Right End Emerson

  CHAPTER VI

  BILLY CROCKER DROPS IN

  Alton played her first game two days later, against the local HighSchool team. The latter had suffered quite as much as the Academyfrom graduations, and the eleven that took the field to oppose theGray-and-Gold knew very little football. Alton fairly ran High Schooloff her feet in the first half, scoring three touchdowns and missingtwo excellent opportunities to kick goals from the field because ofthe Coach’s instructions to play only a rushing game. Along in thethird period Mr. Cade began to send in substitutes, and ere the briefcontest was ended Alton had tried out just twenty-one players. Therewas only one score in the last half, the result of a blocked kick onAlton’s thirty-two yards. High School, held for downs, had attempteda goal, but a plunge of eager Alton substitutes had borne down thedefense and the ball had bounded aside from some upstretched arm to begobbled up by Harmon and borne fleetly down the field. There was littleopposition, for the nearest High School pursuer reached the finalwhite line a good two yards behind the swift-footed left half-back.Harmon, rather tuckered, was taken out and Mawson replaced him, andit was Mawson who strove to add another point to the Academy’s totalof 26. But his attempt was weak and the ball never threatened thecross-bar. That was in the third period. In the fourth the playingon both sides became amusingly ragged, and fumble followed fumbleand signals were mixed and the spectators fairly howled with glee attimes. Twice over-eagerness was penalized under the visitor’s goal andso two more probable touchdowns were averted. High School showed onebrief session of determined offensive in the third quarter and, takingadvantage of Crocker’s sleepy game at right end, managed two long runswhich, together with a rather flukey forward pass, landed the pigskinon Alton’s twenty-two yards. There, however, the attack petered outand, after losing seven yards in three downs, High School faked atry-at-goal and tossed forward over the line, where the ball landeduntouched on the turf.

  Considered even as a first contest, the afternoon’s performance wasn’tencouraging from an Alton standpoint, for the line had been slow andhad played high, the backs had worked every man for himself, with nosemblance of team-play, and even Ned Richards’ generalship had beenparticularly headless. Against an equally green and much lighter team,Alton had failed to show any real football. However, one swallowdoesn’t make a summer, nor one game a season, and so Coach Cade hadlittle to say after the contest, and the audience, taking itself lazilyaway through the warm sunlit afternoon, chose to view the humorousaspects of the encounter and disregard its faults. Harley McLeod didfairly well at right end until he gave way to Billy Crocker, and Jimmyplayed at right half during a brief and glorious third quarter andretired with a bruised and ensanguined nose.

  In the Coach’s room, across Academy street from the Green, Mr. Cadeand Captain Mart Proctor conferred long that evening and in the endreached the conclusion, among other less certain ones, that the task ofbuilding a team this fall was going to be a man-sized job!

  Jimmy had determined that he would drop in at the Sign of the Footballand look the shop over at the first opportunity. By that he meantthe first occasion when he was in want of something that mightreasonably be expected to be on sale there. But it didn’t seem that theopportunity would come, for, with the football management supplyingeverything from head harness to shoe-laces, there wasn’t anything hestood in need of. Nor, between the reading of the advertisement toStanley that Thursday afternoon and the hour of eleven on the followingTuesday, did he even get as far from the Green as West street. He hadheard, though, many comments on the Sign of the Football. Among hisacquaintances the store was treated as something of a sensation, whileRussell Emerson and his partner in the enterprise were both scoffed atand commended. The idea of an Alton student descending to shop-keepingdisturbed many fastidious ones, while others thought it rather ajoke--though they couldn’t seem to put their finger on the point ofit!--and still others declared that it was a corking good stunt andthey hoped Emerson and his pal would make it go. Jimmy lined up withthe latter when the matter was discussed in his hearing, and so didHarley McLeod, as, for instance, on Monday night when a half-dozenfellows were gathered in Harley’s room in Haylow. The number includedJimmy and Stanley, Ned Richards, Harley’s room-mate, Billy Crocker andCal Grainger, the Baseball Captain. It was the latter who introducedthe subject when, apropos of something Ned Richards had said regardinghis finances, he informed them that anything approaching financialdepression wouldn’t bother him hereafter as he and Brand Harmon weregoing to open a tea shop in the town.

  “Keeping a shop is getting to be all the rage,” he explained airily,“and those that get into it early are going to reap the shekels. Brandand I have got it all doped out. Some swell little joint we’re goingto have, too. Rose and gray is to be the--the color motif. We’re goingto have three kinds of tea: hot, cold and Oolong; and a full line ofsandwiches and cakes. Wait till you see us swelling around there withthe High School girls! Fine moments, boy, believe me!”

  “Better stock up with chewing gum,” suggested Ned Richards. “From whatI see, I guess that’s about all those High School girls ever eat!”

  “You’re jealous because you didn’t think of it yourself,” retorted Caluntroubledly.

  “Hope you get more trade than those fellows who opened the sportinggoods store are getting,” said Billy Crocker. He was a rather large,though not heavy, youth, with black hair and thick eyebrows that metabove his nose. The latter, being beak-like, gave him an unattractivelyparrotish look. Billy lived at home, in the town, but spent most ofhis evenings at the Academy. He wasn’t especially popular, and fellowssometimes found themselves wondering why it was he was so frequently inevidence at such gatherings as to-night’s. The explanation, however,was very simple. Billy Crocker took his welcome for granted and didn’twait for a formal invitation. Being a football player, he affectedthe company of the football crowd, and although many protested him asa nuisance he was allowed to tag along. “I’ve looked in there twentytimes,” continued Billy, not too truthfully, “and I’ve never seen anyone there yet. They’re a couple of nuts!”

  “As a member of the Alton Academy Merchants’ Association,” began Calprotestingly.

  “They must have some money they don’t need,” interrupted Ned Richardsenviously. “I heard they’d put a thousand dollars into the thing.”

  “A thousand dollars!” scoffed Billy Crocker. “More like a hundred!Why, those fellows haven’t any money, Ned. They’re on their uppers.Patterson wears clothes that were made when Grant took Richmond!”

  “What scandal is this?” murmured Jimmy. “Who’s Grant?”

  “Well, that’s what I heard,” replied Ned coldly. “Of course, if thegentlemen are personal friends of yours, Crocker--”

  “They’re not, thanks,” answered Billy emphatically. “I don’t--”

  “They’re friends of mine, though,” cut in Harley. “At least, Emersonis. And I wish him luck. He’s got courage, that chap. Guess it’s soabout his being poor, though, for we came across him two or three weeksago waiting on table at a hotel at Pine Harbor. He was a good waiter,too.”

  Jimmy rather wished that Harley hadn’t told that, for, while he hadonly admiration for the deed, he doubted that Ned and Cal and BillyCrocker would view it in the same way. However, no one looked otherthan faintly interested; no one, that is, save Billy Crocker. Billylaughed scornfully. “Those fellows would do anything to get a bit ofmoney,” he said. “It was Patterson who wore Irv Ross’s suit up anddown West street a couple of years ago, with a placard on him like asandwich man, and all for a dollar and a half. You fellows remember.”

  “Yes, but it was Stacey Ross’s suit, and not Irv’s,” said Stanley.“Girtle charged Stacey ten or twelve dollars more than he chargedanother chap for the same thing. Girtle said it was because the otherfellow paid cash and Stacey didn’t, but Stacey was mad clean throughand got Patterson to put the suit on and walk up and down in front ofthe store with a placard saying ‘Bought at Girtle’s.’ Of course thecl
othes hung all over Patterson--”

  “That’s all ancient history, Stan,” said Harley.

  “Well, what I was getting at is that, as I remember it, this fellow didit for a joke and wasn’t paid for it.”

  “He certainly was paid,” exclaimed Billy. “I know!”

  “He ought to have been,” remarked Ned. “Anyway, Stan, there’s no sensein arguing with Crocker about what his friends do or did. He’s in theknow, aren’t you, Crocker?”

  “I told you they aren’t my friends,” answered Billy gruffly. “I don’tknow either of them, except by sight.”

  “Then why,” asked Ned, yawning, “persist in talking about ’em?”

  “I only said they wouldn’t make that store pay,” replied the otherdefensively. “And they won’t.”

  “Say, Crocker,” inquired Jimmy, “isn’t it your father or uncle orsomething who runs the hardware store?”

  “Father,” said Billy in a tone that suggested reticence.

  “Thought so. Maybe you’re a bit prejudiced then. You folks sell thesame line of stuff as Emerson and Patterson do, eh? Guess you don’tlike the idea of a rival almost next door.”

  “All those fellows will sell won’t affect my father any!”

  “Say!” This explosive exclamation came from Stanley, who suddenly satup very straight on Ned’s bed and fixed Billy with a baleful glare.“Say, is that your store, Crocker?”

  “My father’s,” answered Billy with dignity.

  “Well, say, let me tell you something then. You sell the punkeststuff that ever came out of the ark! Honest, Crocker, you do! Say, ifPatterson’s clothes were made by Grant at Richmond, or whatever it wasyou said, the baseball gloves you take good money for were made by Mrs.Cleopatra the day she got bitten by the snake!”

  “They’re just as good as you can get anywhere,” protested Billyindignantly. “Baseball gloves aren’t made as well as they used to be,since the War, and if you got a bum one you ought to have brought itback, Hassell, and--”

  “There wasn’t enough of it to bring back,” said Stanley grimly, “afterthe third time I put it on! And I’m blamed if I see what the War’s gotto do with baseball gloves. The trouble with you folks is that you gotstocked up about twenty years ago and the moths have got busy!”

  The rest, with the notable exception of Billy Crocker, were laughingand chuckling at Stanley’s tirade. Billy was flushed and sulky. “Wecan’t help it,” he muttered, “if the sewing on a glove gives waysometimes. That’s the way they come to us, and we buy the best we canfind--”

  “Listen,” said Stanley impressively. “The sewing was the only part ofthat glove that held together! It was the leather that was rotten, andif I--”

  “Have you still got it?” demanded Billy, goaded to desperation. “If youhave, bring it to the store and I’ll see that you get another.”

  “Of course I haven’t got it,” answered Stanley disgustedly. “I boughtit last spring, and the last I saw of it, it was hanging over the wirenetting back of the home bench, where I pitched the blamed thing!”

  “Well, the next time, you bring it back,” said Billy. “We don’t wantany one dissatisfied.”

  “There ain’t going to be no next time,” answered Stanley significantly.He subsided on the pillows again. “No hard feelings, Crocker,” headded apologetically, “but your store certainly does carry a bum lot ofathletic goods.”

  There was more laughter, and Billy decided to join in, which he didwith what grace he might, and the troublesome subject lapsed.

  Crocker left some twenty minutes later with Cal Grainger, although thelatter showed no overmastering desire for his company, and when thedoor was closed Stanley asked: “What do you see in that fellow, Mac?”

  “How do you mean?” asked Harley. “He isn’t my pal. He comes to see Ned.”

  “What?” demanded his room-mate. “Gosh, I never asked him here! Ithought maybe you had. I’m not keen for him, let me tell you. I’vehardly spoken a hundred words to him, and then only on the field, anddid you hear him calling me Ned? Cheeky bounder! I was tickled to deathwhen you pitched into him about your old glove, Stan. He was as sore asa poisoned pup!”

  “_Old_ glove!” exclaimed Stanley, in arms again. “It was a _new_ glove,gosh ding it! And I wore it just three times and--”

  “Oh, sweet odors of Araby!” groaned Jimmy. “You’ve gone and got himstarted again! Listen, you fellows! I have to hear the history of thatglove ten times a day, and it does seem that when I get out in society,as ’twere, I might--might--”

  “Glove?” broke in Harley gravely. “What glove is that? Did you have aglove, Stan?”

  “Oh, dry up,” muttered Stanley. “I’m going home. But I’ll tell youchumps one thing,” he went on with returned animation. “Those fellowswho have the new store are going to get _my_ trade!”

  “Ha! Their success is assured!” cried Jimmy. “Stan buys a fielder’sglove every spring, and all they’ve got to do is hold until maybe Aprilor May--”

  “Any one been in there yet?” asked Harley.

  No one had, it appeared. “I haven’t even seen the place,” said Ned.“I hear they’ve got a real jazzy sign, though; a football, you know,hanging on a whatyoucallit.”

  “Sounds mighty effective,” mused Jimmy. “Just what is a whatyoucallit?”

  “Oh, a--one of those things that stick out--”

  “A sore thumb?”

  “--From a wall. A crane, isn’t it?”

  “I think that’s a bird,” replied Jimmy, “but I know what you mean. A--asort of--of iron projection--”

  “Brilliant conversation, I’ll say,” interrupted Stanley. “Come on, youdumb-bell. The best place for an intellect like yours is a pillow.”He propelled Jimmy, still struggling for expression, to the door. “Solong, fellows! What he means is an arm.”

  “But I don’t!” wailed Jimmy as the door closed. “I don’t!”