FINIS CORONAT OPUS
The victors sat at banquet. To be sure, as regarded variety of viand
and culinary excellence it left much to desire; in fact it was, I
believe, simply called “Dinner” on the _menu_ card. But it answered
all the purposes of a Roman feast. Victory presided, Happiness and
Merriment were the guests of honor, and Hunger waited at table.
Professor Beck was there, and one of the coaches, and Don, and Wayne,
and Whitehead, and Dave, and Gaffney, and Perkins, and Connor, and
Hardy, and Kendall, and several others; and every one talked as much
as he could and ate indiscriminately of all on the board, and was
wonderfully, radiantly joyful. The hotel management had given them
a little room to themselves; fortunately for the peace of the other
guests, for it was necessary to cheer loudly and often.
The events of the day were discussed from start to finish and the
official summary of the meeting was passed from hand to hand around the
board and the figures eagerly scanned.
“Great Cæsar!” muttered Don as he looked it over; “to think that two
points moved from the first column to the second would have beaten us!
It was a narrow squeak, Wayne; if you hadn’t finished a scant foot
ahead of Sturgis----”
“Let’s see it,” said Wayne. Don passed the sheet to him, and this is
what he saw:
SUMMARY
-------------------+--------+--------+--------+-------+-------+--------+-----
1st place counts 5.| | St. |Northern|Warren-|Shrews-|Thracia |Mad-
2d place counts 3. |Hillton.|Eustace.| Colle- | ton. | burg. | Poly- |durn
3d place counts 1. | | | giate. | | |technic.|Hall.
-------------------+--------+--------+--------+-------+-------+--------+-----
220-yard hurdles | 8 | 1 | | | | |
100-yard dash | | 5 | 4 | | | |
440-yard run | 8 | 1 | | | | |
120-yard hurdles | 5 | 1 | | | | 3 |
880-yard run | 2½ | 2½ | | | 3 | | 1
220-yard dash | 1 | 5 | | 3 | | |
1-mile run | 5 | 3 | | 1 | | |
Broad jump | 3 | 5 | 1 | | | |
Pole vault | | 8 | 1 | | | |
High jump | 1 | 8 | | | | |
Putting 12-pound | | | | | | |
shot | 1 | | 5 | 3 | | |
Throwing 12-pound | | | | | | |
hammer | 8 | | 1 | | | |
+--------+--------+--------+-------+-------+--------+-----
Total | 42½ | 39½ | 12 | 7 | 3 | 3 | 1
-------------------+--------+--------+--------+-------+-------+--------+-----
“It was close,” said Wayne, as he handed the summary on to Connor, who
sat at his right. “And,” he added in a low voice, “when I think how
nearly I lost the thing for you, Don, I feel like kicking myself back
to Hillton.”
At that moment the door was burst open and Paddy’s flushed and exultant
face peered in.
“Don’t want to bother you, fellows,” he cried, “but thought you’d like
to hear the news. We won at Marshall; Hillton 4, St. Eustace 0!” He
shied an evening paper across the room at Dave and disappeared again.
As the door closed Professor Beck sprang to his feet.
“Now, boys, three times three for the nine, and every one yell!” And
every one did yell. And then the paper was passed around and the brief
account of the baseball game was read and reread.
“By Jove,” cried Don, “your friend Gray’s gone and done it again!”
“Done what?” asked Wayne.
“Made a home run; and in the last inning, too! What do you think of
that?”
Whereupon Wayne tried to snatch the paper from Don, and only succeeded
in upsetting the contents of the latter’s tumbler into Professor Beck’s
salad.
But there is a limit even to the capacity of a triumphant track team,
and after a while, when Professor Beck and the coach had made short,
earnest speeches, had been cheered to the echo, and had left the room,
Don made himself heard and announced that nominations for the captaincy
of the team for the ensuing year were in order. Instantly Gaffney and
Dave were on their feet, and the former was recognized.
“I don’t see any use in fussing with nominations and such stuff; we’ve
all eaten too much. I move you that Donald Cunningham be re-elected by
acclamation and that we all go home.”
Cheering and laughter, cries of “Yes, yes, Cunningham!” and “Second
the motion!” arose; and Don got up and waited a chance to speak. When
the uproar had died down for a moment he said:
“I thank you, fellows, for the nomination, but I can not----”
“Don, Don, Donald C.!” chanted Wayne, and Dave took up the refrain, and
in a moment the room was again a pandemonium.
“Don, Don, Donald C.,
One big captain he!”
improvised Wayne, and the rest caught eagerly at the doggerel and
chanted it lustily to the accompaniment of weird music produced by
knives and tumblers. Don held up a hand appealingly.
“Fellows, please come to order!” he cried. And when the tumult had
subsided he went on: “I can’t accept the nomination, although I
feel--recognize----”
“Hear! hear!” bawled Dave.
“Although I appreciate the honor. I thank you all. I am glad that
we won to-day and hope that we will repeat the victory next year. I
will do my best to keep my place on the team, but I must refuse the
captaincy.”
“No, no!” cried his hearers.
“I don’t feel that I can spare the time from my lessons next year, and
I hope you will excuse me and elect some one to take my place. If I may
be allowed to nominate a candidate----”
Cries of “Yes, yes! Go ahead!”
“I nominate for captain Wayne Gordon.”
A chorus of applause broke out. Wayne stared in bewilderment about the
board. “Gordon! Gordon!” cried several; and Whitehead and Dave seconded
the nomination in unison.
“Are there any other nominations?” asked Don.
Wayne leaped to his feet. “I don’t quite know whether this is a joke or
not.” He frowned inquiringly at Don.
Don smiled and shook his head.
“Speech!” called some one.
“But if it isn’t a joke, it’s--it’s silly rot. I am no more fit to be
captain than I am to--to be principal.”
“Sit down,” shouted Dave, “you’re out of order!” But Wayne paid no
attention; instead he looked quite serious as he continued.
“To prove what I say, fellows, I’m going to make a confession. You--you
ought to know about it. I won the mile race to-day----”
“You bet you did!” said some one. “You’re all right!”
“But I didn’t deserve it. I came near losing it by--by my
pigheadedness. I don’t deserve any credit; fact is, I ought to be put
off the team.”
The fellows had quieted down and were listening in surprise and
curiosity. Don put up a hand and tried to pull him back into his seat.
“Shut up, Wayne,” he pleaded in a whisper.
“To-day,” continued Wayne, “I was told to get behind Sturgis and to
hang to him to the end of the race. Well, I didn’t; I thought I knew
more than the coaches, and Professor Beck and the captain, and every
one. And when St. Eustace put up a game by sending Gould ahead as
though he was going to win the race, I just let instructions go and
went after him. You all know how nearly Sturgis came to winning----”
“A miss is as good as a mile,” said Connor.
“And if he had won St. Eustace would have got the championship, and it
would have been all due to my foolishness. I haven’t felt right about
it since you fellows were so kind and cheered me, and--and all; and
I’ve wanted to tell you the truth, and I have; and I’m glad you gave me
the chance. And I thank you for the nomination, but couldn’t take it
even if you still wanted me to.”
Wayne sat down, and three fellows were instantly on their feet. Don
recognized Whitehead.
“Look here, fellows,” he said, speaking quickly and vehemently, “I
don’t deny that Gordon made a mistake, but I want to tell you that he
wasn’t to blame. The trick would have deceived any fellow that wasn’t
experienced; if it had been me instead of Gordon, I would have fallen
into the trap just as he did, and I’m not sure that I’d been so ready
to own up and tell the truth about it, either. Gordon made a mistake,
but he ran the finest sort of a race; he’s got lots of pluck and lots
of go, and we all like him; and I think he will make a good captain, if
Cunningham won’t accept re-election; and I move that we prove to him
that we don’t think any less of him for his mistake by asking him to
accept the nomination.”
“Good! Seconded!” was heard on all sides, and in a moment the motion
had carried unanimously. Wayne was very busy making bread pills, his
eyes on the table cloth.
“Silence gives assent,” said Don gayly. “Are there any other
nominations?” None spoke. “I move that the nominations be closed,”
said Dave. “I second that motion,” said Whitehead. “And I move that
the election be--be-- Oh, I mean let’s go ahead and elect Gordon,”
concluded Whitehead amid a laugh.
“Well, I can’t see the use of balloting,” replied Don, “and as the
proceedings have been out of order all evening I guess we might as well
continue to have them so. Suppose we take a rising vote?”
“Yes! Rising vote! Go ahead!”
“Fellows, all those in favor of the election of Wayne Gordon to the
captaincy of the track team for the ensuing year will so signify by
rising.”
Every fellow save Wayne was on his feet.
“Gordon is elected,” said Don.
“Unanimously!” cried Perkins.
“Fellows,” continued the ex-captain, “I call for three cheers for
Gordon.”
And they were given with a will. Wayne, rather pale and uncomfortable,
arose.
“Speech! speech!” laughed a number. Wayne cleared his throat, opened
his mouth, shut it again, looked appealingly at Don, and sank back into
his chair. But the team was not satisfied, and renewed calls for a
speech arose.
“Speak your piece, Wayne!” called Dave, and Wayne got up again and
started bravely.
“I can’t make a speech. But I thank you for what you’ve done, fellows.
I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake in electing me; I don’t know much
about athletics, but I’ll learn; perhaps Don here will help me.”
“All I can,” answered that youth readily.
“I’ve learned a good bit since I came to Hillton, and I reckon I can
learn more. I’ve learned that it’s a mighty good thing to do as you’re
told, and to obey authority, and not to think that you know everything,
because you don’t; at least, I don’t.”
“You know how to run!” cried Kendall, and the remark was laughingly
applauded.
“As I said,” continued Wayne, “I’m afraid you fellows have made a
mistake, but--but I’ll try to prove that you haven’t. I hope every one
of you will help me and try to excuse any blunders I may make; for I’m
bound to make lots; I’m not Donald Cunningham, you know.”
A murmur of applause arose.
“I never can be as good a captain as he has been----”
The murmur grew into a cheer, and it was fully a minute ere Wayne could
continue.
“And I don’t expect to. But”--he looked earnestly around the circle of
flushed and happy faces--“but I’ll try my level best, fellows, and I’ll
do all I know how for you and--and for the honor of the school!”
THE END
Transcriber’s Notes:
--Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
--Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.
--Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
--Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.
--The author’s em-dash style has been retained.
End of Project Gutenberg's For the Honor of the School, by Ralph Henry Barbour