Behind the Line: A Story of College Life and Football

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER XVII

  A PLAN AND A CONFESSION

  Robinson's protest set forth succinctly that Cowan had, three yearsprevious, played left tackle on the football team of a certainacademy--whose right to the title of academy was often questioned--andhad received money for his services. Dates and other particulars wereliberally supplied, and the name and address of the captain of the teamwere given. Altogether, the letter was discouragingly convincing, andneither the coaches, the captain, nor the athletic officers reallydoubted the truth of the charge.

  Professor Nast, the chairman of the Athletic Committee, blinked gravelythrough his glasses and looked about the room.

  "You've sent for Mr. Cowan?" he asked.

  "Yes," Mills answered; "he ought to be here in a minute. How in theworld was he allowed to get on to the team?"

  "Well, his record was gone over, as we believed, very thoroughly yearbefore last," said Professor Nast; "and we found nothing against him. Ithink--ah--it seems probable that he unintentionally misled us. Perhapshe can--ah--explain."

  When, however, Cowan faced the group of grave-faced men it was soonevident that explanations were far from his thoughts. He had heardenough before the summons reached him to enable him to surmise whatawaited him, and when Professor Nast explained their purpose in callinghim before them, Cowan only displayed what purported to be honestindignation. He stormed violently against the Robinson authorities anddefied them to prove their charge. Mills listened a while impatientlyand then interrupted him abruptly.

  "Do you deny the charge, Cowan, or don't you?" he asked.

  "I refuse to reply to it," answered Cowan angrily. "Let them think whatthey want to; I'm not responsible to them. It's all revenge, nothingelse. They tried to get me to go to them last September; offered me freecoaching, and guaranteed me a position on the team. I refused. Andhere's the result."

  Professor Nast brightened and a few of those present looked relieved.But Mills refused to be touched by Cowan's righteousness, and askedbrusquely:

  "Never mind what their motive is, Cowan. What we want to know is this:Did you or did you not accept money for playing left tackle on thatteam? Let us have an answer to that, please."

  "It's absurd," said Cowan hotly. "Why, I only played three games--"

  "Yes or no, please," said Mills.

  For an instant Cowan's gaze faltered. He glanced swiftly about the roomand read only doubt or antagonism in the faces there. He shrugged hisbroad shoulders and replied sneeringly:

  "What's the good? You're all down on me now; you wouldn't believe me ifI told you."

  "We're not all down on you," answered Mills. Professor Nast interrupted.

  "One moment, Mr. Mills. I don't think Mr. Cowan understands the--ah--theposition we are in. Unless you can show to our satisfaction that thecharge is untrue, Mr. Cowan, we shall be obliged, under the terms of ouragreement with Robinson, to consider you ineligible. In that case, youcould not, of course, play against Robinson; in fact, you would not beadmitted to any branch of university athletics. Now, don't you thinkthat the best course for you to follow is to make a straightforwardexplanation of your connection with the academy in question? We are nothere to judge the--ah--ethics of your course; only to decide as towhether or no you are eligible to represent the college in athletics."

  Cowan arose from his seat and with trembling fingers buttoned hisovercoat. His brow was black, but when he spoke, facing the head coachand heedless of the rest, he appeared quite cool.

  "Ever since practise began," he said, "you have been down on me and havedone everything you could to get rid of me. No matter what I did, itwasn't right. Whether I'm eligible or ineligible, I'm done with you now.You may fill my place--if you can; I'm out of it. You'll probably bebeaten; but that's your affair. If you are, I sha'n't weep over it."

  He walked to the door and opened it.

  "It's understood, I guess, that I've resigned from the team?" he asked,facing Mills once more.

  "Quite," said the latter dryly.

  "All right. And now I don't mind telling you that I did get paid forplaying with that team. I played three games and took money every time.It isn't a crime and I'm not ashamed of it, although to hear you talkyou'd think I'd committed murder. Good-night, gentlemen."

  He passed out. Professor Nast blinked nervously.

  "Dear me," he murmured, "dear me, how unpleasant!"

  Mills smiled grimly, and, rising, stretched his limbs.

  "I think what we have left to do won't take very long. I hardly thinkthat it is necessary for me to reply to the accusations brought by thegentleman who has just left us."

  "No, let's hear no more of it," said Preston. "I propose that we replyto Robinson to-night and have an end of the business. To-morrow we'llhave plenty to think of without this," he added grimly.

  The reply was written and forwarded the next day to Robinson, and thefollowing announcement was given out at Erskine:

  The Athletic Committee has decided that Cowan is not eligible to represent the college in the football game with Robinson, and he has been withdrawn. A protest was received from the Robinson athletic authorities yesterday afternoon, and an investigation was at once made with the result stated. The loss of Cowan will greatly weaken the team, it is feared, but that fact has not been allowed to influence the committee. The decision is heartily concurred in by the coaches, the captain, and all officials, and, being in line with Erskine's policy of purity in athletics, should have the instant indorsement of the student body.

  H.W. NAST, _Chairman_.

  The announcement, as was natural, brought consternation, and for severaldays the football situation was steeped in gloom. Witter and Hurst wereseized upon by the coaches and drilled in the tactics of right-guard. AsFoster had said, Witter, while he was a good player, was light for theposition. Hurst, against whom no objection could be brought on theground of weight, lacked experience. In the end Witter proved firstchoice, and Hurst was comforted with the knowledge that he waspractically certain to get into the game before the whistle sounded forthe last time.

  Meanwhile Artmouth came and saw and conquered to the tune of 6-0,profiting by the news of Cowan's withdrawal and piling their backsthrough Witter, Hurst, and Brown, all of whom took turns at right-guard.The game was not encouraging from the Erskine point of view, and thegloom deepened. Foster declared that it was so thick during the lasthalf of the contest that he couldn't see the backs. Neil saw the gamefrom the bench, and Paul, once more at left-half, played an excellentgame; but, try as he might, could not outdo Gillam. When it was overNeil declared the honors even, but Paul took a less optimistic view andwould not be comforted.

  All the evening, save for a short period when he went upstairs tosympathize with Cowan, he bewailed his fate into Neil's ears. The lattertried his best to comfort him, and predicted that on Monday Paul wouldfind himself in Gillam's place. But he scarcely believed it himself, andso his prophecies were not convincing.

  "What's the good of being decent?" asked Paul dolefully. "I wish I'dgone to Robinson."

  "No, you don't," said Neil. "You'd rather sit on the side-line atErskine than play with a lot of hired sluggers."

  "Much you know about it," Paul growled. "If I don't get into theRobinson game I'll--I'll leave college."

  "But what good would that do?" asked Neil.

  "I'd go somewhere where I'd stand a show. I'd go to Robinson or one ofthe smaller places."

  "I don't think you'd do anything as idiotic as that," answered Neil."It'll be hard luck if you miss the big game, but you've got three moreyears yet. What's one? You're certain to stand the best kind of a shownext year."

  "I don't see how. Gillam doesn't graduate until 1903."

  "But you can beat him out for the place next year. All you need is moreexperience. Gillam's been at it two years here. Besides, it would besilly to leave a good college just because you couldn't play on thefootball team. Don't be like Cowan and think football's th
e only thing achap comes here for."

  "They've used him pretty shabbily," said Paul.

  "That's what Cowan thinks. I don't see how they could do anything else."

  "He's awfully cut up. I'm downright sorry for him. He says he's going topack up and leave."

  "And he's been trying to make you do the same, eh?" asked Neil. "Well,you tell him I'm very well satisfied with Erskine and haven't the leastdesire to change."

  "You?" asked Paul.

  "Certainly. We hang together, don't we?"

  Paul grinned.

  "You're a good chap, chum," he said gratefully. "But--" relapsing againinto gloom--"you're not losing your place on the team, and you don'tknow how it feels. When a fellow's set his heart on it--"

  "I think I do know," answered Neil. "I know how I felt when my shoulderwent wrong and I thought I was off for good and all. I didn't like it.But cheer up, Paul, and give 'em fits Monday. Slam 'round, let yourselfloose; show 'em what you can do. Down with Gillam!"

  "Oh, I dare say," muttered Paul dejectedly.

  Neil laid awake a long time that night; he was full of sympathy for hisroom-mate. With him friendship meant more than it does to the averageboy of nineteen, and he was ready and eager to do anything in his powerthat would insure Paul's getting into the Robinson game. The trouble wasthat he could think of nothing, although he lay staring into thedarkness, thinking and thinking, until Paul had been snoring comfortablyacross the room for more than an hour.

  The next afternoon, Sunday, Neil, obeying the trainer's instructions,went for a walk. Paul begged off from accompanying him, and Neil soughtSydney. That youth was delighted to go, and so, Neil alternately pushingthe tricycle and walking beside it while Sydney propelled it himself,the two followed the river for several miles into the country. Theafternoon was cold but bright, and being outdoors was a pleasure to anyhealthy person. Neil forgot some of his worries and remembered that,after all, he was still a boy; that football is not the chief thing incollege life, and that ten years hence it would matter little to himwhether he played for his university against her rival or looked on fromthe bench. And it was that thought that suggested to him a means ofsparing Paul the bitter disappointment that he dreaded.

  The plan seemed both simple and feasible, and he wondered why he had notthought of it before. To be sure, it involved the sacrificing of anambition of his own; but to-day, out here among the pines and beeches,with the clear blue sky overhead and the eager breeze bringing the colorto his cheeks, the sacrifice seemed paltry and scarcely a sacrifice atall. He smiled to himself, glad to have found the solution of Paul'strouble, which was also his own; but suddenly it occurred to him thatperhaps he had no right to do what he contemplated. The ethics werepuzzling, and presently he turned to Sydney, who had been silently andcontentedly wheeling himself along across the road, and soughthis counsel.

  "Look here, Syd, you're a level-headed sort of chump. Give me yourvaluable opinion on this, will you? Now--it's a supposititious case, youknow--here are two fellows, A and B, each trying for thesame--er--prize. Now, supposing A has just about reached it and B hasfallen behind; and supposing I--"

  "Eh?" asked Sydney.

  "Yes, I meant A. Supposing A knows that B is just as deserving of theprize as he is, and that--that he'll make equally as good use of it. Doyou follow, Syd?"

  "Y--yes, I think so," answered the other doubtfully.

  "Well, now, the question I want your opinion on is this: Wouldn't it beperfectly fair for A to--well, slip a cog or two, you know--"

  "Slip a cog?" queried Sydney, puzzled.

  "Yes; that is," explained Neil, "play off a bit, but not enough for anyof the fellows to suspect, and so let B get the plum?"

  "Well," answered Sydney, after a moment's consideration, "it sounds fairenough--"

  "That's what I think," said Neil eagerly.

  "But maybe A and B are not the only ones interested. How about theconditions of the contest? Don't they require that each man shall do hisbest? Isn't it intended that the prize shall go to the one who reallyis the best?"

  "Oh, well, in a manner, maybe," answered Neil. He was silent a moment.The ethics was more puzzling than ever. Then: "Of course, it's only asupposititious case, you understand, Syd," he assured him earnestly.

  "Oh, of course," answered the other readily. "Hadn't we better turnhere?"

  The journey back was rather silent. Neil was struggling with hisproblem, and Sydney, too, seemed to have something on his mind. When thetown came once more into view around a bend in the road Sydneyinterrupted Neil's thoughts.

  "Say, Neil, I've got a--a confession to make." His cheeks were very redand he looked extremely embarrassed. Neil viewed him in surprise.

  "A confession? You haven't murdered the Dean, have you?"

  "No. It--it's something rather different. I don't believe that it willmake any difference in our--our friendship, but--it might."

  "It won't," said Neil. "Now, fire ahead."

  "Well, you recollect the day you found me on the way from the field andpushed me back to college?"

  "Of course. Your old ice-wagon had broken down and I--"

  "That's it," interrupted Sydney, with a little embarrassed laugh. "Ithadn't."

  "What hadn't? Hadn't what?"

  "The machine; it hadn't broken down."

  "But I saw it," exclaimed Neil. "What do you mean, Syd?"

  "I mean that it hadn't really broken down, Neil. I--the truth is I hadpried one of the links up with a screw-driver."

  Neil stared in a puzzled way.

  "But--what for?" he asked.

  "Don't you understand?" asked Sydney, shame-faced. "Because I wanted toknow you, and I thought if you found me there with my machine bustedyou'd try to fix it; and I'd make your acquaintance. It--it was awfullydishonest, I know," muttered Sydney at the last.

  Neil stared for a moment in surprise. Then he clapped the other on theshoulder and laughed uproariously.

  "Oh, to think of guileless little Syd being so foxy!" he cried. "Iwouldn't have believed it if any one else had told me, Syd."

  "Well," said Sydney, very red in the face, but joining in the laughter,"you don't mind?"

  "Mind?" echoed Neil, becoming serious again, "why of course I don't.What is there to mind, Syd? I'm glad you did it, awfully glad." He laidhis arm over the shoulders of the lad on the seat. "Here, let me push awhile. Queer you should have cared that much about knowing me; but--butI'm glad." Suddenly his laughter returned.

  "No wonder that old fossil in the village thought it was a queer sort ofa break," he shouted. "He knew what he was talking about after all whenhe suggested cold-chisels, didn't he?"