THE GRUMBLERS
"Well, I'm mighty glad it's all settled, Steele," said Bob Somers. "I'm
afraid, though"--he smiled rather grimly--"that some of the chaps are
pretty badly disappointed."
Coach Steele's gray eyes ran over the crowd congregated before the
bulletin-board.
"It's the same old story, Bob. A coach's life is not always the biggest
snap in the world."
"I wonder how Roycroft will take it," ventured Charlie Blake.
"Like a good sport, I'm sure," answered Steele.
"Of course he will," said Tom, who was bubbling over with glee.
"Honest, Bob, I can hardly wait for the umpire to call 'Play ball!'
Aren't we going to pulverize Nat Wingate's crowd? I'll bet we whitewash
'em. Doesn't it make you tired to hear some of those fellows boast?"
"Ha, ha! I shall have to make a note of Mr. Clifton's comment on
boasting." Benny Wilkins, wearing his usual grin, approached.
"Congrats, Brandon and the whole bunch. Thought your weight and Somers'
delicate nerve would carry you through. Lucky dogs!"
"I can see an awful lot of hard work before us," drawled Dave Brandon.
"But just think what jolly good fun it'll be getting the school a new
athletic field," exclaimed Tom. "Hope some of the teams we play are
strong enough to give us a pretty good tussle."
"Cut it out, fellows! I tell you I don't want you to say a word. I'm
not putting up any kick."
Earl Roycroft's big form loomed up from among a group of gesticulating,
excited admirers. Voices echoed sharply through the big gymnasium.
"How about Lawrence? How about Lawrence?" chorused a small coterie
surrounding the new student and "Crackers" Brown.
"Rah, rah, rah for Bob Somers!" answered a challenging roar from lusty
throats. "Three cheers for Coach Steele!"
The room seemed to shake with applause. The Somersites were clearly in
the majority. A stream began pouring over to offer their well wishes to
the members of the first regularly organized team of the Kingswood High.
Bantering remarks, cat-calls, came from the minority. Never in its
history had the gym witnessed such a scene of noise, confusion and
bustle. From out of the babel of sound came the repeated cry of:
"Roycroft--Roycroft!"
The big guard, red-faced and flustered, found himself being pushed
toward Coach Steele. His emphatic protests fell on unheeding ears.
"Quit it, fellows," he commanded, almost angrily. "If the coach didn't
want me on the team that settles it."
"Don't roll off any such chicken-hearted stuff as that," growled Owen
Lawrence. "We've been handed a raw deal, and it's time to us we said
something."
"This looks like the beginning of a real revolution," grinned Benny
Wilkins, who had walked over.
"We might as well have a little talk with Mr. Steele right now,"
suggested "Crackers."
"That's right; strike while the Steele is cool," piped Benny.
"Let go, fellows!" cried Earl. "Stop shoving, Luke Phelps. If I'm
satisfied, you haven't any right to fuss about it."
"Oh, yes, we have. It's for the good of the school," declared
"Crackers" emphatically. "I told you all along how things would turn
out. A protest in time may save nine awful explosions."
[Illustration: "IT'S FOR THE GOOD OF THE SCHOOL"]
"Well, I'm in your hands," said the guard, with a rather weak smile.
"I say, Mr. Steele!"--Owen Lawrence was speaking--"may I speak to you a
moment?"
"Certainly, Lawrence. Go ahead."
"I don't want to appear in the light of a sorehead, Mr. Steele; but it
seems to me--and a good many here will back up my opinion--that it's a
mistake to leave Roycroft off the team."
"What has Earl to say about this?" asked the coach, quietly.
"I told these chaps I was ready to abide by your decision," answered
Roycroft. "I'm not kicking."
"That's all very well," said "Crackers," "but we happen to know the
kind of a game he can play; and the prize the school is going after----"
"I have considered all that, Brown."
The coach, scarcely more than a schoolboy in appearance, spoke so
unassumingly that "Crackers" was emboldened to continue.
He began talking earnestly and emphatically, pointing out the various
reasons why both Roycroft and Lawrence should be added to the squad.
The coach, however, shook his head.
"I don't think I can make any change, Brown," he announced, firmly.
"There are so many promising players in this school that it means no
reflection whatever on those who were left off."
"Just the way I take it," said Roycroft.
"Then you're a big dunderhead!" exclaimed Owen Lawrence. "Three of the
Ramblers on that team; two others officers of the athletic association!
How can you swallow a proposition like that?"
"Oh, go away and eat some pie!" scoffed Tom Clifton. "Steady your
nerves with a doughnut. Better wait and see us play before you get so
hot about it."
"I'm afraid some one will be roasted if this thing keeps up," murmured
Benny.
"We're going to do our level best for the school, fellows," spoke up
Bob Somers, earnestly. "A team is twice as strong when there's no
opposition or unpleasant feeling. All we ask is: give us a fair show.
Then, if things don't break right, it will be time enough to talk."
"Let that idea soak in, Owen Lawrence," spoke up "Jack Frost," who had
won his place on the pitching staff.
"All right. We'll give you all the chance you want." Owen, apparently
regretting his hasty outbreak, even smiled as he added: "Wherever I
study I'm always red-hot for the school."
"Lawrence's thought arrangement unloosens his tongue before he thinks,"
came from Benny. "I made a note of that the first day he was here."
"Oh ho," yawned Dave Brandon. "I've got a lot of work to do on the next
number of the 'Reflector.' Guess I'll skip."
"Crackers," the most solemn-looking boy in school, and yet, some
suspected, the most anxious to help along any row, realized that it
would be impolitic to allow the opposition to show its hand too freely.
He saw that it could only react upon themselves, and, perhaps, throw
into the other camp those undecided students who were not quite sure
which side to favor.
"The 'Pie-eaters' will act as nice as pie," he confided to Owen
Lawrence, late that afternoon at Terry Guffin's.
"I heard Steele speak about getting up a second nine to play the
regulars," said Benny Wilkins. "He told the fellows it was the best
kind of practice. Now's your chance, Lawrence."
"Not for mine, son," answered Owen, emphatically. "Steele and Somers
threw me down. Now they can't pick up yours truly just to make a
convenience of him."
"I'm not sore about it," added Earl Roycroft, "but, after being
considered a kind of star on the football eleven, I don't feel like
taking a back seat."
"I should say not," agreed Brown.
This seemed to be the general feeling among those who failed to get a
position on the team. Many thought "Crackers" had a great deal to do
with this state of mind.
At any rate, the various teams which soon sprang into being did not
include any "big names" among their players. The regulars, for the
most part, had an easy time disposing of them, only occasionally being
obliged to extend themselves in order to win.
"Wait till they play a real, live club," laughed Owen Lawrence. "Then I
guess the score-card will tell another story."
The interest aroused in the coming contest with the Kingswood Stars
increased as the day approached.
"An awful lot depends upon the first game," said Bob Somers to Coach
Steele, as the crowd left the gymnasium for practice on the following
day. "Tony Tippen is certainly a dandy pitcher, and for an all-around
player Nat Wingate is one of the best for his age I've ever seen."
"There is plenty of go and courage to that lad," remarked Steele,
"though he needs discipline."
"Oh, they're not such a bunch of wonders," laughed Tom--"even if they
did beat the Goose Hillers. I guess we can wade right through 'em
without half trying."
"Overconfidence has lost many a game," admonished the coach.
"Well, I reckon it won't lose any for us."
"Boys, I think you have all the signals down pretty fine. Now be
careful not to cut loose too much. Keep your best in reserve, and when
Saturday comes don't let a lot of howling rooters get your nerve."
"Not much," sniffed Tom.
"Well, here we are on the field. Let's get busy. Hello, Joe! Glad to
see you. Guess you'll be on hand to see the game, eh?"
An expansive smile rested on Joe Rodgers' freckled face. He looked very
different from the lad whom Dave Brandon had found as an employee of
Spudger's Great Combined Peerless Circus and Menagerie.
"Won't I though, Mr. Steele?" he answered. "How are you, Dave! Howdy,
Bob! Maybe I wouldn't like to be on the team."
"You'll get there some day," chuckled Dave. "Ready, 'Jack Frost'? I
want to get my batting eye in shape."
Among the great crowd of boys who surged on the field not a word of
opposition was heard. The fast and snappy play brought forth ripples
of applause. Bounders, grass-cutters, line drives and high flies were
fielded or caught with admirable precision. There were few false
movements made in whipping the ball from one to another.
It was an inspiring sight to the Somers partisans. They cheered and
yelled themselves hoarse. Joe Rodgers was in ecstasy.
"They can't be beaten!" he cried.
"Three forty-five P. M. Decision reached that the Ramblers
can't be beaten," chuckled Benny Wilkins, who happened to be near. "Too
bad we can't get some major leaguers out here and show 'em just where
they stand."
"Saturday will be a great day for the school team," predicted Harry
Spearman. "Everybody is brimming over with confidence."
"I never bank too much on parlor practice," put in Ted Pollock. "Hush!
Don't say a word. Here comes Tom Clifton. Strikes me he's up in the air
in more'n one way," he added, in a lower tone. "Gee, hasn't he changed!
'Member when he was a little timid sort of a kid, Wilkins?"
"It hasn't been lately," growled Benny. "Of all the hot-air artists
that ever strutted around a ball field he carries off the bakery, pie
counter and all. If they get trounced on Saturday I won't shed any
tears for Tommy."
"What's this--a conspiracy?" chuckled Tom. "Cut out the whispering. Did
you see Bob stop Hazel's grounder? Peach--wasn't it? Scooped the ball
on a fast run."
"Too bad Mr. Barry didn't witness that performance," said Benny. "He
might have taken down the first of those no-trespassing signs. Wasn't
it queer of the old chap to make such an offer, anyway?"
"Most staggers me even now," admitted Ted Pollock. "Say, Tom, tried on
your uniform yet?"
"Certainly have. Guess it won't look so spick and span after I steal a
few bases."
"Better be careful how you try it on Nat's crowd," warned Ted. "His
backstop, you know, has a big rep' for nippin' those sly dodges."
"Oh, yes. But he'll have to eat some more pie before he can do the
nipping act on me. Look out--let me get it!"
Tom made a frantic rush in and out among the crowd in an effort to
reach a high foul which had slipped from Dave Brandon's bat. Two
juniors were bowled over in the attempt; but Tom caught the ball, and,
flushed with triumph, snapped it over to "Jack Frost."
"Nearly knocks a fellow's head off, an' never even says excuse me,"
muttered one disconsolate junior, rubbing his forehead. "I like his
nerve."
"So don't I," growled the other. "The silly chump rushed right between
us before we had a chance to move. Gee! Look at him now, chasing that
grounder. Guess he thinks he's the whole show. Listen! What's that?"
A loud, discordant yell had blared through a megaphone.
Turning in the direction from whence the sound had come the two saw a
small procession of boys headed by Nat Wingate and tall John Hackett
approaching. The majority had megaphones, and the din which they
produced indicated that all knew how to use them to the best advantage.
On they came, singing a lusty chorus.
"We are ready for the fray!" shouted Nat, at the end of a stanza.
"Rah, rah, rah!" yelled Hackett.
"Bing, bang, boom!" screeched Kirk Talbot. "We're the best bunch in the
amateur ranks."
"And we're going to show just how rank you are!" howled Tom.
An approving roar came from the purple and white.
"That's like Nat Wingate--always butting in with a megaphone,"
exclaimed one of the juniors. "But say, Freddy Sparker, he's just doing
it 'cause he thinks he can rattle Somers' crowd; an', take it from me,
some of 'em he can."
"Who?" asked Sparker.
"Charlie Blake, for one; Clifton for another."
"Add Alfred Boggs for a third. Oh, yes; Nat and Hackett'll know how to
get some of 'em going."
"I shouldn't mind being knocked down again if it were only time for
that game to be played," sighed the first junior. "Wouldn't surprise me
a bit if Nat gave our crowd an awful lacing."