CHAPTER XXIII
REINSTATED
Myron isn't likely to forget for a long time the week that followed.Every afternoon at four o'clock appeared Andrew, armed for the fray,and for two hours of a hundred and twenty minutes each Myron wrestledwith Latin. Andrew was merciless. From the stroke of four to the strokeof six was the inexorable rule. Myron's pleas weren't even heard. Aftertwo days he got fairly used to it, though, and then the labour beganto bear fruit. Mr. Addicks shot a keen and questioning glance at Myronon Wednesday and followed it with one of mild approval on Thursday.Saturday morning Myron was again out of the woods, although, as Andrewreminded him more than once, whether he stayed so depended on whetherhe was willing to study hard and long and resolutely. Myron reached theconclusion that he was.
But being out of the woods did not necessarily place him in the fullsunlight of faculty favour, and so it was from the grandstand that hesaw Parkinson play Chancellor School at Mt. Wansett, and not from theplayers' bench. Myron had doubts as to his right to make the trip, andput the matter up to Joe. Joe did not observe, as he might have, that,having got as far away as Philadelphia without leave, going to a notdistant town under like conditions shouldn't worry Myron! Instead, headvised him to put the question up to Mr. Hoyt. The secretary referredto a mysterious book and shook his head. "I can't find that you havegone on probation, Foster," he said. "Nothing here indicates it. Yousay Doctor Lane forbade you to play football? Was anything said aboutprobation?"
"No, sir. I only thought--was afraid----"
"Well, I should say there was no intention, then. If I were you I'dassume that I was not on probation. However, if you still have doubtsI'll take the matter up with the Principal as soon as he's at leisure,and if you'll drop in again about twelve----"
"But the train goes at eleven, sir!" Mr. Hoyt smiled faintly. "In thatcase, Foster, I don't see how you can be here at twelve."
"You think, then, that----"
"I think so."
Myron hurried out before the secretary had time to change his mind andthink differently!
It rained that day, and the game was played in a sea of water on asoft and slippery turf. Many boys who had meant to accompany the teambacked out when they viewed the weather, and only a handful huddledin raincoats behind the Parkinson bench and aided the Brown with dampenthusiasm. Not that a great deal of cheering was needed, however, forthe first period settled the outcome of the contest, and after thatit was merely a question of whether Chancellor would score. Parkinsonstarted with the line-up that, so rumour had it, would face Kenwoodtwo weeks later: Stearns and Norris, ends; Mellen and Keith, tackles;Cummins and Dobbins, guards; Cantrell, centre; Cater, quarter; Meldrumand Brown, halves; Kearns, full. But that arrangement did not outlastthe second period. The third began with the score 19 to 0 and fivesubstitutes on the field. And during the subsequent thirty minutes ofplaying time additional changes were frequent. Parkinson ended with manythird substitutes in the line-up, to which may be fairly attributed thefact that Chancellor saved her face at the last and scored seven points.
With a slippery field and a wet ball, both teams had stuck prettyclosely to line plays, but some five or six minutes from the end, Grove,playing quarter, took a chance and shot the ball to Houghton, atfull, for a wide run around left end. Houghton muffed, not a difficultthing to do when the ball is as slippery as a pat of butter and itreaches you off at one side, and the fat was in the fire. A defeatedteam is a dangerous team, and Chancellor proved it then and there bypiling through the Parkinson first and second defences, upsetting thedistressed Houghton and salvaging the pigskin some thirty yards fromthe Brown's goal-line. For the first time in many long, wet minutes thespectators had something to thrill over. A long-limbed, shock-headedChancellor forward in mud-reeking pants and torn jersey, wearied andwinded, went plunging and stumbling and slipping toward a touchdown withthe field strewed out behind him. Interference was hasty but effective.Parkinson and Chancellor youths went down like nine-pins, splashing intopuddles, gouging into mud. For a moment it seemed that the incidentwould end with twenty-two players flat on the wet ground and only theofficials erect! But, although many fell by the way, others managed tokeep their feet and run it out, and among these was the youth with theball. Twice he went to his knees, but each time he recovered before theenemy reached him, and in the end he slid over the line close to theleft goal-post, and Chancellor shouted and leaped with delight.
After the goal was prettily kicked the teams went at it again, butto all purposes the game was over and the score didn't change again.Twenty-nine to seven were the figures that, later in the day, broughtuneasiness to the Kenwood camp. Yet, returning to Warne, it was noticedthat Coach Driscoll's countenance did not reflect the satisfaction shownon other faces. After supper that evening he told Jud Mellen why. "Youchaps played a rattling game today," he said almost regretfully. "Ihaven't a criticism to make that's worth the breath it would cost. Eventhe second and third subs were good, almost without exception. But Isort of wish you hadn't done so well, and that's the truth."
"Afraid of a slump," said Jud, nodding thoughtfully.
"Well, not exactly that. When a team reaches its best two weeks beforethe big game it doesn't take a slump to queer it. It only needs a returnto ordinary playing, if you see what I mean. All you fellows need doto get beaten two weeks from today is to play the sort of footballyou played last week against Day and Robins. There's just that muchdifference between fine football and good football, Cap. If it had beenKenwood today instead of Chancellor, we'd have the championship tuckedaway in our belt this evening. I guess I've made a mistake somewhere:let you fellows come too fast the last week or so. But I didn't have anywarning that you were on the last lap. It hasn't shown once. Well, it'sup to us now to stay where we are, Cap."
"Or go ahead," said Jud.
But Mr. Driscoll shook his head. "I'd like to think so, but I'm afraidwe reached top-notch today. I'm always scared for a team that hasn'thad a slump some time during the season. And we haven't. Not a real,sure-enough slump. There was a tendency after the Phillipsburg game, butit didn't really amount to anything."
"Well, I don't feel like slumping," laughed Jud. "And I haven't noticedany signs of it in the others. Every one's as cocky as you pleasetonight, and barring a few bruises--and Flay's knee--they're all in fineshape."
"Yes, we came out of it mighty well," agreed the coach. "I hate a wetfield, Cap. I hope to goodness this rain doesn't keep on for two orthree days. Rainy weather can play hob with a team that's the least bitover-trained."
"You're a regular pessimist tonight, Coach," Jud laughed. "Cheer up! Bythe way, Dobbins told me this evening that Foster's expecting to get offpro. Kearns wasn't half bad today, but it would certainly make me feeleasier in what I call my mind to have Foster ready to take his place."
"Yes. See if you can get him out Monday. There isn't a whole lot of timeleft. Still, he's learned the position fairly well and might give a goodaccount of himself as he is. With another ten days of training he oughtto make a good second for Kearns."
The rain continued during Sunday and Myron was restless and inclinedto be as much of a pessimist as the head coach. He was difficult tolive with, too, and Joe dragged him over to Mill Street after dinner inthe hope that Andrew would be good for his soul. Andrew did, in truth,perk him up not a little, predicting that he would get his release fromDoctor Lane the next day.
"I dare say he's forgotten all about me," said Myron dismally. "SupposeAddicks doesn't tell him I've made good?"
"Well, it's up to Addicks, and that's a fact," responded Andrew. "Ifnothing happens by noon, I'd advise you to go to him and tell him thefacts. Tell him you want to get back on the team and can't until hespeaks a good word for you to Jud. Addicks is a good sport and will doit. I think he will, anyhow, though. You see if you don't hear from Judin the morning."
So Myron decided to hope for the best and forgot his worries watchingthe amusing antics of the puppies, by now sturdy little rascals who madet
heir mother's life a burden and a boredom.
Andrew's prediction came true, for the next morning Myron was againsummoned to the Office and conducted into the presence of Doctor Lane.
"Mr. Addicks tells me that you're doing very much better, Foster,"announced the Doctor. "In fact, he recommends that we lift therestrictions in your case. Do you think that you will be able to stay ingood standing now?"
"Yes, sir. I'm going to try hard, anyway," said Myron earnestly.
Doctor Lane smiled. "In that case I believe that you will succeed, myboy. It's wonderful what really trying will accomplish. Very well,Foster. You have permission to go back and grind your face in the sodagain. Like football do you?"
"Very much, sir."
"So do I. I used to play it once, a good many years ago. Do youconsider that we have a good chance to beat Kenwood this fall?"
"Yes, sir, I think we will. We've got a bully team!"
"So I understand. Well, we'll hope so. Good morning, Foster."
Once outside the door of the outer office, Myron broke into song. As amusical effort it was not remarkably successful, but as an expressionof his feelings it met all requirements. Turning into the entrancecorridor, he almost ran into Paul Eldredge. He and Paul had never spokensince the encounter on the walk that evening. Paul's attitude towardhim had been one of armed neutrality expressed in sullen silence andsarcastic glances. Now, acting on impulse, Myron stopped and spoke.
"Say, Eldredge," he blurted, "let's call it off! What do you say? I'msorry for whatever it was that--that offended you."
Eldredge, surprised, at a loss, stared at Myron's smiling countenancefor an instant, trying to think of something sarcastic. Failing, hegrunted, and then, as Myron kept silence and waited, he said: "Allright," none too graciously; adding: "I'm satisfied if you are. Youstarted it, anyway."
Myron couldn't remember whether he had or hadn't just then, so heyielded the point. "Did I? I'm sorry then. Let's forget it, eh?"
Eldredge nodded more amiably. "Sure! I'm willing."
Then Myron nodded, laughed for no reason that the other could fathom,and hurried on. The laugh had nothing to do with Eldredge or with themaking of peace, but was just an advertisement of the fact that lifelooked very good to him at the moment.
Mr. Addicks, a half-hour later, positively beamed on him, to the quietamusement of those of the class who knew of Myron's recent status,and Myron decided that the Latin instructor was "a corking old chap."Reinstatement amongst the first team substitutes proved a most casualaffair that afternoon. He reported to Farnsworth and the manager said,rather decently, "Glad you're back, Foster. All right, get into it.That's your squad down the field."