Ralph Henry Barbour

“ Monty, hurling himself at an opponent, saw Derry speeding across behind him. Then, as Derry reached the dodging Winslow, the ball toppled back over the edge of the captain’s upheld hand and fell into Derry’s grasp, and the left end, running like a frightened deer, sped on to the right, sighted a hole and turned in, dodged a desperate opponent and fairly raced across the line a yard inside bounds, and was only tackled when he was half-way around to the goal. ”

“ He put a leg across the sill and again hesitated. Suppose Standart was still in the room? He might be! He might have become panic-stricken and fainted, just as Mrs. Fair had done! Monty drew his foot back and once more wound the towel across his mouth. Then he dropped to his hands and knees, for the smoke was too thick now for human endurance to stand. As quickly as he could he made his way to the door, his hand groping about in the darkness. Nothing rewarded him. He groped back to the alcove, choking, sputtering, his lungs aching, and then across the room to his own bed. ”

“ Alvin, it seemed, was capable of nursing a grouch for ever and ever, and Monty had the feeling that the tow-headed youth was watching and waiting for an opportunity to revenge himself for the loss of that forty cents worth of witch hazel. Sometimes Monty wished he had replaced the precious fluid as Alvin had demanded. At the time the latter’s peevishness had seemed too childish to merit serious attention, and Monty had refused recompense, not from stinginess, but, as he put it to himself, to teach Alvin the virtue of generosity. ”

“ It was evident that friendship had ceased, for Weston snarled, “Now, for the love of Pete, Crail, show something! Don’t die on your feet! All right, fellows! Let’s have this!”
Neither side had scored. Substitutions had already been numerous on each team. Coach Bonner was driving the first relentlessly, while beyond the panting, restless lines, Dinny Crowley’s voice barked incessantly. The first had lost the ball on a fumble and the second had been slamming into the guard-tackle holes for short gains and had edged the pigskin back to the first team’s twenty-nine yards. ”

“ As he saw the third disappear beneath him he became sensible of renewed danger. Footsteps raced beside him. He looked over his shoulder anxiously into the detestable face of the quarterback. He tried to hurry and couldn’t, tried to swerve away from the enemy. Then arms were locked tightly about his thighs, slipped to his knees and closed there like a vise. Monty clung to the ball and shuffled, even managed two short strides. Then it was all up. A trampled, yellow-white streak shot up into his face, he had just sense enough to fend it off with his hand and elbow and there was a crash. ”

“ Mann was badly fooled and it was Monty who made the tackle. For once he had sensed the play in time. He was congratulating himself on his acumen when he heard Coach Bonner’s voice beside him.
“How did you happen to get into that, Crail?”
“I saw it coming, sir,” panted Monty.
“Oh, you did? Then why didn’t you tip off your side? Why keep a good thing to yourself?”
“I wasn’t certain,” faltered Monty.
“Be certain! You’re expected to learn what they’re up to and signal it! Get on your job!” ”

“ Granger, whose first name was Seymour, and who was known as “Sim,” was a senior, and a “dig” of the first water. Even now, when the sun was shining brightly, and there was a fine, faint nip of autumn in the air, Granger had chosen to immerse himself in “Johnston’s American Politics,” with a pencil sticking from a corner of his mouth, and a pile of notes at his side. Monty marveled and envied, and accorded Sim Granger then and there a respect which never diminished. Granger apologized for going on with his work. ”

“ If you survived being boiled in oil and drawn-and-quartered and a few other exercises you were serenaded by the Piccolo Quartette and always died in frightful agony within four minutes.”
“You seem to know a lot about it,” said Jimmy suspiciously. “You don’t happen to have the piccolo habit, I trust?”
“It’s all very well for you chaps to joke,” mourned Monty, “but if you had to live with one of the things you wouldn’t think it so funny.”
“When did this piccolo appear on the scene?” asked Jimmy.
“Today. He just got it to worry me, I guess. He can’t play it, but he’s going to learn, he says.” ”

“ The rest of the players trooped in before he had completed a very leisurely dressing. To his surprise, Gus Weston, who had twice looked as if he could have choked him with much pleasure, came across and sat down beside him. “You did pretty well, Crail,” he said, as he began to unloose his shoes. “It’s always hard for a fellow who has played in the line to come back of it. He’s got to be a heap more active. You’ll get the hang of it in a few days, though.”
“I’m sorry about getting that signal wrong,” said Monty humbly. ”

“ What’s blighting your young life?”
“Standart,” said Monty drearily. Leon choked on a gurgle of amusement as Monty turned an accusing look toward him.
“What’s he done now?” inquired Dud. “Slept in his shoes?”
“No, he’s gone and bought himself a piccolo!”
“A piccolo!” echoed Dud ecstatically.
“Let him eat it,” advised Jimmy. “Maybe it’ll choke him. Hope it does, too. Any fellow who will eat pickles——”
“Don’t be a silly gopher,” growled Monty. “You don’t eat the things. You play on them.”
“Oh, I thought a piccolo was a young pickle,” replied Jimmy innocently. “What do you play on them for?” ”

“ Monty Crail listened politely, and in silence for the most part, dividing his attention between his companions and the landscape moving leisurely past the window. Needham Junction is only four miles from Grafton, but the train doesn’t hurry, and somehow usually manages to consume the better part of twenty minutes on the journey, making five stops at cross-roads stations, and lingering socially at each. There were few other Grafton students amongst the passengers sprinkled through the car, for the train that Jimmy and Dud had selected was not a favorite with the fellows. ”

“ Monty gazed at him in a surprised manner. “A Creole!” he ejaculated. “But—but—I thought——”
“What?” demanded Leon stiffly.
“Nothing,” replied Monty confusedly. “I—I never met a Creole before.” But he continued to gaze with misgiving at Leon’s hair, which, although straight as his own, was undeniably black.
“You might as well say it,” challenged Leon. “You thought a Creole was a nigger, didn’t you? Most of you Yankees do think that, I reckon. It just shows what an ignorant lot you all are!”
“I’m not a Yankee,” defended Monty. “I was born in Indiana.” ”

“ Hanser plunged straight ahead into the line. Monty heard his “Ugh!” as he banged into a second team player. Then he was grabbing the ball from Blake, who had crouched to hide it, and was ripping through the left of the second’s line, spinning as he went in his effort to straighten out for the distant goal. Arms clutched at him, he tripped over a fallen player as he emerged from the broken line. There was no time to select a course now. The secondary defence was all about him. He could only go as hard as he knew how, putting every ounce of weight and strength into each plunging stride. ”

“ Luck had caused the ball to bound toward him instead of in another direction and luck had guided him through the ranks of the enemy. All he had done was run like the dickens! And one doesn’t get promotion [193] for doing merely what is natural and instructive.
Leon, however, and Jimmy and Dud as well, insisted that he was a hero. Leon was quite incensed because Coach Bonner didn’t oust Gowen and put Monty in his place. Monty had been, he warmly maintained, the star of the game. Monty grinned. “A little piece of luck, Leon,” he said. “I might not do it again if I played football twenty years. ”

“ He was very generally known as “Old Ludicrous,” and today Monty nearly succeeded in making the nickname fit him! The day was an ideal football day, windless, gray and cold, and Monty felt particularly good. As a result, Coach Crowley was forever hovering around Luderus and berating him.
“Get into him, Luderus! He’s making you look like a fool! Get the jump on him, man! Watch his arms! Don’t let him swing you like that! Now, then, hold!”
On the other side of the line, Coach Bonner frequently called commendation to Monty. “Good work, Crail! That’s the stuff! Put him out and keep him out! ”

“ Leon, you think of something.”
“Yes, Leon, let that ardent southern nature of yours loose for a spell,” Jimmy seconded. “Unfurl—er—unleash your vivid imagination. We hang on your words.”
“We might break something,” answered Leon thoughtfully. “A couple of windows.”
“With rocks?” asked Monty doubtfully. “Oh, I know! With baseball bats! Great! Come on!”
“Call that sub-tile?” scoffed Jimmy. “You fellows have no more imagination than a—than a—a hen! You’re just naughty little boys with your breaking windows stuff. Think up something artistic, original.” ”

“ Monty seated himself on the edge of his bed, and thrusting his hands in his pockets viewed his roommate gravely. “You and I have got to bunk together here. And we’re bound to see a good deal of each other, no matter how hard we try not to. Now, I’m a great believer in being happy whenever it’s possible. And I’m not going to be happy if you annoy me. I’m queer that way. I hate to be annoyed, Standart. It—it riles me. Savvy?”
“I guess I don’t annoy you any more than you annoy me,” sneered Alvin. ”

“ The rest you’ll have to learn for yourself. After all, football isn’t different from any other game. It consists of applying common sense to physical ability. And a fullback is just a halfback under another name. Time was when there was more difference between a half and a full. Then the fullback was never used for plays outside of tackle. His business was to have a lot of weight and strength, and slam himself at the center of the line. Now he has to do a little of everything, buck the center, slide off the tackles, or run the ends. ”

“ You must be on your toes every second, ready to follow the other fellow’s shift. Your duty is to find out where the play is coming, and be ready to meet it. You’ll get fooled at first, I guess, for some shifts are used simply to pull you and the other backs away from the play. Only experience can teach you when a shift is just a fake.”
“The next thing is to watch the ball, Crail, from the instant it goes into play. ”

“ And finally supper time had come, and Monty had gone back to Morris House and partaken of cold lamb and chicken salad and graham muffins and pear preserve and three glasses of milk at a long table, and in the presence of eleven other youths of assorted ages, sizes and looks. Monty had been introduced to them all, but acquaintanceship had for the time ended there. After supper he had wandered off for a walk along the twilight roads, and across the campus and past the buildings and had returned to Morris tired enough to go to bed and sleep. ”

“ I think I’m going to get downright fond of this place, Logan.”
“You bet you are,” said Jimmy seriously. “You’ll never regret following my advice and side-stepping Mount Morris, Crail.”
“Oh, did I do that?” asked Monty politely.
“Sure!” responded Jimmy without a quiver. “Don’t you remember? If you don’t you’re the only one,” he added with a chuckle, “because all the fellows I’ve told remember!”
“That’s all right,” Monty laughed. “You’re welcome to the credit.” ”

“ You can’t play football for two cents! Signals! Kick formation! Weston back! Get in here, Ordway! Now hold that line, Grafton!”
That time the line held and only an end came swinging around to dispute the kick. Ordway shouldered him off and the heartening sound of meeting boot and ball rewarded the anxious watchers. The punt was not long, but it was nicely placed, and when Hollywood got it she was down on her twelve yards. She got back to the eighteen only before she was forced to kick. Then Grafton turned the tables on her and administered some of her own medicine. ”

“ At a little after seven Monty climbed the stairs in Trow and knocked at the door of Number 32. Only the stout Granger was in. He looked up from the book he was reading and nodded with gracious dignity. “Hello, Crail,” he said. “Come in. Leon hasn’t shown up since supper, but I guess he will be along in a minute. How is the world treating you? I say, what’s up? You look like a funeral!”
“Nothing—much, thanks. I’ll find Leon downstairs.”
“All right.” Granger went back to his book with a sigh of relief. Visitors were always more or less disturbing when a fellow wanted to put his mind on a thing. ”

“ Monty had the ineffable pleasure of diving into the big second team tackle as he romped down the field, and sending him sprawling over the ground. The tackle only grinned as he picked himself up. Monty experienced a fine glow of satisfaction. The quarter ended with the ball on the second’s twenty-eight in possession of the first team.
“That’ll do, Crail,” said Mr. Bonner. “Trot in and don’t hang around. Fenton! Fullback, here!” ”

“ Manson leaned on a good stout cane when he walked and limped perceptibly. The second team poured on the field like a lot of colts, evidently fully primed for their task, and, with a grim disregard of everything save the business of the day, Coach Bonner summoned the still breathless players from the benches.
“All right, First Team! Derry, Spalding, Kinley, Musgrave, Gowen, Gordon, Tray, Blake, Winslow, Ordway and Caner. Take the east goal and kick off to the second. Burgess, you all ready? Boynton, you find another fellow and hold the chain on this side. Hurry them, Burgess. Get to work!” ”

“ At the washstand, Alvin Standart was sopping a sponge against his nose and sniffling weirdly. Monty gazed delightedly.
“Hello,” he said. “Who gave it to you?”
“Nobody,” replied Alvin, sniffling between syllables. “It’s just a nose-bleed. I have them sometimes.”
“Oh,” murmured Monty, disappointedly. “What for?”
“What for?” echoed Alvin in disgust. “Because I can’t help it, you fresh chump.”
Monty pondered that, looking on interestedly while Alvin continued his efforts to stop the hemorrhage. Finally, “Look here,” he said, “isn’t there something you do for it? ”

“ They had emerged into the concourse now and the stranger stopped and put his bag down, facing Jimmy with a quizzical smile. “I guess you’re an artist,” he said. “Making believe to get mad would fool most any fellow. What is it now? Eskimo Twins? Or——”
“That’ll be about all for you!” said Jimmy hotly. “If I’m an Eskimo you’re——”
“Back up, Harold! You don’t savvy. Far be it from me to take a chance on your nationality——”
“Oh, dry up!” growled Jimmy, turning away.
“Well, but you’re not going, are you?” called the stranger in surprised tones. Jimmy was going, and Dud was going with him. ”