevor and Stewartfaced each other smilingly across the net in the final round to decidethe school championship.
It was a perfect morning for tennis, bright and warm, and though itgave promise of heat later, at ten o’clock a soft, fresh breeze blewacross the campus from the woods. Trevor won the toss and chose thesouth court.
“I see my finish here,” he said with a grin.
Stewart laughed.
“I’m glad I’ve got you scared. How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“So’m I; so look out for yourself.”
Trevor’s fears appeared to be justified by events, for Stewart took thefirst set from him very easily, six games to three, and won the secondafter a somewhat harder battle to the tune of 7-5. But after thatTrevor seemingly found himself, and the third encounter was brilliantenough to win almost unceasing applause from the fairly large throng ofspectators. It went to him finally by six games to four, and the fourthset begun.
The two boys played very different tennis. Trevor at his best wassupremely careful and painstaking; one might have thought that tenniswas a game like chess, in which each stroke was the result of deepstudy. He played slowly, relying upon scientific placing for hispoints. His serve was a justly celebrated overhand cut which againstalmost any boy in the school save his present opponent was verydangerous. But Trevor and Stewart had played together all the spring,and knew each other’s style from A to Z, and Stewart had from longexperience learned to return Trevor’s puzzling service with a forehandstroke off the ground that was almost always successful. Trevor playedwell back as a rule, and was the possessor of a back-hand return thatwas the admiration of all.
Stewart on the court was like a whirlwind in white flannels. Hewas all dash and go. Lithe and lightly built, he seemed capable ofbeing everywhere at once, and that without any special effort. Hisplaying was brilliant in the extreme; his service was a swift strokethat landed the ball almost invariably on the service-line, and thatrequired the opponent to stand back of base-line to receive it; hisreturn was a long, lightning-like drive that just topped the net; andhis smashing was something terrific. But, like most whirlwind players,Stewart took long risks and occasionally got very wild.
The fourth set went to Trevor after a hard battle, eight games to six,and the decisive struggle commenced. It was Trevor’s serve, and forthe first time during the contest he won a love game on it, Stewartreturning every ball out of court. On Stewart’s service Trevor failedalmost as signally, getting but one return over. Stewart tried lobbingin the next game with disastrous results, and Trevor again won. Withthe games 1-3 Stewart took a decided brace and secured the next onhis service, and the following one partly through Trevor’s poor workand partly through fine handling of the puzzling serves. It was thenTrevor’s turn to win twice running, and he brought the score to 3-4;Stewart by faultless service made it four games all; each then won onhis service and the score was games all.
It had been decided that the final set should not be a vantage set,and hence the next game would settle the contest. The two ladschanged courts, and the audience looked for a speedy termination ofthe struggle. Trevor led off with a fault and followed it with a poorserve that allowed Stewart to return a slashing ball far into theright angle of side- and base-lines. Trevor was too late, and amidthe applause of the crowd, and somewhat disconcerted, he repeated hisprevious performance; the first ball went into the net and the secondbounced obligingly into Stewart’s racket and came skimming back swiftand low, touching the canvas strip and dropping almost lifeless in theshadow of the net. This was also lost to Trevor, and the score waslove-thirty. Trevor looked grimly determined now, and Stewart watchedsharply for the next serve. He found it and returned it, and Trevor,with excellent judgment, crouched out of its way and let it go by wellout of court. The next serve was one of Trevor’s best, and it founda good big hole in his adversary’s racket. The score was thirty all.Stewart found the next serve and put it into Trevor’s hands; the lattercut it to the left of the opposite court, but Stewart sent it backneatly toward the base-line. Trevor reached it by a long run, and witha magnificent back-hand stroke tried to place it over his opponent’shead. But Stewart was watchful and alert, and ran back in time, andagain volleyed, sending the sphere down the right-side line. Trevoragain returned, seeking a place out of reach of his nimble adversary,and Stewart, after a hard chase across court, got it on the bound andplayed it gently over. Trevor had followed up, however, and it wasall over on the next play, for although Stewart dashed back again tothe territory he had just left unprotected the ball was dead when hereached it. The score was now 40-30, and the game, set, and match mightbe won on the next stroke.
Trevor was breathing hard, but there was a grim determination in hiseyes. Stewart appeared less tuckered, but he was somewhat pale despitethe easy smile that played over his boyish face. Up went Trevor’sracket; up went the ball. There was a line of white through the air;Stewart put the head of his racket to the gravel; the ball in its lowrebound struck it fair and went hurtling back. Stewart ran up to withina yard of the net. Trevor waited for the bounce, glanced hurriedlyover the opposite court, chose his place, and sided his racket. Buthis plans were wrecked by a pebble. Up went the ball on the reboundalmost straight into the air. Trevor darted forward. There was no timefor niceties of cutting or placing. Ball and racket came together, andthe former went skimming forward, head-high, straight as a dart forStewart’s racket!
The crowd held its breath, picturing the terrific smash to follow,and Trevor scuttled back to the rear of the court from where it mightbe barely possible to get the ball on its long rebound. Stewart swunghis racket back, strong fingers grasping the end of the handle, swungit down with all his force--and stared in seeming amaze. A groan ofdismay went up from the onlookers as the ball passed by untouched anddropped into court.
“Game and set and match!” called the umpire. And then the applausebegan. Trevor advanced to the net, and he and Stewart shook hands.
“Beastly luck, that last stroke,” said Trevor heartily.
“Rotten playing, you mean,” answered Stewart, smiling. “I’m glad you’vewon, Trevor, honestly; but some time you and I’ll have it out again, ifyou like.”
“All right; I’d like to. And there’s another tournament coming nextyear, you know.”
Dick, who in company with Carl and many other friends, had watched thematch from the side-line, slapped Trevor on the shoulder.
“Good work, chum! And you played like a cyclone, Stewart; you oughtto have had it.” Then Trevor took possession of the little silver mugand wondered where the engraver was going to find room for his name onit, and the crowd broke up and hurried toward the Yard and dinner. Onthe way Stewart found himself beside Dick. Trevor and Todd were somedistance ahead, the latter, who could play tennis about as well as anelephant can jump rope, explaining to the champion where he had madehis mistakes.
“That was a queer stroke of yours, Stewart,” said Dick.
The younger boy darted a fleeting glance into the other’s smiling face.
“Rotten, wasn’t it?” he asked.
“Well, I wouldn’t call it rotten exactly; I should say it wasremarkable.”
Stewart again glanced up to find Dick looking at him quizzically. For amoment the two eyed ea
ch other; then Stewart laughed and Dick joined in.
“No more remarkable than the way in which Trevor lost the two hundredand twenty yards at the indoor meeting, was it?” he asked.
“No,” replied Dick. “I should say they were about on a par. But Ididn’t think that you suspected----”
“You must think I’m blind then. I knew it well enough, and I made up mymind then to have my revenge. And I’ve had it to-day. But, I say, Dick,I’d rather you wouldn’t tell Trevor. I don’t think he knows.”
“No, I won’t say a word to him,” replied Dick with a smile. “You’re afunny pair, you two.”
But he went on up the river-path with one crimson-clad arm overStewart’s shoulders.
The week that intervened between the tournament and the boat-racepassed quickly. There was an air of expectancy and excitement in theair. Examinations were approaching, class day was almost at hand, andHillton and St. Eustace were about to match their prowess both on thewater and on the diamond. The varsity crew was on the river twicedaily, but the hardest of training was over, and a period of light worktook the place of the former grinding labor. The time for sledge-hammerblows was past, and the efforts of coach, captain, and coxswain weredirected toward putting the finishing polish on their handiwork. FromMarshall came the news that St. Eustace’s head rowing coach was firmlyof the belief that he had succeeded in turning out a crew no whitinferior to that of the preceding year, and it was evident in many waysthat the backers of the Blue were confident of another victory.
Dick was himself again; contented, hard-working, even hopeful despitehis dark forebodings. He had not forgotten his lapse from honor; heoften spent miserable moments in thinking about it; but, what withearnest promises to atone for it and with work and study enough tooccupy every moment of his waking time, he found his periods ofself-abasement becoming fewer and fewer. He was certain of passing hisexaminations well, and believed he would graduate an honor man of threeterms.
On Thursday he and Trevor and Muggins sat in the grand stand andcheered nine clever young gentlemen on to a decisive victory over theball players of St. Eustace, a victory that indicated a second tocome when Hillton played the last game of the series at Marshall thefollowing week. Gray was elated, and Hillton was proud of him, and gaveevidence of its pride by well-nigh raising the roof when he appeared indining-hall.
And after the game was over Dick and Trevor went to training-tablefor the last time; and every one was very hopeful and rather sad, anddecidedly nervous--every one save Kirk, who did most of the talking,and told strange and interesting stories of life at Hillton when hewas a boy there. There had been no work on the river that day, for theshell had been shipped to Marshall; but a two-mile trot on the road,followed by a five-minute bout with the weights, had taken the placeof it. After supper the men went to Society House, where the secondcrew, disbanded the previous day, joined them, and Professor Beck andtwo graduates spoke to them in earnest, hopeful strain until it wasbedtime. Then the varsity crew got together and cheered long and loudfor the second, and the second cheered the varsity, and they bothcheered Coach Kirk and Professor Beck and the two graduates. Whereuponall scattered for bed.
The next morning, bright and early, the varsity and substitutesjourneyed to Marshall, and at eleven o’clock were paddling slowly overthe course of the next day’s race, watched here and there by groups ofSt. Eustacians. They put up at the hotel, where Muggins, attired in agorgeous crimson blanket adorned on each side with a great white H,attracted much interest, and afforded not a little amusement. He knewevery member of the crew and every substitute by nightfall, and gaveeach a place in his affections. And when, after dinner, the St. EustaceGlee and Mandolin Clubs, followed by a number of boys from across theriver, put in an appearance and gave a concert on the veranda, heplanted his front feet wide apart, raised his blunt nose toward thestarlit sky, and howled loudly and dismally until Trevor bore him offto bed.
And, although the concert still went on, Trevor did not return tothe veranda again. Something, perhaps the excitement of the day, hadgiven him a splitting headache and a queer feeling all over that wasdifficult to define. So he undressed, climbed into bed, and, cuddlingMuggins closely to him, fell off into a dream-troubled slumber.