David saw his first football practice the next afternoon and enjoyed the spectacle of Jimmy zipping through the line or spilling the fellow with the ball when he happened to be playing on the defensive. Dixon was living up to the part of the contract forced upon him by Frank and the Wee One, and made no further obstacle for Jimmy when the coach occasionally put him over in the backfield on the First eleven. But Chip bore the Freshman halfback no very deep affection. He was, however, becoming more and more impressed with the belief that Jimmy was the genuine material and that he was pretty nearly necessary to the welfare of his eleven. Hillard generally took precedence, that is, he went in at first, but Jimmy would get in awhile toward the end of practice.
During the week, practice had been very satisfactory,by far the best of the season, and when on Saturday the school eleven scored 12 to 4 against the Milldale High School eleven, hope began to run high in the school that perhaps after all Queen's might pull out that Warwick game, which was now only a week off.
Friday night there was a mass-meeting under the elms in the yard, and Horton, Mr. Parks and a graduate of the school of some forty years before—a Mr. Walbridge—were the speakers. They stood on the steps of Russell and torches lighted up the scene. There had been a torchlight parade up and down the walks of the school, and the procession finally halted in front of the wide steps of Russell Hall where the speakers were in readiness.
"We are going out next Saturday for a victory, boys," said Horton. "We have been down in the mouth all the season because factions have been pulling us one way and another, but that is all over now. You played good football this afternoon, but you'll have to play better next Saturday for those fellows up the river are going to give you the battle of your lives. But if you will forget all your disagreements and get together,and then stay together, we'll show them yet."
"You bet we will," sang out a voice from the rear, as Horton retired. "Three cheers for Horton."
Harding, the captain of the eleven, wakened from his lethargy by the enthusiasm, jumped out in front of the bunch of boys and cried: "Now a long one for Mr. Horton, get into it," and they did with a vim and a snap which made Horton's eyes brighten.
"Rackety wow, rackety wow, rackety wow, Horton, Horton, Horton."
The rumpus stirred the katydids in their leafy bowers overhead and they were loudly affirming and denying when Mr. Parks gave the boys a word of encouragement. Mr. Parks was followed by the elderly graduate of the school, who told them of football when he was at Queen's.
"We hadn't a quarter of the number of boys to choose from in my day," he said, "and I don't think we were any bigger, but we worked together and played together and ate together, and when we went out on the field to play our games we were so completely together that the team moved like one man. And if you will look overthe records of those old days, you'll find that Queen's didn't lose many games.
"It's the same on the football field as it is in the daily walks of life. To be successful, I mean to have the right kind of success, you've got to play fair and hard and keep thinking. If some one slams into you, I know the feeling is to retaliate, for that's human nature; but when you're tempted to do that, just think that while you're slugging the fellow who slammed into you unnecessarily, your opponent may be getting past you, for you can't do two things at once. I remember a fellow in my own class; they called him 'Biff Scott.' He used to play center, and when he could keep his temper he was a wonder. But a hard jolt always made him mad, and then he was a very poor center. In our big game with Warwick, for our big game was with Warwick just the same as yours is now, the Warwick center knew of Scott's weak point, so he teased him into forgetting what he was there for, and they put play after play right over him and actually won the game because he fought and didn't play.
"I'm of the opinion," the old graduate continued, "that what Mr. Horton says is right, thatif you give up these little dissensions, get together and stay together, you may yet make this football season something to be proud of. I, for one, believe you can and will do it. That's all."
Again the school yell ripped out sharply and was echoed back by the walls of Warren just across the way. Cheers were given for the team, the coaches, the captain, and a crashing one for Queen's School. Then the torches were swung over shoulders again, and the procession took up its course, the tramp of many feet following the marching melody of the school—
Tramp, tramp, tramp, old Queen's is marching,Marching onward to the fray.Can't you hear our ringing cheer,Rising loud and high and clear,Queen's will fight and win the victory to-day.Tramp, tramp, tramp, the team is marching,Onward down the field they go.They're the best in all the land,They've the heart, the brain, the sand,And the courage high to conquer every foe.Tramp, tramp, tramp, the battle's raging,Cheer the victors loud and long.They will raise the Blue and GoldWhere it waved in days of old.Then a cheer, my boys, and join us in our song.Tramp, tramp, tramp, old Queen's victorious,Ever valiant in the fray.And we'll give a rousing cheerFor the team that knows no fear.Then for Queen's, my boys, hurray, hurray, hurray!
Tramp, tramp, tramp, old Queen's is marching,Marching onward to the fray.Can't you hear our ringing cheer,Rising loud and high and clear,Queen's will fight and win the victory to-day.Tramp, tramp, tramp, the team is marching,Onward down the field they go.They're the best in all the land,They've the heart, the brain, the sand,And the courage high to conquer every foe.Tramp, tramp, tramp, the battle's raging,Cheer the victors loud and long.They will raise the Blue and GoldWhere it waved in days of old.Then a cheer, my boys, and join us in our song.Tramp, tramp, tramp, old Queen's victorious,Ever valiant in the fray.And we'll give a rousing cheerFor the team that knows no fear.Then for Queen's, my boys, hurray, hurray, hurray!
Tramp, tramp, tramp, old Queen's is marching,Marching onward to the fray.Can't you hear our ringing cheer,Rising loud and high and clear,Queen's will fight and win the victory to-day.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, old Queen's is marching,
Marching onward to the fray.
Can't you hear our ringing cheer,
Rising loud and high and clear,
Queen's will fight and win the victory to-day.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, the team is marching,Onward down the field they go.They're the best in all the land,They've the heart, the brain, the sand,And the courage high to conquer every foe.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, the team is marching,
Onward down the field they go.
They're the best in all the land,
They've the heart, the brain, the sand,
And the courage high to conquer every foe.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, the battle's raging,Cheer the victors loud and long.They will raise the Blue and GoldWhere it waved in days of old.Then a cheer, my boys, and join us in our song.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, the battle's raging,
Cheer the victors loud and long.
They will raise the Blue and Gold
Where it waved in days of old.
Then a cheer, my boys, and join us in our song.
Tramp, tramp, tramp, old Queen's victorious,Ever valiant in the fray.And we'll give a rousing cheerFor the team that knows no fear.Then for Queen's, my boys, hurray, hurray, hurray!
Tramp, tramp, tramp, old Queen's victorious,
Ever valiant in the fray.
And we'll give a rousing cheer
For the team that knows no fear.
Then for Queen's, my boys, hurray, hurray, hurray!
When it was all over Frank and Jimmy and Lewis climbed the stairs to No. 18 and found David where they had left him.
"It was like fairy-land," cried David, as Jimmy and Frank came in. "Looking down from here it was like a long fire-snake twisting and turning up and down the walks."
"How about the cheering?" asked Jimmy.
"It sounded wonderful coming up through the branches. I'm so glad I came up after all. I had made up my mind not to go to school because I felt I would be in the way," and he looked down at his twisted and misshapen limbs, and there was a tremor in his voice. "But just the same, I'm glad I came. I can't take part in all the fun, but it will be good to see it from the window."
"Go along with you," said Frank, going over to David and slipping his arm around his shoulder. "In a little while you'll be taking your partjust the same as any of us, and you won't have to watch from the window as you say."
"What could I do?" wailed David.
"There are lots of things you can do. Maybe you can write for theMirror."
"That, we'd have you know, is the sparkling weekly of Queen's," broke in Jimmy.
"Yes," said Frank; "you might stamp your name forever on the history of Queen's athletics by writing a good football song, and who knows but they might erect a monument to your memory, because we're a little shy on good songs."
"I've been thinking of trying myself," said Lewis, "now that I've given football up for more serious things."
"Because football's given you up, you mean," slung in Jimmy, "for better things!"
"But I can never do anything in athletics like you fellows," said David wistfully. "It would be such fun."
"I'm not so sure you can't do any athletics," said Frank. "To-night I happened to meet Patsy, he's our trainer, you know, and instructor in the gym as well. I told him about you and he said you might go into the gym, and if you developstrength in your arms there are lots of things you could do."
"What, for instance?" inquired David, brightening up at the possibility of taking part in any of the sports which he had thought all closed to him forever.
"Well, Patsy said there was the gymnastic work, parallel bars, horizontal bars, flying rings and rope climbing. The champion of the school gets a big 'Q' on a white sweater just the same as the football fellows. And he said you might make a good coxswain of the crew. Lots of things for you to do, so cheer up."
"I'll see about it right away. I've always been strong in my arms and hands, probably because of these things," indicating the crutches. "You see my poor legs are not very heavy," and he caught the arms of the chair in which he was sitting, and raised himself with the greatest of ease, swinging his body clear of the seat and swaying backwards and forwards.
"I say," said Jimmy, "wouldn't it be great if David got his 'Q' before any of us?"
"Guess there's no real danger of my being burdened with a 'Q' for a while," said David laughing. "But I'll train up and be ready for it if a'Q' should be flying around looking for some pleasant place to nest."
"We're all looking that way and would be most willing to offer a nest to this much-desired but elusive letter. Jimmy is the most likely of us if he doesn't break his neck before the Warwick game," said Frank.
"Come on, Fatty," cried Jimmy, after the boys had chatted for a half hour. "We must be going to our model apartment up the road, and let these old cronies get to bed. I've got to keep good hours, you know."
"Speaking of beds, you see how I've fixed my room," said Frank, leading the way to the chamber. "We got them to put another couch in here alongside of mine, right by the window. From here we can look out and see you fellows laboring any fine afternoon. The football field is right over there," added Frank, pointing. He broke off short. "Gee whiz," he cried suddenly, "what's that?" The others crowded up close to the window and looked in the direction indicated by Frank's finger.
The moon was shining brightly, the stars twinkled brilliantly, and the trees and the football stands threw dense black shadows on the grasswhich at that distance looked like a pall of black velvet. But what caught and held their attention was in the middle distance between themselves and the silvery line of the river, where a white shrouded figure moved rapidly along. It looked like a woman dressed completely in white, but the garments hung from the head rather than from the shoulders, and seemed to flow out behind.
"It's a ghost," whispered Lewis, his scalp beginning to stretch with the rising hairs. The boys watched the thing intently. It did not seem to walk but rather to glide along about five or six feet from the ground. Suddenly it turned from its course parallel to the river, and started to come in the direction of the dormitory. It came on and on until within perhaps a hundred yards of the foot of the slightly higher ground on which the dormitories were built, and then swung away off in the direction of the football stands and disappeared as suddenly as it had come, while they stood watching with fascinated eyes.
Frank was the first to recover himself.
"Well, if that doesn't beat the Dutch," he said, turning a puzzled face to his companions. Lewis was positively blue with fear.
"I thought the thing was coming right up the bank," he said.
"Yes, you grabbed me as if you had been a drowning man and I had been a straw," said Jimmy.
"You did some grabbing yourself," retorted Lewis, beginning to recover himself now that the apparition had gone.
"Well, I'll admit the blooming thing did startle me, all right. Must have been a shadow," said Frank. "The moon plays funny tricks with shadows at night."
"It wasn't a shadow," remarked David, "because I distinctly saw a black shadow following the thing, whatever it was; and if it had been a shadow it certainly wouldn't have cast a shadow, would it?"
The boys stood at the window for half an hour looking for another visitation of the spook or ghost, or whatever it was, but the field appeared to be deserted. There was only the moonlight on the grass, the black shadows and the katydids calling mournfully to each other the old, old refrain. Then Lewis and Jimmy made their departure, the former keeping very close to Jimmy as they headed for their own room. Unconsciouslythey quickened their steps and occasionally looked fearfully over their shoulders, and on reaching their entry made a break for their room, three steps at a leap.
A little while after Jimmy and Lewis had made their hasty exit to the other end of Warren Hall, Gleason came sauntering up the stairs, and into the room.
"This is our new room-mate, David Powers," said Frank. David and Gleason shook hands.
"Glad to see you," said the Codfish. "Hope you and Web-foot won't get lost in that big room of yours—what's the matter with the both of you?—you look as if you had seen a ghost."
"That's just what we did do."
"Get out, where?"
"Right down there on the meadow."
"Go to bed and have a little sleep, and you'll get over it all right. You're studying too hard."
"I saw it too," chimed David. "There were four of us and we saw it plain as day."
"What was it, the headless horseman or the slaughtering ghost of the Barrows' football team? Did it walk or skate?"
"No, we're telling you the straight goods on this. Jimmy, Lewis, David and I saw it, andwatched it for five minutes. It disappeared down by the river bank. It didn't walk on the ground at all, but seemed to be floating through air."
"Poor fellow, poor fellow," said the Codfish mournfully. "We'll get a doctor in the morning. That algebra has gone to his brain."
"Well, you can believe it or not," said Frank. "We saw it sure enough. It came apparently from the river, and seemed to go back to it down there by the football field."
"By Jove," said the Codfish, after a moment's reflection. "One of the fellows at this school was drowned in the river just a little below the bath-house float three or four years ago, and they recovered his body down there by the football stand. I wonder—— I wish I'd been here."
And Frank and David and Jimmy and Lewis also wondered, and the latter, when he was ready for dreamland took a long, long look out onto the silent playground. "Gee," he said to himself, "and I thought of going down there to-night, it looked so pretty in the moonlight. What do you suppose it could have been?" He took the precaution of closing the window tight that night, leaving only those windows on the yard side ofthe rooms open. That night he dreamed that a headless woman dressed all in white stood beside his bed, and offered him her head which she had tucked nicely away under her arm, and when he looked at it more closely, he saw it was a football and not a head at all.
David very quickly dropped into the school life, just as Frank had done. The two room-mates were always together. David was eager to see everything, and every day found him, after the school work was done, down at the track or the gridiron. He also found time to get acquainted with the muscle building apparatus in the gymnasium. A certain small amount of gymnastic work was required at Queen's, but David had determined to take up some specialty. From the nature of his infirmity those things which could be done with the arms and body were, of course, the only things open to him. Patsy's assistant in the gymnasium, Harry Buehler, took him under his wing, and set him at tasks which would help to develop his arm and shoulder muscles.
"Do you think there's any chance for me to doanything for the school?" inquired David, shortly after he began his work.
"Why, certainly there is. One of the best athletes we had here three or four years ago was a chap named Bascom. He had bad legs, but the way he could handle himself on the horizontal bar was a caution. He set the record here, too, for rope-climbing. I don't think it will be broken for some time to come."
David made a mental note that if he could develop, he would take a whack at that record, whatever it was. In the meantime he was content to do the simple athletic tasks which were set for him. Frank, who was not much for gymnastic work, preferring the outdoor athletics, came down to see David one day, and found that youngster lying on the mat and raising dumbbells at arm's length.
"Great Scott," he said, "where did you get all that strength? I don't believe I could do that so easily."
David grinned. "Perhaps the explanation is that the strength I haven't got in my legs goes to my arms. I can lift heavier ones than that. Look," and he seized a 25-pound bell and swung it up and down.
Frank was amazed. "I didn't think you had such strength. What will you be when you work a while under Buehler? I'll certainly not get into a fight with you. I'd have no chance at all."
"I guess we will not fight right away," returned David. "But I say, you are in the track games to-morrow, are you not? I noticed a bulletin tacked up on the door giving the entries. Does football stop the afternoon of the games? I see some of the players' names there."
"Yes, they give the pigskin warriors a day off, and some of them take part. The games are chiefly to give Patsy a line on what there is in the incoming class. In order to make it interesting as a contest, every one takes part, the 'Q' men as well as the new men."
"You're going to try the hundred and the broad jump, I see."
"Yes, Patsy says I may be good at one or the other if I live long enough. But I haven't much hopes of myself. I'm too green."
"I'll bet you will make the best of them all," said David enthusiastically.
"Oh, come now, David, no taffy here. It's bad enough for a fellow who can do something to have a swelled head, but when a fellow can't doanything at all, it's fatal. So don't try to puff me. I won't stay and listen or I may get the big-head microbe. See you later. Don't strain yourself with those big weights. I'm responsible to your dad for your well-being. Ta, ta."
At four o'clock the next afternoon there was a sprinkling of Queen's boys, the non-athletic fellows, down on the stands, to see what the new class was likely to do for the school in the way of track athletics. Queen's had been down in the dumps in this particular line of sport for several years, and it had become almost a habit to lose to Warwick. There was always pretty good material available for the weight events, but for some singular reason no sprinters headed Queen's way. It had become noised about that a new sprinter in the person of Frank Armstrong had been turned up by Patsy, and every one wanted to see just how fast he was.
The first race to be run was the quarter in which there were seven starters. Queen's track was a quarter-mile, and the runners were to start at the middle of the back stretch, and finish down the straightaway. This gave them only one turn, and it was supposed to be easier on that account. Hillard was scratch man on this event. The newmen were given various handicaps—that is, Patsy set them at points from 10 to 20 yards further along, so as to even up their speed with that of Hillard, who had won the event the year before from the best that Warwick had to offer.
"Nothing in that bunch," said a Senior as he looked the fellows over; "they're not strong enough. Look at that skinny Freshman with 20 yards handicap. I'll bet he'll die half way down the stretch."
The little chap he referred to was a slender boy of fourteen, light haired almost to whiteness, and very spindly in his shanks. He had come from some little town in the western part of the state, and was so insignificant looking that no one paid much attention to him in the fall practice. Even Patsy's eye failed to note him. His name was Brown—Tommy Brown.
After Patsy had put all his runners on their marks, he gave the usual preparatory signal for starting, and the pistol snapped. There was a rush of spectators for the end of the straightaway where the runners were to finish. Hillard, sure of himself, and moving rapidly, soon began to overhaul the inexperienced Freshmen. One by one he passed them, and as he swung into thestraightaway with half the distance gone, only two were ahead of him. One of these was the fellow who had run second to Hillard the year before, and the other was Brown, the skinny one.
"Look at that toothpick coming," rose a cry from the watchers. He certainly was "coming" like a locomotive, his thin legs flying and his arms working like flails. A hundred yards from the finish Hillard caught Peckham, but the little whitehead was still legging it ten yards in front of him. And now Hillard settled down to do his best. Slowly he came up on Tommy Brown while the school yelled its applause, but those thin, flying shanks still continued to move with unbroken rhythm, and despite Hillard's greatest efforts he could not overhaul the Freshman who, with a great burst of speed, broke the tape six feet ahead of the champion. Immediately there was a babel of voices.
"Hurray for Skinny!"
"New world-beater come to town."
"Hurray for the Freshman!"
"Hard luck, Hillard, old boy."
Patsy who had made a short cut from the start of the quarter to the finish, and got there just in time to see the Freshman's great effort, hurriedafter him on the way to the gymnasium, and whispered a word of praise in his ear. Coming back he displayed a stop watch whose hand pointed to 55 3-5 seconds.
"And that's going some for a kid," he said. "I'll make something of him before he gets through at Queen's." And Patsy kept his word, for Tommy Brown not only won points for his school, but when he went to college—— But that's another story.
After the quarter mile came the half, but nothing worth while turned up there. The event was run in slow time, and the Freshmen who were entered made a very poor showing.
Then came the first heat of the hundred yards dash. Twelve runners were entered—among them Frank Armstrong, who was drawn in the first lot to be sent over the distance. As they came from the gymnasium and trotted up to the start, their good points were commented on by the spectators.
"Armstrong looks like a runner," said one. "He has a good step and a good face."
"I don't care about his face," said another of the group, "if he has good legs and knows how to use them."
David and Gleason were perched on the uppermost row of the stand where they could see the entire length of the hundred. David was all excitement. "Do they all run together?" he asked Gleason.
"Oh, no, they run it in heats or trials. It wouldn't be fair to run them all at the same time for they couldn't all get an even start. This track will only accommodate six at one time. First, second and third in each heat qualify for the finals, so you see each runner has to go over the distance twice."
"I see."
"They're getting ready," announced Gleason. "See them getting down on their toes. They're off!"
A white puff of smoke came from the pistol in Patsy's hand, and the sound of the explosion came sharply to their ears. Away at the top of the stretch they saw the runners spring forward.
Down the track they swept for thirty yards, none having any advantage. Then the runner on the pole and Frank began to forge to the front. On they came, nip and tuck, until just near the finish the fellow on the pole made a great effortand broke the tape four or five feet ahead of Frank. The third man was a step behind Frank.
"Oh, what a pity he couldn't keep up," said David mournfully.
"What's the matter with you? He did exactly right," said Gleason.
"How is that—he was beaten, wasn't he?"
"Yes, my son," replied the Codfish, "he was beaten for first place, but he qualified for the final, and that's all you need. What was the use of his running himself out? You see what an effort the other fellow had to win, didn't you? I told Frank myself to run easy in this first heat even if he only came in third place. Third would have been just as good as where he finished."
Then came the second trial of the hundred immediately on the heels of the first. This was well run, but slower, and it was won by the bandy-legged Herring. A Freshman named King was second, and Wilson, a Sophomore, third.
The mile followed and showed nothing promising, no Freshmen getting nearer than fifth place.
"Didn't expect anything, anyway," said Patsy. "A fellow has to learn to run the mile." But in the hurdle trials Tommy Brown, the skinny spindle-shanks, surprised everybody by gallopingoff with first place, beating out Morris, the Junior hurdler. In the finals, however, Morris got back at him and won, but the Freshman made him stretch himself to the limit. Patsy was as happy as a lark at finding such youngsters.
"This Freshman class has some good stuff in it," he said, "the best that has come to Queen's for many moons. Armstrong and Brown are going to be corkers, you mark my words. Just watch Armstrong in the hundred. For a kid who has had no experience he is a wonder."
"All out for the finals of the hundred," cried Patsy's assistant, who was helping to run off the events. The summons brought out the six who had been successful in the trials—Collins, Herring, Armstrong, King, Wilson, and a Junior named Howard. The latter two were not expected to figure very heavily in the race.
"Collins and Herring will run scratch in this race," said Patsy, who was getting the six ready up at the start. "You two Freshmen go to that six-foot handicap mark; Howard and Wilson, you take an extra yard."
The boys went to their places, and there was a false start, but on the next attempt they got away splendidly. The first spring took Frankahead of King, and he never saw him again until the race was over, but Collins, who had got a magnificent start, had made up most of the distance in the first thirty yards. Frank felt him at his elbow, and determined not to let him pass that point. On they flew. The spectators were crowding out on the track and craning their necks. Collins was running desperately for his reputation as the best sprinter in the school was at stake. He had come up on Frank inch by inch, but every inch was hard won. The crowd was close above them now and shouting:
"Collins!"
"Armstrong!"
"The Freshman's winning!"
"Gee, what a race!"
Inch by inch Collins gained till he was even with Frank, but past him he could not get. Frank was running with every ounce of power in his body, and still held on. He could see the little red line across his path at the finish now, and in another instant he felt the touch of it on his breast. But at the same instant Collins touched it, too.
"A dead heat, a dead heat," shouted the crowd. The boys had crossed the line exactly together.
"Good, Freshman!"
"That's the boy, Armstrong."
And half a score of his own class surrounded Frank and patted him on the back. The effort had been so great that he could hardly stand, and he was glad enough when Jimmy and Lewis took him by the shoulders and let him rest some of his weight on them, but he soon recovered a bit. Herring, who was third, and Collins came up and gave him a kindly word, and Patsy said when Frank had started for the gym, "There is a game kid, I tell you. When he knows how to run, as I mean he shall, you will all take off your hats to him. I guess we will have something to send down to the Interscholastics in New Haven next spring after all."
It was the morning of the closing football game of the Queen's School schedule, Saturday, November 12, and recitations were hurried the least little bit. Even the teachers felt the excitement of the day. This was shown by the generous disposition to overlook poor lessons for at least one morning of the school year, and some of them even cut the hours short.
David, who had interviewed the Doctor and taken his place with his class the first of the week, felt the thrill of enthusiasm, and was burning for the slow hours to drag along till 2 o'clock when the great contest was to be called. Football was literally in the air, for everywhere in the school yard, where there was a chance for it between the recitations, groups of boys were gathered and footballs flew high from vigorous toes, and there was the resounding thwack as the balldropped in some fellow's arms thirty yards away from the kicker.
It was an ideal day for the game—just a little nip of frost in the air, the merest suggestion of the coming winter, but this was tempered by a bright, warm sun. It was not so warm that the players would be exhausted by the heat, nor was it so cold that spectators were put to the inconvenience and discomfort of heavy wraps.
About noon the invading hosts of Warwick began to reach the Queen's School, and spread themselves about the grounds, flaunting the red and black colors of Warwick. Here and there groups of boys from the two schools gathered together, and there was some little fraternizing, but as a general thing the black and red and the blue and gold did not mix well. The rivalry between the two schools in everything was intense, and the members of each thought the other school just a little inferior in most things.
This feeling sometimes resulted in blows being struck and blood shed from bruised noses when encounters took place between representatives of the two away from school grounds. But to-day was the day of the year, and while rivalry was strong, the feeling of antagonism was held incheck, for wasn't Queen's the host to-day, and Warwick the guest? No blood should be shed this day except on the fair field of battle—the gridiron.
"What's the matter, Jimmy?" said Frank to that individual, whom he chanced to meet hurrying along the path in front of Warren Hall. "Have you seen that ghost again?"
"No, but I'm pretty nervous."
"Been losing sleep over the apparition?"
"Oh, shucks, no. The old ghost doesn't bother me, but I just met Horton and he told me that he may put me in before the game is over. I'm scared to death."
"And what's to worry you about that? I thought that's what you wanted most of anything on this green, grassy earth."
"Well, I do, but what would happen if I didn't make good?"
"Oh, don't worry about that, you'll be Johnny on the spot, I'm willing to bet. And if you get in, you'll get your 'Q.' Just think of it—your first year!"
"I'm not thinking of the 'Q' so much as whether I can do what I've got to do. I feeljust like I did that day when you and I swam at the water carnival at Turner's Point last summer—shaky all over."
Frank grinned as he recalled it.
"I remember that well enough. Before the race came off I was sure that the moment I hit the water I'd go down, and drown, but as soon as I hit the water I thought no more about it. And you will be like that. I tell you it's a big honor to be able to get on the team the first year. Not many Freshmen get the chance. I'm proud to know you, Mr. James Turner."
"Quit your jollying, Frank, and tell me if you've seen the ghost since. You never saw such a scared kid as Lewis was that night, and you couldn't get him down on the playgrounds after eight o'clock if you were to pay him real money."
"Yes," said Frank, "David and I saw it night before last in exactly the same place. It seemed to come from nowhere and disappeared behind the football stand. Seems as if it went into the water. Isn't it queer?"
"It is mighty queer, indeed. What did Gleason say about it?"
"Oh, he wasn't in at the time. He'd gone overto the library early in the evening, and David and I were alone. When he came in and we told him about it, he said it must surely be the ghost of the drowned boy. He had inquired of old Peter Flipp, the shoemaker up on the hill, and Peter told him that the meadows were what he called 'hanted'."
"Did you see it clearly this time?"
"No, not so clearly as the first time; the moon, you know, is on the wane now, and the grounds were darker, but still light enough to show pretty plainly. It was the same figure, and seemed to move pretty swiftly, faster than a walk, I should say, and slower than a run, and, as before, it was above the ground."
"Well, it beats me," said Jimmy. "I've never heard of anything like it. I must be getting along. Here comes Gleason now. Good-bye, old speed. I'll see you later," and Jimmy turned away, as Gleason came up.
"Telling him what the score is going to be this afternoon, old Web-foot?" inquired Gleason.
"No, Codfish, I was telling him about the second visitation of that thing down on the grounds by the river. When this football season is over,I'm going to lay for that old ghost or whatever it is."
"Oh, I wouldn't do that," said Gleason, "you don't know what might happen. I've heard of people who tried a hand with ghosts and their hair turned white in a single night from sheer fright. I wouldn't like to see my trusty wife in such a condition as that."
"Just the same I'd like to take a closer look at that thing, and I don't believe I'd be afraid; but at present there is something else to be done, and that's to get something to eat and get down to the grounds in time for a good seat."
"Looks like a big crowd to-day. Guess these Warwickers have all left their happy homes to see the slaughter, and I'm afraid they're not going to be disappointed," said Gleason.
"Oh, don't lose heart, you can't tell. There may be a Freshman in the game before it's through, and that will help a lot." Frank threw this last word over his shoulder to Gleason as he hurried to the dining-room. Coming from the hall, after a hastily snatched bite, he overtook the Wee One, and together they journeyed to the gymnasium, where both teams were to dress for the fray, Warwick having been given the biglocker room on the second floor, while Queen's retained the lower floor.
As they approached the gymnasium a big coach drove down the river road in a cloud of dust. It was positively covered with boys. It bore the football eleven of Warwick and its immediate crowd of heelers. Wherever a boy could stick, he had stuck himself, and every one swung the colors of the school.
"Gee whiz, look at those mastodons," cried Wee Willie as the Warwick players began to uncoil themselves from various parts of the coach. "They'll eat us alive. I know they must be cannibals. Poor Queen's, poor Queen's."
"They certainly are whales," said Frank, "but they look a bit logy to me. A good fast team ought to keep them on the jump."
"Yes, but where do you see that good, fast team? It doesn't live hereabouts, does it?"
"Oh, don't get discouraged so early in the game. Wait at least till they've played a few minutes."
By this time the coach had unloaded, and the heelers of the eleven, reinforced by fifty or more boys of those who had come down earlierin the day, got together and gave the snappy school yell:
"War I wickety-kick,War I wickety-kick,Rah, rah, rah, WARWICK."
"War I wickety-kick,War I wickety-kick,Rah, rah, rah, WARWICK."
"War I wickety-kick,War I wickety-kick,Rah, rah, rah, WARWICK."
"War I wickety-kick,
War I wickety-kick,
Rah, rah, rah, WARWICK."
"They yell as if it were all over, don't they?" observed David, who had just come up.
"There does seem to be something of jubilance in it, that's a fact," said the Wee One. "And the eleven is certainly big enough to give the York Freshmen a rub if weight amounts to anything. Come on, we'd better get to our places, the stand is filling up."
Every one around the country-side within a radius of ten miles was present. Country lads and lassies making a holiday of it; fond papas and mammas to see Charlie or Freddie or Tommy take his part in the game. And mamma was very shivery about what might happen to the young man in the conflict so soon to come. And then there were the young beaux of both Warwick and Queen's who had blossomed out into their very best, each with a pretty little maid, perhaps from as far away as Milton, at his side, who simply revelled in the blue and gold or the red and black. Some of the girls even carried the color schemeinto their hats and clothing. And such a hum of talk and such a clatter, as the crowds climbed the wooden bleachers looking for the best vantage points, and such a world of questions for the young beaux to answer the pretty little maidens.
"Oh, dear," says one fair questioner, "what are those white H's at each end of the field for?"
"White what?" says the escort.
"Those big wooden things like an H—two straight pieces, and another across the middle; it looks like an H. What does it stand for?"
"Stand for, stand for, why it stands to get kicked at. It's the goal post, Minnie."
"O, stupid, I should have known. And those little white lines. I suppose they're out if they run across them."
"Of course they are," says the escort, busy watching the corner of the field where the teams make their appearance, and not comprehending what she says.
But Frank, the Wee One, David and Gleason have no attachments of any kind. Frank had written an urgent letter to his father and mother to come up, but Mrs. Armstrong was not very well, and could not make the trip, and Mr. Armstrongwas too busy at the office. "Will come up when you are on the team," was the answer. And the quartet were all very well satisfied to see the game this way.
Suddenly there was a great waving of red and black flags as the Warwick eleven came lumbering onto the field with Captain Channing at their head. A burst of cheering rolled up. The snappy Warwick yell floated out over the field and then a rollicking song.
In the middle of the song up rose the whole Queen's side of the stand and let out a roar, for the Queen's team was seen coming 'way down by the far end. Their quick movements were in sharp contrast to the heavier Warwicks. And as the school saw their active prancing, a feeling came from somewhere that after all the hard knocks they might win to-day. The cheer leaders were busy pumping melody out of the bunch on the stands:
"What are you doing, whispering? Get into it and let's hear you. It's as silent out here as the town of Milton on a summer afternoon." This brought a laugh, for Milton was not noted for its activity at any time of the year. And they got into the song which the cheer leader called for.
Both teams were, meanwhile, going through a brief practice in signal drill.
"My, how Channing boots that ball—see it soar!" cried Frank, and soar it did. Channing was a remarkable punter for a schoolboy, and every kick he sent off was labelled danger for the catching backs.
"Jimmy is not in the line-up," observed the Wee One to Frank.
"No, didn't expect he would be at first, but I think he'll get in, for I don't believe Hillard will last long. He was never very good as a defensive player anyway."
"Horton wants to put him in anyway at the first of the game so as to get the best of his speed. Good plan, too."
"Think it is a mistake," ventured the Codfish, "because these fellows from up the river are going to slam-bang that line of ours, and they'll need all the defence they can get, and on defense Turner is about twice as good as Hillard. If I were coaching I'd put my best backs in and try to stop these fellows' fire, and then when I had them stopped I'd put in my fast fellows and run around them."
"There's wisdom in what you say, Solomon,but as you're not the coach, you can't give us a demonstration, and Mr. Horton will."
By this time the teams had finished their signal drill, and gathered each in a little knot while the captains went out to midfield to toss the coin for position on the field.
"There she goes," said the Wee One. "Bet you Queen's gets it."
"You lose," said Gleason, "Warwick got it and Channing's taking the wind at his back. Oh, my, oh, my! That's bad, right off the bat."
The Warwick captain had elected to take the wind, and the breeze now blowing would be a considerable help to him. The sun affected neither, as the football field lay nearly north and south.
"There we go," cried Frank, as a piercing whistle announced the beginning of hostilities.
From the powerful toe of Mitchell, the right guard on the Warwick eleven, the ball, which he had carefully set at the center of the field, went flying directly between the goal posts. It was a wonderful kick, and a great yell rose from the Warwick sympathizers, who believed that Warwick had scored so soon.
"What are they shouting about?" said the Codfish, contemptuously. "They'd better read the rule book. It isn't a score."
"It went between the posts, fair and square," said David.
"Oh, but you can't score a goal from a kick-off," said Frank. "The ball will have to come back,—there, you see the referee is bringing it back to the center of the field. Mr. Mitchell will have to do it over again."
"You're wrong again," said the Codfish. "It'sa touchback, and Queen's brings it out to the 25-yard line."
It was now Queen's time to cheer, and the Warwick crowd, which had jumped excitedly to its feet, sat down, the points they supposed they had made having suddenly been taken away from them, as they thought.
"It simply makes me sick the way some of the people who attend football games show their ignorance of the first principles of the game. They couldn't tell an off-side play from a woolly dog. Wow! there she goes," as the ball rose from Queen's kick-out and carried on a long, slicing drive away down towards the side of the field. But Warwick punted on first down and sent it once more into Queen's goal.
"That's going to be a hard one to get back," said the Wee One. "It doesn't give our fellows much chance to dodge, it dropped so close to the side lines. Hillard's got it, Hillard's got it!"
"Good boy, Hillard!" shouted every one, for that individual, by twisting and squirming, had carried it from Queen's 10-yard line diagonally across the field to the 25-yard line, where he was stopped from behind when a clear field was almostin sight. It was a pretty run, and brought the ball out of danger for a little while.
There was great excitement in both stands as the two teams lined up for the scrimmage. Frank found himself holding onto the seat desperately as the lines crouched, and his jaw was chattering. He could see out of the corner of his eye the tense look on the faces of the other fellows.
"Crash!" went the lines. There was a quick pass from Chip to Dutton, and the latter went into the line head first in what ought to have been a hole but wasn't, for the tackle didn't make it for him, and the result was that he got no further than his tackle's heels, and was there piled under a heap.
"Second down, ten yards to gain," shouted the referee.
"Nothing doing," cried Gleason. "They're as solid as a rock. I wonder if Chip will try it again before kicking."
They had not long to wait, for in another instant Hillard was off for a run at left, and with the ball securely tucked under his arm. Hillard ran behind a good interference which kept him from turning in, but when 20 yards had been covered in a straight run across the field, heleft his interference, and took his chance on an open space which had just offered. The quick change of direction bothered him, he slipped and fell, rolled head over heels for a yard or two, and was pinned down to the earth by the big Warwick halfback.
"Didn't make it, did he?"
"Guess not; they're going to measure." The linesmen ran out with their chain while the two teams gathered to watch the proceedings. Then the men with the chain straightened up, and ran back to the sidelines again while Queen's prepared for a scrimmage, and the Warwick defence backfield scampered backwards as hard as they could go.
"Queen's ball and they are going to kick. Only a little to gain, but they don't dare take the chance. Good judgment, Mr. Dixon," said Frank.
"We'd put him in a mad-house if he did anything else, particularly with those big farmers. Twenty-five-yard line's too near your own roost to monkey with fate," growled Gleason.
Wheeler got off a rattling good kick which carried to the middle of the field, travelled high and dropped straight. The Warwick back was deceived. He expected it to go farther than it didand was not under it when it came down. There was a great mix-up, and when the dust cleared away Captain Harding was found on the ball. Queen's ball on the enemy's territory! How Queen's did yell! Warwick's red and black flags were as quiet as death now that the blue and gold waved jubilantly.
"Well, if they do that every now and then we may get one over on them. Come on now and get into this, Queen's," shouted the Wee One. He was all excitement, now that there seemed to be a chance, and one listening to him would think he was running the eleven from his position on the stand. Frank was scarcely less excited, but he kept control of his tongue.
Dutton slammed into centre for three yards, and then in the same place made more than enough for a first down. Again Chip drove him at center, but this time the Warwick backs came a little closer up and smothered Dutton when his head went through the line.
"No gain that time, was there?" queried Frank.
"No, the chump might have seen those backs coming in a bit if he'd used his eyes. Wonder if he thought they were going to keep on leavingthe door for him there at centre? What's up, I wonder?" he added, for the Queen's team had gathered around their captain, with their heads together. "Some trick play they're going to pull off. They'd better stick to the good old bucking since it's going well."
But the critics upon the bleachers were deceived,—it was not a trick play then, at any rate, for the next play Chip sent against the enemy was a delayed pass with Hillard taking the ball. He had a big hole, and went for it fast, but somehow, without any one being near him, he managed to drop the ball. It struck the ground in plain view of every one, but, providentially for him, bounced up into his hands, and on he went without the slightest check. The delay in making the pass had unsettled the Warwickians, who expected something entirely different, and before they could recover Hillard had gone fifteen yards. The Warwick quarter, who was the only player between Hillard and a touchdown, threw him hard. Queen's yells broke out afresh, and now the Warwick cheering section began to get busy, calling out in unison:
"Hold them, hold them, hold them!"
"Gee whiz! if Hillard doesn't stop those circusstunts," said the Wee One, "you might as well send for the ambulance right away. I'll die of heart failure. Did you ever see such luck that he recovered it?"
"They ought to put tacks to his fingers, and see if they couldn't get him to hold the ball that way," grumbled Gleason.
"A basket would be better for him."
"No, it wouldn't, he'd lose the basket."
The ball now lay about Warwick's 35-yard line, and so far Queen's had all the best of the battle, but it must be admitted that Queen's also had had all the luck. But by good luck and some skill the eleven had made good progress, and it really began to appear as if they could hold the big fellows from up the river. The hope in the Queen's stand was doomed to quick disappointment, for on the next play Dutton made a scant yard just outside of tackle, and Boston Wheeler could do no better than another yard through the weak centre. It was third down and yards still to go, so Dixon signalled a drop kick.
"It's all off now," groaned the Codfish, "we haven't a drop kicker on the whole squad. More's the pity."
"Well, let's all pray that he gets it over evenif he kicks it with his knee. They're getting ready. Steady now. Oh, Lord,—hurray, hurray, it's over!"
The ball came straight and fast, and although the Warwick players seemed to be surging all around and over him, Boston Wheeler somehow got it away, a most slovenly kick, but the ball rose out of the ring of grasping arms, and went in a wobbling fashion in the direction of the goal, struck on the cross-bar and jumped over.
The Queen's cheering section was making the place echo with its yell:
"Rah, rah, rah, Queen's! Rah, rah, rah, Queen's!"
"Well, that helps some," said Frank. "Three points are not to be sneered at, and they came pretty easy, too."
"Oh, my, but what luck!" laughed the Codfish, who had been pounding every one on the back.
"It will probably make those farmers come back harder than ever, and it's early in the game, so don't get too gay yet awhile. They haven't been at it five minutes yet."
The Wee One was right. The score, so unexpected for both sides, drove the big red and black team to desperation, and after the nextkick-off, when the ball came into their possession near midfield, they went at Queen's like wild men, and tore their line to pieces. Wherever their backs hit they made gaping holes, and carried the ball five yards at a jump. Queen's fought with great determination, and as the enemy ploughed along they found it harder going as they neared the Queen's goal line. Most of the advance was made on Hillard's side of the line, where the Warwick quarter found gains could be made the easiest. He was not slow to take advantage of the opportunity.
Finally the ball lay on the Queen's ten-yard line. Warwick was confident, and crouched for the trial, but something went wrong with the signals, and there was a loss of a yard. Big Henderson, the right half of the Warwick team, who had a reputation for being able to bore through anything short of a stone wall, was called upon, and smashed through the Queen's left side and made four of the necessary yards before he was pulled down by main force. It was third down and several yards to the goal line.
"Will they try to carry it, do you think?" David asked.
"Guess they don't know themselves," answered the Codfish, "they're talking it over. If I were running the team I'd slam into the line again, although it ought to be an easy drop kick for Channing."
"They'll try to carry it, of course," cut in the Wee One; "see, they're getting ready; Henderson's going to take the ball, bet you a horse and cart."
He was right. Henderson did take the ball. He dove head first into the hole that was offered for him, and tried to sidestep Dutton, who was coming at him like a bull. He could not avoid the tackle, however. Dutton knocked the pins clean from under him, and he came down on his elbow with so great a shock that the ball flew from his arms, and bounded away toward the goal line. Half a dozen forms dived for it, but Harding, being fortunately near at the moment, reached it first and hugged it to his breast.
It was a narrow escape, for when the two teams lined up a moment later the ball was placed on the ground only two feet away from the Queen's goal, but it was Queen's ball. The Queen's sympathizers breathed easier for a while.
Boston Wheeler had to go far behind his ownline to kick, and Channing, who was playing back now for Warwick, received the ball from Wheeler's punt on the Queen's 25-yard line. He made no gain, as the two ends were on him almost as soon as the ball touched his fingers.
Now Warwick began all over again, harder than ever. It was two yards here, five in another place, and in almost as short a time as it takes to tell it, the ball was back in dangerous territory. In spite of every effort that Queen's could put forth, the big fullback, Channing, tore through the last yards, with Henderson at his back, and fell across the goal line just outside of the post. And now it was the turn of the red and black flags to wave, and the cheers which rent the air had something of jubilance in them, because Warwick had been able to cross the line, while Queen's could only score by drop kicks, and, moreover, Warwick was two points in the lead, but only that, for the goal from touchdown failed. Her sympathizers had good reason to cheer.
"There's no doubt about it, Warwick is stronger than we are, and only more luck like we had at the beginning and then some more luck, will save us," said the Wee One gloomily.
For the remainder of the period the battleraged up and down the field, Warwick always the aggressor. Lack of concerted action was the chief fault of Queen's, and the captain did not seem to be able to pull his men together.
When the whistle blew to end the period, the team walked off to the gymnasium to be freshened up by their handlers. The score stood 3 to 5 against Queen's.
"Like Files on Parade, in Kipling's 'Danny Deever,' 'I'm dreadin' wot I got to watch' this next period," said the Wee One. "Danny Deever" was his favorite verse and he was fond of quoting it.
"Will Jimmy go in this second period, do you think?" David inquired.
"I don't know, but I hope so. I hope he gets a chance, and certainly Hillard hasn't distinguished himself to-day."
But when the teams came out for the second period, Hillard and Dutton were still the backs. Ends of the field having been changed again, Warwick had the wind, which was now breezing up considerably.
From the minute the whistle blew Warwick became the aggressor and Queen's was constantly on the defensive. Once or twice Queen's hadthe ball and attempted to carry it, but there was no unity in the play, and they were obliged to give it up with a punt. But somehow they managed to stave off the bigger team, helped along considerably by the latter's blunders and fumbles. The third period went in much the same way and play had been going on for five minutes of the last quarter when Warwick began to get things running to suit them. Then they began an irresistible advance. Twice Channing got around Harding's end for a pretty run. The Queen's captain seemed to be dazed. When he began to go to pieces, his team followed him.
Warwick had advanced to the Queen's 15-yard line and on the third down, having two yards to go, prepared for a drop kick. But the preparation was only a fake, for on a quick pass, Channing, seeing his opportunity, made a long, sweeping end run, cleared an outlying end, threw off Chip, raced behind the goal, and touched the ball down.
Of course, there was a great jubilation, for the score was now 10 to 3, and when the goal was kicked a few minutes later, still another point was added.
As the team trudged back up the field to take their positions for the next kick-off, Hillard was seen walking wearily towards the sidelines.
"There's your friend the Turner, my old wifie, going in," observed the Codfish. "Now things will be different. Eh, what?"
"Too late, I'm afraid. Jimmy's good, but he can't play the whole game." But Jimmy came pretty near to playing the whole game, as Warwick found out. Wherever they shot their backs toward the line the Freshman was there to meet the charge. He tackled everywhere, and when he got his arms around a Warwick leg there was no further advance just then. It was wonderful to see that red shock of hair flying from point to point, defending the weak places. Warwick had penetrated Queen's territory half a dozen times, only to be held up when they thought they were about to score, and principally by Jimmy's wonderful defensive work.
Finally, after one of these charges down the field, it was Queen's ball on downs on her own 20-yard line. Time was passing rapidly, and there seemed very little hope of any more scoring. Warwick was pretty tired, and Queen'swas so badly disorganized that they couldn't make anything go. In desperation Chip sent Dutton against the line, but he was slammed back, and Jimmy, without any one to help him, suffered the same fate. Now he tried Jimmy at the Warwick right end.
A new player had just gone in there, and Chip figured that it might be good policy to shoot a play at him before he got his bearings. And it was good judgment. Jimmy got away like a flash, Dutton acted as interference for a few steps, but he was too logy, and Jimmy cut away from his interference, bearing well out across the field. The faster players of Warwick eleven followed him out, and the slower ones, believing he would be run out of bounds, did not follow very hard. Consequently, a considerable gap was left in the line of defensive.
Quick as a flash Jimmy dashed into the gap, dodging and twisting as arms reached for him, but he was through. Between him and the goal was only the Warwick quarter away down the field. Seeing Jimmy headed for him, the quarter came up to meet him, confident that he would stop him. Jimmy changed his direction a little, and bore off for the sideline, so as to draw thequarter in that direction. His trick was successful, for the quarter edged over to that side, expecting to run him out of bounds. Then when the wide, unprotected field was upon Jimmy, he swung to the left again, sidestepping the waiting arms neatly.
Behind him thundered the whole of the Warwick eleven, and he imagined he could feel their hot breaths on his neck, and their hands on his body. But he threw his last ounce of energy into the business in hand, and ran on, holding onto that ball like grim death. Now he was only two chalk lines away, now one; a heavy body struck him, knocking him off his legs, but he struck the ground like a rubber ball, and rolled over and over across the goal line with that precious ball hugged tightly to his breast. It was a touchdown.
Pandemonium reigned. Never had such a run been seen on Queen's field, and it had been accomplished by a Freshman.
"Turner, Turner!" yelled the crowd, and they kept it up while the goal was being kicked. A few minutes after the next kick-off, the whistle blew ending the contest, and although Queen's had lost, the crowd swept down from the standand carried the embarrassed Jimmy, the cause of all the racket, around and around the gridiron on their shoulders. It was a great afternoon for Freshman Turner, and the sting of defeat was forgotten by the whole school in the performance of one of its younger members.