by Morgan Scott
CHAPTER XVII.
AN ARMED TRUCE.
At practice that night Stone astonished everybody, even himself. Allhesitation and doubt seemed to have left him, and at everything heattempted he was amazingly sure and so swift that not a few of the boyswho had fancied him heavy and awkward gasped with astonishment andconfessed to one another that they had “sized him up wrong.” Those whohad fancied him dull of wit were also led to wonder over the rapiditywith which he seemed to grasp and understand every suggestion of thecoach. He was able to catch punts on the dead run; when he fell on theball he got it cleanly, never once permitting it to bound away fromhim; and he could kick, too, his sturdy right leg sending the pigskinsailing far through the air.
Bern Hayden likewise practiced well, putting all his usual snap anddash into everything he did, his accomplishments plainly demonstratingwhy he had been generally singled out as the fellow who would certainlybe chosen as captain of next year’s team. Of them all he was, perhaps,the only one who gave no attention to Stone; as far as he wasconcerned—outwardly, at least—Ben did not exist.
All this was most encouraging and stimulating to Capt. Eliot and theothers. The coach, who on the previous night had felt greatlydisappointed in the material from which he had hoped to build a cleverhigh school eleven, betrayed his relief and satisfaction by the alteredexpression of his face and the change in his manner. In fact, every oneseemed happy, and possibly, with the exception of Hayden, every one was.
With remarkable craft Bern masked his feelings. He did not even betraythe wrath that stirred his soul when, standing a short distance away,he heard Dash Winton say to Eliot:
“I think I was mistaken about that chap Stone. I fancied he wasn’t muchgood, but I’ve changed my mind since watching him work to-night. Heought to make one of the most valuable men on the team.”
“I’m glad you think so,” returned the captain; “for we certainly needhim to stiffen the line.”
“To-morrow night,” said Winton, “we must have enough fellows out hereto make up a scrub team for a practice game. You’ll need all that kindof work you can get if you’re going to play next Saturday.”
Hayden and Barker left the field together. “Peace has spread itselflike oil upon the troubled waters,” observed Berlin, with a faintsmile. “Too bad you had to give in, but I suppose it was the only thingyou could do.”
His companion’s dark eyes flashed him a look. “If you fancy I’ve givenin you don’t know me. I’ve never yet been downed, Barker.”
“But you had to give up your plan for bringing Eliot to time.”
“That’s all right. A good general who sees one of his movements blockedchanges promptly to another style of campaign.”
“Then you’ve another scheme in view?”
“I always believe in keeping a few cards up my sleeve.”
Bern betrayed no disposition to show these cards even to his friend,and Barker refrained from asking questions he felt might not beanswered, being confident that in good time Hayden would let him intothe secret.
To every one else, as the days slipped by and Bern made no move, itseemed that something like a truce had been mutually agreed upon. To besure, it might be an armed truce in which both parties were patientlywaiting the time when the certain course of events would again bringopen warfare; for never in all that time did the two bitter enemiesbetray, even by a look, that either recognized the existence of theother. In football practice, when necessary, they worked togetherharmoniously enough for the accomplishment of the plays in which theywere involved. It frequently happened that Stone, breaking through theline of the scrub, became a part of the interference which assistedHayden in advancing the ball, and always he was an effective part ofit. Both Winton and Eliot arrived at the conviction that one of theteam’s best ground gaining plays would be that in which Stone and Piperopened a hole between the opposing guard and tackle to let Haydenthrough.
On Thursday the coach requested that the gate of the field should beclosed and guarded to keep out the throng of spectators who were eagerto watch the practice, and that night, having strengthened the scrub,he kept the regular team working constantly on the defensive; for heclaimed that a good defensive game was fully as essential as anoffensive one.
Saturday came at last, and at ten-thirty in the forenoon the playerswere at the railway station to take the train for Clearport. Quite acrowd gathered to see them off and cheer them heartily, while about adozen of the scholars, including several girls, all bearing banners,accompanied them.
On the train Hayden and Barker sat together and took little part in thegeneral conversation. Even when Clearport was reached and the arrivalswere welcomed by Capt. Merwin and a delegation, this pair heldthemselves aloof, finally walking up to the hotel behind the rest ofthe crowd. And at dinner, coming late, Bern and Berlin sat at aseparate table, having made arrangements in advance with the headwaiter.
Eliot did not wholly hide his displeasure over this, for he hadexpected that the players, the substitutes and the coach would all sitat one long table. Nor did the distant pair betray any interest in thejests and laughter of their teammates.
Dinner over, Winton had a private word with Roger. “As an exhibition ofsnobbishness,” he said disgustedly, “that was the limit. If you don’tlook out, Eliot, those fellows will yet make trouble for you.”
“There’s only one,” returned the captain, “who is at all dangerous, andI have an idea he realizes he can’t afford to make any real trouble. Ofcourse I don’t like the spirit he displays, but he’s such a valuableman that I presume we’ll have to put up with it.”
The hour for the game drew near at last. It was a bright, snappy day,with a strong westerly wind blowing, and when the Oakdale lads arrivedat the field they found quite a crowd already assembled, while a steadystream of people came pouring in. Not a few persons from Oakdale hadcome over the road in teams and automobiles, and the most of these weregathered in a group on the seats at the southern side of the gridiron.With a cheer they welcomed the appearance of Eliot and his followers.
That cheer gave Ben Stone a tingling thrill; he seemed to feel that alittle of it was meant for him. This thrill was intensified as he heardthem crying:
“There’s Roger!” “Good boy, Eliot!” “There’s Bern!”
“What’s your deduction about this game, Sleuth?”
“Got any peanuts, Chub?”
Then suddenly some one cried distinctly:
“Look at Stone! ’Rah for old Stoney!”
They shed their sweaters. A ball was tossed out, and immediately theybegan passing, punting and falling upon it. And now Stone, painfullyself-conscious, fumbled. When, a moment or two later, the pigskin camebounding his way over the ground, he flung himself at it only to haveit squirm out of his grasp and spin off to one side. He rose, his facecrimson, realizing that something was the matter.
A hand touched him lightly on the shoulder, and Eliot’s voice soundedin his ear.
“All right, Stone, old man; don’t mind the crowd. Forget it.”
That was the matter; he knew it in a twinkling. Getting a grip onhimself, he became steady and sure.
Presently he found himself, with others, watching the two captains whohad stepped aside to consult with the referee. For a moment his eyesroved over the scene. On one side of the field the seats were alreadywell filled. A mass of blue banners indicated where the scholars ofClearport High were grouped. At the south the crowd was thinner and thecrimson banners of Oakdale were not so plentiful. East and west thegoal posts rose against the sky. Between those posts the regular whitechalk marks made a huge checkerboard.
Oh, it was a fine thing to be living! And it was a marvel indeed to bethere, a member of one of those two teams of healthy, brown-faced ladswho would soon be struggling for supremacy on that field.
His eyes came back to the two captains and the referee. He saw thelatter toss into the air something that spun and glittered
brightly. Hesaw all three stoop to observe how the coin had fallen. Then Eliotslapped Merwin on the shoulder, said something, turned and cametrotting toward his comrades.
“Come on, fellows,” called Roger; “I won the toss. We’ll take thewestern goal and have both wind and sun at our backs.”
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