Dick Hamilton's Football Team; Or, A Young Millionaire On The Gridiron
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CHAPTER XI
A RIVALRY
"What are you going to do?" asked Dick of the auto driver, as the threewalked out of the yard of the mean man, watched all the way by thesquinting eyes of Mr. Duncaster.
"Oh, I'll go to some place down the road where they're not so careful oftheir water," was the answer.
"Have you enough to run on?" asked Paul, and the chauffeur assured themthat he had. The next resident was a cheerful farmer, who not only gavepermission for them to take all the water they needed, but even drew itfrom the well for them.
"And if your machine needs a drink, perhaps you will too," said thefarmer's wife. "I've just made some hot coffee, and I'd like you all tocome in and have some."
"We will!" assented Dick, and most grateful was the beverage, for ridingin the open car was chilly.
"What a difference in people," commented Paul, as they started offagain.
The young millionaire felt almost as badly at sending the discouragingnews to his father as Mr. Hamilton must have felt on receiving it. Buthe immediately wired back a cheerful telegram to his son.
* * * * *
"Don't worry," he advised, "we'll try some other way, and perhaps youmay be able to get around Duncaster later. I'd come on and tackle himmyself, but I can't spare the time."
* * * * *
Thereupon Dick began to devise ways and means of inducing the miserlyand crabbed financier to part with the stock. He even thought of takingpart of the money that was in his own right, and making an offer higherthan the one authorized by his father, but he reflected since Mr.Hamilton had not told him to go more than ten points above par value,perhaps there might be a special reason for this.
"I might take a crowd of the fellows out to his house some night andhaze him," ventured our hero.
"Let me go along if you do," begged Paul eagerly. "I'd like to get evenwith him for calling us tin soldiers."
"I'm afraid it can't be done," and Dick sighed. "I'll have to think ofsomething else."
Football practice now occupied all the spare time the cadets had. Earlyand late they were on the gridiron, playing under the watchful eyes ofthe two coaches, who still found many faults to correct.
"No team is perfect," declared Mr. Spencer, "but we want Kentfield to beas nearly so as possible. You boys must do better on kicking though, foryou may meet some team where you'll have to depend on yourleg-and-foot-work to pull you out of a hole."
"And they're not quite as fast as I'd like to see them," added Mr.Martin. "They don't snap back into place quickly enough after each play.Now try it again. Get in the habit of running back into place instead ofwalking. Be lively!"
They lined up again, to run through some new plays and formations, andthen were ready for the scrub, against whom they made such a goodshowing that both coaches warmly congratulated their charges.
"I wish poor Teddy was back on the Varsity," confided Dick to Paul, asthey finished the day's practice. "He's feeling it very much, and he'sfalling off in form."
"Yes, I was afraid of that. I wonder if we couldn't do something?"
"I'm afraid not. Porter is playing well on the scrub though. He's muchfaster than he was in getting down on kicks, and he tackles fiercely.Did you ever have him come at you?"
"Indeed I have," answered Paul ruefully. "I've got a lump on my headyet where he threw me down last week. But that's the way to play thegame."
"Sure. Say, don't you think it's rather queer not to have a captain?"
"Yes, and it's evident that Teddy isn't going to stand any show for itnow. It will be some one of the present team, I fancy."
"Probably. Have you heard any rumors?"
"Well, George Hall would like it--in fact every fellow would, but Duttonis the hottest after it. He's pulling wires all he can--in a legitimateway, of course, and lots of the fellows like him."
"I don't blame him. Well, I'll vote for him, when the election is held."
"I won't!" declared Paul stoutly.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm going to vote for you, old man."
"Nonsense! I don't know as I want it."
"You deserve it, which is more. No one has done as much for theKentfield eleven since the academy was started as you have this oneseason, and you ought to be captain. Then you couldn't kick when theycalled it Dick Hamilton's football team."
"Oh, get out!" cried the young millionaire, yet he was not displeased athis chum's sincere words. And what normal healthy lad would not want tobe captain of an eleven?
There was much buzzing talk the next few days concerning the captaincy,and when the coaches announced that the present Varsity eleven wouldstand, at least for the present, and that in order to play match games acaptain would be needed, the excitement grew apace.
"Nominations to-morrow night!" cried Paul one afternoon as he burst intothe room he and Dick shared. "Dutton's name is sure to go up. I'm goingto nominate you and I've got the promise of nearly enough votes to putyou through."
"Look here!" began Dick, "I don't want----"
"It doesn't matter what you want!" cried Paul, clapping his chum on theback, and doing a sort of war dance around him, "you haven't anything tosay in this matter. You just come to the meeting and see what happens."
It was a lively session, for several matters cropped up that needed tobe settled. There was also a manager to be chosen, and, as Beeby did notwant the place, preferring to spend more time in practice and training,it was practically decided to have some one not on the team to lookafter business ends.
Dan Hatfield was talked of for manager, and his name met with suchinstant favor that none other was considered. But when it came to thecaptaincy that was a different matter.
The little boom that started in favor of George Hall was so feeble thathe himself saw that he had no chance, and nipped it. There was muchtalking and putting together of heads when Mr. Martin arose to announcethat nominations for captain were in order, and that the names would beposted three days, and then voted on.
"I nominate Ray Dutton!" sung out John Stiver, who was the particularchum of the former.
It was quickly seconded, and then up jumped Paul Drew.
"I nominate Dick Hamilton!" he sung out.
"Second it!" came promptly from Dutton himself, a courtesy that Dickacknowledged with a bow.
The former rivals--now rivals again--faced each other with smiles, butthere were anxious feelings in the hearts of both.
"Three cheers for the candidates!" cried Jim Watkins, and they weregiven heartily, with a tiger added.
"Any more nominations?" asked Mr. Martin.
"Well there's luck in odd numbers, I nominate Frank Rutley!" called outPorter with a laugh. "We might as well have a good choice while we're atit."
Weston seconded this name, and there were no comments. Thereupon thethree names were posted on the bulletin board, and the meetingadjourned.
"Well, what do you think of it, Dick?" asked Paul, as they strolled backto their room.
"I'm glad I'm nominated, of course, but----"
"Well, but me no buts, what is it?"
"Dutton is very popular, and I can't help remembering how he was againstme when I first came here. But I'll take my chance with him!"