"October 5th—Hillside Academy at Queen's."October 12th—Burrows at Queen's."October 19th—Milton High School at Milton."October 26th—Taylor Hall at Oakland."November 2d—Porter School at Queen's."November 9th—Warwick at Warwick."
"October 5th—Hillside Academy at Queen's."October 12th—Burrows at Queen's."October 19th—Milton High School at Milton."October 26th—Taylor Hall at Oakland."November 2d—Porter School at Queen's."November 9th—Warwick at Warwick."
"What's going to be left of this Queen's School eleven when that's over?" inquired the Codfish. "Why, I wouldn't give a plugged nickel for Queen's chances."
"You're a pessimist!" said Jimmy. "Have you been down to see us work?"
"Have I been down? Oh, Master Turner, whata question! Of course I've been down, and that's the reason I'm pessimistic."
"Oh, we're not so bad," said Jimmy, laying aside his book to argue a little. "We might get away with one or two of them, even if we did lose most of our good players."
"Mostof your good players? Why, you lostallof them, didn't you?"
"Where does Jimmy come in?" inquired Frank mildly.
"And where does Frank come in?" questioned Jimmy quietly.
"Mutual admiration societies never affected my judgment," said the Codfish. "Jimmy can't play all the game behind the line, and Frank the Drop Kicker hasn't grown up yet into the husky giant that you are, Turner. Anyway, Dixon wouldn't have Frank on the team if he could help it. You forget that Chip owns the School, don't you?"
"Not a bit of it, and Frank might get his chance sooner than you think, Mr. Critic," said Jimmy. "Did you notice what a shine Horton took to him to-day?"
"Don't be sarcastic, now," said Frank. "Horton had some of us kicking down on the fieldto-day, and he said that my style was all wrong and I'd never be any good until I changed it. But I'm not to be considered at all. I'm going out for the fall baseball."
"Sensible boy," said the Codfish. "You are wasting your glad young days down on that football field, for as long as Dixon runs the captain you will have a pretty slim show. Maybe when he gets through here and into a wider field for his politics, you may be allowed to do something, unless he hands his curse down to his successor."
The talk of the boys uncovered the situation down on the football field. Dixon, in spite of his excellent knowledge of the game, was so thoroughly bound up with the Society of Gamma Tau that, even at the risk of weakening the team, he played his favorites. Frank and Jimmy had come out at the first call for candidates on the eleven. Jimmy, with his natural ability to play the game, could not very well be kept off, society or no society, because the back field was weak without him; Frank, with less knowledge of the game and with Chip's secret grudge still against him, stood little chance. Horton had given Frank an opportunityonce or twice on the second team, but as Frank was green, he was soon replaced.
"He's too light," Dixon said to his coach one night after practice, "and doesn't seem to have much football sense. It's no use in bothering with him." And, although Horton was a good coach, such little remarks as these, frequently repeated, had their effect on the older man's judgment. He overlooked Frank when substitutions were to be made in the progress of practice, and finally forgot about him—remembering only, perhaps, that he appeared to have a knack of kicking, albeit in very bad form.
Horton, however, was one of the old school of coaches who had not much use for a kicker. It was his particular hobby that the eleven should be strong enough to carry the ball. And, it might as well be set down now as later, he lost a good many games by having no adequate punter or drop kicker. Finally the blow fell, and in the second cut of the candidates, Frank read his name among those "who need not report for football practice again."
Frank was not particularly sorry, because he recognized his shortcomings in the game of football.He secretly longed to be at the game which came most naturally to him—namely, baseball.
But his friends up in Honeywell Hall raised their voices in protest. "I think it's a shame," said the Codfish indignantly, "but do you remember I told you so?"
"Don't you care, boys," said Frank. "Don't worry about me. I'm going to have a little baseball now and, Mr. Codfish, I want you to help me with my call for candidates. Most of the School nine fellows are playing on the eleven, so we can have the whole place to ourselves."
"What would you say to an organization of class baseball," suggested the Codfish, "same as they do at the colleges? Here's a fine golden fall going to waste. I've been thinking of it for some time, but we had no leader. But now that our thousand-dollar beauty, Frank Armstrong, has been kicked off the eleven, the gap is filled. With the leader at hand, all we want is a press agent."
"Hear, hear!"
"And we have one right ready to our hand—Mr. David Powers, journalist! What's the use of having these cards to play if you don't play them? sez I."
"What's that you're saying about me?" inquiredDavid, looking up from an essay that he was composing for next day's English literature lesson.
"I was saying," said the Codfish glibly, "that we had a scoop for you—a red hot story that will make the readers on theMirrorsit up and shout hallelujah! They always do that when they see an interesting article in theMirror, eh, David?" continued the Codfish. "Now, as Mark Anthony said: 'Lend me thine ears.' It's like this. Can't you cook up, dish up, or write, if you prefer ordinary grammatical terms to culinary ones, an article which will go into the next issue of theMirror, suggesting an inter-class baseball series which shall begin now and last as long as the weather holds good, then sleep like the ground-hog through the winter, and continue in the spring? What says our aspiring literary genius?"
"Good idea," said David.
"Wonderful!" said Jimmy. "I'll resign from the football eleven."
"Where am I to play?" inquired Lewis, "short-stop or second base?"
"You'll be the boy who carries the bats and brushes off the homeplate," said the Codfish,"and maybe if you're very good we may let you bring the water."
"Thank you for nothing," retorted Lewis.
"And as theMirror, thanks to our progressive friend and erstwhile rope-climber, David, has changed its shirt and appears nice and clean once a week instead of twice a month, it ought to make its appearance about Thursday of this week. There's no time to lose. Bring on your pens and paper and let's get that article ready."
The boys entered into the spirit of the thing, and before they turned in for the night had produced in brief form a plan for inter-class baseball. Each class, including the Freshmen, was to organize a nine, and there was to be a series of games between these nines, the two having the highest percentage to meet for a final match.
"It's up to you, Codfish, to figure out the schedule and the percentages," said Frank. "We'll call you the unofficial scorer."
"At what salary, please?"
"We'll give you a cheer after it's all over."
"O. K. Then I'll accept. Let the cheer be a long one and a strong one."
The announcement in theMirrorwhich came out a few days after the talk in Honeywell, hada surprisingly quick recognition. Leaders in each class got to work and organized, and before the end of the week the diamonds were covered with boys working with might and main to win a place on the nine of their particular class. Frank, of course, was quickly chosen as the leader of his class team, and after a day or two gathered together the best of a dozen boys who had put in an appearance for his particular nine. But Frank missed the services of his old backstop, Jimmy, who, in spite of his statement that he would resign from the football team, still held his place in the back field of the School eleven. His allegiance to the eleven was made the subject of one of the nightly discussions in Honeywell Hall.
"I thought you were going to be with us, Half-back Turner," said the Codfish, one night. "You are throwing your energies away, down there on the gridiron with Horton and Chip and the rest. Come up and have a little fun with the real sports."
"I'd like to, I tell you," said Jimmy wistfully. "It's no fun getting banged about two hours a day, but I've got to stick to the ship even if thereare rats in it. When I said I'd resign I was only joking."
"Nice way to crawl out of it," growled the Codfish. "We need your services. Frank has to pitch to that fellow Button who lives upstairs, and he can't hold the ball. It needs a real red-head like you to hold our young Matthewson."
"That's right, Jimmy, stick to your guns," said Frank. "While it's not the best eleven that ever was, it is still the School eleven and I wish I could help it. I'd chuck this baseball series."
"Oh, you traitor!" shouted the Codfish. "Jimmy, we're going to have our first clash of the season, as the newspapers say, next Thursday afternoon; can't you come over and see us wallop that bunch of third-year pill tossers?"
"If you don't start it too early I might get over," said Jimmy, "but as long as the practice is on I've got to stick there. And I kind of like the uphill fight."
"Don't you let him bother you, Jimmy," said Frank. "He's an A number one josher. Since you are good enough to play for the school, it's your job to stay there and do your best."
"What do you call your nine?" said Jimmy.
"Oh," murmured the Codfish, "it's a pretty,pretty name—the Piratical Pippins. I selected it from a hundred names, more or less. It was the worst I could think of."
"It sure is bad enough. And what are your opponents called?"
"The Hilarious Hitters—so-called because they can't hit anything—and the Rough Rowdies of the upper class. These are all alliterative names, you see," explained the Codfish, "and each has a significance which would not easily penetrate your cranium."
"Have the Freshmen a nine?"
"Sure, and a good one, too. We call them the Toy Toddlers."
"And which of these aggregations do you play Thursday?" inquired Jimmy.
"Let's see, where's my schedule?" lisped the Codfish, as he fumbled in his coat pocket. "Here we are—'Pippins versus the Hilarious Hitters, game called at 4 p. m. Umpire, Snooks'—and he's that fellow with the lopsided eye, but he makes a great umpire."
Jimmy laughed. "I'll be over to see you if I can. Now I've got to go and lay in a deep store of knowledge for to-morrow. I'm away. Good night."
"Good night," echoed the boys, and Jimmy trotted downstairs whistling.
You can imagine that Gamma Tau did not view the baseball series with pleasure. The eleven, loaded with favorites as it was, did not at any time hold the attention of the School, and now that there was a rival attraction, still fewer of the fellows went down to watch the practice. Dixon and Captain Wheeler, well knowing the state of mind of the School, still fretted about the matter, and things were not improved when practically the whole school turned out for the first of the class series, in which the Pippins crossed bats with the Hitters. Frank captained the Pippins and pitched, and he pitched so well that his nine won, seven runs to two. The Hitters, true to their name, got only four hits off his delivery.
"This Armstrong is getting too popular altogether," said Dixon the night after the game, as he and Captain Wheeler with several others of the Gamma boys got together in Dixon's room.
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" grumbled Wheeler. "He has a right to do something, hasn't he? Since he's no good on the eleven, we can't keep him from playing baseball."
"I'm afraid he'll make trouble for us, with that redheaded friend of his, Turner. They've got a pretty strong combination there, and not one of them is in the Society. There's Powers, who is going to be a force on theMirrorsome of these days. He's the best man on it now, with the exception of the chairman, Miller."
"Well, what are we going to do about it, I'd like to know?"
"We can pull his teeth by getting him into Gamma," returned Chip.
"Your first attempt wasn't very successful," returned Wheeler.
"No," said Chip, making a wry face. "But we'll try it again. I think if we got him and several of his pals into Gamma, we could bring so much influence to bear on them that we could sew them up."
"I don't know about that," said Wheeler, "he's just the kind of a fellow that's hard to sew up, and he is making himself stronger every day."
"What would you say to my asking him again? The second elections come off two weeks from to-night. We might land him, and then we'd be in clover."
"Well, maybe. We might go over and try some night," ventured Wheeler.
"We might bust up his baseball work by calling him over to the School football squad again. He looked to me as if he might make a kicker, and Horton was saying only this afternoon that we've got to develop some one, since you get worse every day."
"Thank you for the compliment!" growled Wheeler.
"And if we can't spoil some of this popularity wave, I've got another scheme. The blamed little fool could have anything he wants if he only came over to us."
"Unfortunately he doesn't see it that way," said Wheeler, "but if you think best we'll send our Committee over to see him Monday night."
"Agreed," said Chip, and the conference closed.
The determination to bring Frank and Turner over into the camp of Gamma Tau was strengthened by the disastrous defeat of the Queen's School on the following Saturday by two touchdowns to nothing.
It is needless to say that the attempt of the society of Gamma Tau to gather Frank and Jimmy into its fold in order to put a curb upon their growing popularity, failed, in spite of the fact that it had been advanced with the greatest care. The most persuasive members of the Campaign Committee, as it was called, had been sent to the two rooms in Honeywell Hall, and the glib-tongued committee men, after clearing out all but the intended candidates, used every argument.
"What possible objection can you have to taking an election to Gamma?" said the chief of the Gamma expedition to Frank. "Gamma is the oldest and most powerful society in the School, and runs about everything here," he added. It was an unfortunate slip of the tongue and gave Frank his chance.
"That's just the trouble with Gamma. As yousay it runs everything, and as far as I can judge, it doesn't run anything very well."
"That's a rather bold thing for a Second-year boy to say," suggested one of the trio. "Most of your class would be mighty glad to get a chance to come into it."
"I can't help it," returned Frank. "I mean what I say. I am only a Second-year boy as you have told me, but I've been here long enough to know my way around. I can see very plainly that Gamma is not helping the School, but hurting it, and I always supposed that the main business of a Society was to help the School and not the members of the Society."
"But all the big fellows are with us," said Hastings, a boy who had been elected because his roommate played on the eleven, but who himself was not an important part of the school life.
"They may be big on the athletic teams, but I don't see that they are doing much else. Why don't you take in some one besides the athletic fellows? There's my roommate, David Powers, or Gleason, they both have more brains than I have."
"No, we want you to come first. They will come later, if you come."
"Oh, so that's it, is it? Well, gentlemen," said Frank, with so much determination that the committee men gave him up as a bad job, "I appreciate the honor you offer me, but I think I can do more for the School by staying outside. Some day I hope to see the Gamma recognize the boys for what they are worth, and not for the distance they can punt a football or throw a baseball. It used to be that way, and if I can help in my little way to putting it back that way, I'll do so."
"This is your last chance, you know," said Hastings. "If you turn us down this time you can never wear the Gamma pin."
"Well, I guess I can never wear it, then, for I wouldn't agree with Gamma about most things. It is better for all of us."
"All right, it's settled," said Hastings, "but you're going to be a sorry kid some day."
"I doubt it," said Frank shortly.
And that ended the interview. Nearly the same thing was repeated in Turner's room, for Jimmy and Frank were one in their determination not to be drawn into the society, as they knew that once in it they would have to be governed by it, and that didn't suit their fancy at all.
Dixon and Wheeler were furious when it wasreported to them that both boys had again turned down the invitation. "They'll regret that to the day of their death!" Chip stormed. "The impudent little upstarts! The Gamma will smash them, see if it don't." Wheeler said nothing, but the scowl on his face boded no good for our friends in Honeywell Hall.
Two days after the interview in Frank's room, and when the class baseball series was in full swing, Frank was sent for by Boston Wheeler and told to report on the football squad the next afternoon.
The Codfish was wild. "It's as plain as the nose on your face," he said to Lewis, "what they're after; they're going to bury him on that football squad, hold him there and finally give him no chance at all."
The subject of the discussion appeared at that moment, and the Codfish whipped around on him. "Are you going down on the gridiron?"
"No help for it," said Frank gloomily. "Wheeler came over himself to-night and told me to come down. I told him I was no good, but he insisted that they needed a punter. Horton, also, has suddenly discovered that I'm a kicker."
"I'd refuse," snorted the Codfish.
"And get the School down on me? No, I can't do that. If they really want me I'll be glad to help. And if I can't, I've got to take my medicine and have neither the fun of our baseball series nor the glory of football. I'm going to try hard to develop myself especially for drop kicking. Gamma or no Gamma, it is the Queen's School eleven and not the Gamma eleven. I'd be a pig not to do what I can to help, little as it may be."
"Well, maybe you're right," reluctantly admitted the Codfish, "but I haven't your forgiving nature. Hey," he called to David, who had just come into the room, "Frank's going to shyster the baseball end of it and go down to the gridiron just because Wheeler wants him. What do you think about it?"
"Just one thing. He can't do anything else."
"All right, then, down goes the house of baseball, because there's not another pitcher on the staff of the Piratical Pippins to make a dent in a pound of butter at six feet."
It was indeed with great reluctance that the captains of the baseball nines heard of the break that had been made in their ranks. Practice fell off materially in the following few days, and beforethe end of the week the nines had disbanded, at sight of which the leaders of Gamma grinned to themselves. So far their plan was working well. Frank's opportunity had been smashed, and they promised themselves that he would not have another one if they could help it.
Frank, although called over to the football squad, was lost in the ruck. He had missed nearly two weeks of practice, which in so short a season as football is a serious matter. Once he was sent in at end on the Second team but did not distinguish himself. In the punting and drop kicking, which was taken before regular practice, he showed an aptitude. Horton began to take more notice of him, and on several occasions took him aside and coached him on the proper step and swing of his leg in meeting the ball. Dixon did not relish these attentions to Frank, and did all in his power to keep him out of the practice.
At night in the room Jimmy labored with Frank and endeavored to teach him what he knew of the play of a half-back. Jimmy was considered the best back on the Queen's eleven. Thick-set, stocky, short, strong of leg and thick of neck, and with a trick of running low, he washard to stop. He was fast, too, because he never took any roundabout way for the hole that was opened for him, and when the hole wasn't open for him he often made it himself by sheer strength. On defense he was a regular demon. Wherever the ball was, there might be found Jimmy's flaming top-knot. Never for a moment was he deceived by any tricks that the opponents might play. His eye was glued to that ball, and he was always in front of it.
So, with this knowledge, Jimmy proved a good and patient teacher, and always after supper the center of the study was cleared of tables and chairs, and Frank and Jimmy worked for half an hour or so with a ball before taking up the regular lessons. Frank learned quickly and, when he had a chance, put his knowledge into operation. In this, what might be called secret practice, Frank learned to handle the ball quickly without fumbling it, to shift it rapidly from hand to arm-pit, and to take just the right position on his feet. It was surprising how much skill he was able to acquire in the narrow space of a room.
Once Jimmy, in illustrating how the offensivehalf-back could help his tackle, pressed Lewis and the Codfish and David into service.
"Now, Lewis, you are the opposing guard. Stand here," commanded Jimmy.
Lewis was dragged into position, protesting, and assumed the attitude of a crouching guard with his hands on his knees.
"And you now, Coddy, you stand here at his right. You're the defensive tackle."
"Good!" said the defensive tackle. "It's a pleasant job, how much do I get?"
"You'll get all that's coming to you in a minute."
"It won't rumple up my hair, will it?"
"No, don't stand too far out there. That's it, keep your place and look pleasant. Now, Frank, you're the right half-back and you've got to carry the ball. Here, David, you snap it back; you don't need to get down, just face Frank and toss it to him. That's it, right there where you are. Now I'll give the signal. Remember, Frank, you cross over behind me. I'm going to help the offensive tackle to block off his opponent. You see I haven't any offensive tackle or guard here, but it will do to illustrate. Now, ready all!"
Jimmy yelled this last as if he were outside onthe football field, so earnest was he in his work. David snapped or tossed the ball to Frank, who dashed across behind Jimmy. Jimmy threw himself against the unresisting opposing "tackle" and "guard." Over they went like nine pins, Lewis fetching up in the fireplace and the Codfish under the window seat!
There was a howl of laughter from Frank, David and Jimmy, but it wasn't echoed by the defensive "tackle" and "guard." Instead they picked themselves up very carefully and felt of themselves.
"Where's the automobile that hit me?" said the Codfish, in a rueful tone, feeling his shins tenderly.
"Some one get a shovel, please," groaned Lewis, "and dig these ashes out of my left ear." He was a sight.
"All right!" yelled Jimmy, "line up quick, and I'll show you how the cross-buck ought to be played!"
"Oh, no you don't," said the Codfish, edging away. "You can't show me a cross-buck or a tame-buck or a golden-buck or any other kind of a buck this evening. I've had all I want of football instructions. If you and Frank want to continueyour jolly little game, go and borrow a few saw-horses."
"Why, what's the matter?" inquired Jimmy innocently, while Frank stood holding the ball and grinning.
"I have nothing to say about Lewis, but if you imagine I'm a chopping block," grumbled the Codfish, whose hair had been seriously rumpled and his immaculate clothes mussed up, which he didn't relish a bit, "you have six more guesses and you'll never get one of them right."
"Oh, I say," said Jimmy, "this is in the interests of science, you know. We've got to teach Frank football, somehow."
"You can teach him anyhow," said the Codfish, "but you can't make a Roman holiday out of me again. Science is all right, but it can't be allowed to flourish at the expense of my dignity. Look at our poor friend, Lewis Carroll." The sight was so comical that even the Codfish got over his grouch and laughed.
"That's what we get every day," said Jimmy. "I wonder if the School knows how many hard knocks its football players get. You've got to take what's coming to you without a whimper.If a fellow is tender he better keep out of football."
"Or out of the fireplace, eh, Lewis?" cried the Codfish.
"Or from under the window seat," retorted Lewis, who by this time had made himself again presentable by a liberal supply of soap and water.
There was no more football practice that evening; and thereafter when the floor space was cleared away for Jimmy's illustration of the tactics of the back field, the Codfish and Lewis always found it convenient to be absent on important business.
The fall drew on with rapid pace. Sometimes the football eleven of Queen's seemed to be getting together, but it was only seeming; for, lacking the right spirit, the eleven had no fight in it. Captain Wheeler often chafed at the interference of his quarter-back, Chip Dixon, whose bitter feeling toward Frank he could not understand.
Dixon had forgotten Frank's generous attitude the night of the supposed drowning of Tommy Brown in the Gamma initiation, and remembered only that Frank had beaten him out in several of his ambitions. It seemed to be forever in his mind that Frank had beaten Warwickwith the Freshman nine, and he lost no opportunity to hurt him in the eyes of the coach and the rest of the players.
But, in spite of his disadvantages and of the scant attention he got on the field, Frank continued to improve. Under the loving coaching of Jimmy at night and much observation and practice on the field, he forged ahead in the knowledge of the game; and once, called in by Horton to replace the full-back when the School eleven held the Second on its five-yard line, he kicked a neat goal from the field.
"Good boy!" said Horton that night, as the teams trudged off to the gymnasium. "You are getting the knack of it. I'd give good money if you were twenty pounds heavier. But you'll grow. Keep at it, and you'll surely get a chance at the eleven next year."
This praise from the coach, heard by Dixon, rankled in the latter's heart. He set to work planning for an overthrow of Frank's hope, the results of which will be seen later on. Dixon was so busy working off his grudge or trying to do it, that he played poor ball, much to the exasperation of Coach Horton. The next day after Frank's drop kick, Chip was warned for a roughand ugly piece of work in the practice, and after some words with the Coach, was sent to the side lines in disgrace. Walker, the little quarter on the Second team, was pulled over to the position at quarter on the first team, and to the astonishment of every one, the coach, after running his eye over the possible candidates to fill the quarter's position on the Second eleven, ordered Frank to take his place. "He handles the ball like a flash," said Horton, in defense of what he had done, when the Captain protested; "he's as fast as lightning and, if my dope isn't wrong, he'll make a dandy quarter. He's too light to play anywhere else. We'll give him a trial."
Horton's change proved to be a stroke of genius, for Frank, although not well acquainted with the signals or accustomed to the place, proved to have a natural aptitude for the position, and it was only a few days till he began to find himself. His punting, although not great in distance, was accurate, and so quick were his movements that he put a life and ginger in the Second team which brought about a vastly different condition on the field. Dixon was finally recalled to his old position on the School eleven, butFrank had improved so much that Walker came back to the Second as Frank's substitute.
Jimmy was overjoyed at the turn affairs had taken, and every minute that he had to spare from lessons he coached Frank on tricks of the back-field play. For hours together the two worked on the handling of the ball from center, Jimmy playing center, of course. Frank improved with wonderful rapidity. His baseball playing helped him in handling the ball, and as the season advanced he began to rival, except in experience, the resourceful Dixon himself. He had even an advantage of the latter, for he could punt and drop kick as well.
"What's that you have?" said Frank, coming in one night after supper and finding the Codfish handling a kind of an instrument composed of bright polished brass set on a wooden base. Gleason was examining it closely.
"That, my inquisitive young sir, is nothing more nor less than a telegraph instrument."
"Where did you get it? Make it, buy it or pinch it?" inquired Frank.
"I bought it, kind sir. I was down at the Queen's station to-night getting off some of my important business by telegraph, and his nibbs down there, the telegraph operator, recognizing in me a man of excellent perceptions, invited me in."
"And you got away with some of the tools. Does he know it?"
"Oh, yes, sir, he knows it. I sat there and watched him tapping away. He told me it wasNew York on the other end of the wire, after he had called up. I didn't believe him, and he told me if I didn't believe, I could prove it for myself by simply touching two little posts that he pointed out."
"And you touched?"
"Yes, if you must know the details, I touched it, and incidentally I jumped about six feet in the air. It gave me a shock, you see."
"And then you realized that it really was New York on the other end of the wire?" queried Frank, who knew something about telegraphy because he had studied it in a series of articles in the Boys' Magazine.
"Sure, I realized at once that it was New York, for I've heard that New York is a shocking city. Now, then, will you be good?"
"Put him out! Put him out!" said David, looking up.
"Electrocute him, I should say," cried Jimmy. "He ought to be given two thousand volts in the neck for that."
"Well, if you will draw down these things on your heads, keep on interrupting my story. I asked the gent if it took much brains to learn it, and he had the nerve to tell me it didn't takemuch of any, and added that he thought I could just about accomplish it. If I had been a fighter like Redhead here, I'd have been insulted, but as it was I kept a dignified silence."
"Well, when did you make away with the instrument?"
"All in good time, kind friends. He showed me how easy it was to wiggle the little key, and I tried it myself. If I had stayed another half hour, I would have been an accomplished operator."
"And how about the instrument?"
"Well, finally, I got so much interested in the little clicker that he said he would sell me something that I could learn on, and he brought forth this attractive affair and agreed to sell it to me for twenty-five dollars."
"Oh, oh, and you bit, did you?"
"I said he agreed to sell it, note my words carefully. I made him a counter offer of three dollars and a half for it, and he said 'It's yours.' And, generous soul that he was, he gave me an instruction book which I also have, if I haven't lost it," and the Codfish began to search hastily through his pockets.
"There it is," he said, holding it up—"How toLearn Telegraphy—A Complete Analysis of the Entire System of the Morse Alphabet—With the Complete Code for all Letters, Figures and Punctuation Marks. There's a bargain at three-fifty. Eh, what?"
"Cheap at half the money," said Frank. "Hand it over."
He turned the pages over thoughtfully. "Say, this gives me an idea. Why wouldn't it be a good scheme to have a little telegraph line of our own?"
"Where to—New York? I insist it shall not be connected with New York. I had enough of New York to-night. It's too shocking."
"Quit your fooling. If you get off that New York joke again I'll punch your head. No, I really mean it. We could have a lot of fun with a telegraph line. We might have an instrument here and one in Jimmy's room. We might even connect up with Wee Willie Patterson who seems to have deserted us this fall."
"I say," said Jimmy, "it would be a great stunt. We could use it as a kind of alarm clock. When I sleep over, the Codfish can rattle a little on it and I'll be awake in a jiffy."
"Thank you," said the Codfish. "I vote against it, if I'm to be the alarming fellow."
"And," continued Frank, "we might run a wire down to Queen's station and get the night operator to send to us for practice."
"Yes, I imagine he'd love to do it," quoth the Codfish. "He seems so much like a generous fellow, particularly when you show him money."
"Well, let's show him money, if he won't do it without it."
David agreed with Frank that it would be a good scheme to have a telegraph line; and the long and the short of it was that the next night a descent was made on Murphy, the night operator at the station who, after much haggling about the price, agreed to run a private wire from the station to Queen's School and equip it with two sets—because only two sets were available. Murphy also agreed that for this sum he would furnish enough "juice" from the station batteries to make a sending current on the wire, and moreover he would "send" for fifteen minutes every night when the boys desired.
The boys went back to Queen's and scraped together enough money between them to pay ten dollars down, and Murphy, as good as his word,commenced stringing the wire the next day. As the line was to be kept a secret, it took a somewhat crooked path, dodging this way and that way to avoid conspicuous places. It cut across the river from the station, was bracketed on a tree, then took half a dozen leaps among the trees across the roof of an old house long unoccupied, and finally climbed the slope to Queen's School, well hidden among the trees.
Perhaps the most difficult part of the work was getting the wire on Honeywell Hall itself so as not to attract the attention of the caretakers, who would undoubtedly have made short work of it. The heavier wire was ended on a bracket on a great elm that swayed over the roof of Honeywell. From this bracket a very fine copper wire was stretched to the room of Jimmy and Lewis, which was fortunately on the rear of the Hall. From there it was an easy matter to bring it across and down a rain spout to the sill of Frank's window. When the whole job was completed, much of it under cover of darkness, so well had it been done that unless you had been looking for such a wire you might have looked over a hundred times and seen nothing unusual.
When the circuit was complete, Murphy attachedthe instruments and returned to the station. "I go on duty to-night at seven o'clock," he said, "and I'll cut the wire in and see how she works."
The boys were in high spirits about the successful completion of the job, and waited with eagerness to hear the signals Murphy was to send them.
"Wouldn't it be a joke," said the Codfish, as the hour for the opening of the great telegraph line came and went, "if it didn't work?"
"We'd be out ten dollars," remarked David. "But look at the fun we've had!"
"There speaks a true sporting proposition, gents," said the Codfish.
But the line was not to be a failure. Suddenly, while the boys were discussing their probable bad bargain, the little brass-armed sounder jumped into life and began to dance like mad.
"How well he talks!" said the Codfish, who couldn't read a letter. "I think it's about the most intelligent language I ever listened to. Don't sit there, Frank, pretending you know all about it," for Frank had his ear glued on the sounder and was trying hard to make out what was coming.
'IT'S CHOCTAW!' CRIED THE CODFISH. 'WHO CAN READ CHOCTAW?'"IT'S CHOCTAW!" CRIED THE CODFISH. "WHO CAN READ CHOCTAW?"—Page 179.
'IT'S CHOCTAW!' CRIED THE CODFISH. 'WHO CAN READ CHOCTAW?'
"IT'S CHOCTAW!" CRIED THE CODFISH. "WHO CAN READ CHOCTAW?"—Page 179.
"No, I can't make it out, it's too fast for me; I can read a little if I haven't forgotten. I wish he'd send slower."
By degrees the sounder stopped its mad dancing and began to work slowly.
"Listen," said Frank, and he seized a pencil, "it's something he wants us to hear. I'll write it down."
Frank began scratching as the sounder clicked on. And this is what he got:
"Do ntfo rgett hat youow eme fi vedol lars."
"It's Choctaw!" cried the Codfish, who had been leaning over Frank's shoulder as the message came in. "Who can read Choctaw? David, don't speak up too quick. And Frank thinks he's an operator! Shades of my grandmother, what a message!"
Frank had been staring at the page. Finally he burst out laughing.
"Oh, it's a joke, is it? It looks funny enough to be a joke. Explain it, please."
"The only trouble is, that I didn't get the spaces right between the words. See, when you space it right the Choctaw becomes the following: 'Don't forget that you owe me five dollars'."
"What an insulting thing to send over our own wire first crack out of the box!" said the Codfish. "Of course we owe him five dollars, and if he were a gentleman he wouldn't remind us of it, particularly when we haven't got it in our clothes."
Frank's unexpected display of the ability to read the telegraph by sound, was a great incentive to the others of our quintet of boys, and they worked with might and main. Pasted in each room was a large white card ornamented in the Codfish's best style with the Morse alphabet and figures spread boldly thereon, and this is what they studied morning, noon and night, and sometimes in between:
A—dot dash.N—dash dot.B—dash and three dots.O—dot space dot.C—two dots space dot.P—five dots.D—dash two dots.Q—two dots dash dot.E—one dot.R—dot space two dots.F—dot dash dot.S—three dots.G—two dashes dot.T—one short dash.H—four dots.U—two dots dash.I—two dots.W—dot two dashes.J—dash dot dash dot.X—dot dash two dots.K—dash dot dash.Y—two dots space two dots.L—one long dash.Z—three dots space dot.M—two dashes.1—dot dash dash dot.6—six dots.2—two dots dash two dots.7—two dashes two dots.3—three dots dash dot.8—dash four dots.4—four dots dash.9—dash two dots dash.5—three dashes.0—one long dash (longer than letter L).
"And Murphy says that's all a fellow needs to know, to do almost any kind of telegraphing. Sounds easy, doesn't it?" said Frank, one day. "And it is easy to remember the signals themselves, but when they come flying over the wire it's a different story."
"How are you getting on with the telegraph?" inquired David, one night of Lewis, who was listening to the measured ticking of the instrument.
"Great," said Lewis, "I guess I'll be able to take a job on the railroad pretty soon."
"Get out," said Jimmy scornfully. "Lewis makes a great fuss about it because he can tell such little things aseandiandhand things like that. I can do better than that myself. I have a speaking acquaintance with the big, forbidding fellows likeqandxand all the high dignitaries."
For a time the lessons suffered by the introduction of this new toy, but by and by it began to take its natural place in the day or night. Theypicked up the reading wonderfully quickly and, as the days went on, Murphy was able to take a faster gait. Perhaps they didn't understand all of it, but it was a great joy to be able to pick out small words as the instrument rattled along. All of the boys were able to "send" pretty well, which as every one knows is the easy part of telegraphing. It is the receiving that is so difficult.
Often Frank and Jimmy held labored conversations over the wire when Murphy had cut out and left them to themselves, and it generally happened that they were obliged to stick their heads out of the window to confirm by voice what had been said and to fill in the gaps which were not clear.
The Codfish frequently used the wire to play tricks. One night Jimmy was awakened by a desperate clatter on the instrument. The call of Jimmy's room wasJC, and they were both hard letters for our friend, the Codfish. He was rattling away at thisJC,JC,JC, as fast as he could go. Jimmy sprang up and answered. "It's very cold down here," clicked the instrument; "come on down and put another blanket on me." Jimmy was furious. "I'll come down," he wired back, "and put a club on you."
"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" laughed the Codfish on the wire.
But they got a lot of fun out of it and some profit, for they were learning something which they might some day be able to turn to account. Little did any of them realize that it would, at no very distant date, play a prominent part in an important incident in their school life.
While the advent of the telegraph line occupied the attention of our friends in the evenings, it must not be thought that they were any the less intent on the football doings in the afternoons. The end of the season was drawing rapidly to a close and only one game—that with Porter School on the Queen's grounds—remained on the schedule to be played, with the exception of the final match with Warwick. This latter game was to be played at Warwick, which was considered a disadvantage, as the Queen's eleven seemed to fight better on home grounds. It will be remembered that the Warwick game was played at Queen's the previous year. These matches always alternated—one year at Warwick and the next at Queen's, and so on.
After Frank had won his place on the Second eleven, there was a general brace by the School eleven. Dixon, seeing his position in danger ofbeing invaded by Frank, put forth his best efforts, and he was so clever a quarter that when he did his best he was hard to beat. Horton was delighted with the change and attributed it in a considerable degree to the dashing play of Frank Armstrong, who had been, as he expressed it, "a regular find."
Then came the Porter game. "This is our test," said Jimmy the Friday night before it was played. "If we get away with this one, there's a chance that we can pull off the Warwick game."
"A fighting chance, yes," said the clear-headed Codfish. "You may be able to hold them, but I don't see how you can score against their defense. Warwick is as good or better than last year. The only way you can beat a strong defense, under these rules that the football fathers have doped out, is to have a drop kicker."
"Well, we haven't got one, so we'll have to get off a forward pass or something tricky, and catch those big guys napping. It all depends on what we can do to-morrow."
The boys turned in early. Frank fell asleep with hopes of a chance at to-morrow's game in his head.
It was a glorious day, and every one far andnear turned out to see the test of the School eleven against the strapping boys from Porter. Knowing well the erratic course that the Queen's eleven had been steering, the invaders, who came gayly decked as for a celebration, freely expressed themselves as to the size of the score. They would not consider for a moment that the score might be against them. Nearly all, excepting the most optimistic of the Queen's followers, were shaking in their shoes because a defeat to-day meant disaster a week later. A victory would hearten the team so much, that they might even triumph over the proud and confident eleven up the river.
From the moment of the first clash of the lines the Porter boys showed their superiority. They took the ball and on straight rushes carried it far down the field, only to lose it when they seemed to be sure of scoring. Red-headed Jimmy was everywhere on defense. Half a dozen times the Porter runner with the ball was through the line, but was nailed with deadly precision by this half-back. Dixon also played magnificently. He was playing to hold his place, and although Frank, sitting on the side-lines wrapped up in a blanket, saw his opportunity for a trial disappearingthrough the brilliant play of Chip, he could not but admire it.
Time after time the Porter School eleven carried the ball half the length of the field. Stone, their full-back, out-punted Wheeler, and their ends covered the long punts with deadly certainty. Porter played harder and harder and made ten yards of ground to one for Queen's, but they were met down around the 25-yard line with so fierce a resistance that they could go no further. Twice they made weak attempts to drop-kick a goal, but each time the trials failed. Once a Queen's end recovered the ball and carried it 70 yards down the field, where he was felled by the Porter tackle, who outran him.
This hammering game went on for three quarters, but, in the fourth quarter, Queen's seemed to gain strength. Twice they stopped the Porter rushes at midfield, and with unsuspected power carried the ball inside the 10-yard line, only to be stopped when success seemed certain. Quickly the minutes flew by. Dixon drove his men with increasing speed in spite of the fact that they were about ready to drop. They responded to the call splendidly. It was the best football they had shown the whole fall, but inspite of their best efforts Porter stood a barrier to the goal line, and the whistle blew with the game a tie, without scoring by either side.
"I was praying that they'd call you in and give you a trial, Frank," said Jimmy that night, "when we were down on their goal line. But, after a conference, Dixon thought he could take it across and Wheeler thought so, too. And they failed. It would have been an easy drop—right in front of the posts. If I had been captain I'd have tried it every time I got inside the 15-yard line, but Horton doesn't think that way."
"Wait till you get to be captain," said the Codfish, "and you'll have them kicking goals all over the field, eh, old speed?"
"Well, I'd be a little freer with them than the Captain is. But it's his team and I'm not grouching. As the fellow in the poem says:
"'Mine not to reason why,Mine but to do or die.'"
"And you died, I notice, and you'll die some more up at Warwick next Saturday," prophesied the cold-hearted Codfish.
Very little was done on the gridiron during theweek preceding the Warwick game. The players were rested after the hard struggle they had gone through with the Porter School team. There was some secret practice and several trick plays were run over. The last work-out was on Wednesday afternoon.
"Only light drill to-morrow," announced Horton, "and nothing at all on Friday."
"Do you know the signals of the First eleven?" inquired Horton of Frank when he was coming out of the shower bath that night.
"I've picked up most of them, yes, sir," said Frank.
"I thought so," said Horton, grinning, "by the way you played on defense. Here's a set of them. Get them well in your head. Perhaps we may need you to-morrow."
Frank's heart took a great leap in his breast. "'Perhaps we will need you to-morrow,'" he kept repeating to himself. "But after all it is only 'perhaps.' Well, that's better than nothing." That night Horton's "perhaps" kept him awake half an hour longer than usual, and he went to sleep finally to dream of the clash of battle in which he had a part.
Thursday was given to signal drill, short,sharp and snappy. The bleachers were well filled with boys who had come down in an organized mass to try out their new songs. As the players rolled and tumbled around on the ground, the sharp cheer rang out, and at its end was the name of a player.
"Come on, get into this, now," shouted the cheer leaders—
"'Rah, 'rah, 'rah, 'rah, 'rah, 'rah! Queen's!—Wheeler!"
The boys raised their voices with a will. Even the second and third substitutes came in for their share, and Frank felt a strange thrill run down his spine as he heard his own name, "Armstrong," snapped out by the bleachers. That it was well down toward the end of the list and not among the important members did not particularly matter. It meant that he was a possible candidate for the team and that was enough to fill him almost to bursting with happiness. And his joy was not lessened on seeing the bulletin near the gymnasium door, pasted there by Horton, after the practice. His name was among those who were to take the train for Warwick Saturday afternoon.
It seemed to the boys that Saturday wouldnever come, but come it did at last, a glorious day in early November. The exodus for Warwick began early. The Queen's boys went by train, by automobile, by team, and some of those given to pedestrianism even walked the five miles up the river. Every Queen's boy bore his banner or badge of blue and gold, the school colors. Some carried them modestly while others flaunted their flags to the breeze and made sure that the entire populace would know that they came from Queen's, and that they were sure of victory.
"Isn't it great," said Jimmy, as he and Frank hurried for the 12:30 train which was to take the team to Warwick, "to see this turn-out? It makes me feel as though I could play my head off when the whistle blows."
Boys who have not attended a preparatory school or college can hardly understand the intense feeling of loyalty which a body of students has for its teams. They may be good or they may be poor, but since they represent the school, if the school has any spirit in it at all, the boys are behind the teams. This intense loyalty often actually makes a team strong that would otherwise be indifferent or distinctly poor. And soit was with the Queen's School eleven that Saturday with which our story deals. The bad record of the season was forgotten for the time, and every player who wore the Blue and Gold felt himself nerved to do his best, or more than his best, because his schoolmates were with him heart and soul.
"I've a hunch that we are going to win this game," said Jimmy as the train neared Warwick on its short run.
"Of course we are," said big Wheeler, overhearing the remark. "Don't believe anything but that and we'll show them who's who, and don't you forget it."
At the little Warwick railroad station a hundred boys who had preceded the team and all those on the train gathered around the team as it alighted from the car and, with hats off, gave it a ringing cheer. Then, as the players piled headlong into the 'bus that was to carry them to the Warwick grounds, the crowd fell into line four deep and followed along, occasionally sending up a cheer to vary the School marching song. And in this martial array Queen's invaded their rival's grounds.
"Let them sing," said a Warwicker who sat ina group of boys on the Library steps as the Queen's phalanx went swinging along, proud and haughty under the banners of Blue and Gold; "they will be quiet enough after the game is over."
The Warwick crowd were confident of victory, and the remark of the boy on the steps of the Library reflected the feeling of every one in the school. And they had good reason to feel confident. The Warwick eleven was a strong one, most of whose members had played together for two years. The team had won all its games by big scores, and what served to make assurance almost certain, was an easy victory over Porter two weeks before the day Queen's had played the same team to a tie. The Warwickers would not even admit that Queen's had a chance to get within striking distance of the Warwick goal on straight offensive strength. "Of course, there's always danger of a fumble or something," said those who liked to consider themselves fair to the other fellow, "but the chances are against that."
Warwick also made a brave showing with their school colors. Flags hung from the dormitory windows, and over the door of the gymnasium was draped an enormous Warwick flag. Downon the big flagstaff by the track house another flag—Maroon with a big white "W"—floated lazily in the breeze. Boys gathered in doorways and on the walks and discussed with eagerness the coming struggle.
The game was scheduled for two o'clock and long before that hour the crowds were streaming across the playing fields in the direction of the football stands. Suddenly was heard the music of a band, and soon it swung into view from behind the Library where the Warwick procession had been formed; and after it came a long tail of boys, hands on each other's shoulders, skipping and dancing along in the peculiar zig-zag step. The crowds opened to make room for this procession, and some joined in the Warwick songs as the band thundered out the melody. But you may be sure that the Queen's boys refrained from taking part in the Warwick jollification. They did do their best, however, to make their own songs heard above the din.
Soon the crowds filed into the stands and were seated by the ushers, who were distinguished from their fellows by a big Maroon silk badge on their coat lapels. The ushers, in spite of their duties, managed to keep one eye on the fieldwhere the members of the two teams were running through the signals.
Queen's had the west and Warwick the east stand, and during the preliminaries hurled defiance at each other across the brown gridiron. Warwick, with a greater body of supporters, kept up a steady yell, varied now and then by a song. The Queen's followers, gathered compactly into two or three sections of the stand, made their presence known by their snappy school yell. The cheer leaders worked incessantly, and whenever there was any evidence of lagging, heckled the sections through their megaphones: "Come on here, this isn't a whispering match! What did you come up here for?" and such like taunts.
Suddenly a hush fell on the crowds on both sides of the field. Wheeler, captain of Queen's, and Burns of Warwick, with the referee, met at midfield. They shook hands and held a little conference. After a minute or two the referee snapped a coin into the air. The crowds could not hear what was said, but as Burns turned away and waved his hand to the north end of the field, the Warwick cheer leaders interpreted the sign as meaning, and rightly, too, that Warwick had won the toss and had taken the northend of the field, which was favored by a little breeze.
The information imparted to the Warwick stand by the megaphones, a cheer burst out spontaneously. The rattle of yelling went the length of the stand. In another instant Warwick's measured yell, beaten by the waving arms of half a dozen cheer leaders working in unison, rolled out on the crisp air as the teams trotted to their places. A moment later the whistle blew and the great game was on.