Left End Edwards Part 10

"Yes, sir," said Tom. "Where's it hurt you? This the spot?"

And Tom began such an enthusiastic manipulation of Steve's ribs that the latter set up a howl and precipitately tumbled off the table. It was at that moment that an unpleasant voice startled them.

"Beat it, you fresh kids! You've got no business in here!"

The speaker was a heavy-set youth of perhaps nineteen years of age. He had closely-cropped ashy-brown hair over a round face from which a pair of pale-blue eyes glowered upon them. He was standing in the doorway and his hands were thrust into the pockets of a pair of very wide-hipped knickerbockers. Somehow, standing there with his st.u.r.dy, golf-stockinged legs well apart and his loose trousers pulled out at the sides, he reminded Tom of a clown at a circus, and Tom made the mistake of grinning. The big youth caught sight of the grin and stepped into the rubbing room with a deepening scowl on his face.

"Wipe it off!" he said threateningly.

Steve and Tom looked at the table.

"Wipe what off?" asked Tom, at a loss.

"Wipe that grin off your ugly face," answered the other. "And get out of here, both of you, and stay out. If you don't, I'll throw you out!"

This somewhat astounding threat caused an exchange of surprised glances between the culprits. Neither Steve nor Tom were quarrelsome, nor had they had more than a boy's usual share of fist battles, but the bullying speech and att.i.tude of the round-faced youth was so uncalled for and exasperating that Steve's temper got the better of him for the moment.

"We weren't doing any harm here," he declared indignantly. "And we'll get out, but we're not afraid of you, even if you have got piano legs!"

The big fellow pulled his hands from his pockets with an angry growl and, clenching his fists, strode toward the boys. But at that instant footsteps sounded in the locker room, and the bully's hands dropped and he turned his head toward the door just as a small, red-haired and freckle-faced little Irishman came into sight.

"h.e.l.lo, Eric the Red," he said jovially. "An' what might you be doin'

down here, me boy?"

"I'm telling these fresh kids to get out of here," replied the youth.

"Any objections?"

The little Irishman seemed surprised, and he smiled, but the boys noted that his small and rather greenish eyes narrowed.

"None at all, at all, me boy. If I had I'd very soon tell you, d'ye see?

But what harm are they doin'? Sure, if I don't mind them bein' here, why would you?"

"They haven't any business in this room, and you know it, Danny. They're too fresh, anyway."

"Well, that's what we all are at some time. Let the boys be. Was you wantin' anything, boys?"

"No, we were just looking around the place. This door was open and we came in. We didn't know there was any harm in it," concluded Steve.

"No more there was," said Danny soothingly.

"They were rough-housing all over the place," growled the big fellow.

"If you can stand it I can, though. Only"--and he turned a wrathful gaze on Steve--"if you ever get fresh with me again you'll get the licking that's coming to you, kid." He turned away toward the locker room. "Say, Danny, got a key to my locker? I've lost mine and I want to get into it a minute."

"I have not," replied Danny cheerfully. "You'll have to have one fitted, me boy."

"Hasn't anyone a master-key?" demanded the other.

"They have not. Find Patsy; he'll fit one for you in ten minutes."

"That's a funny state of things," grumbled the big fellow. "They ought to have duplicates on hand. Somebody's always losing a key, and----"

The rest was lost as the youth disappeared into the further room. Danny winked gravely at the two boys.

"Who is he?" asked Steve curiously.

"Him? His name's Sawyer, Eric Sawyer. He is sufferin' from a terrible complaint, boys, an' it makes him that cross a bear would run away from him, I'm thinkin'!"

"What's the trouble with him?"

"He has what the doctors do be callin' an ingrowin' grouch," replied Danny soberly. "'Tis due to over-exposure of the ego, they tell me, resultin' in an inflamed condition of the amoor proper, that same bein'

French an' maybe beyond your comprehension."

The boys laughed and Danny swung himself to the table and patted it invitingly. "Sit down, boys, an' tell me all about it," he said. "Who may you be, now?"

"His name is Hall and mine is Edwards," replied Steve, as he and Tom followed Danny's example and swung their feet from the table. "We're new boys."

"I suspected as much," replied Danny drily. "An' where might be your place of residence?"

"Tannersville, Pennsylvania."

"Think o' that now!" marvelled Danny. "Sure, you're a long ways from home. Is this place you say anywhere near Philadelphia?"

"Oh, no, it's a long ways from there. It's out in the western part of the state."

"I was in Philadelphia once to see the games at the college over there,"

pursued Danny. "It's a fine town."

"Would you mind--telling us who you are?" asked Tom.

"I would not. I have no unseemly pride. My name is Mister Daniel Parnell Moore, and I have the extraordinary honour of bein' the trainer at this inst.i.tution o' learnin' and Fine Arts, the Fine Arts bein' athletics, football, baseball, hockey _an'_ tinnis. An' now you know!"

"Thank you," said Tom politely. "I hope you didn't mind my asking you."

"Not a bit! You may ask me anything you like, Jim."

"My name isn't Jim," replied Tom, with a smile.

"It ain't?" The trainer seemed surprised. "Sure, he said your last name was Hall, didn't he? An' I never seen a Hall whose front name wasn't Jim."

"I'm sorry," laughed Tom, "but mine isn't; it's Tom."

Danny Moore shook his head sadly. "An' you," he said, turning to Steve, "maybe you'll be tellin' me next your name ain't Sam?"

"It's Steve."

"It might be," agreed Danny doubtfully. "But all the Edwardses I ever knew was Sams. But I'm not disputin' your word, d'ye mind! 'Tis likely you know, me boy. An' what do you think o' this rural paradise o'

knowledge?"

"I guess we like it pretty well, what we've seen of it," answered Steve.