CHAPTER II.
AN AFTERNOON OF FOOTBALL.
Frank had succeeded, after some hard work, in getting order out ofchaos, and was in the act of unpacking his suit case when there was athundering clatter on the stairs, and Jimmy, followed more leisurelyby Lewis, broke into the room without even the ceremony of knocking.
"Well, if it isn't my old eel from Seawall," shouted Jimmyboisterously. "We thought you were never coming."
"You certainly took your time," said Lewis. "You were only going tobe a week late and here half the month is gone and half the footballschedule's been played. Give an account of yourself."
"Well, you see, they weren't prepared to have me go till the winterterm, and it takes father a long time to change his mind after hegets it made up to one thing. But mother and I got at him and provedto him that I was as fit as a race horse and there would be no morebreaking down. So here I am."
"And about time, too. You're going out for the football team, Isuppose," said Jimmy. "You see the school isn't a very big one, andeveryone who is heavy enough takes a try at it. Even Lewis here is onthe squad."
"Sure thing," nodded Lewis from the window seat. "I didn't intend totry for it, but the captain sent over one day and said it wouldn't befair to the school if I hid all my talent under a bushel."
"Yes, and it's been hid under a sweater ever since. Lewis is a fineornament to any sideline," said Jimmy.
"Are you on the team, Jimmy?"
"O, no. I'm just on the squad doing what they tell me to. I got achance yesterday afternoon to play tackle, but I'm about as much athome playing up in the line as a tadpole in a haymow. The tackleopposite me played horse with me. And the coach glared at me savagelywhenever the play went over me, and that was every time, I guess."
"Didn't he know you were a back?" asked Frank.
"I ventured to tell him that, but he told me in the most courteousfashion to shut up, and I shut."
"Don't you think you have a chance?"
"About as much chance as I have to be president, which, consideringthat there are somewhere about ten million possible candidates, is aproblem that even Lewis could figure."
"Jimmy hasn't got a chance to make the team, Frank. I haven't beenhere but three weeks, and it's as plain as the nose on your face thatif you haven't a Gamma pin on you, you might as well go way back andbe comfortably seated. Tom Harding, the captain, is a Gamma, themanager is a Gamma, and I know for a fact that ten out of the elevenare in the same society."
"It's a regular open and shut game," added Jimmy.
"Isn't there another society here?" inquired Frank. "What's thematter with it?"
"Alpha Beta. It doesn't count," said Lewis contemptuously. "Gamma Tauis the oldest society, and has had things all its own way for someyears. Then some of the fellows, about six years ago, got togetherand ran in Alpha Beta, and for a little while it made a good fightagainst its older rival. But as every one was trying for the Gamma,the Alpha got the second run of fellows until now it isn't an honorto belong to it, and the fellows who don't get Gamma turn the otherdown flat, preferring to have nothing."
"Seems like a chance for a third," observed Frank. "Wonder it hasn'tbeen started."
"No one has the nerve to start it," said Lewis. "They growl and growlat the Gamma like nice little dogs, but they never bite."
"Gee whiz, it's nearly practice time," cried Jimmy. "We go out fromfour to five every day, and we've just time to make it. Stop yourprinking, and come along. You can sit on the bleachers and seefootball as she is played by Lewis and me."
Frank, nothing loth, banged shut the suit case, and putting on hiscap was soon scampering with the two friends toward the playground.
Queen's school playground was the gift of a wealthy graduate of theschool who had kept his interest in the old place. Its equipment wasmost complete. The playground lay to the west of the line of schoolbuildings,--gridiron, diamond, and boat-house, and beyond the latterthe tennis courts, all models in themselves, and ample in size forthe needs of the school for many years to come.
Nature had done her share in the first place with a tract of landalmost as level as a floor and some thirty acres in extent, but thehand of man completed the job, and the playground was one of the showplaces of Queen's School. Its rather low level, as it bordered onthe Wampaug river, insured a greenness of verdure no matter how drythe season. Trained ground keepers kept the place like a gentleman'sgarden. Stands which would accommodate several thousand people wereranged on both sides of the gridiron, and a much smaller but prettilycovered stand gave ample room for spectators at the diamond. Theboat-house was well furnished with canoes, pair oars and gigs, andeven boasted a fine cedar eight-oared shell and a heavier eightcalled a barge. But Queen's rowing had declined in late years, and ithad been some time since the shell held a victorious crew. Around thegridiron was the running track, a pretty and well kept cinder path onwhich the track meets of the school were held, and where every otheryear Queen's met Warwick in their annual struggle.
"Isn't she a beauty?" cried Jimmy, waving his hand with aproprietor's sense of ownership over the whole fair prospect, as theboys reached the crest of the little hill behind Warren Hall. Thewhole of the playground dotted with exercising boys lay open to theirview.
It surely was a beauty; and Frank felt his heart swell with pride inthe knowledge that he was now a part of it. What worlds there were toconquer here! Would he be able to win his place in these fields?
"I'll do my best," he whispered to himself.
"This is the gymnasium," said Lewis, pointing to a low structurebetween the gridiron and the diamond. "Let's make tracks. There's thecoach now. You go right over to the bleachers, and we'll be dressedon the field in a few minutes. Practice will begin very soon."
They parted, and Frank went on alone. When he reached his seat, ascore of fellows, who had dressed early, were tumbling around on theground like so many kittens, falling on the ball which was beingtossed to them by the coach, big Harry Horton, who at the same timebelabored them with words.
"Fenton, you fall on that ball like a hippopotamus; what are youdoing, playing leap-frog? That's not the way. Dive for it, and gatherit in to you. Try again." Fenton tried again, but with no bettersuccess.
"Look,--this way!" And Horton rolled the ball along the ground,sprang after it like a cat, turning slightly sideways in the air,making a little pocket between knees and arms as he flew. Whenhe fetched up, the ball was snugly tucked close to his body in aposition which would make it perfectly safe from any attempts by fairor foul tactics.
Fenton was impressed and made another try, doing it a little better.
"Good, now, MacIntosh, make it sure. When you go for the ball don'tgo in such a great hurry. When you're in so big a hurry you don'tknow what you're doing; make it safe. Keep your head, even when youleave your feet." Horton had been a great player in his day on one ofthe big college teams, and had taken up the work of athletic directortemporarily at Queen's, where he was greatly liked.
The squad was augmented by fifteen or twenty boys as this preliminaryinstruction was going on, and practice now began in earnest. Amongthose in the field, Jimmy took his place. Frank could see that he wasskillful at falling on the ball, and that he handled himself like acat. As he was laughing at some of the attempts of Lewis to corralthe rolling ball, a voice alongside cried:
"Hello, Armstrong, why aren't you in the fray?" and turning, Franksaw approaching him Wee Willie Patterson.
"Don't mind if I sit down with you?" said the Wee One cordially.
"Mighty glad if you want to," returned Frank, who had taken a greatliking to the diminutive but independent Patterson. "It was lonesomehere alone."
"There's your friend of this afternoon, Mr. Chip Dixon, talking withCaptain Harding. He's quarterback of the eleven, and a mighty goodone at that. He can play the game if he can't do anything else. Hepretty near runs the team, too, for Harding is not much more than afigurehead, even though he is a Senior.
"Ther
e she goes now. We're going to have a line-up, and a bit of ascrimmage, I guess."
"First and Second elevens," cried Horton from the field, and as theytook their positions,--"now make this good. We are only going to havefifteen minutes of it. Second team's ball for the kick-off." Jimmywas not in either line-up, Frank noticed with regret, but thoughtthat maybe he'd get in before the end.
"Bing." Away shot the ball from midfield driven by the sturdy toe ofDuncan McLeod's foot. It settled in the arms of the First eleven'sfullback, twenty-five yards down the field, and that individual cameripping back, tossing the Second's players over like nine-pins, untilhe had brought the ball back to midfield.
"Peaches, peaches," cried the spectators.
"Line-up, quick," yelled the coach who was acting as coach andreferee as well. "You would have gone clear through," he said to thefullback, slapping him on the back as he dodged through behind totake his position at the other end of the line, "if you had used yourarm as I told you. Remember it next time."
"Come, now, make it go," barked Dixon, "1--7--33."
There was a quick pass, and Hillard, the left half, had the ball, andwith a good interference shot for the right end of the Second's line.The defensive tackle was nicely put out of the play, and the righthalf cut across and took care of the waiting end. Hillard was quicklypast the line and bearing off well to out-distance the defensive half.
"Look at the fool," yelled Wee Willie, "he has left his interferencebehind him. Morton will nip him. What did I tell you! O, rot, look atthat!" Hillard had indeed left his interference, disobeying orders,but he thought he was fast and agile enough to clear the quarterbackof the Second team, who was waiting his coming on the 20-yard line,inching over toward the side lines so that the runner would have lessground in which to dodge.
In spite of his plan and his speed, Hillard could not avoid thoseeager arms of the quarter, and down he went in a whirling tackle. Theball flew from his grasp as he struck the ground, then it bouncedcrazily around, and finally nestled itself in the arms of Tompkins,the Second's left half who had come across to strengthen hisquarter's defense.
Tompkins, seeing his opportunity, was away to the side of the fieldfrom which the play had come like the wind, every man Jack of theFirst eleven having been carried in the direction of Hillard. Beforethey could bring themselves to a halt, and turn on their tracks,Tompkins had gathered speed. Once a tackle got a hand on him, buthe shook it off, and with a clear field carried the ball across thegoal line, touched it down behind the posts, and sat there upon it,grinning like a Cheshire cat.