nominations for the school captaincy had to be sent in a fortnight before the actual election took place. great fun had always been extracted from the annual event, particularly in the junior school. consequently there was blank consternation, particularly in holbeck's house, when the school librarian gave it out that only one nomination paper had been sent in.
"there must be some mistake—a ghastly bloomer," said broome, of holbeck's house. "papers mislaid, no doubt. why, i signed harwood's nomination paper myself."
"so did i," said lake.
"and i," agreed atack.
"come, mr. librarian, stop rotting," broome said. "practical joking in a matter of this kind shows bad taste."
"have a square look at me, chaps," said the librarian. "do i look like a jester in cap and bells?"
"more like an ink-bottle with a quill stuck out of it," said lake.
"exactly. then don't accuse me of mucking up my job. richard forge alone has been nominated for the captaincy, and will therefore be elected unopposed."
"what's that?" queried robin arkness, always to the fore when anything was afoot. "dick forge captain of foxenby again? luke harwood not nominated? jolly good job for harwood, then. he'd have got the slugging of a lifetime if he'd stood."
"hop it, cheeky, or you'll get my boot-toe," was lake's threat.
"jealous!" robin taunted him. then off flew the leader of the merry men to acquaint his comrades of the glorious tidings that forge was captain for another year—an occurrence which they celebrated by carrying paper banners round the school-yard and heartily boo-ing any boy of holbeck's house whom they suspected of being luke harwood's partizan.
"rather a staggerer, luke not letting himself be nominated," said roger to dick. "he didn't stand an earthly, of course, but still——"
"think i can explain his shyness on this occasion," dick answered. whereupon he confided to his chum what had taken place between him and luke in the deserted football-field.
"all going to prove how accurate was your opinion of his character, and how far astray was mine," dick concluded. "but we'll be decent to a fallen enemy, roger, old boy."
"of course," roger agreed. "no kicking a man when he's down. i heard a rumour that he'd decided to leave foxenby this easter. sic transit gloria!"
it was the morning of the replayed cup-tie at walsbridge, so they had every good reason for dismissing luke harwood from their minds. luke, indeed, did not buy a railway-ticket for walsbridge, nor were any of his cronies on the platform. another notable absentee was fluffy jim, whose parents had taken him to the stores that day to fit his awkward limbs, if possible, into clothes that mr. wykeham's reward had ensured for him.
"so we start under better conditions to-day," laughed roger. "no blue-and-white guy fawkes this time to kick away your goal."
"if the octopus lets me get near enough to score one," dick reminded him.
"keep your big toe out of the way of his seven-league boots, anyhow," was roger's timely warning.
reaching walsbridge by rail from moston was rather a depressing experience. it entailed a long wait at a draughty junction, where refreshment was difficult to obtain. footballers who train at the seaside develop healthy appetites, and the grub provided on this occasion didn't satisfy some members of the team, who fared forth to forage for more.
"don't dawdle, clowes—come back quickly, broome," dick counselled them. "no rotting about to-day, remember!"
"we could eat the town up and then be back half-an-hour before this clockwork hearse of a train started," broome said.
"better be on the hungry side than gorge," said dick, anxiously. "stick to beef-sandwiches—no pickles or fried potatoes, mind!"
not caring to seem fussy about diet, but fearing the effect of too much indifferent food, dick watched the pair leave with some concern. then he and roger strolled about the platform, deriving amusement from the vocal rivalry of the merry men and the squirms, who tried which could first shiver the glass roof of the junction with their shrill football slogans.
"we're handicapped by this changing business, roger," dick said. "st. cuthbert's get a through train to walsbridge, and can start after luncheon, warm and well-fed. it's quite on the cards that those ravenous beggars, broome and clowes, will come back bilious from greasy grub."
"if they come back at all," commented roger, glancing grimly at the clock.
"my hat, it's five minutes off train-time!" dick exclaimed. "confound the slackers, they're cutting it fine. here, arkness, slip into the street and see if you can spot broome and clowes. signal them up, smart!"
such an errand could have been trusted to no one quicker than robin. he vanished like a streak, only to return three minutes later with a furiously-shaking head.
"no sign of 'em, forge," he panted.
a pretty pickle, truly! supporters aboard the train, guard fidgeting with his green flag, and two of the team's most important members missing. was the replay, then, to be as persistently dogged by misfortune as the first final had been?
"guard, can't you hold her up a bit?" dick pleaded. "give us a minute or two longer. we're two men short."
"sorry, lad, but ah might near as weel chuck myself under t'train. this company's pride is punctuality. they'd sack me if i spoilt t'record. ready, there? right away!"
he bundled dick and roger into the saloon carriage reserved for the team, and waved the train into motion. gradually it gathered speed, and then a frantic shout arose from the watching foxonians as broome and clowes came rushing at top speed past the booking-office.
"hi, they're here—stop the train!"
trains have been stopped, i believe, on less particular lines when important passengers have been a few seconds late. and who more important, the foxes doubtless thought, than two of the men who were to fight st. cuthbert's for the county schools' cup? but their hopeful cries changed into dismayed indignation as they realized that the old file of a guard had no intention of pulling up for broome and clowes—"no, not if they was royal princes," he vowed. had he even extended a helping hand, the nimble broome could have just boarded the guard's van. but the old man remained stubborn, and the team started on the last lap of its journey to walsbridge minus two of its best men.
"take a motor-car," robin arkness called back, "and charge it to me."
"silly ass!" osbody said. "there isn't anything better than a clothes-horse to ride in this benighted hole. we've lost the match!"
"skittles!" cried robin. "you holbeck chaps make me sick. just because two out of three of your rotten representatives think feeding their ugly faces more urgent than football, you fancy it's 'tails down' with foxenby. forge'll find substitutes for both, that's a cert. he's never been stuck fast yet."
but robin's confidence would have been shaken could he have peered into the saloon and seen the worried look on the captain's face.
it might be true, as robin declared, that dick had never been stuck fast before, but on this occasion he did indeed feel that he was up against one of the toughest football problems of his life. for the reserve centre-half was luke harwood, and the reserve inside-left was greenfoot, both members of the little gambling-gang whom dick himself had warned off the walsbridge field.
"well," said ennis, "harwood's been aching for a chance all the season, and is not such a wash-out at centre-half. his opportunity's come at last."
"jiggered if i fancy greenfoot as a cup-tie forward," said lyon. "he'll be a new broom, but not such a sweeping one as broome."
"where are those two, by the way?" asked lake. "can't remember to have seen 'em at the station."
"come to mention it, neither can i," rejoined ennis, and most of the other members said the same.
dick knew it was time to take the bull by the horns, and he did so with characteristic candour.
"neither harwood nor greenfoot can play this afternoon," he said, "for the simple reason that they haven't come."
"not come!" exclaimed lyon. "but what in thunder's the good of a trained reserve if it's left playing marbles in the school-yard?"
"really, forge, this is a staggerer!" lake put in. "surely you should have seen to it that those two came along to-day."
"there were reasons why they shouldn't," said dick curtly. "i take full responsibility. it was i who told them to stay behind. don't ask me why, for i prefer not to tell."
they stared at him strangely. only roger understood, and he itched to give the team the good and proper reason for the absence of harwood's gang. if the team knew that the missing reserves were infected by the gambling-taint they would, roger was certain, emphatically approve the captain's action in leaving them behind. without this knowledge, they could be pardoned for thinking the captain's action high-handed.
nobody spoke for a time. some turned angrily red, others looked sulky, all seemed more or less resentful. but dick did not spare himself. as usual, he went the whole hog by saying:
"they're absent, chaps, and even if they'd been here they wouldn't have played. i shouldn't have let them."
"oh, but i say, forge, you're not the whole committee," exclaimed lake.
there being a slight murmur of approval at this, roger deemed it his duty to break a lance in defence of his chum.
"you fellows are forgetting," he said, "that, by the rules of foxenby, the football captain is in entire command on the day of the match. if reserves are needed, he chooses them himself to suit the occasion."
"clever," sneered lake. "you'll be called to the bar if you're not careful, cayton."
but none could deny that roger's reading of the rules was correct. if the captain chose to discuss matters with the rest of the team, it was purely an act of grace on his part. he could, if he wished, mentally complete his team without consulting anybody. being neither an autocrat nor a fool, he preferred to seek their advice before coming to a decision.
"we've some spare shirts and knickers in the bag," he said. "can anybody suggest a decent centre-half?"
three names were mentioned, and thrice dick shook his head.
"you can't fit a round peg in a square hole," he remarked. "i must have somebody who's played centre-half before."
"ditto at inside-left, i suppose?" asked lyon.
"precisely, lyon."
"then i'm jiggered if you'll find anybody," said lyon, in despair. "we shall have to field nine men and chance it."
dick looked calmly round at the ring of dissatisfied faces. "any other fellow got a proposal to make?" he inquired.
there were several negatives, some surly, some peevish.
"very well," said dick. "i must settle this little dilemma in my own way. the centre-half of the second eleven is young osbody. the second-string inside-left is robin arkness. both are sturdy kids, and will fill out the costumes fairly well. so to-day they play."
the speech of a hyde park "tub-thumper" could scarcely have met with more open ridicule than this. there was laughter of a sarcastic description; some even professed to believe that the captain was joking. even roger caught his breath a little in surprise. osbody and arkness were such striplings, after all. the wily cuthbertian cracks would surely toy with them.
unmoved by criticism, even smiling a little, dick took from his pocket the list of the team and calmly wrote in the names of the unpopular substitutes he had chosen. replacing the list, he turned to gaze out of the window at the landscape, whistling softly to himself.
