CHAPTER XII
A FIERCE TACKLE
Andy and his chums were taken completely by surprise. The approach ofMortimer and the other sophomores had been so silent that no warning hadbeen given.
Immediately on gaining admittance to the room the intruders begantossing things about. They pulled open the drawers of the dresser,scattering the garments all over. They tore down pictures from the wallsand ripped off the banners and pennants.
"Rough house!" they kept repeating. "Rough house on the freshmen!"
One of the sophomores pushed Bob and Ted over on Andy's bed, together.
Then Gaffington pulled from his pocket a handful of finely chopped paperof various colors--"confetti"--and scattered it in a shower overeveryone and everything.
"Snow, snow! beautiful snow!" he declaimed. "Shiver, freshmen!"
A momentary pause ensued. Andy and his chums were getting back theirbreaths.
"Well, why don't you shiver?" demanded Mortimer. "That's snow--beautifulsnow--all sorts of colored snow! Shiver, I tell you! It's snowing!Little Eva in Uncle Tom's Cabin--Eliza crossing the ice! Shiver now, youfreshmen, shiver!"
He was laughing in a silly sort of way.
"That's right--shiver!" commanded some of Mortimer's companions.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" jeered the society swell at Andy. "Whydon't you shiver?"
"I've forgotten how," said Andy, calmly.
"Hang you, _shiver_!" and Mortimer fairly howled out the word. Hestarted toward Andy, with raised arm and clenched fist.
Among the possessions disturbed by the intruders was Andy's favoritebaseball bat, which he had brought with him. Instinctively, as heretreated a step, his fingers clutched it. He swung it around and heldit in readiness. Mortimer recoiled, and Andy, seeing his advantage,cried:
"Get out of here! All of you. Come on, fellows, put 'em out!"
He raised the bat above his head, without the least intention in theworld of using it, but the momentum swung it from his hand and it struckMortimer on the forehead.
The lad who had led the "rough house" attack staggered for a moment,and then, blubbering, sank down in a heap on the floor.
A sudden silence fell. In an instant Andy had sunk down on his kneesbeside his enemy and was feeling his pulse and heart. There was only aslight bruise on the forehead.
"You--you've killed him!" whimpered one of the sophomores.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Dunk. "He's only over-excited." This was puttingit mildly. Mortimer had been "celebrating," and had really fainted."That was only a love tap," went on Dunk. "Chuck a little water in hisface and he'll be all right."
This was done and proved to be just what was needed. Mortimer opened hiseyes.
"What--what happened?" he asked, weakly. "Where--where am I?"
"Where you don't belong," replied Dunk, sharply. "It's your move--getout!"
"You--you struck me!" went on Mortimer, accusingly to Andy.
"No, indeed, I did not! I thought you were coming for me, and so Iraised the bat. It slipped."
"I guess that's right, old man," said one of the sophomores, frankly. "Isaw it. Mort has been going it too heavily. We'll get him out of here.No offense, I hope," and he looked around the dismantled room. "This isthe usual thing."
"Oh, all right," said Dunk. "We're not kicking. I guess we held up ourend."
"You sure did," returned one of the sophomores, as he glanced at thewilted Mortimer. "Come on, fellows."
Andy, feeling easier now that he was sure Mortimer was not badly hurt,looked at the other lads. Two of them he recognized as the ones who hadbeen with Gaffington when the loss of the money was discovered. Andywondered whether it had been found, but he did not like to ask.
"I--I'll get you for this! I'll fix you!" growled Mortimer, as his chumsled him out of the room. "You--you----" and he swayed unsteadily,gazing at Andy.
"Oh, dry up and come on!" advised Len Scott. "We'll go downtown and havesome fun."
They withdrew and the dazed freshmen began helping Andy and Dunkstraighten up the room. It took some time and it was late when theyfinished. Then, thinking the day had been strenuous enough, Andy andDunk declined invitations to go out, and got ready for bed.
So ended Andy's first day at Yale.
There was a hurried run to chapel next morning, and Andy, who had tofinish arranging his scarf on the way, found that he was not the onlytag-ender. Chapel was not over-popular.
That Len Scott did not recover his lost money was made evident the nextday, for there were several notices posted in various places offering areward for the return of the bills. Andy heard, indirectly, that Len andMortimer made half-accusations against the freshmen they had "frisked"earlier in the evening, and had been soundly trounced for theirimpudence.
Andy told Dunk of his connection in the affair and was advised to keepquiet, which Andy thought wise to do. But the loss of the money did notseem to be of much permanent annoyance to Len, for a few days later hewas again spending royally.
Andy began now to settle down to his life at Yale. He was dulyestablished in his room with Dunk, and it was the congregating place ofmany of their freshmen friends. Andy and Dunk continued to eat at the"joint" in York street, though our hero made up his mind that he wouldshift to University Hall at the first opportunity. He hoped Dunk wouldcome with him, but that was rather doubtful.
"I can try, anyhow," thought Andy.
Our hero did not find the lessons and lectures easy. There was a spiritof hard work at Yale as he very soon found out, and he had not as muchleisure time as he had anticipated, which, perhaps, was a good thing forhim. But Andy wanted to do well, and he applied himself at first withsuch regularity that he was in danger of becoming known as a "dig." Buthe was just saved from that by the influence of Dunk, who took matters alittle easier.
Following the episode of the "rough house," Andy did not see Mortimerfor several days, and when he did meet him the latter took no notice ofour hero.
"I'm just as pleased," Andy thought. "Only it looks as though he'd makemore trouble."
Candidates for the football team had been called for, and, as Andy hadmade good at Milton, he decided to try for at least a place on thefreshman team.
So then, one crisp afternoon, in company with other candidates, allrather in fear and trembling, he hopped aboard a trolley to go out toYale Field.
Dunk was with him, as were also Bob, Ted, and Thad, who likewise hadhopes. There was talk and laughter, and admiring and envying glanceswere cast at the big men--those who had played on the varsity team lastyear. They were like the lords of creation.
The car stopped near the towering grandstands that hemmed in thegridiron, and Andy swarmed with the others into the dressing rooms.
"Lively now!" snapped Holwell, one of the coaches. "Get out on thefield, you fellows, and try tackling the dummy."
A grotesque figure hung from a cross beam, and against this thecandidates hurled themselves, endeavoring to clasp the elusive knees ina hard tackle. There were many failures, some of the lads missing thefigure entirely and sliding along on their faces. Andy did fairly well,but if he looked for words of praise he was disappointed.
This practice went on for several days, and then came other gridironwork, falling on the ball, punting and drop kicking. Andy was no star,but he managed to stand out among the others, and there was no lack ofmaterial that year.
Then came scrimmage practice, the tentative varsity eleven lining upagainst the scrub. With all his heart Andy longed to get into this, butfor days he sat on the bench and watched others being called before him.But he did not neglect practice on this account.
Then, one joyful afternoon he heard his name called by the coach.
"Get in there at right half and see what you can go," was snapped athim. "Don't fuddle the signals--smash through--follow the interference,and keep your eyes on the ball. Blake, give him the signals."
The scrub quarter took him to one side and imparted a simple code usedat practice.
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"Now, scrub, take the ball," snapped the coach, "and see what you cando."
There was a quick line-up. Andy was trembling, but he managed to holdhimself down. He looked over at the varsity. To his surprise Mortimerwas being tried at tackle.
"Ready!" shrilly called the scrub quarter."Signal--eighteen--forty-seven--shift--twenty-one--nineteen--"
It was the signal for Andy to take the ball through right tackle andguard. He received the pigskin and with lowered head and hunchedshoulders shot forward. He saw a hole torn in the varsity line for him,and leaped through it. The opening was a good one, and the coach ravedat the fatal softness of the first-team players. Andy saw his chance andsprinted forward.
But the next instant, after covering a few yards, he was fiercelytackled by Mortimer, who threw him heavily. He fell on Andy, and thebreath seemed to leave our hero. His eyes saw black, and there was aringing in his ears as of many bells.
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