CHAPTER IV.
MAKING THE ELEVEN.
"I'd give good money, if I had it," quoth Turner, "to haveto-morrow's game over and won." Half a dozen boys were gathered inthe Pierson Hall rooms, and the talk was on the Exeter game which wasto be played on the morrow.
"Why so timid?" spoke up the Codfish, who was planning anotherassault on the _News_ columns.
"This Exeter team is good, awfully good. Did you see what they did toHotchkiss last week?"
"Sure--16 to 0."
"And what was our score against Hotchkiss?"
"Nothing to 6."
"Figuring at that rate it will be an interesting occasion for usto-morrow afternoon," said Frank Armstrong gloomily. "But then," morecheerfully, "you can never tell what will happen in football. If ourfriend James Turner could get away on one of his dashing runs, rightearly in the game, it might be a help."
"I haven't been dashing much lately," said Turner. "My dashing hasbeen chiefly on the ground."
"The worm may turn," suggested Butcher Brown, a broad-shouldered andloosely built young chap who played a tackle position on the secondFreshman eleven, and who lived on the same floor in Pierson, at theend of the corridor.
"Speaking of worms," observed the Codfish, "did you notice the _News_this morning?"
"I saw it was printed as usual," said Frank. "Some good football newson the first page?"
"Always thinking of football. Did you happen to look in the crewnotices? Of course, you didn't."
"What was it? Tell us. Have you been promoted?"
"Promoted is the word," said the Codfish proudly. "I have the honorto announce to you, since you didn't read it for yourself, that I'mto guide the destinies of the third Freshman crew henceforth."
"I'm glad I'm not on it, then," said Turner.
"And," continued the Codfish undaunted by Turner's shot, "in about aweek I'll land in the seat of the first eight. They are very fond ofmy style down there at the boathouse."
"Your line of talk I suppose is so overpowering that the crew rowshard to get away from it."
"Don't be sarcastic, Armstrong. It doesn't fit your particularstyle of beauty. You are peeved because you can't make the Freshmanfootball team, and, of course, I don't blame you, but try not to bejealous of me."
Frank laughed. "Go it, old bird," he said. "We're too fond of youto be jealous, but remember the old proverb: 'Pride goeth before afall!'"
"Watch me," said the Codfish. "Proverbs don't fit my case," and theCodfish busied himself over a pile of correspondence.
"Why such industry?" inquired Turner, after a few minutes of silencebroken only by the scratching of the Codfish's pen.
"Read it in the _News_, my son. I'm going to have a red-hot scoopto-morrow."
"Let us in on it."
"Not on your life."
"Has it anything to do with prehistoric horses?"
"Nothing at all. Better than that. This one will make them all sit upand take notice. There ought to be about ten thousand words credit inthis one. I can see the road clear to an editorship on that ancientand honorable sheet. When I get on the Board, I'll see to it that allfootball games are very carefully reported, and that your glaringmistakes are not brought out too prominently."
"Thanks, very much," said Turner, laughing. "You're a confidentlittle rooster. For a man who talks so much you get very little intothat same _News_, it seems to me."
"I'll bet you I can get a front page article to-morrow."
"I'm not a betting man," said Turner. "Moreover I don't want to takeyour money."
"Quitter," retorted the Codfish. "I'll bet you for fun, money orbeans."
"I haven't had any fun for the last three weeks. I have no money, andbeans are scarce."
"Then I'll show you, anyway. Read the _News_ in the morning," andgrabbing a handful of manuscript the Codfish dashed out the door,slamming it vigorously behind him as was his habit.
An hour later, just as the boys were about to turn in for the night,Jim, the University officer, pushed the door open and entered.
"Hello, boys," said the officer, seating himself in a big armchairand puffing with the climb of three flights of stairs. "Do you have afellow named Gleason rooming here, a _News_ heeler?"
"Sure," said Frank, "that's the Codfish."
"Yes, yes," said the officer. "Well, he's been pinched."
"What, arrested?"
"Sure thing. He's down at the lock-up now. Captain just telephoned meto see if I could locate his friends."
"What was he up to?"
"Riding a bicycle on the Chapel street sidewalk."
"But he has no bicycle, it would be too much like work for him toride one."
"Well, he must have borrowed it then, because he was pulled in byone of the city men for breaking the ordinance against riding on thesidewalk."
"The nut," ejaculated Turner. "He should have known better than that."
"We've got to get him out of hock," said Frank.
"I guess you will if he gets out to-night," returned the officer,laughing, "and it takes about fifty dollars bail to do it."
The boys looked at each other, aghast. "Fifty dollars!" they said."That's a lot of money."
"Take up a collection," suggested the officer, "and I'll go down tothe station with you. It has got to be cash. They won't accept checksfor bail, you know."
Frank and Jimmy brought forth their rolls, but when they had laid alltheir cash on the table they were still short a matter of twenty-fivedollars. In this emergency David Powers was called upon across thehall, and he advanced the necessary funds.
At the Police Headquarters they found the Codfish installed in theCaptain's room, writing industriously.
"Just in time," said the Captain. "I was just going to put him in thecooler. I think he ought to spend the night with us, anyway. Teachhim a lesson."
The Codfish continued his writing unconcernedly for a minute, sighedwith satisfaction, folded up the paper and put it in his pocket."When the formalities are complied with, I'll go along with you.Have you got the bail?" he said to Frank, who was gazing at him inamazement.
The money was soon paid over, and the Codfish was released from thegrip of the law with instructions to be on hand for the opening ofthe city court at nine o'clock the next morning.
"You crazy nut," said Jimmy, on the way up to Pierson Hall. "How didyou come to get pinched?"
"Method in my madness, old top. Let's swing around to the _News_office. I've got a couple of articles for them, two more scoops."
"And what are they?"
"O, read the _News_ in the morning," said the Codfish, joyfully."You wouldn't understand the workings of the genius mind like this,"tapping his forehead, "if I told you."
The boys swung over to Elm street, and the Codfish handed in twoarticles at the _News_ office, and then went along with his friends."It always gives me a feeling of deep exhaustion to see thoseheelers working so hard on that sheet."
"Do they work hard?" inquired Frank.
"Work hard! Great fishes of the vasty deep, they put in an amount ofhours that ought to make you football fellows blush with shame, ifyou could blush. The ordinary news-heeler doesn't have time to eathis meals."
"You don't cut out many, I notice," laughed Jimmy.
"Yes, but I'm not the ordinary kind."
"I've heard you say that before."
"These other fellows chase little bits of things for news' sake,while I create news for my sake. Get the difference?"
"Right--O," said Frank. "You created some the other day--some bonenews."
"'Still harping on my daughter,' as one William Shakespeare said somemoons since? Can't you give that a rest and turn your mind to thepresent? Never worry about the dead past, is my motto. Even Napoleonmade mistakes, to say nothing of Turner, eh Jimmy?"
Reaching the Pierson room, the Codfish threw himself into a big chairand sighed luxuriously. "Great day's work. Although I started late onthis competition I must be nearly up to the leader now, and a
littlemore hustling will shoot me to the front."
"What an ego!" exclaimed Frank. "But now in the privacy of our ownroom, will you kindly tell me, why, how and what for did you getyourself in the hands of the law to-night, whose bicycle was it youborrowed, and when are we going to get the money we advanced torelease your worthless carcass from hock?"
"My, what a lot of questions. Do you mean to tell me you haven'tvisioned my scheme, a bright young fellow like you? Pshaw, pshaw,Armstrong, I didn't think it of you."
"Go ahead and elucidate, Sherlock Holmes!"
"It seems hardly necessary, but it is said, and truly I now perceive,that brains and brawn are not kindred attributes of the genusfootball man. In a word, I got myself pinched, and thereby made newsfor the _News_. Savez?"
"You got arrested on purpose to write up your own arrest?"
"Sure thing, surest thing you ever knew. Made a pretty little storyof it, touched on the brutality of the officer who hauled me intothe station, and, incidentally, made a strong plea for the use ofthe city sidewalks by heelers on bicycles when the streets are asdusty as they are now, to say nothing of a little hit at the lack ofcourtesy accorded the Yale student by the ordinary, garden variety ofpoliceman."
"And this is what we provided good money for!" said Frank.
Turner advanced threateningly upon the offender. "This is what wewere dragged from our room in the dead hour of night for, this isthe thing for which we deposited our good money! I hope they giveyou a thousand dollars and costs, and send you to jail for a year,to-morrow morning."
"O, yes," continued the Codfish, not noticing Turner's outburst, "andI forgot, I wrote another little item suggesting that the CriminalClub, of which I am now a member in good standing, and which hasfallen into decay, be rejuvenated and re?stablished in its glory ofthe olden days."
"Well, you've had your trouble for nothing, old lunatic. The _News_won't print anything like that."
"If they don't, they don't know good news when they see it."
"Costly news, I should say," grunted Frank. "Costly with our money.We want our money back and fifty per cent. interest for the wear andtear on our constitutions in this night air."
"I'll pay it to you out of my dividends from the _News_ Board when Icash in."
"Then we'll never get it," groaned Jimmy. "I'm going to bed. Codfishhas absolutely gone nutty."
"That's always said about geniuses by ordinary folks, old top. Timealone will prove who is the nutty gent," the Codfish shot after himas Turner went into his bedroom.
The next morning the college was agog with excitement about theproposed flight of aeroplanes over Yale field some time during theafternoon while the football game was in progress. Details of theflight were given in the Yale _News_, the names and histories of theaviators and the types of machines to fly. It was further stated thatone of the flyers would loop-the-loop in full view of the crowds inthe stands. The Codfish was bursting with pride at the sensation hehad sprung, for it was his story which had set the college talking.
"It's knocking their eye out," he boasted.
"Is it coming off?" inquired Frank incredulously.
"Sure, it's coming off. It cost me a cool two hundred and fifty toget them here, and I've had a dickens of a time keeping it quiet."
"So that's what you've been at these last three days, is it?" saidTurner.
"A week, my boy, you can't do big things like that in three days.This ought to give me a lead in the race. Eh, what?"
"A race for your life, if it doesn't come off."
"Always skeptical, no imagination, typical football type, slow tograsp an idea. If you had read the papers you would have seen thatthey're having a flying meet down at Bridgeport. With a littlelubricant in the shape of cash, the rest was easy."
A great crowd journeyed to Yale Field that afternoon, so great thatit resembled in a measure the days of the big football games. Withthree events scheduled--a Freshman game, a 'Varsity game and aflying exhibition, all in one afternoon, thousands were drawn in thedirection of the field, and the football manager chortled with joy ashe saw the shekels going into his treasury.
The games came and went, but no fliers hove in sight. The Freshmenwere overwhelmed by the big Exeter team, and after that was over the'Varsity proceeded to punch holes in their opponents. The spectatorsdivided their attention between the field and the sky, but nothingcame. The nearest thing to an aeroplane that appeared during theafternoon was a large hawk which floated up from the southwest,and volplaned down from the heights. For a moment it raised falsehopes. The crowd reluctantly filed out of the big stands as darknessbegan to settle over the field and still no flying men put in theirappearance.
The Codfish was puzzled but not alarmed. Nothing could disturb hisbuoyant nature. He rode back to the city on a car loaded with peoplewho indignantly proclaimed a fake by the Yale _News_ for the purposeof drawing a larger attendance for the game, but although he heard,the Codfish kept his own counsel. Arriving at his room he found atelegram from the manager of the meet at Bridgeport, notifying himthat owing to a disagreement among the fliers, they would not be ableto come to New Haven at all, and that his check would be returnednext day.
"Well, this lets me out," soliloquized the promoter of the flyingmeet. "I'll write this up, describe the disagreement in detail,and hand it in for Monday's paper. Great thought," he added aloud,"more credit for yours truly. We play them both ways and the middle,there's no chance to lose."
Just then Frank and Jimmy came in. The game had not been one toenliven their spirits. They were caustic in their remarks to theCodfish.
"You are certainly a bum flying meet promoter," said Frank. "Withtwo such stories as you have pulled off in our conservative little_News_, you might as well die."
"On the contrary, I've just begun a little story," as indeed he had,"which will explain the matter satisfactorily. Fliers are said to beuncertain birds anyway, and I guess they are. This story," he added,"will put me straight with the editors and the editors straight withthe college. No harm done at all. Exhibition arranged, all in goodfaith, some aviator has the pip, no flight, telegram explains, Iexplain, more news at every turn, and there you are."
"Yes, and there you are," said Turner scowling. "Your roommates getthe blame for not letting you be locked up, as you should be."
"O, I didn't see you scoring any touchdowns to-day. Come in," heyelled as a knock came on the door. A young Freshman heeler enteredwith a note which he handed to the promoter of the flying exhibition."From the _News_," he added and went out.
The Codfish took the letter and tore off the end of the envelope."Big assignment I imagine, expected as much, they're beginning to seeI'm onto my job."
But as the Codfish read, a change came over his face. He went throughthe short note once and then again, while his roommates watched himcuriously.
"Well, what is it, an assignment, eh?" said Frank. "Something big?"
"An assignment, yes," returned the Codfish weakly, "an assignment toquit. What do you think of this?" and he read aloud:
"G. W. Gleason, Pierson Hall.
Dear Sir:--
It is the unanimous opinion of the Board that you had better confine your activities to some other field of endeavor than the _News_. An imagination like yours is wasted on the ordinary business of publishing a college paper. We do not deal entirely in fiction. We respectfully suggest that you try the _Courant_, which will more nearly suit your peculiar type of genius.
Very truly yours, JOHN P. MURRAY, Chairman."
"Fired, by gosh," said the Codfish.
"Fired it is," said Turner. "I knew your zeal would carry you overthe falls."
"Well, I had a good time going, anyway."
"O, I say," said Frank, "what did they give you at City Court thismorning?"
"Five dollars and costs, not much for the experience. It was worthall the trouble. Experience is what I live for."
"You funny duffer," said Frank, laughing. "Now pay up,
" and theCodfish did.
"Well, there's one thing I still have left, my crew job. They can'tshake me there."
Frank Armstrong at College Page 4