A Quarter-Back's Pluck: A Story of College Football

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XXI

  STRANGE BEDFELLOWS

  The practice was over. Phil stuck to it until he had, with theassistance of the coach and the captain, drilled the 'varsity into analmost perfect running of the trick play. Of course, how it would workagainst fierce opponents was another matter. But, in spite of the shockengendered by the receipt of the telegram, Phil would not give up untilthe men fairly "snapped" into place, after he had given the signal forthe fake tackle run and pass to the half-back. Now he and Tom were ontheir way to their room.

  "What are you going to do, Phil?" asked Tom.

  "I don't know," was the despondent answer. "I--of course, I'll have togo when I get word."

  "Do you think she's worse?"

  "I'm afraid so; or else they're going to operate. But don't let's talkabout it. It breaks me all up."

  "I should think it would. I don't see how you could stay in practiceafter you got the message."

  "I felt as if I had to, Tom. Of course, I know I'm only a small factorin the eleven----"

  "I think you're a pretty big one," interrupted the left-endenthusiastically.

  "Well, thank you for that; but I mean relatively. I'm only one of elevenplayers, and my place could be filled. Still, I do flatter myself thatI've got the team into some kind of machine-like precision, which isvery needful in a game. I don't mean that I've done it all alone, for Ihaven't. Every man has done more than his share, and with a coach likeMr. Lighton, and a captain like Holly Cross, a fellow can do a lot. ButI'm a cog in the wheels of the machine, and you know how it is when youput a new wheel in a bit of apparatus. It may be just as good, or betterthan the old one, but it's got to take time to work off the rough spotsand fit in smoothly.

  "That's the way I feel. I want to stay in the game and at practice aslong as I can, for when I drop out, and a new quarter-back comes in,it's bound to throw the playing off the least bit, and I'm not pattingmyself on the back when I say that, I hope."

  "Indeed, you're not! But it must be nervous work running a team when youknow--well, er----" and Tom stopped in some confusion.

  "I know," said Phil simply. "But you can do lots of things when you tryhard. I'm going to do this. I'll hold myself in readiness to jump downto Palm Beach when I get the word, but until then I'm going to stick bythe team."

  There was a look on Phil's face that Tom had never seen there before. Itwas as if some inner power was urging him along the difficult path thatlay before him. He seemed to be drawing on a hidden reserve supply ofgrit and pluck, and, as he passed up the stairs, with an easy, swayingmotion of his athletic body, Tom could not help but admiring hisgood-looking, well-formed chum.

  "I--I hope nothing happens to take him away before we play our lastgame," whispered the 'varsity pitcher. "He's the best quarter Randallever had, if what the old-timers say is true. If we don't win thechampionship I'll miss my guess."

  He kept on up the stairs after Phil. In the corridor stood Ford Fenton.Phil nodded at him, but did not feel like speaking. His fingers wereclasped around the telegram in his pocket.

  "Hello!" cried Fenton. "I saw you at practice. That's a dandy trick youworked, Phil. My uncle says that----"

  "Ford," began Tom gravely, "have you ever had smallpox?"

  "Smallpox? My good gracious, no! You don't mean to say that there's acase of it here?"

  "We haven't been exposed to smallpox," went on Tom, "but we are bothsuffering from a severe attack of Uncleitis, so if you don't want tocatch it you'd better keep away from us."

  "Hu! I guess you think that's a joke!" exclaimed Ford as he turned andwalked away. Then Tom and Phil entered their room.

  Something in the look of their faces attracted the attention of Sid.

  "What's the matter?" he asked, despite Tom's frantic gestures behindPhil's back, which motions were made with a view to keeping Sid quiet.

  "I'm afraid I'll have to go--go where my mother is, any minute," saidPhil brokenly. "I--I guess I'll pack up so--so's to be ready."

  Then the tension broke, and the nervous force that had girt him aboutwhen he was on the gridiron gave way, and he sobbed brokenly. Tominstantly began rearranging the books on the table, where they werepiled in artistic confusion, and raised such a dust that Sid sneezed.The latter was in the old armchair, which had been mended, after afashion, following the throwing of it from the window in the fire scare.As Sid tried to get up from the depths of it, there came a crash, andthe antique piece of furniture settled heavily on one side, like a shipwith a bad list to port.

  "There you go!" cried Tom, glad to have a chance to speak sharply. "Whatare you trying to do--smash it all to pieces? Can't you get out of achair without busting it?"

  "I--I didn't mean to," spoke Sid so gently, and in such a contrast toTom's fiery words, that Phil could not restrain an exclamatory chuckle.It was just the thing needed to change the current that was setting toostrongly toward sadness, and a moment later the three were carefullyexamining the chair.

  "It's only a leg broken," said Phil at length, and during the inspectionhe kept his face in the shadow. "I can fix it to-morrow," he went on,and when he arose he was himself again.

  "Better put an iron brace on, if Sid is going to do double backsomersaults in it," went on Tom with simulated indignity. "This isn't abarn, Sid. It's a gentlemen's room."

  "Oh, you shut up!" cried Sid, and then the chums were more natural.

  Phil arranged that night to leave college at once, in case further badnews was received, and he also communicated with Ruth, planning to takeher with him. But there was no need, for in the morning another messagewas received, saying that Mrs. Clinton had somewhat recovered from therelapse that threatened.

  Phil said little, but there was a different air about him all that day,and when he went into practice he actually seemed to carry the teamalong on his shoulders, so that they crumbled the scrub opposition intonothingness, and made five touch-downs in the two short halves theyplayed.

  Since the episode of the freshman dance the first-year students had"sung small" whenever the sophomores were about. It was the mosthumiliating trick that had been "pulled off in so many years that thememory of man runneth not to the contrary," as Holly Cross put it in oneof his favorite quotations. Gerhart was much downcast at first, for, ashe was in charge of the affair, it was considered a sort of reflectionon his ability. And he laid it all to Tom, Sid, Phil and DutchHousenlager.

  "You wait; I'll get even with you some day," he had said to Tom.

  "We're perfectly willing," answered Tom good-naturedly. "If you thinkyou can put anything over our home plate, why go ahead, and more powerto ye, as Bricktop Molloy would say."

  "You just wait," was all Gerhart answered.

  It was the night before the game with Dodville Preparatory School, whichinstitution had an eleven not to be despised. They had met Randall onthe diamond and were anxious to come to conclusions with them on thegridiron. Following some light practice, during which the fake tacklerun and pass to half-back was worked to perfection, Sid, Tom and Philwent for a stroll along Sunny River. The placid stream had an attractionin the early evening that was absent at other times, and the threechums felt its influence as they walked along the banks.

  "Do you feel nervous about to-morrow's game?" asked Tom of Phil.

  "Not as much so as if it was against Boxer Hall," replied thequarter-back. "Of course I--I shall be worrying a bit for fear I'll geta message from Florida, but I'm going to try to forget it. I want toroll up a big score against Dodville."

  "And against Boxer Hall, too," added Sid.

  "Of course. But that's some time off, and we'll improve in the meanwhile.I fancy the game to-morrow will develop some weak spots that will needstrengthening."

  They walked and talked for about an hour, and it was dark when theyreturned to their room.

  "No study to-night," remarked Phil, as he began to disrobe. "Me forpounding the pillow at once, if not sooner."

  "Same here," came from Tom, and he began taking off his th
ings. "Lastfellow to undress puts the light out," he added, and then there was arace. Tom and Phil leaped into bed almost at once, and Sid, leavingthe light turned on, was scarcely a second behind them. There was aprotesting howl from Phil and Tom at their chum's perfidy, but the nextinstant Tom uttered a yell.

  "Wow! Ouch! Something's in my bed!" he cried as he leaped out.

  "And in mine, too!" came from Sid. "It's a snake!" and reaching downbetween the sheets, he pulled out a long reptile.

  "Caesar's Haywagon!" cried Phil. "I've drawn something, too!" and withthat he held up a mudturtle.

  "Ten thousand thistles!" yelled Tom as he began pulling off his pajamas."I'm full of needles!"