CHAPTER X
ON THE FOURTH SQUAD
"How much does a football suit cost, Humphrey, and where do you buy it?"
Humphrey looked up from his book and smiled quizzically across at theenquirer. "Hello!" he said. "Going to the rescue of the dear old schoolafter all, Rowly?"
Ira nodded slowly. "It sounds sort of silly, I guess," he replied,"but I've decided to have a try at it. I don't believe for a minutethat they'll keep me more than one day, but Lyons wanted me to tryit, and--well, I guess that's the least I can do. Someone ought todo something for the team besides 'knock' it. Where do you get thesethings you wear?"
"Wherever they sell 'em. There's a store a block or so over towardsthe common where they have footballs and things in the window. Don'tremember the name, but you can't miss it."
"How much do you have to pay for a regular outfit?"
"Never bought one, Rowly. The only time I played football it was justkid stuff, and we wore whatever we had. You might ask our fat friendnext door. He's on the team--or trying for it."
"Duff? I don't know him well enough, I guess. Do you think ten dollarswould do it?"
"Well, hardly, Rowly! Why, shoes cost four, I suppose. And then youhave to have trousers and stockings and jacket and sweater----"
"I've got a sweater," interrupted Ira. "I wish I knew someone who hadsome things they weren't using. I hate to spend a lot of money forsomething I may not need after two or three days!"
"You don't seem to think very well of your chances," laughed Humphrey."But, say, why don't you ask someone? I'll bet there are plenty ofoutfits you could buy or borrow. How about that chap Goodloe? He mightknow of someone."
"That's so. I think I'll ask him."
"The only trouble," chuckled Humphrey, "is that another fellow's togswill probably be too small for you. Maybe you could have them let out,though."
"I sort of wish I'd stop growing so fast," said Ira sorrowfully."Everything I get is too small for me after a few months. The tailor isfixing both my other suits, but I dare say by the time he gets themdone he will have to start over again!"
This conversation took place on the Sunday evening succeeding theMapleton game. That it was Sunday explained Humphrey's presence athome, for he spent most of his evenings in or around the CentralBilliard Palace, so far as Ira could make out. Humphrey had heardfrom home and was once more in funds. He had promptly returned Ira'sloans and paid his share of the furnishings, laughingly explainingthat he wanted to keep his credit good as he would probably have toborrow again soon. Ira wished that he would spend less time in thetown and more in the third floor back room at Maggy's, for there werealready indications of impending trouble between Humphrey and variousinstructors. But Ira decided that Humphrey had better learn his ownlesson from experience. Humphrey was not the sort one could offersuggestions to, no matter how excellent or well-meant they might be.Of late the roommates had got on very well. Ira was certain that therehad been no more cigarette smoking in the house and was fairly surethat Humphrey had given up the habit entirely. Perhaps it was becauseIra was getting used to the other, but it seemed to him that he coulddetect an improvement both in Humphrey's manners and appearance. Whenthe latter wanted to be pleasant he could be very pleasant, and at suchtimes he was rather a likable sort.
Ira went across to Williams as soon as breakfast was over the nextmorning and found both Gene Goodloe and Fred Lyons at home. When hehad explained his mission both fellows dived into closets and trunksand in about three minutes Ira was outfitted. Fortunately, the pair ofwell-worn trousers were Fred's, for had they been Gene's they wouldnever have answered. The jacket was practically new, one that Gene hadpurchased two years before with visions in mind of making his classteam. It didn't lace quite close across the chest, but answered wellenough for the present. The shoes were Fred's, and save that each hadone or more cleats missing, were in very good shape. The brown jersey,with leather pads at elbows and shoulders, was Gene's, and, while itfitted a bit too soon, promised to conform in time to the physicalproportions of the new wearer. A pair of stockings alone was wanting.Fred found some, but after exposing the heels he discarded them.However, stockings were a small item, and as for a sweater, Ira had aperfectly good one that had never been worn. It wasn't brown, but Fredsaid that wouldn't matter a bit.
The only trouble obtruded when Ira broached the subject of price.Neither boy wanted to consider payment. "Why, the things aren't worthten cents," declared Gene. "I'd never use mine, and Fred's got moretogs at the gym than he can wear!"
"But I can't just--just walk off in them," protested Ira. "I'd ratherbuy them, if you don't mind."
"But we do mind!" said Gene. "We'd blush to take money for them. Lookat Fred. He's blushing already!" Ira couldn't detect it, however, andresolutely draped the garments over the back of a chair as he took themoff.
"I guess I'll have to buy them at the store then," he said regretfully."I'm awfully much obliged to you, but I can't take them unless you letme pay for them."
"Oh, don't be a silly chump!" begged Gene. But Fred interposed.
"If you feel that way about it, Rowland, why, we'll take your money, ofcourse. A couple of dollars will settle with me and I guess Gene won'twant more than a dollar."
"A dollar!" jeered his roommate. "He can have them for fifty cents."
"I guess I'd better make an offer," said Ira soberly. "The trousersaren't so new as the other things. I'll give you a dollar for them.And I'll give two dollars for the shoes, fifty cents for the shirt andfifty cents for the jacket. Will that do?"
"Suits me," said Fred.
"Me, too," answered Gene. "And, say, Rowland, I've got a lot of otherthings I wish you'd look at. Need a nice Winter overcoat? Or a fewpairs of shoes? Or--say, what'll you give for the furniture just as itstands?"
"Dry up, Gene," growled Fred. "I'm glad you're coming out, Rowland.Practice is at three-thirty. If you don't find time to get stockingsdon't bother about them. We'll find some for you at the gym."
"Thanks, but I'll get a pair this morning. What shall I do when I getthere this afternoon?"
"Report to me, please, and I'll look after you. And, say, Rowland,don't get discouraged if it seems a good deal like drudgery at first.Stick it out, will you? There is a good deal of hard work in it, andcoming out a week late will make it a bit harder. But you'll like it assoon as you get used to it."
"Yes, just as soon as you've broken an arm or a leg," said Genecheerfully, "you'll positively love it, Rowland!"
When Ira had gone out, his purchases draped over his arm, Fred saidmildly: "What's the good of trying to make him feel uncomfortable,Gene? He wanted to buy the things, so why not let him do it if it wasgoing to make him any happier?"
"I'll bet he didn't feel as uncomfortable as I did," answered theother. "I felt like a second-hand clothes dealer. I didn't want his olddollar. Besides, he hasn't much money, I guess, and it seemed a shameto take it."
"Folks who don't have money, Gene, are the ones who are touchiest aboutaccepting presents," observed Fred wisely. "I hope we can do somethingwith that chap," he added as he gathered his books together. "If he canbe taught he'll be a prize."
"Why can't he be taught? If you think he's stupid you're dead wrong,Frederick dear. He's got a heap of horse sense, that kid."
"I know. I don't mean that he's stupid. Only--well, some fellows canlearn about everything except football. I don't know why it is, butit's so. Maybe football requires a certain sort of instinct----"
"Oh, piffle! You football fellows think the game's something sortof--of different from everything else there is! You make me tired! It'sa sight harder to run the half-mile than it is to play a dozen footballgames!"
"It might be for you," answered Fred, dryly. "To the limited intellectan easy task always seems the harder. Good morning!"
"Listen, you big galoot! You use Rowland right. Hear me? If you don'tI'll lick you!"
"What you say goes, Gene," answered Fred airily from the doorway. "I'llwrap him in c
otton wool the very first thing!"
"Yes, take the stuffing out of your head," retorted Gene triumphantly.
That afternoon, feeling queer and conspicuous in his unfamiliar attire,Ira slipped out of the gymnasium and joined the stream trickling tothe gridiron. That the football togs made a difference in him wasproved when he passed Raymond White near the grandstand. Ray viewed himcarelessly and looked away without recognition. Then, dimly consciousof a likeness to someone he knew, Ray looked again and turned back.
"Hello, Rowland!" he exclaimed, laughing. "By Jove, I didn't know you!So you're out, eh? I'm awfully glad. I sort of thought you'd get thefever after watching a game or two. Well, you'll like it. See if youdon't."
Ira didn't think it worth while to explain that instead of havingacquired the football fever, he had, on the contrary, decided thathis first opinion of the game was the correct one and was there thatafternoon more because of a sense of duty than anything else.
"Are you looking for Lowell?" continued Ray. "He isn't out yet, Iguess. What are you trying for? Or don't you know that?"
"No, I don't. What I think I'd rather do is hold one of those iron rodsalong the side," laughed Ira. "I was told to report to Lyons, but Idon't see him around."
"No, he isn't here yet. Pick up one of those balls back of you andwe'll pass a minute."
After two attempts to catch and throw the erratically behaving pigskinit dawned on Ira that he had even more to learn than he had suspected.However, following Ray White's instructions, he presently learned tostop the ball with both hands and body instead of treating it like abaseball, and to wrap his fingers about it so he could throw it withina few yards of where he meant it to land. There wasn't much time forpassing, however, as coach, captain and manager arrived together veryshortly, and Ira, rather conscious of his strange togs, approached thegroup.
"Oh, here you are!" greeted Fred Lyons. "Coach, this is Rowland, thechap I was telling you about. Shake hands with Coach Driscoll, Rowland.And Manager Lowell. You might give Lowell your name and so on. He'sfull of questions."
Ira shook hands and, while De Wolf Lowell put down his name, age, classand so on, was conscious of the coach's intent regard. When Lowell wassatisfied Ira turned inquiringly to Captain Lyons, but it was the coachwho took him in hand.
"You've had no experience at all, Rowland?" asked Mr. Driscoll in asomewhat sceptical tone.
"No, sir."
"Funny! A chap with your build ought to be playing long before this.What have you done? Baseball? Track? What?"
"I've played baseball a little. That's about all."
The coach reached out and closed his fingers inquiringly over Ira'sforearm and then pressed his knuckles against the boy's chest. "Where'dyou get those muscles, then?" he demanded.
"I don't know, sir. Maybe in the woods. I've swung an ax sometimes,and I've ridden a saw."
"Ridden a saw? What's that?"
"Why," replied Ira, smiling, "when a kid like me, or a new hand, takeshold of a cross-saw they say he 'rides' it. 'Just you keep your feetoff the ground, sonny, and I'll ride you' is what the old hands tellyou."
His audience laughed, and Coach Driscoll remarked: "Well, I guess yougot down and walked sometimes, Rowland! You've got some fat on you thatyou don't need, but we'll work that off. Put him on the scales afterpractice, Lowell, and see that he doesn't come down too fast. Have youhad your examination?"
Ira shook his head. "For what, sir?" he asked.
"For football--or anything else. I guess it's all right for today, butyou'll have to see Mr. Tasser tomorrow and he will fill out a card. Ifhe finds you all right for football--as he will, I guess--show yourcard to Lowell. Now, then, let's see. You'd better join that fourthsquad over there. Learn to handle the ball the first thing, Rowland.It'll take you two or three days to get acquainted with it, I guess.Don't be in a hurry to get on. I'll look you up again in a day or two."
"I'll take you over," said Fred Lyons. "Do we scrimmage today, coach?"
"Oh, I think so. You fellows didn't work very hard Saturday from what Isaw!"
Fred smiled as he crossed the field with Ira in tow. "We worked hard,all right," he said, "but we worked rotten, too! Did you see Saturday'sgame, Rowland?"
"Yes. I suppose you wouldn't call it a very good one, would you?"
"Punk! Here we are. Oh, Cheap! Will you take Rowland in your squad,please? He's new at it, but willing to learn. How's it going?"
"Fair," replied the boy addressed. "Some of these fellows think thatthing's an egg, though. They hate to be rough with it for fear it'llbreak. Fall in there beyond Webster, Rowland, will you? Hug the ballwhen it comes to you. You can't bust it!"
A tall youth sidled along to make room for Ira and during the nexttwenty minutes he learned a lot about the uncertain disposition of afootball. They passed it in a circle and then in a line, and after thatCheap, a freckle-faced, tow-haired youth with a short temper and afine command of sarcasm, stood in front of them and tossed the ball tothe ground and it was their duty to fall on hip and elbow and secureit. Falling on a dribbling ball is not the easiest thing in the worldfor a novice, for the ball does the most unexpected things, such asbounding to the right when you think it is going to jump to the left,or stopping short when you think it will come on. On the whole, Iracomforted himself with the reflection that he met with more successthan many of the squad even if he didn't do as well as a select few.Practice at starting followed, and for ten minutes they raced from amark at the instant that Cheap snapped the ball. Then they were coachedin picking the ball up without stopping and in catching it on the boundas it was tossed in front of them. By that time Ira was drenched inperspiration and was extremely short of breath. Finally, they wereformed again into a ring and the ball was passed from one to the otheras before, the boy at the right throwing it at the next fellow'sstomach and the next fellow making a "basket" for it by raising oneleg, bending his body forward at the waist and holding has hands apart.If he was successful the ball thumped against his stomach and his handsclosed about it. If he wasn't, it leaped away to the ground and he hadto fall on it. Ira discovered that day why his brown jersey was paddedat elbow and shoulder!
Cheap strolled off to the side line, leaving them to continue theexercise without him, whereupon conversation went around with the ball."I'm getting sick of this," said the fellow at Ira's right as he gavethe pigskin a more than ordinarily vicious drive at Ira's stomach. "Wewere at it five minutes before you came."
"I guess I'll dream of it tonight," laughed Ira breathlessly, passingthe pigskin along to his left-hand neighbour.
"If you don't it'll be a wonder," growled the other. "I did fortwo or three nights. Cheap makes me tired, anyway. He's a regularslave-driver. If we don't get something else tomorrow I'm going toquit."
"You said that last week," remarked a small youth beyond him. "So didI. But we're still here. Change!"
He started the ball around in the other direction and the fellowsshifted to meet the new order. Presently Cheap returned, watcheddisapprovingly for a minute and then called: "That'll do, squad! You'refine and rotten! On the run to the bench, and put your blankets on!"
Trotting half the length and width of the field seemed to Ira the finalinsult, but he managed to reach the substitutes' bench without fallingby the way and sank on to it with a deep sigh of gratitude. The restof the practice time was spent by his squad and one other in watchingthe half-hour scrimmage. Then came the return to the gymnasium, showersand a leisurely dressing, during which nearly every muscle in Ira'sbody ached protestingly.
But after he had eaten his dinner he felt, in spite of his soreness,particularly fit, and found himself looking forward to the next day'swork with a sort of eagerness. It wasn't so much that he expected toenjoy it as that he was curious to know whether he would survive it!He did survive it, however, although when he rolled out of bed in themorning he had to groan as his stiff muscles responded to the demandsput on them. He underwent an examination at the hands of the physicaldirecto
r, Mr. Tasser, at noon, and was put to all sorts of novel tests.Mr. Tasser was not very communicative. His conversation consistedentirely of directions and non-commital grunts. While Ira donned hisclothes again the director filled out a card with mysterious figuresand symbols, and it was when he handed the card to Ira that he attainedthe zenith of his loquacity.
"Very good," he said. Then he grunted. And after that he added: "Betterthan the average. Lower leg muscles weak, though. Twelve poundsoverweight, too. Good morning."
Practice that afternoon, which was no different from the day beforeexcept that it contained a strenuous session of dummy tackling, leftIra lamer than ever, so lame that he couldn't go to sleep for sometime after he was in bed. And the next morning he groaned louder thanbefore when he tumbled out. He wondered what they would say or think ifhe begged off for that one day's practice! But when he had been up andabout awhile he found that the lameness had miraculously disappeared,or most of it had, and it didn't come back again that Fall! He wasgiven easier work that afternoon, for Billy Goode, the trainer,informed him that he was losing too fast.
"'Tain't good to drop your weight too suddenly, boy. You do somehandling today and run the field a couple o' times at a fast trot andcome in. That'll do for you."
Oddly, Ira somehow resented being pampered and was inclined to grumblewhen, having had thirty minutes of kindergarten work and trotted twicearound the oval, he was remorselessly despatched to the showers.That, having dressed, he did not return to the gridiron to watch hiscompanions disport themselves shows that so far as football fever isconcerned Ira was still free from contagion. Instead, he went to hisroom and put in an extra hour of study which shortened his evening'sduty by that much and allowed him to do something that he had had inmind to do for some time, which was to call on Mart Johnston.