Jack Winters' Gridiron Chums Part 5

"Oh! girls, you just ought to have seen Fred Badger run with the ball then! They all chased after him, but he dodged them like everything.

If the boys win that game from Marshall I'm sure Fred's going to have a lot to do with it!"

Joel chuckled at hearing one girl say that, for he recognized the voice of pretty little Mollie Skinner, on whom it was said the Fred mentioned was rather sweet, since he always accompanied her to choir meeting, and when they had a dance out in the country, she invariably went with Fred. "Well, I don't know what Fred Badger has got over Steve Mullane, or Jack Winters, or even Joel Jackman," said another voice, rather cynically, as though the speaker did not wholly subscribe to Mollie's view that Fred stood out as a s.h.i.+ning mark above the rest of the bunch of struggling players.

Joel chuckled again. It tickled him to be mentioned at all by one of the fair watchers in the tree, even though with such a doubtful compliment as "even Joel Jackman!" would imply.

"But I'm beginning to get tired of sitting here in this ridiculous fas.h.i.+on," said a third one, dolefully, "and taking turns at peeking through Mollie's mother's opera-gla.s.ses. I wouldn't have come only I felt so much interest in our boys this year. It's their first appearance on the gridiron, and I'm just wild to see them beat that bragging old Harmony. As to Marshall, I just know Chester will put those fellows down where they belong, at the foot of the cla.s.s, without half trying."

"Neither would I have gone to all this trouble," spoke up the fair and spirited Mollie, "only for that silly letter my friend in Harmony wrote me, saying that it was a foregone conclusion Harmony would sweep the earth this year because their team had been _terribly_ strengthened. In fact she gave me to understand that everything, even to the crepe, had been ordered for poor little new beginner Chester.

It kept me awake most all last night; and I felt so much excited that I just _had_ to get you girls to come out here and see what our gallant boys were doing."

"Yes, but however are we going to get down from here?" sighed the girl who had spoken second, and whose name was Lucy Marsh, while the last of the daring trio Jack knew to be another pretty maid, Adelaide Holliday by name. "I feel afraid to jump from so high a place; and girls can't climb trees and come down like boys do."

"Would you mind if we came up and helped you, girls?" suddenly demanded Jack, as he and his companion showed themselves.

There were alarmed squeals from the three nesting in the crotch of the tree, and this was followed by girlish laughter when they discovered who the newcomers were. It was not only the boys of Chester who liked Jack Winters; for any girl would be proud to be asked for her company by a fellow like Jack, so universally esteemed.

"You've turned the tables on us this time, Jack," said Lucy Marsh, bravely enough. "It's a case of the biters bitten, evidently. We came to spy, and we've been spied on in turn. Well, since you've discovered us in a tree, perhaps you'd better climb up and help a pack of foolish girls back to the solid ground again. I seem to lose my head once I get off the earth."

Accordingly Jack and Joel joined them, and it was no particular effort to help each girl down. When the last had been safely landed, the boys jumped lightly after them.

"You'll excuse our looks, of course, girls," said Joel. "We've been in a scrimmage and are hardly fit for ladies' company; but all the same we're delighted to have been of service to you."

"And so," remarked Jack, turning to Mollie Skinner, who was small but pert, and as pretty as a peach, "you had a boasting letter from some girl over in Harmony, I think I heard you say as we came up. She tried to discourage you, didn't she? All right, Mollie, you just send her back a Roland for an Oliver; give her as good as she sent. Tell her the Chester boys are going to swamp Marshall next Sat.u.r.day, just to put them in trim for the great game on Thanksgiving morning with poor old Harmony. Twit her with a few reminders of that last baseball game we played, when Chester trailed Harmony's colors in the dust. I guess you can rub it in good and hard, Mollie, if you try."

"And you guess right, too, Jack Winters," snapped the girl, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng with spirit. "I'll compose a scathing letter that will give Maude something to think about from now to Thanksgiving. And let me say that I'll be meaning every word of it, too. Why, after what we've seen you boys do in practice I just feel that fellows like Fred, and some of the others of course, in the bargain, just can't be whipped by any old school team that plays. Those are my sentiments, and I don't care who knows them."

"Those Harmony fellows wear the yellow and black of Princeton, you know," spoke up Lucy Marsh, "and love to call themselves the Tigers.

They think to frighten their opponents by a great exhibition of rough play, and try to act as if they expected to just walk away with every game."

"That's right for you, Lucy," chipped in Joel, "but those same tactics didn't carry weight last summer. Chester didn't seem to be afraid of being bitten by the tiger, in fact we managed to devour the beast, hide and all; and let me a.s.sure you, girls, we can do it again, don't you fear."

"How about that, Jack, do you subscribe to Joel's boast?" demanded the girl, as though she would be ready to place a good deal more dependence on an opinion from the captain of the eleven than from the left tackle.

Joel laughed.

"You're going to the wrong quarter for that kind of information, Lucy," he went on to say. "Jack's too modest to boast, as everyone knows, though he'll work his head off to win the game."

"I'm not claiming anything!" declared Jack; "and only saying that Chester will have no cause for complaint, no matter whether we win or lose; for every fellow's grimly determined to do his level best.

Victories sometimes hinge on small things, and the luck of the game may go against us. But we'll be fighting all the time up to the blowing of the last whistle that tells the time of the fourth period has expired."

"Tell them what Coach Hooker said this very afternoon, Jack?" begged Joel.

"Please do, Jack," the fair Mollie pleaded; while the other two looked so wistful that Jack could not have declined had he wanted to, which was far from the fact.

"Oh! Joe seemed to be especially well pleased with our work today," he remarked, "and told us that taken all in all we made as lively and hustling a lot of youngsters as he had ever had the pleasure of handling. He even went on to say that if we worked as well in the Marshall game we would carry off the prize as sure as two and three make five. And let me tell you, after hearing those inspiring words we played better than ever the next round, and had old Joe beaming with joy. I honestly believe he thinks a heap of our bunch, since it's been weeded out."

"We're all proud of you, just remember that," said Mollie, boldly; "and we do hope you'll be able to make the Marshall boys eat humble pie next Sat.u.r.day. Why, nearly everybody that's worth knowing at all in Chester is going over to Marshall to give the Chester salute when you come on the field. I chanced to hear Packy McGraw, your cheer captain, drilling his squad; and let me tell you they can give the Chester yell in a way that thrills the blood."

There could be no doubt about Mollie and her two chums being heart and soul for the local team. Jack was glad to see such enthusiasm. It would make himself and the other ten fellows fight all the harder to know that bright eyes were watching every move that was made; while dainty hands clapped until they ached, keeping company with the defiant cries arising wherever Chester girls congregated, in grand- stand or field.

It means a whole lot to a team to feel that their home folks believe in them to the limit. Just as soon as this interest gives signs of waning the best of teams grow careless, and show signs of disintegration. So Jack hoped the girls as well as the boys and grown- ups of the town would be with them all the while, ready with cheering words and praise for good deeds, as well as apologies for mistakes such as the best of players may sometimes make.

So the three girls departed, binding Jack and Joel to a promise not to betray them to the rest of the squad. This promise both boys gladly gave, for no harm had been done; and they knew now just how earnestly the girls of Chester were hoping and praying for their success. It was really an inspiration, to Joel at least.

"There's no use talking, Jack," he was saying, as they started to go around once more to the place of the spring, to avoid exciting any suspicion on the part of their comrades, "we've just _got_ to beat Marshall on Sat.u.r.day. Why, it'd break the hearts of those pretty girls if we failed. I really believe they'd feel it more than any of us would. And that little spitfire Mollie is crazy to rub it into her boastful friend over at Harmony, too. Oh! we've got our job set out before us for a fact, and must sweep the deck each deal."

The rest of the practice caused the boys to forget their recent little adventure for the time being. They worked hard, and won additional praise from old Joe Hooker.

"You're getting better every day, fellows," he told the bunch as they started homeward, chattering like a lot of magpies. "I never was so pleased with the improvement shown; why, it's simply marvelous. If an old football man should watch some of your plays he'd swear you were anything but novices, and vow you'd done plenty of footwork last season. Don't stop, boys! Keep up the good work, and my word for it, your reward is sure to come, for you'll take Marshall into camp on Sat.u.r.day, barring accidents."

They would have two more afternoons for practice, and then Sat.u.r.day would dawn with its uncertainties that might not be relieved until the referee had blown his whistle to signify that the time for the game had expired. Whose would be high score when that minute came around was an unknown quant.i.ty; and many a Chester lad would have given much to be able to lift the veil of the future just that far. But this was beyond their ken, and they could only possess their souls in patience while hoping for the best.

Those two days would soon pa.s.s, and the great time come when Chester folks could be seen thronging the road leading to Marshall, bent on witnessing the meeting of the rival teams on the gridiron.

How some of the most impatient managed to pull through the intervening time it would be hard to tell. But finally Sat.u.r.day morning dawned, and the fact that the sun shone from an unclouded sky, while the air was quite nipping, brought joy to thousands of eager hearts in Chester, and doubtless also in Marshall; for both towns were said to be football crazy this year.

CHAPTER VIII

A CALL FOR HELP

"h.e.l.lo! Jack, I was just thinking of dropping around at your place.

Can you spare me a few minutes of your precious time this morning?"

Big Bob Jeffries called this across to the other, down on the main street of Chester. Jack was hurrying along, after finis.h.i.+ng the several errands that had taken him into the heart of the shopping district. It was on the great Sat.u.r.day morning that was to give the town folks their first taste of real football. Everywhere people seemed to be talking about it, and the chances the local team had of pulling off a victory. Jack, being known as the captain of the eleven, and an acknowledged leader among his fellows, was greeted with many an anxious question concerning the condition of the team, and whether he really and truly expected to score a triumph against the hard-playing Marshall crowd.

To all such inquiries the boy had returned a merry answer, simply saying:

"We're going to do our level best, and we have hopes, that's all I can say. Tell you more about it this evening."

When he heard Big Bob calling out this request a look of real concern flashed across Jack's face, the very first that morning. He feared lest the other was about to spring some sort of disagreeable surprise upon him at almost the last hour.

All along he had managed to keep Bob sort of buoyed up with constantly renewed hope that his troubles were sure to end in smoke. But evidently the big fellow had suffered in secret, and was in quite a nervous state of mind.

"Certainly I can, Bob!" he exclaimed, starting to cross over to where the other stood, looking so forlorn that had any observing fellow come along just then and noticed the expression on his face, he might have spread an alarm to the effect that the big fullback was ill, and consequently there would be a weak spot in the line-up that afternoon, as sure as anything.

"I hate ever so much to bother you, Jack, with my personal affairs, just when, of course, you've got your hands full of the coming battle on the gridiron; but I must ease my head or something will burst, I'm feeling that wretched."

"Come along and walk with me," said Jack, promptly. "I am in a little of a hurry, but we can be going in the direction of my house, and take it slowly. Now what's happened, Bob?"

"Happened, Jack? Why, nothing at all, and that's just what's the matter. If only something _did_ come along to break up this terrible monotony, I'd welcome it; but every day's like the one before it. I go to bed, and get to sleep all right, but when I wake up along in the early hours, about two or three o'clock, I begin to think, and lie there till dawn comes, just groaning to myself, and trying to make up my mind what I ought to do."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Big Bob, sure I am," said Jack, his voice telling the same thing. "But you say things haven't changed at home.

By that I reckon you mean your father hasn't asked you anything about that letter he gave you to mail?"