by Morgan Scott
CHAPTER XI.
IN DOUBT.
In the development of character defeat often plays an important part.The person who has never known the pangs following failure, whetherdeserved or otherwise, is poorly prepared to face such a misfortunewhen it comes to him, and at some time it must befall every one.Continued success is almost sure to breed over-confidence,self-conceit, underestimation of others, and, in many cases, downrightcaddishness. A certain amount of failure, a proportionate share ofdefeat, adds stamina and determination to a character that is naturallystrong, and the experience thus obtained may be turned to profit inteaching the luckless one how to avoid future mistakes. It is only theweak and unfit who are ever totally crushed and disheartened by failure.
Hunk Rollins was one of the dejected members of the Oakdale eleven whowhined after the Wyndham game was over, repeating his conviction thatluck was against Oakdale and declaring she never could hope to defeatWyndham.
Roger Eliot, hearing Rollins, had something to say:
“We lost the game in the last ten minutes of play, and we did so simplybecause you and one or two other fellows got cold feet. We made ourtouchdown and goal easier than we had dreamed we could, and thatswelled our heads. We thought we were really going to have a snap; butwhen Wyndham woke up, got wise to our style and held us even play, ourconfidence began to ooze away. Those fellows fought for every point,and never let up once. After they tied us we went to pieces. If everyman on the team had continued to do his level best, the game would haveended in a draw.”
“Perhaps you would have been satisfied with that?” sneered Hunk.
“At least, it would have been better than losing. It’s no use to cryover spilt milk. Everything considered, we have been amazinglysuccessful this season, and the fact that we came so near downingWyndham should spur us on to get after that bunch just twice as hardnext year.”
“You’ll never beat them,” Rollins once more asserted.
“We’ll never do it with fellows on the team who think we can’t.”
“That’s a knock at me.”
“It’s the plain truth, Rollins. Considering the material we had tobuild on, we turned out a corking team. We owe a lot of gratitude tothe coach.”
“Perhaps you’d won if you’d been able to strengthen your team with thefeller from Texas.”
“Bah! We couldn’t have won anyhow,” put in Barker. “I wonder we made asgood showing as we did.”
Roger turned on him. “You were one who let up toward the last of it,Barker. You surprised me by your lack of spirit. You were given onesplendid chance to get through for a big gain, possibly for atouchdown, and you shirked.”
Berlin’s face turned white, and a resentful gleam of anger rose in hiseyes.
“Look here, Mr. Eliot—the season is over and I no longer feel itnecessary to call you captain—I want you to understand that I did mybest, and if you say anything different you’re a——”
“Stop, Barker! I wouldn’t use that word if I were in your place, for ifyou do you’ll find you’re not dealing with Rodney Grant. There was noexcuse for your quitting. You weren’t used up, but you flinched at thecritical moment. I didn’t intend to say this publicly, but you joinedRollins in the cry-baby act, and I couldn’t help speaking out. It’s notthe first time, either, that you’ve shown a disposition to lie down andlet others face the brunt of things. I think you know what I mean.”
Barker shivered with a sort of cold rage. Eliot had not lifted hisvoice, but, knowing him as he did, Berlin was seized by a suddendisinclination to provoke him further.
“All right,” he muttered. “I’m not going to quarrel with you now,Eliot, but I won’t forget this.”
The boys journeyed homeward through the gathering darkness and stingingcold of the November night in anything but a happy condition. No onecared to accept Tuttle’s offer to treat on peanuts, and Cooper’sefforts to jolly things up by springing some bad puns and cracking afew stale jokes fell lamentably flat.
Not a few of them fancied Rod Grant must be secretly rejoicing over theresult of the game, and, naturally, this increased their dislike forthe Texan. Grant found himself shunned and practically ostracized byall save Stone and Eliot, and even Roger made no particular effort tobe friendly. Stone stuck by faithfully, regardless of the efforts ofvarious fellows to lead him to do otherwise.
Cold weather deepening, the boys fell to watching Lake Woodrim withlonging eagerness for the time when it should close over and the icebecome sufficiently strong for skating. In due course this happened,and, with their skates polished and ground, the fellows flocked to thelake, accompanied by a few girls who likewise enjoyed the sport.
School over one day, Grant was standing alone on the academy stepsgazing toward the lake when Stone, carrying his skates, came out.
“Hello, Rod,” said Ben. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“Down to the lake. The ice is great.”
“I don’t skate.”
“Don’t? Why not?”
“Never learned.”
“That’s queer.”
“Not so queer when you consider that we have blessed little skating inthe State of Texas.”
“Oh, I didn’t think of that. Well, now is your time to learn, and Iknow you’ll like it.”
“I haven’t any skates.”
“I’ll loan you mine.”
“That’s right good of you, Ben, old man; but I don’t think I’ll tryit—now.”
“Why not?”
“Well, to tell you the plain truth, I’m not anxious to make anexhibition of myself before everybody. Sometime, perhaps, I’ll sneakoff by my lonesome and have a go at it. Is the ice solid all over thelake?”
“Well, pretty nearly all over it. There are one or two weak spots, butwe know where they are, and we keep away from them.”
“Do you swim?”
“Sure; don’t you?”
“Yes, but I fancy it would be right unpleasant to take a dip in thaticy water.”
Ben was thinking of Grant’s words as he clamped on his skates at theedge of the lake down behind the gymnasium. There was somethingstrangely contradictory about the boy from Texas, who had betrayed adisposition to swagger a bit and to boast in a joshing way, but whowould not fight, who had refused to play football, and who now wasplainly indisposed to make himself an object for jesting or ridicule byattempting to skate. Whether this backwardness came from a sensitivetemperament, or whether Grant was actually lacking in courage, was aquestion Ben could not decide. There had seemed to be some timidity inthe fellow’s desire to know whether or not the ice was sufficientlystrong for skating all over the lake. Finally, swinging away to joinsome shouting lads who were engaged in an impromptu game of hockey,Stone dismissed the problem.
Even then Grant was on his way to Stickney’s store, where he purchaseda pair of skates. Supper over that night, he set off alone toward theupper end of Lake Woodrim.
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