For the Honor of the School: A Story of School Life and Interscholastic Sport

Wayne envied Don and Paddy, and even Dave, their ability to conquer lessons with apparent ease. He was not lazy, but was lacking in a very valuable thing called application, which is sometimes better than brains. And where Don mastered a lesson in thirty minutes Wayne spent twice that time on a like task. It had required two months of the hardest coaching to fit Wayne for admission into the upper middle class at the Academy, and now he was making a sad muddle of his studies and was beginning to get discouraged. He wished his father hadn’t sent him to Hillton; or, rather, he would wish that were it not for Don – and Paddy – and Dave – and, yes, for lots of other things. Wayne sighed as he thought of what a jolly place the Academy would be if it wasn’t for lessons – and chest weights! And this brought him back to his grievance, and, having reached the campus, he looked about to find some one to whom he might confide his perplexities and resolves.

But both Paddy and Dave were too busy to heed any one else’s troubles. Paddy, in a disreputable suit of football togs, his face streaming with perspiration, was being pushed and shoved about the gridiron, the center of a writhing mass of players, while the coach’s whistle vainly proclaimed the ball not in play. Dave, his good-natured face red with exertion, was struggling with his beloved hammer amid a little circle of attentive and facetious spectators.

“Say, Dave, you ought to stop, really you had,” one of the onlookers was saying as Wayne joined the circle. “If you keep at it much longer you won’t be able to throw that thing out of the circle.”

“Three feet four inches short of the first mark,” said a youth with a tape as he rose from measuring the last flight of the weight. “Better rest a bit.”

“Why don’t you take the hammer off, Dave, and throw the handle?” asked a third boy.

“Well, I wish you’d step up here and have a try at it,” answered Dave good-naturedly.

“Oh, but I’m not a strong man like you. If I was half as big I’d throw the old thing twice as far as that.”

“Well, perhaps you’ll grow in time, Tommy. Hello, Wayne,” he continued, as he caught sight of that youth, “why don’t you say something funny? I don’t mind; go on.”

“Can’t think of anything right now,” answered Wayne. “The funniest thing I know of is tossing an iron ball around when it’s too warm to move. You look like a roast of beef, Dave.”

“Do I? Well, I’ve been roasted enough; I’m going to knock off. Besides, I’m in poor form to-day. Let’s go over and watch Paddy, poor dub. I guess he’s having a hard time of it, too.”

Dave picked up his sweater and hammer and the two strolled over to the side-line and sat down. The first and second elevens, the latter augmented by several extra players, were putting in a hard practice. Less than a fortnight remained ere the game of the season would be played with St. Eustace Academy, and hard work was the order of the day. The head coach, an old Hillton graduate named Gardiner, was far from satisfied with the team’s showing. As Paddy had pointed out, he and Greene were the only members of the first eleven who had the experience that participation in a big game brings. Greene was the captain and played right end, and to-day he was visibly worried and nervous, and was rapidly working his men into much the same state when Gardiner called time and allowed the almost breathless players to strew themselves over the field on their backs and pant away to their heart’s content. Paddy caught sight of the two boys on the side-line and crawled dejectedly over to them on all fours, his tongue hanging out, in ludicrous imitation of a dog.

“It’s awful, my brethren, simply awful. We are probably the worst lot of football players in the world. Greene will tell you so – and glad of the chance, bad luck to him! He’s got the ‘springums.’”

“What are those?” asked Wayne.

“Oh, those are nerves; when you can’t keep still, you know. That’s what’s the matter with Greene to-day. And I don’t much blame him; the weather’s unfit for practice, and every chap on the team feels like a sausage, and the St. Eustace game’s a week from Thursday. I heard March tell Gardiner – ”

“Is Joel March here?” asked Dave.

“Yes; see him over there talking to ‘Pigeon’ Wallace? He said to Gardiner a few minutes ago, ‘There’s one great trouble with that eleven, Mr. Gardiner, and that is that it’s not the kind that wins.’ He didn’t know I could hear. Of course I wouldn’t tell Greene for a house and farm. But March is right; I’ve felt that way all the fall. And if March says we can’t win, we’re not going to.” Paddy sighed dolefully.

“Tommyrot, Paddy!” answered Dave. “Joel March isn’t infallible, and the team may take a big brace before Thanksgiving.”

“Who’s Joel March, anyway?” asked Wayne.

“Joel March? Why, Joel March is – is – Say, haven’t you ever heard of March?” exclaimed Dave, in deep disgust. Wayne shook his head.

“I reckon not; if I have I’ve forgotten it. What did he do – run a mile in eighteen and three-fourth seconds or throw an iron ball over Academy Building?”

“Neither, my sarcastic and ignorant young friend from the Sunny South,” answered Paddy, with asperity. “But he’s the finest half-back in college; and if you knew anything about the important affairs of the day you would know that he made the only score in the Harwell-Pennsylvania game last Saturday, and that he ran over fifty-five yards to do it! Also, and likewise, and moreover,” continued Paddy, with great severity, “when I was a little green junior, two years ago, I sat just about here and watched Joel March kick a goal from the field that tied the St. Eustace game after they had us beaten. And I yelled myself hoarse and couldn’t speak loud enough at dinner to ask for the turkey, and Dave ate my share before my eyes! That’s who Joel March is.”

“You don’t say,” responded Wayne, without displaying the least bit of awe. “And who’s the swell with him?”

“That’s West, his chum. West is the father of golf here at Hillton,” answered Dave, with becoming reverence. “I used to follow him when he went around and wish that I could drive the way he could. He was a member of the team that Harwell sent to the intercollegiate tournament last month. Is March going to coach the backs, Paddy?”

“Don’t know; but they could stand it. There’s going to be a shake-up next half, I’ll bet. Gardiner says if the second scores on us again before Thanksgiving he’ll send it to Marshall instead of the first. Gardiner’s a great jollier. Here we go again like lambs to the slaughter,” added Paddy as the whistle blew.

“You remind me of a lamb,” said Dave; “you’re so different.”

Paddy playfully pommeled the other’s ribs and then cantered off to the center of the gridiron, where Gardiner, Greene, and March, the old Hillton half-back, were assembled in deep converse.

“Want to go back,” asked Dave, “or shall we stay and see the rest of the practice?”

“Let’s stay,” said Wayne. “I suppose Paddy is sure of his place, isn’t he? I mean they won’t put him off, will they?”

“No; I guess Paddy’s all right for center. But the big chap next to him, at left-guard, is sure to go on the second, I think. They ought to have made Paddy captain last fall. Greene’s an awfully decent fellow, but he’s liable to get what Paddy calls the ‘springums.’ He’s too high-strung for the place. Watch Gardiner now; he’s doing things.”

The head coach was a big, broad-shouldered man, with a face so freckled and homely as to be attractive. Many years before he had been a guard on the Hillton eleven and his name stood high on the Academy’s roll of honor. As Dave had said, he was “doing things.” Four of the first eleven players were relegated in disgrace to the ranks of the second, their positions being filled by so many happy youths from the opposing team. Wayne noted with satisfaction that Paddy’s broad bulk still remained in the center of the first eleven’s line when the two teams faced each other for the last twenty minutes of play. Joel March, with coat and vest discarded, took up a position behind quarter-back and from there coached the two halfs with much hand-clapping and many cheery commands. Greene appeared to have recovered his equanimity, and the first eleven successfully withstood the onslaught of the opponents until the ball went to Paddy and a spirited advance down the field brought the pigskin to the second’s forty-yard line and gave Grow, the full-back, an opportunity to try a goal from a placement. The attempt failed and the ball went back to the second, but the first’s line again held well, and a kick up the field sent the players scurrying to the thirty-five-yard line, where, coached by March, Grow secured the ball and recovered ten yards ere he was downed. Later the first worked the ball over for a touch-down, from which no goal was tried, and the practice game ended without the dreaded scoring by the second eleven, much to Paddy’s relief.

The three boys hurried back together, and Wayne, parting from his companions at the gymnasium, sought his room, reflecting on the athletic mania that seemed to possess every fellow at the school.

“I’ll have to do something that way myself,” he thought ruefully, “or I’ll be a sort of – what-yer-call-it? – social outcast.”

Then he recollected that he had forgotten to consult Dave regarding his proposed declaration of right, and was rather glad that he had; because, after all, he told himself, Dave Merton was not a chap that would sympathize with a protest against gymnastics and such things. But that evening, as the two sat studying in their room after supper, Wayne told his plans to Don and asked for an opinion. And Don looked up from his Greek text-book and said briefly and succinctly:

“Don’t do it!”

“But, I say, Don, I’ve got some voice in the business, haven’t I? What right has Professor Beck or Professor Wheeler or – or any of them got to make me develop my muscles if I don’t want my muscles developed? When it comes to study, you know, why, that’s another – ”

“Well, if you’ll take my advice you’ll stop worrying about your rights and obey the rules.”

“But – ”

“Because if you don’t, Wayne, you’d much better have stayed at home. I – I tried asserting my rights once and it didn’t pay. And since then I’ve tended to my own affairs and let the faculty make the laws.”

“Just the same,” answered Wayne, with immense dignity, “I don’t intend to put up with injustice, although you may. I shall tell Professor Wheeler just what I’ve told you, and – ”

Don looked up from his book with a frown.

“Wayne, will you shut up?”

“But I’m telling you – ”

“But I don’t want to hear. It’s all nonsense. And, besides, if you’re going to say it all to ‘Wheels’ what’s the good of boring me with it? Talk about injustice,” groaned Don, “look at the length of this lesson!”

Wayne opened his book and, as a silent protest against his friend’s heartlessness, began to study.

CHAPTER V

PRINCIPAL AND PRINCIPLES

Wayne’s opportunity to protest came earlier than he expected. When he entered Bradley Hall in the middle of the forenoon to get his French grammar he found an official-looking note in the mail box. It proved to be from the principal and requested Wayne’s presence at the office at noon. The latter made hard work of the French recitation, and took no interest in the doings of Bonaparte in Egypt for thinking of the approaching interview and strengthening the arguments which were to confuse the principal and put the iniquitous school law to rout.

He found the principal’s secretary and two pupils, who assisted in the work, occupying the outer office. Professor Wheeler was engaged, but would see him in a moment. Wayne took a chair, resenting the delay which required him to nurse the state of virtuous indignation into which he had worked himself. The quiet of the room, disturbed only by the scratching of the pens or the rustling of paper, presently exerted a depressing effect, and he felt his courage oozing out of him. Then the secretary arose and went into the inner room. When he returned a moment later he left the door ajar and Wayne caught a glimpse of a warm-toned apartment, a portion of a high bookcase, and the corner of a broad mahogany desk. From within came a slight shuffling of uneasy feet and the noise of a turned page. Then came the sound of a closing book, and a voice, which Wayne recognized as belonging to the principal, broke the silence:

“Now, my boy, I’ll speak with you. What is your name?”

“Carl Gray, sir,” answered a very boyish voice.

“Ah, yes; you’re in the lower middle class?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have received a complaint from Porter, in the village. He informs me that you have owed him a bill since last term and that he can not get his money. Is that true?”

“Yes, sir.” The boy spoke in low tones, and Wayne, without seeing him, knew the state of trepidation he was in and wondered if he would behave so cravenly when his turn came.

“You knew the rule about such things?” asked the principal. “You knew that pupils are not allowed to contract debts?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then why did you do it, Gray?”

“I – I wanted some things, and so – Porter said that he would trust me – ”

“Let me see. You played on one of the nines last spring, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir; on the junior class nine.”

“Yes. Well, Gray, when you knock a good clean base hit what do you do? Do you run over toward the grand stand and then back toward the pitcher’s box and so on to first base, or do you go there as directly and as speedily as you know how?” A moment of silence followed and Wayne grinned.

“Directly, sir,” said the boy inside finally.

“Yes, I should think so. Well, now, when you start to make an explanation apply the same rule, my lad: go just as directly and quickly as you can to the point. As a matter of fact, you knew that you were disobeying the rules of the Academy, and preferred to do that than to go without some things that you wanted. Isn’t that so?”

“I – No, sir, I didn’t – ”

“That isn’t just the way you would put it, Gray, but isn’t it correct?”

“Yes, sir, I suppose so.”

“Do you have an allowance, Gray?”

“Yes, sir; fifty cents a week.”

“But you don’t find it large enough?”

“I wanted some baseball things and some clothes. We had to have uniforms.”

“I see. Did you think when you had the things charged to you that you could pay for them?”

“Yes, sir. I meant to pay a quarter every week, but somehow, sir – ”

“The quarter wasn’t there when you wanted it; I see. Well, Porter must be paid. He is not blameless in the affair; he knew what the rule is about giving credit to the pupils, and I shall see that he gets no more of the school trade. But that doesn’t alter the fact that you owe him the sum of twelve dollars. Can you pay it?”

“No, sir, not right away. I will pay him fifty cents a week. I offered to do so a week ago and he said he must have the whole amount, and I was saving it up.”

“H’m! How much have you saved?”

“A – a dollar.”

“Slow work, Gray. Now, I shall settle this bill and send the account to your parents. Have you anything to say about that?”

“Oh, sir, please don’t! I’ll pay it as soon as I can, sir; I will give him every cent I get. Only please don’t send it home!”

“Your family is not well off, Gray?”

“No, sir. I have only a mother, and she couldn’t pay it without – without missing the money dreadfully, sir. If only you will not let her know!”

“You should have thought of that before, Gray. I should like to spare your mother as much, perhaps, as you; but the rules are strict and I can’t see my way to making an exception in your case. I shall have to send the bill to your mother, sir. Let it teach you a lesson. There are lots of things in this world, Gray, that we think we must have, but which we can do very well without if only we realize it. It is hard sometimes to see others possess things that we want and can not have. But luckily the world doesn’t judge us by our possessions, but by our accomplishments. I don’t believe that the football clothes which you got from Porter enabled you to play better ball or stand better in your class, and it’s very unlikely that any of the boys thought you a finer fellow for having them. In future live within your income – that is, your allowance – and if you want to pay off the debt save your money instead of spending it, and when the amount is saved return it to your mother. That would be an honest and a manly act. That is all I have to say to you, my boy.”

“I will, sir,” answered the culprit earnestly. “But won’t you – couldn’t you please, sir, not send – ”

“That can’t be altered, Gray,” answered the principal kindly. “I am sorry. Good day.”

A slender and very white-faced boy passed out with averted eyes, and a moment later Wayne found himself in the inner office. The principal was leaning back in his big armchair thoughtfully polishing his glasses. He did not look up at once, and Wayne had an opportunity to study the man who for over twenty years had wisely directed the affairs of one of the largest preparatory schools of the country, and who in that time had gained the reverence and affection of thousands of boys. Wayne saw a middle-aged, scholarly looking man, whose brown hair was but lightly frosted about the temples, and whose upright and vigorous figure indicated the possession of much physical strength. There was an almost youthful set to the broad shoulders, and Wayne was certain that the muscles won years before in his college crew were still firm and strong. Indeed, those muscles, although Wayne did not know it, were kept in perfect condition by as much bodily exercise as the principal could crowd into a busy life, and his prowess with a golf club was a matter of pride and admiration among the boys. There was a kindly look in the brown eyes that were presently turned upon the waiting lad.

“Are you Wayne Gordon?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re in the upper middle, aren’t you, and this is your first year at Hillton?”

Wayne again assented.

“And I dare say you are not perfectly acquainted with the rules of the Academy yet; I can understand that. It takes some time to learn them, even though we try not to have very many. Professor Beck tells me, Gordon, that you have been absent on three occasions from gymnasium work and have failed to make any excuse. I presume you had some very good reason for not attending on each occasion, did you not?” The tone and manner were so kindly that Wayne found himself wishing that he had some presentable excuse; but in the next moment he remembered his purpose and answered uncompromisingly:

“I stayed away on three days, sir, because it was not convenient to attend. I don’t consider that you – I mean the faculty – has any right to compel a fellow to – to do gymnasium work unless he wishes to.”

“Indeed!” was the quiet reply. “And how do you arrive at that conclusion?”

Whereupon Wayne very earnestly and at much length presented his views on the subject, maintaining a respectful but undoubtedly rather irritating tone of complacency. Once or twice the listener frowned, once he smiled, as though in spite of himself, at some high-sounding phrase from the boy. When Wayne had finished, a little breathless, the principal spoke:

“Are you a member of the debating club, Gordon?”

“No, sir,” answered Wayne, surprised into an expression of ordinary curiosity quite unbecoming a great reformer.

“You should join. I think you have the making of a very lucid and convincing speaker.” The boy strove to detect an expression of irony on the master’s face, but saw none. “Unfortunately, in the present case you have selected a side in the debate that is not defensible. And, also unfortunately, I have neither the time nor the inclination to enter the lists with you. But I will say one or two things on the subject. In the first place, it is a waste of your time to consider whether or not the faculty has the right to make the rule regarding physical training; the indisputable fact is that the faculty has made the rule. For the sake of argument – although I said I would not argue – let us assume that the faculty has not the right. What can you do about it? The rules are not altered, after ten years, on the demand of one scholar out of a school of some two hundred. If the pupil stands firm and the faculty stands firm what is going to be the result? Why, the two must part company. In other words, the pupil must leave. Do you think it is worth it?”

“But it’s wrong, sir, and if I accept the – the arrangement I am indorsing it, and I can’t do that.”

“But maybe it isn’t wrong; we only assumed it to be, you remember. You don’t care for athletics?”

“Not much, sir; I like riding and shooting and fishing, but I don’t see the good of fussing – I mean exercising – with dumb-bells and chest weights and single sticks; and it tires me so that I can’t do my lessons well.” The principal raised his eyebrows in genuine astonishment.

“Are you certain of that? Maybe you have not given the thing a fair trial. We believe here at Hillton that it is just as necessary to keep a boy’s health good as his morals, and our plan has worked admirably for many years. The rule regarding ‘compulsory physical education,’ as you call it, is not peculiar to Hillton; it is to be found at every preparatory school in the country, I feel sure. A capability for good studying depends on a clear brain and a well body, and these, in turn, depend on a proper attention to exercise and recreation. The first of these we demand; the other we encourage and expect. Who is your roommate?”

“Donald Cunningham, sir.”

“Indeed! And does he have very much trouble with his studies?”

“No, sir; but he has been at it for two years – the gymnasium work, I mean. I’m not used to it, and I find the studies difficult, and if I am tired I can’t do them.”

“If gymnasium work tires you it is undoubtedly because you have not had enough of it. And it shows that you need it. Professor Beck is very careful to require no more in that direction from a boy than his condition should allow, and to render mistakes impossible the physical examination of every pupil is made when he enters, and again at intervals until he leaves school. Now, I will speak to Professor Beck; maybe it will seem advisable to him to make your exercise a little lighter for a while. But I expect you to report regularly at the gymnasium, or, if you are feeling unfit, to tell me of the fact. We won’t require any boy to do anything that might be of injury to him. Will you promise to do this?”

“I can’t, sir. It is the principle of the thing that is wrong.”

“I can’t discuss that with you any longer, Gordon; I’ve done so at greater length than I intended to already. You must obey the rules while you are here. If you do not you must go elsewhere. When is your next gymnasium day?”

“To-morrow, sir.”

“Very well; I shall expect you to be there. If you are not I shall be obliged to put you on probation, which is a very uncomfortable thing. If you still refuse you will be suspended. I tell you this now so that you may labor under no illusions. I do not complain because you hold the views which you do – they are surprising, but not against discipline – but I must and do insist that you obey the rules. Think it over, Gordon, and don’t do yourself an injury by taking the wrong course. If you want to see me in the morning, after you have slept on the matter, you will find me here. Good day.”

“Good day, sir, and thank you for your advice; only – ”

“Well?”

“I don’t think I can do as you wish.”

“But,” answered the principal earnestly, “let us hope that you can.”

CHAPTER VI

WAYNE PAYS A BILL

“I want two dollars, Don.”

Don glanced up with a smile.

“So do I; I was thinking so just this morning. I need a new pair of gymnasium shoes, and – But please, Wayne, come in and shut the door; there’s a regular cyclone blowing around my feet.”

“But, look here. I want to borrow two dollars from you, Don; I must have it right away,” said Wayne peremptorily, as he shut out the draught.

“Sorry, because I haven’t got fifty cents to my name, and won’t have until Monday. What do you want to do with it? Going to start a bank?”

“That’s none of your business,” answered Wayne; “and if you can’t lend it to me I can’t stop chinning here. I’ll try Paddy, I guess.”

“Paddy!” exclaimed Don, with a grin. “Why, Paddy never has a nickel ten minutes after his dad sends him his allowance, which is the first. If he had I’d be after him this minute; he’s owed me eighty cents ever since September. Dave might have it. Have you had dinner? Where did you go to?”