Left End Edwards Part 35

"I say, Tom," he said.

"Huh?" asked the other, his mouth full.

"You know I--I'm much obliged."

Tom nodded carelessly. "All right," he said in a gruff voice. "It wasn't anything. Norton and Williams and those others did it."

"You got there first," said Steve. "I guess if you hadn't I--I wouldn't have waited for the rest. It was mighty plucky, and--and I----"

"Oh, cut it," growled Tom. "It wasn't anything, you a.s.s. What the d.i.c.kens did you go away out there for anyway?" Tom became indignant.

"Haven't you got any sense?"

"Not much," laughed Steve. Then, soberly, "It's the first time I ever had cramps, and I don't ever want them again! I thought I was a goner there for a while, Tom. They caught me right across the small of my back and I couldn't any more move my legs than I could fly. All I could do was shout and wiggle my arms a bit, and the pain was just as though something--say a swordfish--was cutting me in two!" Steve shook his head soberly. "It--it was fierce, Tom!"

"Serves you right! You had no business swimming way out there in water like that and scaring us all to pieces!" Tom was very severe as to language, but the effect was somewhat marred by the fact that he had filled his mouth with food. Nevertheless, Steve took the rebuke quite meekly. All he said was:

"And think of you rescuing me, Tom! Why, you aren't any sort of a swimmer! But it certainly was mighty pluck----"

Tom pointed a fork at Steve and interrupted indignantly. It was necessary to head Steve off from further expressions of grat.i.tude. "I like your cheek!" said Tom. "Can't swim! How do you suppose I got out there to you, you silly chump? You didn't see any water-wings or life-preservers floating around, did you? Or do you think I walked?

Can't swim! Well, of all the----"

"You know what I mean, Tom. I meant you couldn't swim--er--well, that you weren't a wonder at it!"

"Huh!" grunted Tom. "Don't you talk about swimming after this. You weren't doing much of it when I got to you!"

"No one can swim when he has cramps," responded Steve meekly. "How was the supper?"

Tom gazed at the empty dishes. "All right--as far as it went. I'm going to get up. What time is it and what's going on downstairs?"

"Nothing much just now. We just got through supper. They're taking the chairs and tables out of the dining-room so we can have signal drill at eight. Mr. Robey said you were to get into it if you felt all right.

There's someone else downstairs who wants to see you too." And Steve grinned wickedly. "I told him I'd try to arrange an interview."

"Who is it?" asked Tom suspiciously.

"His name is Murray."

"I don't know any Murray. What is this, a joke?"

"Far from it, Tom. Mr. Murray is a newspaper man. He came over to get the line-up for to-morrow's game from Mr. Robey and got here just as they were talking about that silly stunt of mine. He laid around and waited for me and got it all out before I knew he was a newspaper chap.

Now he wants to see you. I _think_ he wants your photograph, Tom!"

"You were a silly a.s.s to talk to him, Steve. He will go and put it in the paper, I suppose."

"Wouldn't be surprised," agreed Steve, smiling. "He seemed to think he had a fine yarn. Of course I laid it on pretty thick about your heroism and all that."

Tom viewed him darkly as he got into his coat. "If you did I'll--I'll----"

"Take me back to the Sound and drop me in again! No, I didn't, Tom, but he does know all about it and of course he will put it in the papers.

'Boots' says the--the Something-or-Other Press will get hold of it and send it all over the country. I've been wondering whether we ought to telegraph the folks so they won't have a fit if they read about it to-morrow."

"What's the use? They'll know you're all right. Bet you that Mr.

Newspaper Man doesn't catch me, though! Who's that hitting the ivories?"

"Gleason, I guess. He was playing before supper. He's fine, too. Knows a whole bunch of college songs and stuff from the musical shows. We're going to have a concert after practice. They say Danny Moore can sing like a bird. Andy was telling me that last year they had a regular vaudeville show here. Everybody did something, you know; sang or danced or spoke a piece. It must have been lots of fun. I wish----"

Steve, who had been wandering around the room, hands in pockets, paused as he caught the expression on Tom's face. "What's the matter?" he asked.

"That's what I want to know," replied Tom. "Seems to me you're mighty chatty all of a sudden. Is it the effect of the bath?"

Steve smiled, sighed and shook his head. "Tom," he said, "I've just got to talk or do something this evening. I--I'm as nervous as a--a cat!

Ever feel that way?"

Tom viewed him scornfully as he patted his tie into place. "Have I? Why, you silly chump, I'm scared to death this minute! Whenever I think about--about to-morrow I want to run down to the ocean and swim straight across to Africa!"

"Honest?" Steve brightened perceptibly. "But you don't show it, Tom."

"What's the good of showing it? All I hope is that the barge will make so much noise going back to-morrow that you won't hear my knees knocking together!"

CHAPTER XXVI

AT THE END OF THE FIRST HALF

Sat.u.r.day dawned clear and crisp, with a little westerly breeze stirring the tops of the leafless trees and fluttering the big maroon flag with the grey B that hung from the staff at the back of the grand stand. That was not the only flag displayed, for here and there all along the Row small banners hung from windows, while to add to the patriotic effect all the red and grey cus.h.i.+ons in school were piled against the cas.e.m.e.nts to lend their colour. There were few recitations that morning and there might just as well have been none, I fancy. The squad got back from Oakdale at one-thirty, after an early dinner, and were driven directly to the gymnasium, pursued by the school at large with vociferous greetings.

Claflin began to put in an appearance soon after that. Hitherto Brimfield had travelled to Westplains to meet her rival, and this was the first time that the Blue had invaded the Maroon-and-Grey fastness.

Hoskins did a rus.h.i.+ng business that day, for Claflin had sent nearly her entire population with the team, and many of the visitors were forced to walk from the station. There was an insouciant, self-confident air about the Claflin fellows that impressed Brimfield and irritated her too. "You'd think," remarked Benson, watching from a window in the gym the visitors pa.s.sing toward the field, "that they had the game already won! A stuck-up lot of dudes, that's what I call them!" But Benson was not in the best of tempers to-day and possibly his judgment was warped!

The Claflin team arrived in one of Hoskins' barges and took possession of the meeting-room upstairs to change into their togs. They were a fine-looking lot of fellows, and they, too, had that same air of confidence that Benson had found annoying. By a quarter past two the stage was set. The grand stand was filled to overflowing, the settees and chairs, which had been brought out to supplement the permanent seats, were all occupied, and many spectators were standing along the ropes. Over the stand the big maroon-and-grey banner floated lazily in the breeze. The field had been newly marked out and the cream-white lines shone dazzlingly in the sharp sunlight. It was a day for light wraps and sweaters, but many visitors, arriving in motor cars that were now parked behind the gymnasium, were clad in furs. It was distinctly a social occasion, for fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles had descended upon the school in numbers and half the fellows were parading around before the hour set for the game with admiring relatives or friends, showing their rooms and the dining-hall and the gymnasium, and looking all the time a bit bored at the fuss and secretly enjoying it. Harry Westcott was seen with his father and sister in tow, while Roy Draper was surrounded by an enthusiastic flock of female relatives.

Overhead a clear blue sky, scarcely so much as flecked with a cloud, arched radiantly. The breeze was much too light to place a handicap on either goal, and when, at a quarter after two, the visiting team trotted across from the gymnasium, ducked under the rope at the end of the grand stand and started to warm up it was seen that the long punts she sent away showed scarcely any influence from the wind. Of course Claflin, banked at the east end of the stand, greeted her warriors royally, and, of course, Brimfield gave them a hearty cheer, too. But that acclaim was nothing to the burst of applause that went up when the home team, twenty strong, led by Andy Miller, romped on. Then Brimfield shouted herself hoa.r.s.e and made such a clamour that the cheer which the Claflin leaders evoked a moment later sounded like a whisper by comparison.

Ten minutes of brisk signal work, punting, catching and goal-kicking followed, and then, while along the road an occasional screech from a belated automobile sounded, the teams retired to opposite sides of the field, the maroon-and-grey megaphones, which had been keeping time to a song sung by some hundred and thirty youths, died away and the comparative quiet that precedes the beginning of battle fell over the field. The officials met on the side line and then, accompanied by Captain Miller, walked to the centre of the field. From the farther side a blue-sleeved and blue-stockinged youth advanced to meet them. A coin spun, glittering, in the air, fell, rolled and was recovered. Heads bent above it, the group broke up and Andy Miller waved to his players. Then blankets and sweaters were cast aside and ten maroon-sleeved youths gathered about their leader. There was a low-voiced conference and the team scattered over the east end of the field. Brimfield had won the toss, had given the kick-off to Claflin and Captain Burrage had chosen the west goal and what slight advantage might come from a breeze at his back.

Andy Miller and the two coaches had arranged the line-up the evening before. There had been some indecision as to filling one or two positions for the start of the game, and the line-up as it was presented when the whistle blew held several surprises for the school. Here it is, and the Claflin list as well:

BRIMFIELD. CLAFLIN.

Roberts, l. e. r. e., Chester Lacey, l. t. r. t., Mears Fowler, l. g. r. g., Colwell Innes, c. c., Kenney Hall, r. g. l. g., Johnson Williams, r. t. l. t., Bentley Miller, r. e. l. e., Mumford Milton, q. b. q. b., Ainsmith Harris, l. h. b. r. h. b., Burrage Kendall, r. h. b. l. h. b., Whittemore Norton, f. b. f. b., Atkinson

"Are you ready, Brimfield? Ready, Claflin?"

The whistle piped, a Claflin linesman stepped forward, swung a long leg and the battle was on. Williams caught the ball on the thirty-yard line.

On a fake kick play Miller tried Claflin's right tackle and made but two yards. Norton punted to Claflin's thirty, where Burrage fumbled the ball and Ainsmith recovered it. Claflin at once punted out of bounds to Brimfield's forty-five-yard mark. Kendall made three yards around the enemy's right end and then, on the next play, failed at the line. Milton tried a forward pa.s.s to Miller, but the ball grounded and Norton kicked to Claflin's twenty-yard line.