Left Guard Gilbert

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER XXII

  COACH ROBEY IS PUZZLED

  SOME twenty minutes later Don dropped into a chair in Number 6 andheaved a deep sigh of relief. "Gee," he muttered, "I wouldn't go throughthat again for--for a million dollars!"

  Tim chuckled as he seated himself beyond the table. "Why not?" he askedinnocently. "I thought everyone treated you very nicely."

  A smile flitted across Don's face. "I suppose they did, only--I guessthat was the trouble! I felt like an awful fool, Tim! Look here, whatdid he have to go and tell everything he knew for? I was afraid he wasgoing to and I wanted like anything to sneak out of there, but the placewas so quiet I didn't have the nerve! At first I didn't suspect that hehad seen me. I didn't recognise him until he stood up to speak thisevening. Yesterday I thought he looked sort of familiar, but I couldn'tplace him. He--he talks too much!"

  "He said some awfully nice things about you, old man."

  "He said a lot of nonsense, too! Exaggerated the whole thing, he did.Why, to listen to him you'd think I saved about a thousand people fromcertain death! Well, I didn't. I helped about six or seven folks out ofthose cars. They were sort of rattled and didn't seem to know enough tobeat it."

  "They weren't in any danger, then?"

  "No, not much. All they had to do was crawl out of the way."

  "Then they weren't any of them burned, Don?"

  "A few were."

  "How about the man with the broken arm?"

  "Oh, he'd got caught somehow." Don looked up and saw Tim's laugh."Well," he added defensively, "he needn't have told about it like that,right out in front of the whole school, need he?"

  "You bet he need! Donald, you're a bloomin', blushin' hero, and we'reproud of you! And when I say blushing I mean it, for you haven't stoppedyet!"

  "I guess you'd blush," growled Don, "if it happened to you!"

  "I dare say, but it never will. _I'll_ never have the whole school getup on their feet and cheer me like mad for three solid minutes! And I'llnever have Josh shake my hand off and beam at me and tell me I'm acredit to the school! Such beautiful things are not for poor littleTim!"

  Don sighed. "Well, it's over with, anyway."

  "Over with, nothing! It won't be over with as long as you stay here,Donald. A hero you are and a hero you remain, old chap. And--and I'mmighty proud of you, you old humbug! Telling us you didn't do anythingbut help lug folks to the relief train, or something!"

  "I didn't say that," replied Don defensively.

  "You let us think it. Gee, if I'd done anything like that I'd have putit in the papers!" Tim chuckled and then went on seriously. "You don'tneed to worry about the fellows thinking you a quitter any more, do you?I guess Proctor settled that once and for all, Don. And suppose you'drun away home the other night. This wouldn't have happened and fellowswould have said you had a yellow streak. I guess it was a mighty luckything you have little Tim to look after you, dearie!"

  "I'm glad I didn't," said Don earnestly. "I'd have made a worse mess ofit, shouldn't I? I--I'm sorry you got that punch, though, Timmy."

  "Forget it! It was worth it! Being the room-mate of a hero atones foreverything you ever did to me, Donald. I'm that proud----"

  But Tim didn't finish, for Don started around the table for him.

  * * * * *

  At the time this conversation was taking place Mr. Robey and DoctorProctor were walking back to the former's room in the village through afrosty, starlit night.

  "You certainly managed to spring a sensation, Gus," observed the coachas they turned into the road.

  "I should say so! Well, that boy deserved all the cheering and praise hereceived. And I'm glad I told that story."

  "Well, it's got me guessing," responded the other. "Look here, Gus, takea chap like the one you described tonight. What would you think if hequit cold a week before the big game?"

  "Quit? How do you mean, George?"

  "Just that. Develops an imaginary illness. Tells you he doesn't feelwell enough to play, in spite of the fact that he has nothing more thematter with him than you or I have. Probably not so much. Shows absoluterelief when you tell him he's dropped. What would you say to that?"

  "You mean Gilbert did that?" Mr. Robey assented. "I wondered why hewasn't on the platform with the rest of the team," mused the doctor."I'd say there was something queer about it, George. When did thishappen?"

  "Last week. Thursday or Friday, I think. He'd been laid off for a day orso and I thought he'd gone a bit fine, although he's rather toophlegmatic to suffer much from nerves. Some of the high-strung chaps dogo to pieces about this time and you have to nurse them along prettycarefully. But Gilbert! Well, on Saturday--yes, that was the day--he'dbeen reported perfectly fit by the trainer and just as a matter of formI asked him if he was ready to play. And, by Jove, he had the cheek toface me and say he wasn't well enough! It was nonsense, of course. He'dsimply got scared. I told him so and dropped him. But it's curious thata boy who could do what you told of this evening could prove a quitterlike that."

  "You say he seemed relieved when you let him go?"

  "Yes, he showed it plainly."

  "That is funny! I wonder what the truth of it is?"

  "Nerves, I suppose. Cold feet, as the fellows say."

  "Never! There's something else, old man, that you haven't got hold of.Can he play?"

  "Y-yes. Yes, he can play. He's the sort that comes slow and plays a bitlogy, but he's steady and works hard. Not a brilliant man, you know, butdependable. He's been playing guard. Losing him has left us a bit weakon that side, too."

  "Why not take him back then? Look here, George, you're a good coach andall that, but you're a mighty poor judge of human nature."

  "Piffle!"

  "It's so, though. You've only got to study that chap Gilbert to see thathe isn't the quitting kind. His looks show it, his manner shows it, theway he talks shows it. He's the sort that might want to quit; we all dosometimes; but he couldn't because he's got stuff in him that wouldn'tlet him!"

  "That's all well enough, Gus, but facts are facts. Gilbert _did_ quit,and quit cold on me. So theories don't count for much. And this humannature flapdoodle----"

  "I don't say he didn't quit. But I do say that you've made the wrongdiagnosis, George. Did you talk to him? Ask him what the trouble was? Goafter the symptoms?"

  "No, I'm no physician. He said he wasn't feeling well enough to play. Itold him we had no place for quitters on the team. He had nothing tosay to that. If you think I can feel the pulse and look at the tongue ofevery fellow----"

  Doctor Proctor laughed. "And take his temperature too, eh? No, I don'texpect you to do that, George. But I'll tell you what I would do, andI'd do it tomorrow too. I'd call around and see Gilbert. I'd tell himthat I wasn't satisfied with the explanation he'd made and I'd ask himto make a clean breast of the trouble, for he must be in some trouble orhe wouldn't thank you for firing him. And then I'd stop cutting off mynose to spite my face and I'd reinstate him tomorrow afternoon!"

  "Hmph! The trouble with you doctors is that you're too romantic. Youimagine things, you----"

  "We have to imagine, George. If we stuck to facts we'd never getanywhere in our profession! You try a little imagination, old chap.You're too matter-of-fact. What you can't see you won't believe in."

  "I certainly won't! As the kids say, seeing's believing."

  "Well, there's a very unattractive board fence across the road, George.On the other side of it there are shrubs and grass. I can't see them,but I know they're there."

  "More likely tin-cans and ashes," grunted Mr. Robey.

  "Pessimist!" laughed the other. "But never mind; ashes or grass,something's there, and you can't see it and yet you've got toacknowledge the existence of it. Now haven't you?"

  "I suppose so, but"--Mr. Robey laughed--"I'd rather see it!"

  "Climb the fence and have a look then! But you'll try my plan with theboy, won't you?"

  "Yes, I will. If only to satisfy my curi
osity, Gus. Hang it, the chap_can't_ be a quitter!"

  "He isn't. I'll stake my reputation as--as a romanticist on that! I'dlike mighty well to stay and solve the mystery with you, but I'll haveto jump for that early train. I wish, though, that you'd drop me a lineand tell me the outcome. I'm interested--and puzzled."

  "All right. I'm not much of a letter-writer, though. I'll see you beforeyou go back and tell you about it. You'll be in New York on Sunday,won't you?"

  "Until two o'clock. Have lunch with me and see me off. Come to the hotelas early as you can and we'll hold post-mortems on the games. Let's hopethat Princeton and Brimfield both win next Saturday, George!"