THE FELLOW WITH A GROUCH.
Jack Kenny was sore. He had been out of humor for a long time—to be
exact, ever since the football election last year, in which Don Tempest
had been chosen captain of the varsity—but he had done his best to hide
this feeling from those about him.
Dick Merriwell, himself the best all-around athlete in college, had more
than once expressed his belief that many of the triumphs of the very
satisfactory season of a year ago had been due to Kenny’s amazingly
clever headwork.
But the quarter back was not a fellow to foster a long-continued grouch
if he could help it. He had a decided strain of real sporting blood in
his make-up, and, after the first flare-up of rage and disappointment
when he learned the result of the election, he had calmed down and tried
to take things philosophically.
But with the return of Don Tempest to the helm just before the Princeton
game, the old feelings of doubt and resentment came back with renewed
force, in spite of the plucky efforts on Kenny’s part to take his
medicine like a man.
Tempest himself was not a fellow to help matters much. He was a splendid
player, and, what was more, a born general in his ability to plan out a
game and play it scientifically; but, like many generals in the bigger
game of life, he had a supreme belief in his own ability, an intolerance
of criticism and advice, and a certain lack of sympathy and tact in his
handling of the other players, which resulted in his being far from
popular.
Men recognized his ability and appreciated the value of his generalship,
while they did not care for him personally, which was well enough so
long as everything went along without a hitch and there were no
fall-downs.
All this did not help Jack Kenny in his effort—quite determined and
sincere—to conquer the feeling of resentment and sense of having been
used unfairly, which kept constantly cropping up in his mind. Hearing
now and then little jibes and flings against the captain from other
fellows only confirmed his own impression that Tempest was unfit for the
position.
This belief was fostered by his own keen observation during the progress
of a game or on the practice field. More than once he saw opportunities
which Tempest seemed to miss. Latterly they had had several run-ins
about certain plays and formations, of which Kenny could not see the
value, but which Tempest insisted should be used.
The result was that the quarter back’s usually even temper had become
more and more rasped as time went on, until he reached a point when the
slightest admonition from Tempest irritated him almost beyond endurance,
and a decided coolness had developed between the two men.
This afternoon had been a particularly trying one. Tempest had seemed
even more unreasonable and domineering than usual, compelling Kenny to
exercise every bit of will power he possessed to refrain from flaring up
and causing an open outbreak.
He did not want to do this. He knew the fatal nature of a team playing
at loggerheads, and the great game of the season—the contest with
Harvard—was too close at hand to run any chances. But he felt that if
Tempest continued in his present course very much longer no power on
earth could prevent an explosion.
“He’s so darned thick-headed and set in his ways that it makes a fellow
wild,” he grumbled to himself as he crossed the field toward the track
house. “If it wasn’t for the game Saturday, I’d have let him have a
piece of my mind to-day, and he could have done what he liked about it.
Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing for him to hear what some of the boys
really think about him.”
Still scowling fiercely, he entered the house and found several of the
fellows there ahead of him. They were gathered in a little group on the
farther side of the locker room, and had evidently been discussing
something with a relish; but as Kenny entered they all stopped abruptly
and glanced swiftly toward the door.
“Oh, it’s only Ken,” remarked Phil Keran, who had taken Hollister’s
place at right end. “He’s all right. We were just talking about the
crazy stunts Tempest went through this afternoon.”
“Yes,” chimed in Rudolph Rose; “did you ever see anything more senseless
than that fool double pass he wasted half the afternoon on. Why a child
would catch on to it, and it couldn’t be used more than once during the
entire game.”
“And that crisscross play with Baxter and Merriwell,” spoke up Bud
Baulsir, who played centre. “You didn’t like that for a cent, did you,
Ken? I heard you kicking about it to Tempest, but a fellow might as well
argue with a stone wall as to try and convince him he’s wrong.”
“He’s so thick-headed and stuffed full of conceit that it drives a man
wild!” Kenny burst out, unable to contain himself any longer. “He seems
to think nobody but himself knows anything about the game. It was all I
could do to keep from giving him some talk straight from the shoulder,
when he spent the whole afternoon on those two pet stunts of his.”
“Why didn’t you?” Rose asked quickly. “Might have done him good.”
Kenny’s lip curled.
“Him—good!” he exclaimed sarcastically. “Take another guess, Rudie. Bah!
The only thing that would do him good would be to have Harvard wipe up
the field with us, and then he’d blame it on some one else. I’m sick of
his high and mighty airs, and I tell you one thing, fellows, if he nags
me to-morrow the way he did to-day there’ll be something doing.”
“That’s the way to talk!” Baulsir said approvingly. “What business had
he got interfering with the quarter, anyhow?”
“He hasn’t any, if I show results,” retorted Kenny. “It’s all right to
tell me what he wants before we start, but I can’t stand this nag, nag
all through the playing. If he’s so crazy about deciding every play
himself, why doesn’t he take my place?”
“I notice things went pretty well while Brad was at the helm,” Rose
commented; “and he didn’t try any tricks like that. He played the game
as it should be played, and not——”
“’Sh!” interrupted Keran. “Here they come.”
The thud of feet sounded on the turf outside, and a moment later the
rest of the team appeared, filling the room with the sound of talk,
argument, and discussion. The group by the window melted away, and Kenny
made haste to appropriate one of the showers before they were all taken.
At the training table that night the football squad was not in the
liveliest sort of humor. Kenny still retained symptoms of his grouch of
the afternoon, and, besides that, there was a subtle undercurrent of
discord which made itself felt insensibly.
Dick Merriwell noticed the symptoms at once. He had, in fact, realized
for some days past that things were not as they should be with the team,
and that afternoon he had quite expected an outburst from Kenny over the
rather exacting ways of Tempest.
When it had not come, he was rather sorry, though he gave the quarter
back full credit for his admirable self-control. An angry outbreak or
open flare-up is much easier to contend with than the grudge which is
nursed and fostered in secret, ever gaining in strength and volume like
a snowball rolling downhill, until at length it proves a serious menace
to discipline and effectiveness.
He had noticed Tempest’s methods of running the team and had observed
with regret some of the mistakes the fellow made in handling the men.
But he realized that it was Tempest’s way of doing things. It was as
much a part of his make-up as his admirable executive ability, and quite
as impossible to change.
Merriwell’s keen sense of observation took in what Kenny either would
not or could not see—that Tempest was the better man of the two for the
place. His judgment was sounder and his knowledge of the tactics and
stratagem of the game better than Kenny’s. It was only his methods of
handling the men which were at fault and which prevented him from
obtaining perfect results.
Dick had worried a good deal over the matter, for he knew how much
depended on there being perfect concord among the members of the team.
To do their best, it was necessary for each individual to throw aside
all personal feelings and subordinate himself to the general good. The
slightest rift in the lute showed itself promptly in the lowered _esprit
de corps_ of the organization.
As yet he had not said anything definite to Tempest. He knew the fellow
was doing his best to secure results. His whole heart was fixed on
gaining a victory in the great game of the season, and to that end he
strained every effort. Merriwell had tried several times by means of
gentle hints to bring about an improvement in the condition of affairs,
but he was afraid that he should very soon feel like seeking recourse in
other methods.
Thinking the matter over at the table that night made him, too, rather
silent, and added to the general impression of uneasiness and disquiet
which prevailed.
Kenny was one of the first to finish supper and leave the table. Phil
Keran caught up with him as he was walking back through “Grub Alley.”
“What’s your hurry?” he questioned.
“Oh, nothing special,” the quarter back returned shortly. “I just didn’t
feel like hanging around there and hearing Tempest shoot off his face.”
Keran laughed.
“I should think you had had about enough of him for one day,” he
rejoined. “Got anything on to-night?”
“No. What’s up?”
“I just thought you might like to come around to our rooms and meet
Clarence Carr, Archie’s brother,” Keran answered. “You remember Archie
Carr, who graduated two years ago, don’t you?”
“Surest thing you know,” Kenny returned, brightening up a little. “He
substituted on the varsity the year I was captain of the scrub. I don’t
ever remember his brother, though.”
“Nice chap,” commented Keran. “Broker, I understand, and is taking a few
days off to rest up after a bear raid on the market. He’s stopping at
the New Haven House.”
“Yale man?”
“Nope, Brown. But he’s all for old Eli on his brother’s account. Crazy
about football, and is going to stay over for the game Saturday.”
They crossed Elm Street and struck into the campus by Durfee. Keran and
Kenny both had quarters in Vanderbilt, and five minutes later they were
settled in the latter’s comfortable sitting room on the third floor.
Carr had not yet arrived, but presently a couple of other fellows
strolled in, and about half-past seven there came a brisk knock on the
door.
Keran at once sprang up, and, opening it, ushered in a slim, erect man
of about thirty, with keen, dark eyes, rather good-looking features, and
fairly bubbling over with vim and good spirits.
“How are you, old fellow!” he exclaimed, shaking Keran’s hand. “Great of
you to have me here. Archie said I mustn’t lose any time in looking up
‘Old Phil,’ as he calls you, the minute I set foot in New Haven.”
“Glad to see you again, Mr. Carr,” Keran returned cordially, as he took
his guest’s coat and hat. “I recognized your voice perfectly over the
phone this morning.”
“Really?” exclaimed Carr. “You’ve got a good memory. Why, we only met
once, and that was three years ago.”
He greeted Kenny and the other men with a smile and hearty handclasp,
and then settled down in an easy-chair and pulled out a cigar case.
“I won’t offer you one, Keran,” he smiled, “because I know you shouldn’t
take it, but perhaps your friends will indulge. I’ll guarantee they’re
pretty good.”
He extended the case to Kenny, who sat nearest him. The quarter back
shook his head.
“No, thanks. I’m in Phil’s class.”
“Don’t you believe it,” grinned Keran. “He’s a sight more important to
the varsity than I ever could be. Why, I only got in after the Princeton
game by the skin of my teeth, whereas he’s been quarter back for two
years running.”
Mr. Carr seemed much interested. Proffering the case to the other two
men, who each took a cigar, he selected a weed himself and returned the
rest to his pocket.
“Well, well,” he remarked briskly. “Quarter, eh? That’s a pretty
responsible job. In my day the quarter back was the brains of the team.”
“So he is to-day,” Keran said quickly. “He would be at New Haven if we
didn’t have a fellow like Tempest trying to——”
He stopped abruptly, and his face flushed a little. In his haste he had
said rather more than he had intended, considering that Carr was a
comparative stranger.
The latter held the lighted match suspended in the air about six inches
away from his cigar, while he surveyed Keran’s embarrassed face with his
keen black eyes.
“Tempest?” he questioned. “He’s the captain, isn’t he?”
Keran nodded.
There was a momentary pause, during which Carr applied the match to his
cigar and took a puff or two to make sure that it was well lighted. Then
he leaned back comfortably on his chair.
“It’s always a mistake for the captain to butt in too much with the
quarter back,” he remarked casually. “Of course, if the quarter isn’t
onto his job he should be coached; but if he can’t stand on his own legs
at this stage of the game he ought to be dropped and some one found who
could. Constant nagging of the quarter back has been the cause of a good
many defeats. Why, I remember just such a case in my last year at Brown.
I was one of the subs in the game with Cornell. The captain had a grudge
against the quarter, and his continual interference got the fellow so on
his ear that we lost the game. Ballard—that was the captain—certainly
got his when it was all over with. Coaches, alumni, and about all the
team landed on his neck and roasted him good and plenty. He never
repeated the trick.”
Kenny felt a sort of warming toward his new acquaintance. He seemed to
be a man of a good deal of understanding, and the instance he had cited
fitted Kenny’s own case exactly.
“Of course, a fellow doesn’t mind suggestions, or even orders, when
they’re given at the proper time and place,” he put in hastily. “I hope
I haven’t got such a case of swelled head as to think that nobody can
give me points; but what’s the use of being quarter if you can’t do a
little thinking now and then on your own hook?”
Carr nodded understandingly.
“Exactly my point of view,” he returned quickly, exhaling a cloud of
smoke as he spoke. “I fancy the trouble with this Tempest is that he
wants to have his finger in everything.”
There was a momentary pause. Neither Kenny nor Keran seemed inclined to
pursue the subject farther. Presently Carr looked up at the latter.
“Of course you boys are going to wipe up the gridiron with Harvard on
Saturday?” he smiled.
Keran grinned.
“Oh, sure,” he returned quickly. “There won’t be anything left of them
to carry back to Cambridge.”
Carr laughed heartily; then his face sobered.
“But honestly, haven’t the crimson boys got a crackerjack eleven this
year?” he questioned seriously. “The splendid game they put up the other
day got me a little worried. I certainly don’t want to see old Yale
thrown down.”
“I don’t think you need have any fear of that,” Keran said slowly,
“unless——”
He hesitated. Carr’s bright eyes were fixed questioningly on his face.
“Yes?”
“Unless—— Oh, well, you can’t tell what might happen,” Keran finished
with an attempt at carelessness. “When Bob Hollister dropped out just
before the Princeton game it was the very last thing that any of us
expected.”
A gleam of comprehension flickered across Carr’s mobile face and was
gone.
“True,” he murmured, “one never can tell what might turn up. But we’ll
certainly hope nothing does. If I were betting on the game, I think I
should have no hesitation in putting my money on the blue.”
The talk drifted to other subjects, and for half an hour Carr
entertained the fellows with stories and amusing anecdotes. He was a
good talker and had apparently had all sorts of interesting experiences,
but he also knew when to leave off. As the clock struck half-past nine
he arose briskly to his feet.
“Well, boys, I must be running along,” he said, with a smile. “Had a
bully evening, Keran, and no end glad to meet these friends of yours.
I’ll see you all again before Saturday, I hope.”
He slipped into his overcoat and started toward the door. At that moment
Kenny recollected that he ought to do some studying that night, so he
followed the older man out.
At the head of the stairs they said good night again, and, as they shook
hands, the quarter back said carelessly:
“If you’d care to drop in and see me some night, I’d be awfully glad to
have you. My rooms are on the next floor.”
“Thanks very much,” returned Carr. “I’ll take you up some night and
smoke a cigar with you. By-by.”
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