A moment of surprised silence gave place to hearty applause. Theoretically it might have been possible for the boy in the chair to vanish from behind the screen, reach the farther end of the garden, and run back into sight; but actually, as the audience realized on second thought, it couldn’t possibly have been done in the few seconds, surely not more than ten, that had elapsed between the placing of the screen and the appearanceof the boy behind them. And then, how had he got himself free from the rope? An audience likes to be puzzled, and this one surely was. The garden hummed with conjecture and discussion. There were some there who could have explained the seeming phenomenon, but they held their counsel.
Meanwhile, on the platform the Signor was modestly bowing alternately to the audience and to his subject, the latter apparently no worse for his magic transposition. And the orchestra again broke into its interrupted melody. The applause became insistent, but Signor Duodelli, perhaps because his contract with the committee called for no further evidence of his powers, only bowed and bowed and at last disappeared into the obscurity of the shadows. Whereupon the Banjo and Mandolin Club moved into the house, and presently the strains of a one-step summoned the dancers to the big drawing-room.
Laurie, unconsciously rubbing a wrist, smiled as he listened to the comments of the dissolving audience. “Well, but there’s no getting around the fact that it was the same boy,” declared a pompous little gentleman to his companion. “Same hair and eyes and everything! Couldn’t be two boys as much alike, eh? Not possibly! Very clever!”
Laurie chuckled as he made his way to Polly’s booth. That young lady looked a little tired, and,by the same token, so did the Yale booth! Only a bare dozen framed pictures and a small number of post-cards remained of her stock. “Don’t you think I’ve done awfully well?” asked Polly, a trifle pathetically. She seemed to need praise, and Laurie supplied it.
“Corking, Polly,” he assured her. “I guess you’ve sold more than any of the others, haven’t you?”
“N-no, I guess some of the others have done better, Nod; but I think they had more attractive articles, don’t you? Anyhow, I’ve taken in twelve dollars and thirty cents since supper, and I made four dollars and eighty-five cents this afternoon; only I must have dropped a dime somewhere, for I’m ten cents short. Or perhaps someone didn’t give me the right amount.”
“Why, that’s seventeen dollars!” exclaimed Laurie. “I didn’t think you had anywhere near seventeen dollars’ worth of things here, Polly!”
“Oh, I didn’t! Not nearly! Why, if I’d sold things at the prices marked on them, Nod, I wouldn’t have had more than half as much! But lots of folkswantedto pay more, and I let them. Mr. Conklin, the jeweler, bought a picture, one of the funny landscapes with the frames that didn’t fit at the corners, and he said it was ridiculous to sell it for a quarter, and he gave me a dollar for it. Then he held the picture up and just laughed and laughed at it! I guess he justwanted to spend his money, don’t you? You know, Ned said we were to get as much as we could for things, so I usually added ten cents to the price that was marked on them—sometimes more, if a person looked extravagant. One lady came back and said she’d paid twenty-five cents for a picture and it was marked fifteen on the back. I said I was sorry she was dissatisfied and I’d be very glad to buy it back from her for twenty.”
Laurie laughed. “What did she say to that?” he asked.
“She said if I wanted it bad enough to pay twenty cents for it she guessed it was worth twenty-five, and went off and didn’t come back.” Polly laughed and then sighed. “I’m awfully tired. Doesn’t that music sound lovely? Do you dance?”
Laurie shook his head. “No; but, say, if you want to go in there, I’ll watch the booth for you.”
Polly hesitated. “It’s funny you don’t,” she said. “Don’t you like it?”
It was Laurie’s turn to hesitate. “No, not much. I never have danced. It—it seems sort of silly.” He looked at Polly doubtfully. Although he wouldn’t have acknowledged it, he was more than half sorry that dancing was not included among his accomplishments.
“It isn’t silly at all,” asserted Polly, almostindignantly. “You ought to learn. Mae could teach you to one-step in no time at all!”
“I guess that’s about the way I’d do it,” answered Laurie, sadly—“in no time at all! Don’t you—couldn’tyouteach a fellow?”
“I don’t believe so. I never tried to teach any one. Besides, Mae dances lots better than I do. She put the things she had left on Grace Boswell’s booth and went inside the minute the music started. She wanted me to come, but I thought I shouldn’t,” added Polly, virtuously.
“You go ahead now,” urged Laurie. “I’ll stay here till you come back. It isn’t fair for you girls to miss the dancing. Besides, I guess there won’t be much more sold now. Folks have begun to go, some of them, and most of the others are inside.”
Polly looked toward the house. Through the big wide-open windows the lilting music of a waltz floated out. The Banjo and Mandolin Club was really doing very well to-night. Polly sighed once and looked wistful. Then she shook her head. “Thanks, Nod,” she said, “but I guess I’ll stay here. Some onemightcome.”
“What do you care? You don’t own ’em! Anyway, I guess I could sell a post-card if I had to!”
“You’d have trouble selling any of those pictures,” laughed Polly. “Aren’t they dreadful? Where did they come from?”
“Pretty fierce,” Laurie agreed. “They came from the Metropolitan Furniture Store. The man dug them out of a corner in the cellar. I guess he’d had them for years! Anyway, there was enough dust on them to choke you. He seemed awfully tickled when we agreed to take them and let him alone!”
“I should think he might have! We girls agreed to buy things from each other, just to help, but the only things they bought from me were post-cards!” Polly laughed as though at some thought; and Laurie, who had elevated himself to an empty corner of the booth and was swinging his feet against the blue draping in front, looked inquiringly. “I was just thinking about the boys,” explained Polly.
“What about them? What boys do you mean?” Laurie asked coldly.
“The high school boys. They’re awfully peeved because we girls took part in this, and not one of them has been here, I guess.”
“Cheeky beggars,” grumbled Laurie. “Guess we can do without them, though. Here comes Bob’s father.”
Mr. Starling was bent on a most peculiar mission. Laurie and Polly watched him stop at the next booth and engage in conversation. Then a fat pocket-book was produced, a bill was tendered, and Mr. Starling strolled on. At the Yale booth he stopped again.
“Well, Turner,” he greeted, “this affair looks like a huge success, doesn’t it? Why aren’t you young folks inside there, dancing?”
“I don’t dance, sir,” answered Laurie, somewhat to his chagrin in a most apologetic tone. “And Polly thinks she ought to stand by the ship. This is Polly Deane, Mr. Starling.”
Bob’s father shook hands cordially across the depleted counter and assured its proprietor that he was very glad indeed to make her acquaintance. Then he added: “But you don’t seem to have much left, Miss Polly. Now, I’m a great hand at a bargain. I dare say that if you made me a fair price for what there is here I’d jump at it. What do you say?”
Polly apparently didn’t know just what to say for a minute, and her gaze sought counsel of Laurie.
“If you ask me,” laughed the latter, “I’d say fifty cents was a big price for the lot!”
“You’re not in charge,” said Mr. Starling, almost severely. “I’m sure the young lady has better business ability. Suppose you name a price, Miss Polly.”
“We-ell—” Polly did some mental arithmetic, and then, doubtfully: “A dollar and a half, sir,” she said.
“Done!” replied Mr. Starling. He drew forth a two-dollar bill. “There you are! Just leave the things where they are. I’ll look after themlater. Now you youngsters go in and dance. What’s this? Change? My dear young lady, don’t you know that change is never given at an affair of this kind? I really couldn’t think of taking it. It—it’s a criminal offense!” And Mr. Starling nodded and walked away.
“By Jove, he’s a brick!” exclaimed Laurie, warmly. “Look, he’s doing the same thing everywhere!”
“I know,” answered Polly, watching. “It’s just dear of him, isn’t it? But, Nod,whatdo you suppose he will do with these awful pictures?”
“The same thing he will do with that truck he’s buying now,” was the laughing reply. “He will probably put them in the furnace!”
“Well,” said Polly, after a moment, “I suppose we might as well go inside, don’t you? We can look on, anyway, and”—with a stifled sigh—“I’d ’most as lief look on as dance.”
Laurie followed, for the second time in his life wishing that the Terpsichorean art had been included in his education!
“Three hundred and thirty-three dollars and eighty-five cents,” said Ned, in very satisfied tones. “We took in three hundred and sixty-three five, but we had twenty-nine twenty to come out for expenses. Not so bad, what?”
“But something tells me,” answered Laurie, mournfully, “that if all our expenses were deducted we’d have less than that. You see,” he explained to Polly, “I lost the piece of paper that I set down the money I paid out on, and I just had to guess what it all came to, because I’d never had time to add it up.”
“I dare say you guessed enough,” replied Ned, untroubled.
“I dare say I didn’t, then!” was the indignant response. “If I did, where’s all the money I had when I started? I’ve got a dollar and ninety cents left, and I had over four dollars when you roped me in on the thing! I’m more than two dollars shy, I tell you!”
“Oh, well, it’s gone for a worthy cause,” laughed Ned.
“Maybe,” Laurie grumbled, “but I notice thatnone of yours has gone that way. You always made me pay for everything!”
“Well, I think you did it beautifully,” said Polly. “I never suspected you’d make so much!”
They were in the little garden behind the shop. It was the second day after the fête, and the bell in the Congregational church tower had just struck two. There was a perceptible nip in the air to-day, and the flowers in the border showed blackened leaves, while the nasturtiums were frankly limp and lifeless. But here in the sunshine it was warm enough, and Laurie, spurning the bench, was seated tailor fashion on the yellowing turf. Polly had stated her absolute certitude that he would catch cold, but Laurie derided the idea.
“We’re awfully much obliged to you girls,” said Ned. “We wouldn’t have done nearly so well if you hadn’t helped. I think the committee ought to give you a—a vote of thanks or something.”
“Oh, we all loved it!” Polly assured him earnestly. “We had heaps of fun. Why, I wouldn’t have missed that disappearing trick for anything. I was positively thrilled when Laurie came running up the garden!”
The boys’ laughter interrupted, and Polly looked puzzled.
“That wasn’t Laurie,” explained Ned. “That was me.”
“But I was sure you were the one in the chair! And if you were in the chair, how could you—”
“I wasn’t, though. That was Laurie.”
Polly sighed despairingly. “I’ll never get so I can tell you apart,” she said; “unless I hear you talk, that is! I don’t see yet how it was done. Won’t you please tell me?”
“It was as easy as easy,” replied Ned. “You see, the way I planned it first—”
“The waywhoplanned it?” inquired Laurie.
“Well, the wayweplanned it, then.”
“Hold on! Whose idea was it in the first place, partner?”
“Oh, don’t be so fussy! Anyway, you couldn’t have done it without me!”
“I never said I could. But you’ve got a lot of cheek to talk about the wayyou—”
Polly clapped her hands to her ears. “I’m not being told how it was done, and I do want to know. Go on, Ned.”
“Well, it was done like this. You see, Laurie was tied to the chair, and I was hiding out at the other end of the garden. Then Lew Cooper put the screen around the chair.” Polly nodded. “Then I started toward the platform, and every one turned to look at me.” Polly nodded again. “Well, right behind the platform was the bulkhead door into the cellar. When Cooper shouted to me to come on, two fellows who were on thestairs waiting pushed the door open, grabbed Laurie, chair and all, and whisked him down cellar. Then they put another chair, just like the first one, behind the screen, and when Cooper pulled the screen away, there it was, just as if Laurie had somehow untied himself and—and vanished! Of course, if any one had been looking at the screen instead of at me just then, he might have seen what was going on, although it was pretty dark behind there and he mightn’t have. Anyway, no one was, I guess. The trick depended on the—the faint similarity between us. Lots of fellows who knew us were on to it, but the folks from the village were puzzled for fair!”
“Indeed they were,” agreed Polly. “They just couldn’t understand it at all!”
“It would have been better,” mused Laurie, “if we could have taken the screen away and showed the empty chair before Ned came into sight; but there didn’t seem to be any way of doing that. We had to have the people looking the other way, and we had to work quick. As it was, I was half killed, for Wainwright and Plummer were in such a hurry to get the other chair up there that they just dumped me on my back! And then they ran upstairs through the kitchen to see the end of it, and I was kicking around down there for five minutes!”
“Well,” said Ned, a few minutes later, “I’m not finding out what to do with this.” He openedone hand and exposed some bills and two ten-cent pieces folded into a wad. “Your mother says she won’t take it, Polly—that she didn’t understand we were going to pay her for the cream-puffs. Gee, we wouldn’t have thought of asking her to make them for nothing!”
Polly nodded sympathetically. “Mother says, though, that the boys bring so much trade to her that it’s only fair for her to help them.”
“That’s poppy-cock!” said Laurie. “Seven dollars and twenty cents is a lot of money. Look here; don’t you think she ought to take it, Polly?”
Polly was silent a moment. Then she nodded affirmatively. “Yes, I do,” she said frankly. “She really needs the money, Ned. I wouldn’t tell any one else, but we’re just frightfully hard up, and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Mother had to give up here before very long.”
“Give up!” exclaimed Ned. “You mean—go away?”
“Yes. You see, she doesn’t make very much money in the store; nothing like she used to before the war sent prices so high. And then, what with taxes and water and light, and the interest on the mortgage, why, it hardly pays. Just the same, if she says she won’t take the money, Ned, why, I guess she won’t, and that’s all there is to it. But she ought to!”
“Can’t she charge more for things?” asked Laurie. “Everyone else does nowadays. Thatbake-shop down on Hudson Street gets eight cents for cream-puffs and éclairs, and you sell them for six.”
“I know; but Mama says six cents is enough and that the boys oughtn’t to have to pay any more. And lots of things she sells for hardly any more than she used to before prices advanced. Why, I have to watch all the time; and when bills come in for things, I have to compare them with what we’re getting for them, and lots of times I find that Mama’s been selling for less than what she’s paid! She just won’t be a profiteer, she says!”
“Gee! I hope you don’t have to shut up,” said Laurie. He looked around the little garden. “It—it’s such a jolly place! And the house and everything. Gee, that would be a shame!”
Polly sighed while she nodded. “It is nice,” she agreed; “but there are so many things that ought to be done! Uncle Peter never would do much for us. He did promise to have the house painted, but he died about a month after that, and so it was never done.”
“Suppose he up and died so’s he wouldn’t have to do it?” inquired Laurie, suspiciously.
Polly shook her head and looked a trifle shocked, until she caught the smile in Ned’s eyes.
“It doesn’t look as if it would cost much money to paint it,” remarked Ned, looking up at the rear of the little two-and-a-half-story building.“It’s not much more than a doll’s house, anyway. How many rooms are there, Polly?”
“Three upstairs, and then a sort of attic room under the roof; and two downstairs.”
“Uh-huh. I just wondered. It wouldn’t be much of a trick to paint the outside. Bet you I could do it in a couple of days.”
Laurie gasped. “A couple of days! You? How do you get like that? It would take a real painter a week to do it!”
“Maybe; but I’m not a real painter,” answered Ned, grinning. He glanced at the crumpled wad in his hand and held it tentatively toward Polly. “Maybe you’d better take charge of this, Polly, until we decide what to do with it.”
But Polly put her hands resolutely behind her, and shook her head with decision. “No, Ned, I’d rather not. If Mama says she won’t have it, she won’t, and you might just as well give it back to the—the fund.”
Somewhat to Laurie’s surprise, Ned pocketed the money without further protest. “All right,” he said. “It’s very kind of your mother. We mustn’t forget to see that her name’s included in the list of those who donated things, Laurie. This week’s ‘Messenger’ is going to tell all about it. Well, I’ve got to pull my freight. You coming, partner?”
“Yes, I guess so,” replied Laurie, without much enthusiasm. “I promised Bob and Georgeto get another fellow and play some tennis this afternoon.”
“Gee! it must be great to have nothing to do but play,” sighed his brother.
“Huh, any one would think, to hear you talk, that you were working,” replied Laurie, crushingly. “All you do is stand around and watch the others.”
“Think so?” Ned smiled in a superior way. “You come down this afternoon and see how much standing around I do. Joe Stevenson says I’ve got to practise goals now. Isn’t that the limit?”
“I suppose it pains him to see you loafing,” said Laurie. “Anyway, I dare say it’ll keep you out of mischief.”
Laurie led the way to the back fence, against which leaned a plank with two pieces of wood nailed across it. This afforded a short cut to and from school, and was an idea of Bob’s. From the top of the fence they dropped into the shrubbery and then made their way to the side gate.
The arbor had not yet been denuded of its evergreen clothing, and there were other evidences of the recent festival in the shape of crumpled paper napkins lying on the ground. Thomas had taken down the lanterns and was packing them away in their case by the kitchen porch, and the boys called a greeting to him as they passed.
“Bob still mean to make a tennis-court here?” asked Ned, as they went through the gate.
“Yes. He’s going to tear down that arbor right away, he says. So far, though, he hasn’t found any one to do the work on the court. Every one is busy. I don’t believe he will get it done in time to use it this fall.”
“Of course he won’t. It’s nearly November now. Say, you’d better take this money and hand it over to Whipple. You’ll see him before I do. And tell him to put Mrs. Deane’s name down with the other folks who contributed, will you?”
“All right; but I think it’s a shame to let her stand for all those cakes.”
“So do I; only—”
“Only what?”
“Maybe we can make it up to her another way. I’ve got an idea, Laurie.”
“I hope it’s better than most of ’em. What is it?”
And when Ned had explained it, Laurie considered a long moment and then indorsed it enthusiastically. “That’s corking!” he cried. “For once, Ned, the old bean has worked! Only, when could we—”
“Christmas vacation,” said Ned. “We won’t have much to do then. What do you say?”
“I say that, for the first time in my life, Neddie, I’m proud to acknowledge you as my twin!”
Assured of sufficient funds to complete its season without financial embarrassment, the Hillman’s football team seemed to take a new and firmer grip on things. Practice went well that week, and the players showed vim and snap. Perhaps the colder weather helped, too. The line-up that faced the scrubs on Friday for a short scrimmage was, barring accidents, that which would, four weeks later, start the game against Hillman’s old rival, Farview Academy. Farley and White were at the ends, Captain Stevenson and Pringle were the tackles, Emerson and Corson were the guards, and Kewpie Proudtree was at center. Frank Brattle at quarter, Mason and Slavin for halves, and Pope at full-back composed the rest of the team. There were some weak places, to be sure; but, on the whole, Coach Mulford was fairly satisfied that he had the parts for a capable machine.
Ned was still playing on the scrub eleven, and doing rather well. As a punter, at least, he deserved his position at left half, and it might be that he would develop into a fair goal-kicker; forin the last four days, under the tuition of the coach and full-back Pope, he had shown excellent promise. Those morning lessons, now abandoned, had grounded Ned well in the art of toeing the pigskin, and, whatever fame the future might hold for him as punter or drop-kicker or place-kicker, much of the credit would be Kewpie’s.
To-day, in the second ten minutes of the scrimmaging,—there was but twenty minutes in all,—Thursby, playing quarter, and probably acting under instructions, gave Ned his first chance to show what he could do in the way of field goals. Unable to reach a point nearer than twenty yards to the school team’s goal, Thursby called for “kick formation, Turner back,” and Ned went up-field with his heart in his mouth. Although the cross-bar was less than thirty yards from where he took his stand and almost directly in front of him, it looked to Ned to be a woeful distance away and the angle much more severe than it was. But he didn’t have much time for reflection, for Thursby called his signal quickly, and the leather came back to him at a good pass, and the school team was crashing through.
Ned always thought that he closed his eyes when he swung his toe against the rebounding ball and trusted to luck, but I doubt it, for the pigskin described a perfect arc and went well and true over the bar, and if Ned had had his eyes closed I don’t believe the pigskin would have acted thatway at all. Most of the scrub team players thumped him on the back and showed their delight in other ways, for they had not scored on the school team for nearly a week; while, at a little distance, Coach Mulford nodded his head almost imperceptibly. It was too bad Ned didn’t see that nod, for it would have pleased him far more than the buffets of his team-mates.
The next day Hillman’s made a trip to Warring and played the Lansing team to a standstill, returning with a 22-0 victory tucked under its belt. Ned got into the game for a bare five minutes at the last, as did half a dozen other substitutes; but he was not called on to kick any goals, for which he was at once sorry and glad. To have had the eyes of nearly a thousand persons on him would, he thought, have precluded any possibility of success; but, on the other hand, had he succeeded—He sighed for lost opportunities!
The attendance that afternoon was a matter of great joy to Manager Dave Murray, for Hillman’s went home with a neat sum as its share of the day’s profits, a sum far larger than he had counted on—large enough, in fact, to make up the difference between the net receipts from the fête and the three hundred and fifty dollars aimed at.
Hillman’s good fortune held for another week. There were no accidents during practice; every fellow in the line-up played for all that was in him; and the scrubs took a licking every afternoon.Ned twice more gained glory as a drop-kicker, although on a third occasion he failed lamentably. Unfortunately, neither of his successes brought victory to his team, since the opponents had on each occasion a safe lead in the scoring. Every afternoon, following the scrimmage, Ned was presented by the coach with a nice battle-scarred football, and instructed to go down to the east goal and “put some over.” Sometimes Hop Kendrick or Ben Thursby went with him to hold the ball while he tried placement-kicks, and always an unhappy substitute was delegated to retrieve the pigskin for him; but the coach let him pretty much alone, and Pope looked on only occasionally and was surprisingly sparing of comment or advice. And yet, Ned improved, rather to his surprise, since he felt himself neglected and, as he said to Laurie, didn’t see how they expected a fellow to learn goal-kicking if they didn’t show him a little! But, although he didn’t realize it, Ned had reached a point in his development where he was best left to his own devices, and Coach Mulford knew it and forbore to risk confusing him with unnecessary instruction. So Ned pegged away doggedly, and got results, as he considered, in spite of the coach!
Against the Queens Preparatory Institute, which journeyed up from the city on Saturday, the Blue was able to emerge from four grueling fifteen-minute periods with the score 6-6, fromthe Blue’s standpoint a very satisfactory showing, for Q. P. I. was a much-heralded team and had downed stronger elevens than Hillman’s. So November began its second week, and cloudy days and not infrequently rainy ones took the place of the sunny weather of October.
Laurie would have been somewhat at a loss for a way in which to spend his afternoons at that time, had it not been for Bob Starling’s overmastering desire to build a tennis-court in the garden of the Coventry place. The weather was far too cold for tennis, although now and then he and Bob played George and Lee Murdock, and the wrecking of the old grape-arbor, preparatory to digging up the sod, proved a welcome diversion. Sometimes Thomas took a hand; but Thomas had plenty to do indoors, and the work was accomplished almost wholly by Bob and Laurie, with the occasional moral support of George or Lee.
Usually an hour’s labor with hammer or crowbar ended with an adjournment to the Widow Deane’s, by way of the back fence, for refreshments. Sometimes it was warm enough to foregather in the little garden behind the shop and, armed with cream-puffs or tarts, spend a jolly half-hour in the society of Polly and Mae. At such times Mrs. Deane, hearing the shouts and laughter, came to the back door and smiled in sympathy.
One glorious afternoon of mingled sunlight and frost there was an excursion afoot out into the country in search of nuts. Polly and Mae and Laurie and George and Bob and Lee formed the party. They carried two baskets, one of which George wore on his head most of the way, to the wonderment of the infrequent passers. Mae knew, or thought she knew, where there were chestnut trees, and led the way for three miles to what is called Two Jug Ridge. The chestnut trees, however, were, according to Laurie, away for the afternoon. They found some hickory nuts, not quite ready to leave their husks, and a few beech-nuts, and after gathering those they sat on a broad, flat boulder and looked down on Orstead and Little Windsor and some twelve miles of the Hudson River, and talked a good deal of nonsense—all except Lee, who went to sleep with his cap pulled over his eyes, and had a cold in his head for days after. George decided that when he was through college and was married, he would come back there and build a bungalow just where they were seated.
“This will do for the front door-step,” he expounded, “and over there will be a closed-in porch with an open fireplace and a Gloucester hammock.”
“That all you’re going to have?” asked Bob. “No kitchen?”
“Oh, there’ll be a kitchen, all right, and a dining-room—no,I guess we’ll eat on the porch. Wouldn’t it be a dandy place, though? Look at the view!”
“Fine,” said Laurie, without much enthusiasm, remembering the last uphill mile. “Don’t mind if I don’t come to see you often, though, do you?”
“Not a bit! Nobody asked you, anyway.”
“You could live on nuts,” murmured Polly, “and could have shaggy-barks for breakfast and beech-nuts for dinner and—”
“Grape-nuts for supper,” said Laurie, coming to the rescue.
“And you could call the place the Squirrel-Cage,” suggested Bob.
And that reminded Mae of a story her father had told of a man who had lived in the woods farther down the river some years before, and who ate nothing but nuts and things he found in the forest. “He lived all alone in a little cabin he’d built, and folks said he was a deserter from the army, and—”
“What army?” George asked.
“The Northern Army, of course.”
“I thought you might mean the Salvation Army. Then this was quite awhile ago, wasn’t it?”
“Of course, stupid! Years and years ago. And finally, when he died, folks found that he wasn’t a deserter at all, but a general or a majoror something, and they found a prize that the government had given him, some sort of a medal for bravery in battle. Wasn’t that sad?”
“Well,” replied Laurie, doubtfully, “I suppose it was. I suppose the government would have shown better judgment if they’d given him a bag of nuts. Of course, he couldn’t eat that medal!”
“You’re horrid! Anyway, it just shows that you mustn’t judge folks by—by outward appearances, doesn’t it?”
“Rather! I’ve always said that, too. Take George, for example. Just to look at him, you’d never think he had any sense at all; but at times—”
“Lay off of George,” interrupted that young gentleman, threateningly. “If folks judged you by the way you talk, you’d be inside a nice high wall!”
Why the talk should have drifted from there to the subject of ghosts and uncanny happenings isn’t apparent, but it did. In the midst of it, Lee gave a tremendous snore that scared both the girls horribly, and sat up suddenly, blinking. “Hello!” he muttered. Then he yawned and grinned foolishly. “Guess I must have dropped off,” he said apologetically.
“You didn’t,” said George. “If you had you’d have waked up quicker! Cut out the chatter; Polly’s telling a spook yarn.”
Lee gathered up a handful of beech-nuts and was silent except for the sound he made in cracking the shells.
“It isn’t much of a story,” disclaimed Polly, “but it—itwasfunny. It began just after Mama and I came here. I mean, that was the first time. One night, after we had gone to bed, Mama called me. ‘I think there’s some one downstairs, Polly,’ she whispered. We both listened, and, sure enough, we could hear a sort of tapping sound. It wasn’t like footsteps, exactly; more—more hollow, as if it came from a long way off. But it sounded right underneath. We listened a minute or two, and then it stopped and didn’t begin again; and presently we lighted a candle and went downstairs, and nobody was there and everything was quite all right. So we thought that perhaps what we’d heard was some one walking along the street.
“We didn’t hear it again for nearly two weeks, and then it lasted longer—maybe two minutes. It got louder; and stopped, and began again, and died away; and we sat there and listened, and I thought of ghosts and everything except robbers, because it didn’t sound like any one in the store. It was more as if it was some one in the cellar.”
“Well, maybe it was,” suggested Laurie, when Polly paused.
“That’s what we thought, Nod, until we wentto see. Then we remembered that there wasn’t any cellar!”
“Oh!” said Laurie.
“What happened then?” asked Lee, flicking a shell at George.
“It kept on happening every little while for two years. We got so we didn’t think any more about it. Mr. Farmer, the lawyer, said what we heard was probably a rat. But I know very well it wasn’t that. It was too regular. It was always just the same each time. At first we could just hear it a little, and then it grew louder and louder, and stopped. And then it began again, loud, and just sort of—of trailed off till you couldn’t hear it at all. I suppose we never would have heard it if it hadn’t been for Mama not sleeping very well, because it always came after midnight, usually about half-past twelve. After a while I didn’t hear it at all, because Mama stopped waking me up.”
“Spooks,” declared George, with unction. “The house is haunted, Polly.”
“Wish I lived there,” said Bob eagerly. “I’m crazy about ghosts. They told me that old Coven—I mean your uncle, Polly—haunted the house we’re in; but, gee! I’ve been around at all times of night and never seen a thing! There are lots of jolly, shivery noises—stairs creaking, and woodwork popping, and all that, you know; but nary a ghost. Look here, Polly! Let me sitdown in the store some night, will you? I’d love to!”
“You’ve got funny ideas of fun,” murmured George.
“Oh, but it’s gone now,” said Mae. “Hasn’t it, Polly? You haven’t heard the noise for a long time, have you?”
“No, not for—oh, two years, I think. At least, that’s what Mama says. Maybe, though, she sleeps better and doesn’t hear things.”
“I guess Mr. What’s-his-name was right,” said Lee. “It was probably a rat, or a family of rats.”
“Rats wouldn’t make the same sound every time,” scoffed Laurie.
“They might. Trained rats might. Maybe they escaped from a circus.”
“And maybe you escaped from an asylum,” responded Laurie, getting up. “Let’s take him home before he gets violent.”
The football team continued to add victories, and as the fateful 20th of November approached enthusiasm grew until, after the Whittier game, which Hillman’s won by a field goal in the final hectic two minutes, it became more a furore than enthusiasm. Ned, by that time, had settled down to a realization that, no matter what progress he made this fall, no matter how adept he became at kicking a football down the field or over the cross-bar, he would not make the first team; that, in short, he was being educated as next year material. There was no injustice in this, and he realized it; for, aside from his proficiency as a kicker, he was not in the class with the school team backs. He couldn’t worm his way through a hole in the opposing line the way Slavin could, nor smash through the defense the way Mason did, nor dodge and side-step in a broken field like Pope. Once going, Ned was rather hard to stop, for he displayed some of the slippery qualities of an eel; but it took him ten yards to get his speed up, and the opponents had a discouraging way of getting through andflooring him before the tenth yard was won! But he had grown to love the game, and no one toiled more conscientiously. There were times when Laurie devoutly wished that Ned hadn’t taken up the game, for after a half-hour of Ned’s chatter Laurie found the subject of football a trifle dull.
On the Wednesday before the Farview contest the Orstead High School team came over for a practice game. At least, Hillman’s called it a practice game and considered it such; but High School had blood in her eye and was secretly determined to wreak all the vengeance possible. Once a year, for the space of some three hours, Orstead High School swore allegiance to Hillman’s and turned out at the field and rooted valiantly for the Blue while she battled with Farview. But all the rest of the time she was frankly hostile and derisive. This Wednesday afternoon the hostility was apparent from the first. More than a hundred boys and a scattering of girls followed their team to the Hillman’s field and demanded revenge for the early-season defeat, while the High School team, which had passed through a rather successful season and was not at all the aggregation that the Blue had beaten 10 to 7, started right out after it.
Coach Mulford began with his first-string players, and against them High School was not dangerous, although there were anxious moments. Thesecond period ended with the score 7—0 in Hillman’s favor, only a fumble by Slavin on High School’s eight yards saving the visitor from a second touch-down. When the third quarter began, Coach Mulford put in nearly a new eleven, only Kewpie Proudtree, Farley, Mason, and Pope remaining over. Perhaps the High School coach had talked new strength and determination into his charges during the intermission, for the visitors started in on the second half in whirlwind fashion. The Blue kicked off, and High School’s quarter got the ball on his twenty-five-yard line and scampered back to the thirty-five before he was laid low by Farley, the Blue’s left end. From there, with fierce slams at Hillman’s right and two short forward passes over the center of the line, High School reached the opponent’s thirty-two. There an off-side penalty set her back, and, after two attempts at rushing that produced but three yards, she kicked to the five-yard line. Kendrick fumbled the catch, but recovered and was downed on his ten. Pope punted on second down to mid-field, and from there High School started another slashing advance that took her to the thirty-four yards before she was halted.
On the side-lines, the High School supporters were shouting and beseeching and banners were waving deliriously. A tow-haired full-back, who had all along proved the visitor’s bestground-gainer, smashed through the Hillman’s left for two yards; and then, on fourth down, faking a kick, he set off on a romp around the adversary’s right. Lightner, the second-string end, was effectually boxed, and the runner, turning wide, was off down the field at top speed. Only Hop Kendrick stood between him and the goal-line, and Hop waited on the fifteen yards, wary and alert. The tow-haired boy’s feint to the right didn’t fool him, and when the side-stepping to the left began, Hop was on him with a clean dive and a hard tackle, and the two rolled to earth together. But the ball was on the thirteen yards now, and it was first down for High School, and the latter was not to be denied. A plunge off tackle took the pigskin in front of the goal, though there was no gain. Hillman’s piled up an attack at right guard. On third down, High School called for kick formation, and the tow-haired terror dropped back.
From the side of the gridiron, Hillman’s rooters chanted: “Block that kick! Block that kick!” But there was no kick to block, for the full-back only backed away a pace or two when the pigskin reached him, and then tossed to the corner of the field and to the eager hands of an uncovered right end who had but to make three strides before he was over the line. Hop got him then; but the damage was done, and the visitors lining the gridiron were cheering andcavorting wildly. The kick was from a difficult angle, but the tow-haired player made it, and the score was tied.
The teams changed fields a minute later. Undismayed, Coach Mulford sent in three new substitutes, one of them in place of Pope. Hillman’s got the ball in mid-field on a fumble, and set off for the adversary’s goal; but the new players were not able to make much headway, and Deering, who had taken Pope’s place, punted. The effort landed the ball on High School’s thirty-seven, and her quarter ran it back eight more before he was stopped. Three tries at the line netted seven yards, and the visitor punted to Hop Kendrick on his eighteen. This time Hop hugged the ball hard and set off along the far side of the gridiron at a smart pace. Fortunately for him, one High School end overran. The other challenged, but missed his tackle. By that time a hasty interference had formed, and, guarded by Mason and Lightner, Hop reached his forty before misfortune overtook him. There a High School tackle crashed through the interference and nailed him hard.
But that twenty-yard sprint had brought new vim to the Blue’s novices, and new confidence, and from their forty yards they began a fast, hard attack that placed High School with her back to the wall almost before she realized it. If the substitutes lacked the experience and brawn ofthe first-choice players, they at least had sand and speed. And they had a quarter-back who was earnest and grim and determined, and who, sensing that the opponent was weary, realized that speed, and a lot of it, was the one thing that could save the day. And so Hop proved his right to his nickname that afternoon. Hop he did, and so did his team. Signals were fairly shot into the air, and there was no longer any time between plays for High School to recover her breath. Twice, with plunges at the right of the visitor’s line and runs outside her tackles, Hillman’s made her distance and the pigskin rested on the thirty-six yards.
So far the Blue had attempted but three forward passes, of which only one had succeeded. Now, from position, Hop threw straight over the center, and somehow Lightner was there and pulled it down, although the enemy was clustered around him thick. That seven-yard gain was made ten when Deering was poked through the center, ten a little more, for the ball was down on High School’s twenty-four-yard line. The game that had been proclaimed a practice event for the purpose of seasoning the substitutes against Saturday’s contest had developed within the last half-hour into a battle to the death. Outside the gridiron the opposing factions hurled defiant cheers at each other and rooted as they had not rooted all the season. On the field therivalry was even more intense, and black looks and hard knocks were the order.
High School, sparring for time, administered to a breathless right guard, and then drew into a bunch for a whispered conference, while Hillman’s supporters hooted derisively. Deering gained three and Boessel two more. High School ran two substitutes on, and, after the next play, two more. An old-fashioned criss-cross sent Mason around his own right end for eight yards and planted the ball just short of the ten-yard line. Mason gave place to Beedle. A slide off tackle centered the pigskin and gained a scant yard. Deering struck center for a yard loss, and Lightner was caught off-side. The ball went back to the seventeen yards.
High School was playing desperately and her line had stiffened. Beedle gave way to Ned after that second down, and Ned had his instructions. The ball was in front of High School’s goal, and from the seventeen yards a field goal was an easy proposition if the opponents could be held away from the kicker. Perhaps Hop Kendrick didn’t realize why Ned had been sent in, or perhaps he thought better of his own judgment. Since by the rules Ned could not communicate the instructions from the coach until after the following play, he could only look his surprise when Hop failed to call him back to kicking position. Farley, captain in Stevenson’s absence, seemedto be on the point of protesting, and even took a step toward the quarter-back; but he evidently reconsidered, for he returned to his position at the end of the line, and the starting signal followed.
The play was a fake attack on the right, with Boessel carrying the ball to the left inside of tackle, and it worked to perfection. High School, over-anxious, stormed to the defense of her threatened right side, and Boessel, with Ned hanging at his flank as far as the five-yard line, where the earth suddenly rose up and smote him, romped over the line for the last and deciding touch-down, while the Blue cohorts went fairly wild with delight.
On the side-line, Coach Mulford turned to Joe Stevenson. “What do you think of Kendrick?” he asked, smiling.
“I’d kiss him if I had him here,” answered Joe, grinning joyously. “I call him one sweet little quarter, Coach!”
“Well, this was his day, all right,” mused the other; “I hope he will show up as well Saturday. Now we’ll see whether Turner can kick a goal. He’s been doing some good work in practice, but he looks scared to death and will probably miss it by a mile.”
And Nedwasscared, too. He tried to steady his nerves by assuring himself that, whether he made it or missed it, the Blue had won the game,and that consequently a failure made little difference. But the silence of his schoolmates and the “booing” of the visiting rooters affected him badly. To Hop, holding the ball from the turf, it seemed that Ned would never have done pointing it. And so it seemed to the onlookers. Never was a kicker more deliberate. But at last Hop heard a faint “Down!” and drew his fingers from beneath the oval and waited an anxious moment. Then there was a clean, hardthud, and the quarter-back, watching its flight, saw the pigskin rise lazily, end over end, and go straight and high over the bar.
And he might have heard Ned’s loud sigh of relief, had not the pounding of the charging enemy and the cries of the Hillman’s horde drowned it.
Another kick-off and four plays ended the contest, and High School, after cheering half-heartedly, went off disgruntled and silent.
On his way to the field-house, Ned, trotting along with Hop, encountered Polly and Mae in the throng, and paused to speak. “Bully game, wasn’t it?” he said. Then, seeing Mae’s High School banner, he added: “High School put up a dandy fight, Mae.”
“Indeed she did,” agreed Mae. “I thought once she was going to win, too.”
Polly was laughing. “Poor Mae didn’t know which team she wanted to win,” she explained.“When High School gained she waved her flag, and when Hillman’s gained she waved it just the same. She was waving it all the time! That was a lovely goal you made, Nid.”
“Thanks. I—well, I was so scared I didn’t know whether to kick the ball or bite it! I’m mighty glad it went over, though.” He nodded and hurried on in the wake of Hop, who, being a very earnest young gentleman and completely absorbed in the business of football, considered girls far outside his scheme of things.
Three quarters of an hour later, Laurie arose from his recumbent position on the window-seat of Number 16 East Hall, and delivered an ultimatum in quiet but forceful tones. “Ned,” he said, “I saw that game from about the middle of the first quarter to the bitter end. Nothing escaped my eagle gaze. I can even tell you exactly how many times that High School umpire consulted his rules book when he thought no one was looking. I know how much dirt there was in Frank Brattle’s left ear when they dragged him out. I know—”
“Well, what of it? What’s your chief trouble?” growled Ned.
“Knowing all this and more, much more, Neddie, I refuse to listen any longer to your reminiscences. You’ve been through the game three times since you landed up here, and there’s a limit to my endurance. And you’ve reachedthat limit, Neddie—you really have. I’m going down to George’s, where I may hear something besides touch-downs and passes and goals. When you recover, Neddie, come on down.”
“Oh, go to the dickens!” muttered Ned, as the door closed softly.
“The fellow who put these posts in,” grunted Bob, as he heaved and tugged, “must have had more time than brains!”
It was Thursday afternoon. A hard frost, which had frozen the ground a half-inch deep, had counseled him to finish the work of wrecking the arbor. But three posts remained, and at one of these Bob, after having dug around it, and pried at it with a bar until patience was exhausted, was tugging lustily. Laurie, wiping the sweat of honest toil from his brow, cast aside the bar and gave a hand.
“Come on,” he said hopefully. “One, two—three! Heave!”
“Heave!” muttered Bob.
But although the post, which had formed a corner of the arbor, gave from side to side, it refused to leave its nest. Panting, the boys drew off and observed it glumly.
“Guess we’ll have to dig some more,” said Bob.
“Wait a minute. Let me get a purchase on it with the bar.”
Laurie seized that implement again and drove it into the softened earth beside the post. As the first drive didn’t send it far enough, he pulled it out, and put all his strength into the next effort. This time he succeeded beyond all expectations. The bar slipped through his fingers and disappeared from sight!
“Well!” he gasped. “What do you know—”
“Where-where did it go to?” cried Bob, dumfounded.
“It went—it went to China, I guess! It just slipped right through my hands, and kept on slipping!” Laurie knelt and dug at the hole with his fingers.
“Find it?” asked Bob. “Try the shovel.”
“No, I can’t feel it. Hand it here.” Laurie took the shovel and dug frantically. Then Bob dug. The result was that they enlarged and deepened the hole around the post, but the crowbar failed to materialize.
“I suppose,” said Laurie, finally, dropping the shovel and tilting back his cap, “what happened was that I struck a sort of hole, and the bar went right down in. Maybe it was a rat-hole, Bob.”
“I guess so. Anyway, it’s gone, and we’ll have to get a new one.”
“Oh, I guess we’ll find it when we get the post out. Let’s try the old thing.”
They did, and, after a moment of indecision, it came out most obligingly. But there was stillno crowbar to be seen. Laurie shook his head, mystified. “That’s the funniest thing I ever saw,” he declared.
“It surely is! Look here; maybe there’s an old well there.”
“Then why didn’t the post go down into it?”
“Because it’s covered over with stones. The bar happened to slip into a—a crevice.”
Laurie nodded dubiously. “That might be it,” he agreed. “Or perhaps we’ve discovered a subterranean cavern!”
“Caverns always are subterranean, aren’t they?”
“No; sometimes they’re in the side of a hill.”
“Then they’re caves.”
“A cave and a cavern are the same thing, you smart Aleck.”
“All right; but even if a cavern is in a hill, it’s underground, and subterranean means under—”
“Help! You win, Bob! Come on and get hold of this log and let’s get it out of here.” And, as they staggered with it across the garden to add it to the pile of posts and lumber already there, he continued: “There’s one thing certain, Bob, and that’s that you won’t get me to play tennis on your court. I’d be afraid of sinking into the ground some fine day!”
“Maybe you’d find the crowbar then,” said Bob. “Heave!”
Laurie “heaved,” patted the brown loam from his hands, and surveyed the pile. “There’s a lot of good stuff there,” he pondered. “Some of it’s sort of rotten, but there’s enough to build something.”
“What do you want to build?”
“I don’t know. We could build a sort of covered seat, like the one in Polly’s yard, where folks could rest and look on. Take about six of these posts and some of the strips, and some boards for the seat—”
“Who’d dig the post-holes?” inquired Bob, coldly.
“Oh, we could get a couple of the others to help. Honest, Bob, it would be a lot of fun. Maybe we couldn’t do it before spring, though.”
“I might leave the stuff here,” said Bob. “Thomas could sort of pile it a little neater, you know. I love to carpenter. Sometime we’ll draw a plan of it, Nod.”
“Right-o! How about those other posts? No use trying to do anything with ’em to-day, is there?”
“No; we’ll have to have another crowbar.”
Laurie looked relieved. “Well, let’s go over and see whether the Widow’s got any of those little cakes with the chocolate on top,” he suggested. “Hard work always makes a fellow hungry.”
There was a rousing football meeting in theauditorium that evening, with speeches and music, songs and cheers; and the enthusiasm spilled over to the yard afterward, and threatened to become unruly until Dan Whipple mounted the steps of School Hall and spoke with all the authority of eighteen years and the senior class presidency. Whereupon someone suggested a cheer for the Doctor, and the joyous crowd thronged to the west end of the building and gave nine long “Hillman’s,” with a “Doctor Hillman” on the end. And then suddenly the lights flashed on on the porch, and there were the Doctor and Miss Tabitha, the former looking very much as if he had awakened very recently from a nap—which was, in fact, the case. But he was smiling as he stepped to the doorway and near-sightedly surveyed the throng.
“This—er—testimonial would appear to demand some sort of a response,” he announced, as the applause that had greeted his appearance died away. “But I find myself singularly devoid of words, boys. Perhaps some of you recall the story of the visitor in Sunday-school who was unexpectedly called on by the superintendent to address the children. He hemmed and hawed and said, finally, that it gave him much pleasure to see so many smiling, happy faces. And he hoped they were all good little boys and girls and knew their lessons. And then his eloquence failed him, and after an unhappy interim heasked: ‘And now, children, what shall I say?’ And a little girl in the front row lisped: ‘Pleathe, Mithter, thay “Amen” and thit down!’
“Perhaps I’d better say ‘Amen’ and sit down, too,” he went on, when the laughter had ceased; “but before I do I’d like to assure you that I am ‘rooting’ just as hard as any of you for a victory the day after to-morrow. My duties will not allow me to see the team in action, as much as I’d like to, but I am kept well informed of its progress. I have my scouts at work constantly. Mr. Pennington reports to me on the work of the linemen; Mr. Barrett advises me each day as to the backs; Mr. Wells is my authority on—er—stratagem.”
This amused his hearers intensely, since none of the three instructors mentioned had ever been known to attend a game or watch a practice.
“And,” continued the principal, when he could, “I follow the newspaper reports of our enemy’s progress. Of course, I don’t believe all I read. If I did I’d be certain that only overwhelming disaster awaited us on Saturday. But there is one thing that troubles me. I read recently that the Farview center is a very large youth, weighing, if I am not mistaken, some one hundred and seventy pounds. While mere weight and brawn are not everything, I yet tremble to consider what may happen to the slight, atomic youth who will oppose him. Young gentlemen,I shudder when I dwell on that unequal meeting, that impending battle of David and Goliath!”
When the new burst of laughter had subsided, the doctor continued more soberly: “I wish the team all success, a notable victory. Or, if the gods of battle will it otherwise, I wish it the manly grace to accept defeat smilingly and undismayed. I am certain of one thing, boys, which is that, whether fortune favors the Dark Blue or the Maroon and White, the contest will be hard fought and clean, and bring honor alike to the victor and vanquished. You have my heartiest good wishes. And”—the doctor took the hand of Miss Tabitha, who had been standing a few steps behind him—“and the heartiest good wishes of another, who, while not a close follower of your sports, has a warm spot in her heart for each and every one of you, and who is as firmly convinced as I am of the invincibility of the Dark Blue!”
“Three cheers for Tab—for Miss Hillman!” cried a voice; and, at first a trifle ragged with laughter, the cheers rang forth heartily. Then came another cheer for the doctor and a rousing one for “Hillman’s!Hillman’s!!HILLMAN’S!!!” And the little throng, laughing and chattering, dispersed to the dormitories.
Friday saw but a light practice for the first team and a final appearance of the scrubs, who,cheered by the students, went through a few minutes of snappy signal work, and the waving sweaters and blankets dashed off to the field-house, their period of servitude at an end. For the first team there was a long blackboard drill in the gymnasium after supper, and Ned, who, somewhat to his surprise and very much to his gratification, had been retained on the squad, returned to Number 16 at nine o’clock in a rather bemused condition of mind. Kewpie, who accompanied him, tried to cheer him up.
“It’ll be all right to-morrow, Nid,” he declared. “I know how you feel. Fact is, I wouldn’t know one signal from another if I got it this minute, and as for those sequences—” Words failed him. “But when you get on the field to-morrow it’ll all come back to you. It—it’s sort of psychological. A trick of memory and all that. You understand!”
“I don’t see why he needs to worry, anyhow,” observed Laurie, cruelly. “He won’t get a show in to-morrow’s game.”
Ned looked hopeful for a moment, then relapsed into dejection as Kewpie answered: “I’d like to bet you he will, Nod. I’d like to bet you that he’ll play a full period. You just watch Farview lay for Pope! Boy, they’re going to make hard weather for that lad! They were after him last year, but they couldn’t get him and he played right through. But I’d like tobet you that to-morrow they’ll have him out of it before the last quarter.”
“What do you mean?” asked Laurie, in surprise. “They don’t play that sort of a game, do they?”
“What sort of a game?” responded Kewpie. “They play hard, that’s the way they play! And every time they tackle Pope, they’ll tackle him so he’ll know it. And every time he hits the line, there’ll be one of those red-legs waiting for him. Oh, they don’t play dirty, if you mean that; but they don’t let any chances slip, believe me!”
“It sounds sort of off color to me, though,” Laurie objected. “How are you going to put a fellow out of the game if you don’t slug or do something like that?”
Kewpie smiled knowingly. “My son,” he said, “if I start after you and run you around the dormitory about twenty times—”
Ned, in spite of his down-heartedness, snickered at the picture evolved, and Kewpie grinned.
“Well, suppose some one else did, then. Anyhow, after he’d done it about a couple of dozen times, you’d be all in, wouldn’t you? He wouldn’t have to kick you or knock you down or anything, would he? Well, that’s what I mean. That’s the way they’ll go after Pope. They’ll tire him out. You understand. And every time they tackle him, they’ll tackle him good and hard.Well, suppose Pope does go out, and there’s a chance for a field goal, as there’s likely to be. Who will Pinky put in? Why, Nid, of course! Who else is there? Brattle can’t kick one goal in six. No more can Deering. What do you think Mulford’s been nursing Nid all the season for?”
“Next year?” said Laurie, questioningly.
“Sure—and this year, too. You watch and see. I’d like to bet you that Nid’ll have a goal to kick to-morrow—yes, and that he’ll kick it, too!”
“Don’t!” groaned Ned. “I never could do it!”
“Well,” laughed Laurie, “I don’t bet for money, Kewpie, but I tell you what I’ll do. If Ned kicks a goal to-morrow, I’ll take you over to the Widow’s, and I’ll buy you all the cream-puffs you can eat at one sitting!”
“It’s a go!” cried Kewpie. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll do it to you!”
“Of course,” explained Laurie, in recognition of his brother’s look of pained inquiry, “I’m not making the offer because I think Ned can’t do it, or because I don’t want him to play. You bet I do! It’s because I do want him to, Kewpie. You see, I usually lose bets!”
“All right, you crazy galoot. I’ve got to beat it. Pinky made us swear by the Great Horn Spoon to be in bed by ten. Good night. Don’t let the signal stuff worry you, Nid. It’ll comeout all right to-morrow. You understand. Night!”
When the door had closed, Laurie laughed and turned to Ned. “He’s a good old scout, isn’t he? I say, what’s the matter with you, Ned? You look like the end of a hard winter! Cheer up! It may not be true!”
But Ned shook his head, although he tried to smile unconcernedly. “It’ll happen just the way he told, Laurie,” he said, sadly. “I just know it will! They’ll get Pope out of the way, and there’ll be a field goal wanted, just as there was Wednesday, and Mulford will send me in!”
“Well, what of it? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“I—I’m scared!”
“Oh, piffle, Neddie! You’ve got nerves, that’s all. The night before the battle, you know, and all that! In the morning you’ll be as right as rain. Get your clothes off and tumble in. Want me to read a story to you? There’s a corker in the ‘Post’ this week.”
“No, thanks; I guess not. I’d better go to sleep.”
But, although Ned, stifling a desire to sit up and read the corking story himself, put the light out at ten minutes before ten, he lay awake until after midnight and suffered as blue a case of funk as any boy ever did. And when, at length, sleep came, it was filled with visions in which he stoodin the center of a vast arena, the object of countless eyes, and tried over and over, and never with success, to kick a perfectly gigantic leather ball over a cross-bar that was higher than the Masonic Temple at home!
The truth is that Ned was over-trained and stale. And the further truth is that when he awoke to as sweet a November morning as ever peered down from a cloudless sky through golden sunlight, he felt, as he phrased it to himself, like a sock that had just come through the wringer!