kendall wrote the letter to his father that afternoon, about the time he was accustomed to chase the pigskin. he felt rather better after the letter was finished, and he took it down and dropped it into the letter box in front of oxford hall with a sigh of relief. at least, his parents would know that his conscience was clear. he wondered if his father would be very angry with mr. collins! to anticipate a little, however, mr. burtis’s reply when it reached his son was not entirely satisfactory to that youth. in the first place, asked that worthy puritan, why had kendall been sitting around in a drug store? had he joined the town loafers? satan, reminded farmer burtis, was still finding mischief for idle hands to engage in. bluntly he suggested that kendall remain at school and study his lessons and not go gallivanting into the city. as for the punishment, he guessed it wouldn’t do kendall any harm to have to stay around the school and keep away from the football field; he had heard[98] of boys getting their arms and legs broken playing football!
kendall’s mother, however, wrote a letter full of sympathy for kendall and indignation at mr. collins. that letter was like a pat on the back. the only unsatisfactory part of it was where mrs. burtis said she didn’t see why kendall needed to have shielded those bad boys who really merited the punishment. kendall was for a moment disappointed in his mother. but he presently “guessed that a woman doesn’t look at those things in quite the way a man does,” and viewed her more leniently. when he replied he explained at great length that it would have been a most dishonorable action to have revealed the identity of the broadwood fellows, and hinted that nothing short of boiling oil or melted lead would ever induce him to speak. then he struck the pose of a martyr for a page or so and inscribed himself “your loving son, kendall.”
but these letters and replies came later, and we are getting ahead of our story.
as mr. collins had suggested, there was no reason why kendall’s schoolmates should know of his probation, and so kendall kept the knowledge to himself. there were times when the temptation to tell harold was strong, times when kendall felt the need of talking it over with somebody[99] and getting sympathy. but harold was not what kendall called a very sympathetic soul, and so the secret was kept. at the end of two or three days the incident of the green paint ceased to interest the school and for the present it remained a mystery. other things happened to engage the attention of the fellows. there was first scrimmage one thursday afternoon, when they were allowed to get for the first time some idea of what the line-up of the football team was to be. and then, two days later, came the first game of the schedule, a contest of four eight-minute periods with greenburg high school. it was a warm afternoon and players and spectators alike sweltered in the sun. kendall witnessed his first real game of football and found it interesting, although as a matter of fact it was rather a dull and loosely played contest. neither team had “got together” as yet, and fumbles, mixed signals and other misplays were frequent on both sides. yardley took the lead in the second period by seizing advantage of a greenburg fumble on the latter’s twenty yards and from there working over the goal line for a touchdown from which wallace hammel missed a try at goal by some six yards. in the next period greenburg tied the score, missing an even easier goal, and in the last period of play stearns, right half-back, got away[100] around greenburg’s end for a sixty-yard run and another score. hammel again missed a goal and the final score stood 10 to 5.
nobody was unduly elated over the showing of the yardley team, although, as tom roeder pointed out that evening when they were talking it over in dan’s room, they hadn’t done so badly considering everything. “look at the heat, dan! thunder, i had a regular cascade running down my back all the time! bet you i lost five pounds!”
“what did the scales say?” asked arthur thompson, who, a new recruit that fall, was after roeder’s or stearns’s position.
“oh, they said a pound and four ounces,” replied tom carelessly. “but they were probably mistaken!”
“sandy fogg played a dandy game at center,” said gerald.
“good on defense,” agreed dan, “but he was mighty slow on getting into the attack.”
“he has too much fat on,” said tom. “or he did have before we began playing. i guess he’s some lighter now.”
“what the dickens was the matter with wallace hammel?” asked arthur. tom shrugged his shoulders.
“search me. both those goals were easy[101] enough, and he had all the time he wanted. he’s feeling rather rotten about it to-night; peevish as you please; i simply had to get out of the room.”
“he will come around all right after awhile,” said dan. “but i certainly wish we had two or three good drop-kickers.”
“simms did pretty good work last year,” suggested arthur.
“simms had a record of five goals last season,” replied dan, “out of about sixteen chances. what we need is a fellow we can depend on. we need better punters than we’ve got, too. ridge is fair, but if he gets put out of a game it’s up to wallace or me, and we’re neither of us much good. payson says he’s going to find some kickers if he has to go over the school with a fine-tooth comb, but i don’t know where he’s going to get them.”
“the trouble is,” said tom, “that you can’t develop good punters and drop-kickers in a season, and those we had all graduated. we’re going to miss loring like anything. he was a born punter, alf was.”
“he was a born everything in the football line,” said arthur.
“i wish he had his job back again,” sighed dan.
“i’ll tell you who was the dandy kicker,” said[102] tom, “and that’s kapenhysen, dan. remember how he used to send ’em off?”
“i sure do. i wish i could get him back here this fall to take charge of the punters. i believe i’ll write and ask him.”
“he couldn’t come, i guess,” said tom. “he’s on the yale varsity this year.”
“i know, but he might get away for a week just before the broadwood game and put the finishing touches on for us. i don’t believe kap will make the first team this season, tom; he’s got too many good men to beat.”
“perhaps not. better ask him, anyhow. by the way, gerald, i thought you were going to play this fall.”
“i thought so, too, but dan wouldn’t let me.”
“he’s still trying to boss you? kick him in the shins, gerald. why won’t he let you?”
“because,” replied dan, “mr. pennimore is on the cross-country team and they need his services more than we do.”
“you don’t know, dan,” laughed gerald. “i may have the making of a great football player in me.”
“better stick to your trade, though,” said tom. “how’s the cross-country team coming on?”
“hard at it every afternoon now,” gerald answered.[103] “we’ve got a dandy string of runners this year, fellows. broadwood won’t have a look-in.”
“larry goodyear’s captain, isn’t he?” asked arthur.
“yes. he wants to get nordham to come in and make it a three-cornered race this year. i wish she would.”
“won’t she?” asked dan.
“i don’t know yet. they haven’t answered goodyear’s letter. say, arthur, harry’s doing pretty well. i suppose he told you he finished eighth yesterday?”
“he said something like that but i didn’t believe him.”
“who’s harry?” inquired tom.
“young merrow, arthur’s roommate and fidus,” dan replied.
“fido would be better,” laughed gerald. “he’s always at arthur’s heels. i’ll bet you persuaded him to try for the cross-country team, arthur, so you could get away from him a minute.”
“you guessed it, son. i’m going over to oxford. anyone coming my way?”
tom roeder decided that his path led in that direction and the two boys departed together. after they had gone dan asked:
[104]
“did you mean that about young merrow, gerald? i thought he was a bit of a duffer.”
“he was. arthur used to have to drive him out of the room every afternoon to make him take exercise. but arthur seems to have knocked some sense into him somehow. i was awfully surprised last week when i found him out for the cross-country team. he told me yesterday that he’d never done anything but play a little tennis, but he’s taken hold in good shape.”
“i suppose,” observed dan, “that merrow is arthur’s penalty for heroism.”
“that’s right. ever since arthur pulled harry out of the lake that time harry’s stuck to him like a brother.”
“you had a hand in it, too. it’s lucky he didn’t decide to stick to you instead of arthur. by the way, speaking of protégés, your friend down the hall has got tired, i notice.”
“who is that, dan? oh, i remember. you mean he’s given up football?”
“yes, i was looking over the list this afternoon and saw his name scratched off. cowles says he’s stopped coming. another ‘natural-born player’ gone wrong.”
“that’s rather funny. i told you, didn’t i, that i had him in one afternoon? he seemed—well, not the sort of fellow to quit. i meant to look[105] him up again. i rather liked him. but this cross-country work has kept me busy. did he show anything in practice?”
“n-no, i believe not. i think you prophesied quite a career for him, didn’t you?”
“i said maybe,” laughed gerald. “there was something about the chap that made me—sort of believe in him.”
“i remember there was something,” dan agreed. “well, he will probably find himself in the course of time. evidently football isn’t what he was looking for. perhaps it’s just as well he dropped out, though, for the first cut comes next week and i guess most of holmes’s ‘rookies’ will retire to private life.”
“what does payson think of the outlook, dan?”
“says it’s an average one. there’s no one very startling in sight. that rather pleases payson, though; you know he doesn’t fancy ‘stars.’ says he’d rather have a team of common or garden variety of peggers.”
“i thought billy norton was considered a ‘star,’” said gerald with a smile.
“he is—by billy norton,” replied dan dryly. “he’s a star that will suffer eclipse if he doesn’t get down out of the clouds and play the game. sayer is hot after him these days.”
[106]
“sayer,” mused gerald. “yes, he was rather good last year in the porter game. let’s see, we dropped porter this year, didn’t we?”
“porter? no, we dropped brewer. we have seven games instead of eight. seven’s enough, too. well, let’s go over to cambridge and see what’s doing. i haven’t been near it yet.”
cambridge and oxford were the two school societies, with rooms on the top floor of oxford hall. on their way down the stairs they met a boy coming up. gerald nudged dan.
“here he is now,” he whispered.
the boy was kendall, and as he reached the others he glanced up, said “how do you do?” and would have gone by had not gerald spoken.
“how are you getting on?” he asked.
“pretty well, thanks.” kendall paused on the step above.
“how’s football coming?” asked dan.
“not very well. i gave it up.”
“that so? i’m sorry. what was the trouble?”
“nothing much. i—i just thought i’d better.”
dan smiled and nodded and started on, but gerald, yielding to a sudden impulse, said: “i thought you were coming to see me, burtis. drop in some evening. i’m not in much in the afternoon now. will you?”
[107]
“thanks, i—i’d like to.”
“good stuff! don’t forget, then.”
at the doorway dan turned with a quizzical smile. “why?” he asked.
gerald looked puzzled and shook his head. “i don’t know. but there’s something about him that—interests me. i don’t know—”
“maybe it’s his hair,” chuckled dan. “there’s plenty of it.”
“i must get him to have it cut,” replied gerald soberly. then after a moment, he exclaimed triumphantly: “i know what it is!”
“what what is?” asked dan.
“it’s his mouth, dan. ever notice it? it’s always on the point of laughing and it never does it. i want to see him laugh!”
“you’re a queer duffer,” dan answered with amusement as they entered oxford. “i believe curtis, or whatever his name is, has hypnotized you!”
