Quarter-Back Bates

Behind him came the pursuit, but Findley was fleet of foot and only the Phillipsburg quarter, coming fast yet cautiously down on him, caused him concern. The middle of the field was past now and he had gained another yard or two of elbow-room and the pursuers had not gained. Then came the supreme instant. The Phillipsburg quarter sprang with outstretched arms and Findley gave, turning and twisting, across two yards of the precious territory at his right. The quarter’s clutching fingers grasped, held for an instant, and Findley went staggering to one knee. Then he was up again, the quarter was rolling over on his back, legs ludicrously in air, and a great shriek of triumph came across from the Parkinson stand. Findley was safe and bearing in toward the still distant goal, while, behind him, friend and foe pounded in pursuit.

Dick had followed Findley through the line, had defeated one eager tackler and had gone sprawling onto the turf. But he had been on his feet again an instant later and, skirting the struggling mass, had kept straight ahead down the field. He knew that he could not hope to reach Findley in time to aid him against the quarter-back. His only chance of helping lay in being well down the field in case the runner got past the enemy quarter. None sought to stop him, for the play had followed the ball, and, while in the ruck of the pursuit friend and enemy went down and were strewn behind, Dick had had the centre of the gridiron to himself, with Findley speeding along well ahead and to the right and the quarter-back cutting across to him. Then had come the runner’s clever escape and now he and Dick were converging on the goal, the latter gaining a little as the white lines went slowly underfoot. Never was the foremost pursuer very far behind, but always, barring an accident, Findley seemed to have sufficient margin to win by. Yet, as the thirty-yard line was left behind, one Phillipsburg player became momentarily more dangerous. He had managed to avoid the Parkinson interferers and had worked himself well into the lead. He was tall and slight and a runner of no mean ability, and Dick, turning his head for a quick glance, read the menace. Findley was tiring slightly and running more slowly, head back, as Dick, edging further to the right, brought himself nearer to the path of the pursuit.

Followed an anxious moment. Findley crossed the fifteen yards with Dick a scant six feet behind and the Phillipsburg man gaining on the runner at every stride. But to reach Findley the enemy would have to slip around Dick or topple him aside, and Dick knew it. The rest of the pursuers, strung back half the length of the field, were no longer to be reckoned with. There was a thumping of swift feet at Dick’s side and he looked around into the set, intent face of the Phillipsburg player. The latter meant to swing past Dick and then, with a final burst of speed, bring Findley to earth before the goal-line was reached. But Dick had other views. Slowing imperceptibly, he let the enemy run even, as he did so catching a questioning look from a pair of wide, straining eyes. Then he swung quickly to the right, shoulders hunched, and went sprawling over and over on the ground. And with him went the enemy. And staggering, almost falling, Findley, the pigskin clutched tightly now to his stomach, crossed the last white line and sank gratefully to the turf.

Somewhere, a great distance away as it seemed to him, there was a subdued roar that sounded like “Findley! Findley! Findley!”

Minutes later a nervous, anxious youth by name of Trask directed the pointing of a ball in the none too steady fingers of Dick, the latter lying on hip and elbow close to the twenty-yard line. So much depended on that goal that Trask had at first mutinously refused to attempt it and had only consented when convinced that no one else on the team dared even try. Trask was very deliberate and many times Dick’s hands moved this way or that in obedience. Behind Trask the referee knelt on one knee with upraised hand. Then, when Dick thought that in just one more second he would have to yell, there came a firm, quiet “Down!” from Trask, the referee’s hand dropped swiftly earthward, a brown object swung past Dick’s eyes and the ball was gone. Still poised on hip and elbow, Dick’s eyes followed the revolving oval. Very slowly it mounted upward, seemed to wobble uncertainly against the blue sky, veered erratically to the right as though making straight for a post and then began to fall. Dick’s heart sank like a leaden weight. Trask had kicked too short! Then the ball suddenly went upward again as though struck from beneath and a din of cheers and shouts broke the long minutes of silence.

“Struck the bar and went over!” someone shouted and Dick’s heart leaped upward again as swiftly as the ball had bounded from the cross-bar. The Phillipsburg players ended their leaping charge and with downcast faces walked past as Dick jumped to his feet. Someone thumped him tremendously on the back and almost sent him sprawling to earth again, and Trask’s voice howled hoarsely: “Got to hold ’em now, Bates! Got to hold ’em, old man! It’s our game if we can hold ’em!”

“We’re going to!” answered Dick with a world of confidence in his voice. “We’re going to hold ’em, Trask! It’s our day! Come on!”

And hold them they did, although there were moments during the remaining nine or ten minutes when things looked dark indeed for the visitors. Phillipsburg hustled in new players and went back at the enemy tooth and nail. A bewildering variety of single and double and even triple passes were essayed. Some succeeded, most failed, but all were puzzling and unnerving to a team of third- and even fourth-string players, and that Parkinson managed to stave off defeat in that final quarter was scarcely less than a miracle. End runs got away and yet were stopped short of disaster, and always Dick clung to the ball to the last desperate moment before yielding it by a punt. Parkinson didn’t make the mistake of playing only for safety, for a purely defensive game kept up for a length of time takes the heart out of the defenders. When Parkinson got the ball she attacked as hard as ever, and some of the substitutes won real laurels that afternoon. But at last the end came, after Phillipsburg had thrice won her way inside her opponent’s thirty yards and had once got to her fourteen, and eleven joyous, tired, breathless youths fell against each other and babbled incoherent congratulations.

An hour later players and rooters mingled happily on the home-bound train and in a corner of one car Dick and Stanley and Blash and Rusty crowded themselves in and over and around one seat designed for two persons and made merry. Dick’s merriment was less strenuous than that of the others, for that brief session had left him rather limp and tired. It had also, it appeared, left him somewhat of a hero to his friends, for Blash declared that only Dick’s interference had won the game.

“Findley’s run was a corker,” said Blash, “and he ought to have the Victoria Cross for it, but it wouldn’t have scored if you hadn’t been Johnny-on-the-Spot, Dick. Why, Lovering would have had Findley as sure as shooting! Of course, we might have smashed it over from the ten yards, and then again we might not have. I think we might not have. What saved the bacon for us was you bowling Lovering over, and don’t you forget it! The Victoria Cross for Findley and the Distinguished Service Cross for you. I’ll order them at once.”

“The gentleman is quite correct,” said Rusty, “although it isn’t a usual condition with him. And, look here, fellows, while we’re pinning bouquets on, why not say a couple of kind words for the whole bloomin’ team that held those Phillipsburg guys innocuous – I believe that’s the word, Stan? – innocuous all through the last dreadful quarter? I ask you why not, and again I ask you – ”

“Moved and carried,” droned Blash, “that the hearty thanks of the meeting be extended to the team. So ordered. There being no other business before the meeting, a motion to adjourn will – ”

“Move you, Mr. Chairman, that Stan be appointed a committee of one to find the train-boy and buy much sweet chocolate. All in favour – ”

“What with?” demanded Stanley sarcastically. “Seven cents? You borrowed every red I’d borrowed from Dick, Rusty. What did you do with it?”

Rusty grinned, gulped and broke into chuckles. “I spent it, dear one,” he giggled. “And ’twas well-spent, believe thouest me! Listen and I’ll tell you – Hold on, though! Who buys the chocolate? Honest, I’m far too faint to narrate this moving tale. Have a heart, Blash!”

“I’m busted, son. Honest!”

Dick produced a few silver coins and some pennies. “I’ll be the goat,” he said, “but someone else must do the buying. I wouldn’t stir from here for a thousand dollars; even if I could, which I can’t with Stan sitting on my shoulder.”

“Give me the pelf,” volunteered Stanley, with a sigh. “Which way do I go?”

“Forward,” advised Rusty. “I saw him going through ten minutes ago. Better hurry, too, for he didn’t appear to be overstocked.”

Stanley went wearily away along the crowded aisle and Blash reminded Rusty of the tale. “Go on,” he said, “and let’s hear your criminal adventures.”

“Wait till Stan comes back. Don’t I tell you I’m faint from want of food? Besides, Stan’s going to enjoy this yarn. Jumping Jehosophat, I wish we were home and I was eating my supper! Isn’t anyone else starved?”

“We all are,” said Blash, “only we don’t – don’t wear our stomachs on our sleeves!”

Dick laughed and Rusty shook his head wonderingly. “The kid is clever,” he murmured. “Ah, here he comes! Empty-handed, by jiminy! No, he bears succor! A-a-y, Gard! Sweet youth, I bid you welcome! Where’s mine? Wha-a-at? Only three cakes for all that money I supplied you with? What do you know – Oh, well, I’ll try to worry along on this. Folks, that tastes good! Now then, lend me your ears and everything and I’ll narrate to you the story of The Careful Spender and the Helpful Friend.”

CHAPTER XIV

RUSTY BRINGS A FRIEND

“When I left you in the restarong,” began Rusty, “I hied me forth in pursuit of a youth whose countenance I had spied through the window, in short, none other than Sandy Halden. Sandy said he was looking for someone, I forget who, and I said I’d help him look. I believe in helping others whenever it isn’t too hard work.”

“Why that pill, though?” asked Stanley. “Thought you had no use for Sandy.”

“You’re quite wrong then,” answered Rusty earnestly. “To the eager and inquiring mind nothing is useless. Anyhow, you shut up and let me tell this. Sandy and I wandered through the metropolis side by each, admiring the soaring edifices and the homes of ease and luxury. And as we strolled, we talked. Maybe I talked more than Sandy did, but that’s neither here nor there. Among other things I said was this: ‘They’re charging fifty cents to see the game this afternoon, Sandy, and that’s too much. Not that I’m going to pay it, though. I’m going to see it for nothing.’ Of course that interested Sandy tremenjously, for Sandy doesn’t mind spending money any more than a Scotsman! He wanted to know how I was going to do it; did I have a pass or what. ‘Don’t have to have a pass,’ I told him. ‘Maybe you’ve noticed that one of the dormitories is right close to the field? Well, if you happen to have a friend there whose room is on the back, you don’t have to spend your good money. You just sit in the window up there quite comfortably and look right down on the field. Of course, you’re not as close as you are in a stand, but you can see everything that goes on and you’re saving a big old half-dollar. And a half-dollar is a lot of money about the middle of the month!’ Sandy agreed cordially to that sentiment and said he wished that he knew someone in one of those dormitories. I said, yes, it would be nice if he did, and looked at my watch, remarking that I mustn’t be late for my engagement. Then we happened on a candy store and I stopped and looked in the window and said something about the caramels looking nice. I could see Sandy struggling mentally and I kept on looking at the caramels. He tried to edge off, but I wouldn’t edge. So finally he said in a weak little voice that he guessed he’d get a few and we went in and he bought a quarter of a pound for fifteen cents. Then we strolled on and ate the caramels, and after a bit I said sort of thoughtfully: ‘Look here, Sandy, if you’d like to see the game with me I guess it would be all right. My friend is a mighty nice sort and I don’t think he’d mind if I brought you along.’”

“What friend?” asked Dick, puzzled.

“My friend in Wallack Hall,” replied Rusty, with a grin. “Wallack’s the dormitory that looks like a tomb and has ivy all over it.”

“Oh,” said Dick uncertainly. Blash made a derisive noise in his throat and Stanley chuckled.

“Well, Sandy was that pleased! Gee, fellows, it does give one a fine feeling to give pleasure to others, doesn’t it? Sandy was quite affecting. He said I was mighty kind and he wouldn’t forget it and he’d like awfully to meet my friend. So we came to a drug store about then and I said I was thirsty and Sandy insisted on buying sodas. By that time it was getting on toward two and I asked a fellow in the store how to get out to the school and he told me and we started out. I had to pay the car fares, for Sandy was looking out the window hard when the conductor came around. When we got out there I said we’d better walk around awhile and see the place, and we so did, and when it was about time for the game to start I conducted Sandy to Wallack. ‘He may not be in yet,’ I said, ‘because he has a two o’clock recitation, but he said I was to make myself at home until he got back.’ So we climbed two flights of stairs and I went along looking at the numbers on the doors, telling Sandy I didn’t quite remember which room it was. Sandy kept asking me what the fellow’s name was and reading the cards, but I put him off until I found the room. Then I knocked, and, sure enough, Harold wasn’t in, but he’d left the door open and so we went on in. It was a bully room, with a lot of corking furniture and pictures and so on, and we looked around and waited for Harold to come back. You couldn’t see as much of the field as I’d expected, because the top of the grand stand cut off the nearer side of it, but it wasn’t bad, and I made Sandy take his coat off and sit down on the window-seat. He was very grateful, was Sandy. Doing things for him is a real pleasure, fellows!” And Rusty looked around the small circle of his audience with much feeling. Stanley was chuckling and Blash and Dick grinning broadly, and Rusty seemed surprised at their amusement.

“Well, that’s about all there is to tell, except that presently Sandy called out that they were starting the game and I came over and looked out over his shoulder and saw that he was telling the truth. ‘Funny Harold doesn’t show up,’ I said, as concerned as anything. So I opened the door and looked up and down the corridor and there wasn’t anyone in sight and the building was awfully silent. ‘Guess I’ll go down to the entrance, Sandy,’ I said, ‘and see if I can see him. You sit tight.’ So Sandy said all right, he would, and that Phillipsburg had just kicked-off, and I went out and closed the door gently but firmly behind me, absent-mindedly turning the key in the lock, and went downstairs. Harold wasn’t in sight and so I went on around to the field.”

“You locked Sandy in there?” exclaimed Stanley incredulously and joyfully. Rusty grinned and nodded.

“I guess so. I didn’t try the door, but the key turned all right.”

The others were fairly howling. “Wouldn’t I like to have been there when the owner of the room got back!” gasped Blash. “What do you suppose Sandy told him?”

“He told him the truth,” laughed Rusty, “but I don’t believe Summer believed him.”

“Summer? Not that big left-guard of theirs?” cried Stanley.

“Yes, Harold Summer.”

“Then – then you do know him?”

“Only by reputation,” replied Rusty modestly. “I’ve never had the honour of meeting him.”

“How’d you know where he roomed?”

“Easy. Looked up the fellows on the team until I found a couple who roomed in Wallack. Half of them do room there, because it’s a sort of senior dormitory, I guess.”

“Looked ’em up where?” demanded Dick.

“In the school catalogue. There was a copy in the library. I forgot to say that we visited the library amongst other places of interest. I found one football chap lived in 17 Wallack and another in 28, and I knew that one of them must be on the back, and it turned out to be 17, and that was Harold’s dive.”

“Summer’s? But, look here, seems to me Summer’s name is George,” said Stanley. “Where do you get this ‘Harold’ stuff?”

“Had to call him something, and Harold sounded sort of convincing, sort of like what a Phillipsburg fellow would be called. Get me?”

“Oh! Well, say, suppose Summer didn’t go back to his room until after supper or something? Have you seen Sandy since?”

“Oh, yes, he’s aboard. I saw him in the station. He didn’t see me, though. I think he wants to. That’s one reason I wasn’t keen for going after the chocolate. Something tells me that Sandy has misconstrued my innocent efforts to save his money for him!”

“Gee, but I’ll bet he’s mad enough to bite a nail!” chuckled Stanley. “Of all the crazy stunts, Rusty, that’s the craziest! How did you know Summer wouldn’t have a room-mate and that the room-mate wouldn’t be in when you got there?”

“I didn’t. I couldn’t find that out without going through the whole catalogue, and there wasn’t time for that. If there’d been anyone in when I knocked I’d have just asked for a fictitious name and backed out again. Anyway, I don’t see what Sandy has to be peeved about. He saw the game without paying a cent!”

“Except for the caramels and soda,” laughed Blash. “I wish I could have been behind a door or some place when Summer walked in and found Sandy sitting there!”

“Maybe Sandy got wise and got away before Summer came back,” suggested Stanley anxiously. But Rusty shook his head. “He probably got wise, all right, but I’ll bet he didn’t get out! There was only one door and that was locked. There wasn’t any transom and the window was two stories up. And I don’t believe there was a soul in the building; every fellow was at the game.”

“How the dickens did you ever think of the scheme?” asked Stanley admiringly. Rusty shrugged modestly.

“Oh, it just sort of came to me. Like an inspiration, you know. Well, that settles one or two old scores between Sandy and me, I guess. I hope Summer didn’t beat him up, but still, if he did – ” Rusty shrugged again. “I should grow faint and be carried out!”

“Rusty, you’re a wonder!” said Blash earnestly. “You’ll be hung if you live long enough; there’s no doubt about that: but in the meanwhile you certainly do add to the joy of nations!”

“What do you mean, hung?” demanded Rusty indignantly. “My record is as clean and my life as stainless – Oh, my sainted grandmother! Here he comes! Hide me behind your stalwart frame, Blash!”

From the farther end of the swaying coach came Sandy Halden, gloom and wrath upon his brow, his gaze seeking his enemy. A few seats away his eyes fell on Rusty and they blazed in triumph. He shoved his way past an accumulation of suit-cases and faced his benefactor, his shock-hair standing up defiantly under the cap he wore and his long nose twitching like a rabbit’s. Rusty viewed him calmly.

“Hello, Sandy,” he greeted. “Great game, wasn’t it?”

“A great game you put up on me!” sputtered Sandy. “I suppose you think you’re mighty smart, eh? You wait till I’m through with you, Crozier! I’ll make you wish you weren’t so blamed funny! I’ll show you what a real joke is! I’ll – ”

“There, there,” said Rusty, soothingly. “What’s your kick, Sandy? You saw the game all right, didn’t you? And you saved a whole half-dollar, didn’t you? What more do you want? By the way, I suppose you introduced yourself to Harold? Sorry I couldn’t stick around!”

“He was all right, don’t you worry! I told him about you and he said a few things you ought to have heard! His name isn’t Harold – ”

“What? You don’t mean that we got into the wrong room!” exclaimed Rusty incredulously. “Wasn’t it Harold Jones’ room, Sandy?”

“You know mighty well whose room it was!” answered the other indignantly. “That’s all right! I’ll get even with you! I’ll – ”

“Oh, I am sorry!” declared Rusty miserably. “Such an awkward mistake to make. I don’t see how I could have been so stupid! Whatever can I do to show my contrition, Sandy?”

By this time most of the fellows within hearing were listening eagerly and amusedly, and it dawned on Sandy that he was making a mistake to advertise the joke. “Never mind your contrition,” he growled in a lower voice, “I’ll fix you, Crozier. Don’t think you can get away with it.” His eyes swept the grinning or amused faces of Rusty’s companions. “You make me sick, anyway, the whole lot of you!” he added. “If I tell Jud what you did, Crozier, you won’t think it’s so funny!” With which veiled threat he swung angrily away and the car door crashed resoundingly behind him.

Blash and Stanley were somewhat sobered, but Rusty still beamed. “I wonder what Summer did say!” he chuckled. “I wish I knew!”

“Look here,” said Stanley, “you don’t suppose he will go to Jud, do you? You know, Rusty, Jud’s a bit down on you!”

“He won’t. He knows that if he did I’d beat him to a stiff froth! Anyhow, what of it? Jud will only appreciate my kindness of heart. It wasn’t really my fault if we stumbled into the wrong room.”

“That won’t go with Jud,” said Blash, shaking his head. “Still, I don’t believe Sandy will blab. What say, Gus? Oh, he was sort of peeved over something that happened.” Blash turned to Gus Stone, who was leaning over the back of the seat. “You know how Sandy is. Thinks fellows are trying to put something over on him.”

“What was it?” persisted Stone, smiling broadly in anticipation.

“Why, nothing much, really. It was all – a mistake.” Blash looked as innocent as a new-born babe. “You see, Rusty offered to introduce Sandy to a friend of his at Phillipsburg whose room overlooked the football field so that Sandy wouldn’t have to pay to see the game, and by accident they got into the wrong room and Rusty went out to look for his friend and thoughtlessly locked the door behind him. Of course, when the fellow who lived there got back and found Sandy, he was surprised! And Sandy has got it into his head that Rusty put up a job on him. Which just shows, Gus, that even with the best intentions in the world you sometimes go wrong!”

“Warne! Warne!” called a trainman. “Change for Sturgis, Bradfield, Seppit’s Mill and points on the Westfield Branch! Wa-a-arne!”

CHAPTER XV

CAPTAIN PETERS ENTERTAINS

Dick received his meed of praise for his part in securing Parkinson’s victory over Phillipsburg, but naturally the greater credit went to Findley, as it should have. Dick found, however, on the following Monday that he had become of a little more importance on the gridiron. Billy Goode was most solicitous as to his condition and Coach Driscoll was a little bit “fussy” over him. He saw plenty of hard work, however, for Gus Stone and Cardin, together with several others, were excused from practice that afternoon. Dick and Pryne were kept busy and when the Second Team came over for a scrimmage it was Dick to whom fell the honour of generaling the First. The team made hard sledding that day, and the Second put over a touchdown and a safety in the first half and made her opponent hustle in the second half to win. The substitutes acted stale and were slower than cold molasses, to use Gaines’ metaphor, and even Dick, who had certainly not been overworked on Saturday, found it hard to put snap into his play. Perhaps the weather had something to do with it, for the day was mild and misty and even the ball felt heavy.

After practice Dick went back to the gymnasium with lagging feet, paying little heed to the talk of the fellows about him. Somehow, nothing was vastly interesting today, and the thought of supper held no attraction. A cold shower braced him somewhat, however, and as it was still short of five o’clock – for practice had been slightly shorter than usual – he turned his steps back to the field where the Track Team candidates were still at work. The high hurdles were being set and Stanley and five other boys were waiting at the head of the straight-way. Dick spoke to several of the group and seated himself on a stone roller beside the cinders. Billy Goode was in charge and Billy called to Dick remonstratingly.