THE GATES FORWARD PASS
The commandant was inclined to make little of the incident of that
Friday night. "Just a midshipman's joke," he said next morning to the
officer-in-charge.
"I don't feel that way at all," replied that officer. "I don't believe
anybody could have simulated the horror of those tones. I confess I have
no theory about the matter and I'm at an utter loss in attempting to
account for the way the cry descended from the upper to the lower floor,
for it certainly did do that. It couldn't have been anybody running
downstairs, for the midshipmen in charge of floors were at their desks
at the foot of the stairways, and they say that nobody except Mr.
Stonewell and Mr. Drake came down, and it wasn't either of them."
"Oh, I'll tell you how it was done," said Commander Dalton. "Some jokers
got some rubber hose in some way and fixed up a plant to bewilder the
officer-in-charge. I can imagine sections of hose were led to the
different floors and were triced up overhead and acted as speaking
tubes. You didn't think to look overhead, did you?"
"No, I didn't, but I don't think that could be the explanation."
"Perhaps not, but some joking midshipman was at the bottom of it. If it
happens again just look overhead."
For several days following Stonewell appeared much preoccupied and was
to be seen wandering about the corridors in the central part of the
armory wing. Facing the corridors were long lines of midshipmen's rooms;
the only communication between the floors were the stairways, two to
each floor. Finally Stonewell went to the top floor and after looking
about, disappeared into a small doorway leading to the tower, where the
ventilating blower was in operation. This was on Wednesday afternoon
just after study hours were over. At this time Robert Drake was standing
by the stairway of the ground floor, leading to the basement. Harry
Blunt came by and said: "Hello, Drake, come along, if you're going to
football practice to-day; Stonewell said he wanted us on the field as
early as we could get there."
"I'm just waiting for Stone; he's gone up to the fourth floor, and said
he would be down directly."
Then to Robert's great surprise, Stonewell came up the stairway from the
basement.
"How in the world did you get into the basement?" he exclaimed. "I saw
you start for the top of the building and you came out of the bottom.
How did you do it?"
"I'll let you know later, Bob," Stonewell said quietly, and Robert knew
he didn't care to talk before Blunt. "Come along, fellows."
They started off at a brisk pace; near sick quarters, Stonewell said:
"I'm going to drop in to see Farnum; an operation was performed on him
Saturday afternoon, and Dr. Pickron said I might see him to-day. He is
getting along finely."
"That's splendid news," exclaimed Robert; "just tell him how sorry we
all are that he has been sick."
"May I see Mr. Farnum for a few minutes?" asked Stonewell of Dr.
Pickron, in sick quarters.
"Yes, top floor back on the right. Don't stay too long with him."
"Thank you, doctor, I'll only be with him a moment."
Stonewell found Farnum lying in bed with his head bandaged. "Hello,
Stone," cried the latter happily, as Stonewell came in, in a different
tone of voice than Farnum had had for some weeks. "By George, Stone, I'm
feeling a lot better; I've got rid of that miserable feeling I had for
such a long time. Dr. Pickron is all right; he cut my head open and I'm
going to be well and out in ten days or two weeks. I knew there was
something wrong with me, but Dr. Pickron has fixed it all right. I'd
been in bad shape ever since that Bucknell game."
"I'm delighted, old fellow," replied Stonewell enthusiastically; "that
was a hard bump you got that day, but you're looking ever so much
better. Everybody will be awfully glad to hear you are getting along so
nicely; the squad, particularly."
"I'm afraid I'll play no more football this year."
"Don't worry about that, Farnum. You played a slashing game, and had
much to do in getting that six against Bucknell; but you played too
hard, as I was afraid you would. Say, old chap, you were pretty sick the
night I brought you over here, weren't you? Do you remember much about
it?"
"I've been worrying about that, Stone; I remember coming over with you,
but I'm a good deal bewildered as to what happened before I saw you. I'd
been feeling sick all day and turned in early. I went to sleep and had a
horrible nightmare; I hate to think about it."
"Where were you when you woke up?"
"That's what has been bothering me. Stone, I found myself in the
basement. How in the world I got there, what I was doing, I have no
idea. I woke up with the most awful feeling of terror a man ever had,
and I didn't know where I was. If it hadn't been that young Bligh was
down there I'd have lost my grip; I didn't have much of one as it was.
Bligh saw I was in bad shape, and grabbed me and half carried me to the
floor above."
"What was Bligh doing there at that time?"
"I don't like to say, Stone; you must remember he did me a good turn."
"Well, I know what he was doing, he was breaking training; I suspected
that; I detected the odor of tobacco on him that night, and I've had
this same notion before. If I learn that he's breaking training I'll
fire him off the team. Do you know, Farnum, I've heard you were seen
going up on the fourth floor a little before ten that night. Have you
any recollection at all of that, any dream even?"
"None except a most horrible dream; I shudder to think about it. Say,
Stone, I hope you won't talk about this; I'd hate to have the notion get
among the fellows that I had been crazy."
"I won't speak of it, old chap, to anybody; but I can tell by your very
appearance you're going to have no more trouble. Say, our next game is
with the University of Virginia, and after that we play Harvard; by
George, I hope we make a good showing. Good-bye, old chap; I'll drop in
to see you every day or so until you're back with us."
On his way out Stonewell stopped in to see Dr. Pickron. "Doctor," he
said, "Farnum is doing well. What was the operation you performed?"
"We trephined his skull. He received a hard blow on the right side of
his head in the Bucknell game; this caused a rupture and resulted in a
hemorrhage or blood clot, which was formed between the membranes of the
brain and the skull; and there was a slight depression of the skull over
this area. I wanted to operate at the time he was first hurt, but the
blood clot was mostly absorbed, and apparently Mr. Farnum regained his
normal condition. But actually there remained a thickening of the
membrane over this area, and this, with the slight depression of the
skull, caused a constant pressure. This resulted in a certain form of
epilepsy, which was his condition when you brought him over last Friday
night."
"Doctor, while in this condition could Mr. Farnum have walked about,
unaware of what he was doing, as if he were asleep, and later know
nothing about what had happened?"
"Yes, indeed; it's quite likely that very thing happened to Mr.
Farnum."
"Thank you very much, doctor," and Stonewell left and went to the
athletic field, where football practice had already commenced.
"Bligh," called out Stonewell sharply, "I believe you've been breaking
training. I give you fair warning that if you are caught at it you'll be
kicked off the team without ceremony."
Bligh looked uncomfortable and commenced to bluster. "Who says I've
broken training; just let me know who it is! Don't I play quarter well
enough for you, Mister Stonewell?" he continued sneeringly.
"Blunt can take your place any time," replied Stonewell shortly. "He's
playing better every day, and your playing is at a standstill. Now get
busy."
"Oh, you're one of the mighty Stonewell's pets," muttered Bligh to Harry
Blunt. "Your bootlicking begins to draw interest."
This uncalled for and unexpected insult was too much for Harry Blunt's
uncertain temper; full of rage he jumped at Bligh and struck him heavily
in the face. The two lads clinched, but were immediately separated,
Harry's face aflame with angry indignation, and Bligh furious with
mortification. Stonewell called them sternly to time, threatening
summarily to dismiss both from the team if they didn't bury their
personal differences: nor would he listen to any explanation from
either.
"Shut up, both of you, and get to work," he ordered peremptorily.
After this the rivalry between Bligh and Blunt became bitter. Blunt
secretly was tremendously encouraged by Stonewell's remark that he could
take Bligh's place any time. In the next game, against the University of
Virginia, Blunt was put in at quarter, and won golden opinions. Virginia
was beaten 10 to 0, and there were many that now openly said: "Blunt is
every bit as good as Bligh, and with another season's experience he will
be better."
Bligh was aware of this sentiment, and it exasperated his already bitter
feeling against his rival; he had much enjoyed the reputation of being
the Naval Academy's best quarter-back. He showed this bitterness by a
sullen behavior that was evident to everybody and which brought down
upon him severe criticism and reprimand. But he did not change.
On the next Wednesday, Annapolis was matched against Harvard. The
wearers of the crimson came to the field smiling and confident, but it
wasn't long before they commenced to look worried. Annapolis immediately
commenced to tear great holes for steady gains through the Harvard line.
To the enthusiastic midshipmen on the bleachers it seemed like a regular
walk down the field. When ten yards from Harvard's goal, Lumsden, a
second classman, took the ball. No one knew just how it happened, but
the ball slipped from Lumsden's grasp, and quick as a flash the Harvard
captain emerged from the scuffle with the ball under his arm and an
apparently clear field before him. Robert Drake downed him on the
Annapolis fifteen yard line.
Harvard now tried rushing tactics, but to her dismay could make no
headway, and on the third down kicked a goal from the field. From now on
Annapolis played with wild desperation. Chances looked bright for them,
but without realizing it the team was exhausting itself. Toward the
close of the second half Annapolis had the ball seventeen yards from the
Harvard goal line, and now Stonewell realized, too late, that his men
were exhausted, that Harvard had better staying powers. Twice Stonewell
threw the entire strength of his team against Harvard, but the latter
stood the shock easily. The midshipmen were worn out. And then on the
third down, Stonewell whispered to Bligh, the quarter-back, to try a
goal from the field. "Our best and only hope is to tie the score," he
said.
Once more the two teams were lined up, Annapolis bracing itself for a
final effort, Harvard doggedly determined. And then Bligh gave the
signal.
"Thirteen, twenty-one, ninety-seven, forty-six."
"Time, time," called Stonewell, suddenly, running out and holding up his
hand. "Blunt, oh, Blunt!" he shouted to the side lines.
"Get off the field, you hound," Stonewell said in tones of contempt to
Bligh.
The latter had given the signal for the Gates forward pass.