Roy J. Snell

“ An hour later Johnny Thompson found the Kentucky boy sitting in a chair beside the range in the cook room of the Blue Moon. He was all crumpled up like a rag doll and still shaking like a leaf in the wind. Once, when Johnny was in Central American jungles, he saw a monkey caught in a wire trap. He too had been all crumpled up and trembling. Ballard was like that. A great wave of remorse swept over him. “Shouldn’t have brought him up here,” he told himself savagely. “Belongs down there in the mountains, he does, down there where men are free as squirrels or woodchucks.” ”

“ Kentucky murmured. Kentucky had been worried about Dynamite but the instant he climbed from the car he spotted him. He was standing at the edge of the gathering crowd. Grinning a broad grin he said, “’Lo, Kentucky. Who won the game?
“It’s all right, old Kentuck,” he laughed. “I’m not a ghost. It takes more than a Naperville man to knock me out for keeps. That fellow rammed his head up under my chin and put me to sleep, that’s all. When I woke up, I felt better than ever. I’d had a good rest.” He laughed merrily.
When Johnny saw the crowd, he called loudly for help. The team responded to a man. ”

“ Johnny whispered to himself. Along those ridges chestnuts and beechnuts were falling. Squirrels were frisking about on the ground. With a gun and a good hound-dog—Ballard owned one of the best dogs in the mountains—you could have a perfect, gloriously golden day, hunting those squirrels and keeping an ear open for the distant gobble-gobble of some wild turkeys who might, just might, be hiding in those hills.
“What a life!” Johnny barely escaped saying the words aloud. “What a grand and glorious life!” Deep down in some hollow a fat old coon was at this moment stealing corn. ”

“ No sooner had the door framed their faces than a voice shouted: “Here’s Old Kentucky! Kentucky and that mountain gal. Come on, Old Kentucky, give us a tune.”
At once the crowd, composed of all the team and many of their friends, was on its feet and cheering huskily.
[163]
Seizing his companions, Johnny pushed them to the front. Picking up Jensie as if she were a sack of sugar, he set her down on the counter, then thrust a banjo in her hands as he whispered, “Do your durndest. Nothing could be better than this.” She flashed him an understanding smile. ”

“ Quite forgetting the deep pool that lay just beyond the last clump of mountain laurel, Johnny happily dropped his first wriggling soft craw into the shadowy waters of the pool next to that one where, more than once, a grand and glorious old black bass had eluded him. ”

“ It’s practice! How can we win? By getting out on the air! Basketball! That’s it. Basketball on the football field. That takes practice, hours and hours of practice. I know what you’re going to say, ‘Where’s the time? All right for you,’ you’ll say, ‘you don’t have to work, Artie.’ Look!” Artie broke short off to allow his eyes to circle the crowd. “Who’s the best ball carrier we’ve got this year? Who’s the artful dodger? There he is!” He pointed straight at Ballard. “Old Kentucky. That’s who it is!” Once again the crowd cheered, this time long and huskily. ”

“ The aviator, after touching a lever, tapped his head with his knuckles as much as to say:
“Knock on wood.”
A half hour later they came soaring back to earth. “She’s working.” The pilot heaved a sigh of content. “Two or three more days and I’ll be ready to cross the continent. Tell that boy at the mill to freeze me up a good lot of liquid air.”
“All right, I’ll tell him,” Johnny agreed. “It’s—it’s wonderful!” he cried. “Riding through the air with only air and carbon for fuel. Is it practical, a truly great thing? Will people everywhere be using liquid air for airplane fuel before long?” ”

“ Johnny told himself soberly, “is what football’s for, to teach a fellow to take it. Not to take vile names. The referee will take care of that, but to take a tumble, to be thrown, thrown hard again and again, to be bumped and bruised and still be able to smile. That’s football, a grand and glorious sport!” Yes, he’d ask Ballard to go back. He MUST go back!
“I—I’ll get off here,” Ballard broke in upon Johnny’s solemn meditations and high resolves. “There’s a short cut through the hills. I’ll be home in a quarter of an hour.” As Johnny stopped the car, Ballard hopped out. ”

“ Ballard said. “He wants to go along. Real name’s Bexter, but we call him Bex. Old as I am, Bex is, but you forgot to grow, didn’t you Bex?”
The short, sturdy-looking, freckled faced boy grinned and said, “I reckon.” Then they were away.
“I suppose you know every rock up here,” said Johnny, as they went scrambling up and up, over an all but perpendicular trail.
[20]
“Mebby I do,” Ballard admitted. “But Bex knows ’em better. He’s a regular mountain goat, Bex is.”
“Saw a bear up here day before yesterday,” Bex put in eagerly. “Regular big one. Scared me half to death.” ”

“ Curious, mysterious things were always bobbing up. Life was a joyous affair too. It sure was good to live. The coming weeks promised to be full of interest. There was that queer old man and his nephew, Donald Day, down there in the mountains. They took jug-like affairs into a dark, cavern-like place beneath a mill, carried them down empty and brought them up filled with some precious fluid. How could they? What magic was this? He was going to know. His grandfather had given him a small car, a long, low one with a nose like a chisel. Cut the air like a knife, this car. ”

“ The Hillcrest team was tiring. Like shock troops, a half dozen husky subs were pushed into the Naperville team and again they battered their way across the field and over the goal. The kick was good. Once again the score was tied.
Then came the five last tense moments of the game. Even faces in the grandstand were drawn into hard fixed lines. Men were there, stout, gray haired men, who, in their day, had gone romping over their ancient enemy to victory. ”

“ Our minds are strange. For some of us a place left behind is a place forgotten. It was so with Johnny Thompson. The moment that Stone Mountain loomed up before him, Hillcrest was forgotten. Like the passing of the morning mist, the Blue Moon, Red Dynamite, the entire football team and all that was Hillcrest at its best, were forgotten. ”

“ Someone had told him that this old man, Malcomb MacQueen, had a noble character, that he had helped bring well educated teachers down to the school at the fork of the river. “Wouldn’t do that and then go peddling poisonous moonshine,” Johnny thought. There had been men who did good deeds to cover up the evil that was hidden in their hearts. But somehow, he had a feeling that moonshine was not the answer. “What can it be?” he asked himself. Johnny’s reflections were broken in upon by a word from Ballard. ”

“ Football is the game of war. When a few wounded have been carried from the field, a battle does not stop.
It was a grim battle that followed. No one blamed that big full-back, not really, and yet—They must not win now. Pitt must not!
The crippled Hillcrest team battled hard but could not gain. They punted. Pitt carried the ball far into their territory. Two brilliantly executed passes by Pitt men brought the ball to the Hillcrest ten-yard line. One line buck and the distance to a touchdown was cut to five yards, one more line buck and a slim yard stood between Pitt and victory. ”

“ Johnny asked, for the moment allowing his interest to be drawn from the enthralling mystery below.
“Well, you know,” Bex was speaking slowly now, “Mr. MacQueen always took a great deal of interest in Mose. Mose is old, really old, no one knows just how old, but he’s been game. He’s worked. Times have been hard but all he’s asked is a chance to earn a poor sort of living and now—” he sighed. “Now it looks as if that chance would be cut off.
“You see,” he turned to the city boy, Donald, “your grandfather was trying to save Mose’s mule when he had that terrible fall.” ”

“ Johnny knew the Colonel and liked him. A big, bluff, red-cheeked, jovial southern gentleman, he was the idol of every boy who came to know him. Nicodemus, despite all his reputation for breaking up beehives and dismissing schools, was a valuable ram. If anything seriously threatened his safety, the Colonel should know of it. Besides, there was a chance, a bare chance, that Johnny, through this little adventure, might become better acquainted with the Colonel’s daughter, Jensie. ”

“ Tomorrow you must be at your best. Keep your heads. Get a good grip on your nerves. Don’t let the other fellows get your goat. Go in to win!”
“Yea! Yea! Hear! Hear! Hear!” came in a roar from the team.
“Thanks,” the coach smiled. “And now—” he broke off to stand at attention for a period of seconds. Had his keen ears caught some unusual sound? Johnny, who sat in a corner close to a half open window, would have sworn he caught a faint rustle from the outside. “But who’d be around this time of night?” he asked himself. “And after all, what does it matter? All Hillcrest is loyal to our team.” ”

“ Finding himself in the open and in full possession of the treasured pigskin, Artie Stark once again shot forward toward the goal line. An enemy appeared on the right. He dodged him. One on the left, another on the right, a third directly before him. No chance. His eyes roved the field. “Than—thanks, good fortune,” he murmured as he sent the ball on a long, looping curve toward Ballard Ball, the slim Kentucky boy, who stood waiting all alone on the enemy’s five yard line. It was a perfect pass. Ballard was not obliged to move a foot. The ball dropped squarely in his arms. ”

“ For the rest of that quarter and all through the second quarter the teams took turns bucking lines, trying passes, and punting on the fourth down. Neither team made great gains. At the end of the half the score stood at 7-0 against Hillcrest.
“Dynamite,” the slim Kentucky boy whispered tensely as for a moment Dave took a place beside him on the bench, “you can’t let them beat us! You just can’t. All the old grads are here. They’re burning up for a victory. I heard one of them say there’ll be a training-table for the team next year if we win this game. A free training-table, Dynamite! ”

“ Johnny agreed, understanding on the instant. “There are times in all our lives when some special thing gives us a mighty push and we climb to heights we may never hope to reach again.
“But, Ballard, old boy,” he hastened to add, “you’ll do well enough. Now you’ve got going, nothing can stop you. For once Hillcrest has a winning team and I’m glad, mighty glad.”
“Tomorrow I’m coming back to work here in the Blue Moon,” Ballard said quietly.
“Artie Stark has done enough for me. Every fellow’s got to make his own way,” he continued. ”

“ A Cedarville man carried the ball to his own forty yard line. Then followed a terrific pounding of the Hillcrest line that resulted in four first downs, a thirty yard run through the line and at last a touchdown by the invaders.
“Oh!” Jensie sighed, it was the first real game she had ever witnessed. “How can we win when they ram the line like a flock of goats?”
“Or rams?” Johnny chuckled in spite of himself. “But wait,” he consoled her, “our team will take to the air. Then you’ll see.” ”

“ The old mill with its sucking pumps producing its strange liquid treasure, Donald Day, poor old Uncle Mose, the ornery and penny-pinching Blinkey Bill, the proposed lightning from the blue sky, the aviator down in the valley with his new type of motor, all these clamored for first place in his imaginative mind.
“Kentucky,” he said, throwing back his square young shoulders, “life is wonderful!” ”

“ Could he make it? He breathed hard. Snap! They were away. So was Rabbit. To reach his required position was easy. Where was the ball? Had the two laterals served their purpose? Yes! Yes! Here came the ball, straight for his outstretched hands and not an opponent near. What luck!
But wait! As he caught the ball and turned to run, he saw before him, not ten yards away, a huge player, in fact, none other than that right tackle, the one he suspected of some unfair trick. He had been returned to the game.
There are times when Rabbit’s mind works with the speed of a steel trap. ”

“ When at last they started, there were three in the car instead of two. He had run across Jensie. She had insisted on going along. The car seat was wide. Johnny was not slow in accepting her challenge. So, with an hour of sunlight and many hours of glorious moonlight before them, they took the long, broad, winding trail that leads south.
Mile after mile sped by and not a word was said by anyone. They are strangely quiet people, these mountain folks—yet there are times when they appear to speak without saying any words. Their very silence speaks for them. ”

“ Next Saturday they will go out on the field and romp all over it to the tune of a dozen touchdowns. And already, thank God, they’ve forgotten Kentucky’s blunder that cost them a game.”
“Old Kentucky will be the hero of the hour next Saturday, you’ll see,” Jensie exulted. “Kentucky! My Kentucky forever!”
That night Johnny sat long musing beside the fire. Surely there were matters enough to occupy his thoughts. Kentucky was back. These mountain people had a way of winning their way into people’s hearts. ”

“ Pant settled back. “About this girl now. It was queer, Johnny, downright queer. We’d come to the top of a high ridge. Dawn had come, as it always does in the tropics, with a rush and with the joyous scream of a thousand birds.
“We stood there on the ridge looking down at a sort of barren plateau when some baboons, a whole troop of them, came marching out from the jungle. Huge fellows they were. Powerful beasts with arms a foot longer than mine. Powerful? Johnny, one of them could have grabbed me and broken every bone in my body. But they wouldn’t, Johnny, I knew that well enough. ”

“ He and Johnny Thompson walked off the field together.
“Poor Kentucky,” Dynamite was saying. “He doesn’t seem to have any luck.”
“All the same,” Johnny replied quietly, “it was he who won today’s game.”
“That’s just it,” his generous hearted companion agreed. “To think of practically putting the game on ice, then being smashed up!
[194]
“I only hope,” he added soberly, “that it’s not too bad. We sure don’t get the breaks. Just when we’re all keyed up and ready to go after anything, then to lose our best man!”
“It is tough,” Johnny agreed. ”

“ Jack Dawson, the aviator, who had come to live down there on the edge of the meadow, had said, “We’d have made the trip faster if we’d had my new motor going.”
[158]
“A new kind of fuel,” Johnny whispered to himself. “That’s what he said. More foot pounds of energy than any other fuel. Wonder what it could be?”
At a rather late hour that same afternoon, Jensie and Ballard sat on the trunk of a fallen tree. They were both deliciously weary. All day they had tramped the hillsides. The dry leaves had rustled beneath their feet. From time to time beechnuts had come showering down upon them. ”

“ Johnny was on his feet. “Wait. The coffee’s still hot. There are mince pies, the turnover sort you can hold in your hands. I’ll be back in a flash.” He was.
“Pant,” Johnny leaned forward eagerly as his strange visitor finished his last bite of pie. “Last time I saw you, you were telling me of a beautiful valley in Ethiopia and something about a girl, perhaps a white girl, you didn’t seem to know. ”