A fortnight later all Randall’s was talking about the new football
find. His name was Wigman, he was a Junior, he was only thirteen years
old and he was turning out to be the finest little quarterback in
years! Why, only the other day he had taken Rice’s place in the last
two periods against Mercer High and driven the team like a veteran!
To say nothing of having himself scored on one of the most daring and
brilliant end runs ever seen on Randall’s Field!
When Jonesie heard this he smiled superiorly. “I knew that a month
ago,” he said. “Wigman and I are old friends. In fact, it was largely
due to my――my encouragement that he held on and made good. Had an idea
when he got here that things went by favoritism and was all for giving
up right at the start. ‘Don’t you do it,’ I said to him. ‘You peg
along, old man, and show ’em what you can do. If you’ve got the stuff
in you Bingham and Cutler will pull you right along. Why,’ said I, ‘a
fellow who can play the way you can ought to be Captain some day!’ My
very words. You ask Wigman if you don’t believe me.”
“But how did you know he could play?” inquired an incredulous hearer.
“Did you know him before he came up?”
“Never set eyes on him,” declared Jonesie truthfully, “but you can’t
fool me on football players. I can size ’em up just by looking at ’em.
And one little glance at Wigman was enough for yours truly. He hasn’t
surprised _me_ any. I _knew_!”
Wigman had fulfilled his promise to call on Jonesie, but the latter
had been out. And as Jonesie had never returned the visit the
acquaintanceship had not flourished. Jonesie considered himself well
out of his difficulty and was fearful that Wigman might again request
him to use his influence with Captain Bingham. But, as it happened, the
new quarterback needed no one’s assistance. He was making good on his
own account, and by the time the Big Game was a fortnight away it had
become a question whether Rice, the last year’s general, could retain
his position. And that question was solved a week later. In the game
with Lakeshore School Wigman started at quarter, and it was not until
the game was safely “on ice” in the fourth period that the disgruntled
Rice succeeded to the position. That, of course, was on the Saturday
succeeding the final contest of the year, and the next afternoon, while
Jonesie was chewing the end of his penholder and scowling at the Smith
Special for inspiration in the composition of his weekly missive, there
was an apologetic knock and in walked James Andrew Wigman.
Even Jonesie could not help but notice the change in the boy. He seemed
to have grown taller and broader and a lot more certain of himself.
Shaking hands, Jonesie was thankful that Sparrow was out of the way,
for Wigman’s countenance proclaimed that he had come on weighty
matters. “If,” said Jonesie to himself, “he wants me to ask any more
favors of Bingham I’ll just have to refuse. This thing’s gone far
enough!”
Wigman took a chair.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Jones,” he began soberly.
“Not at all,” murmured his host uneasily.
“I suppose you’ve heard that they’ve given me Rice’s place on the
School Team?”
Jonesie nodded. “Glad to hear it,” he said.
“Well, of course it’s mighty hard on Rice. He’s an awfully fine fellow
and he had the place cinched until I――I butted in.”
“Fortunes of war,” said Jonesie.
“Maybe, and I wouldn’t care if――if I wasn’t afraid that I――well, had
sort of come by my good luck unfairly.”
“Eh?” ejaculated Jonesie.
“You know what I mean.”
“Can’t say I do, Wigman.”
“Well, you can’t deny, I suppose, that if it hadn’t been for you I
wouldn’t have got the chance to show what I could do. Because it’s
dollars to doughnuts, Jones, that Cutler meant to drop me the second
week of practice. You remember?”
“Yes, oh, yes,” answered the other hurriedly. “Still――――”
“Well, that’s what’s bothering me. Sometimes I think I ought to drop
out and give Rice a fair show. I don’t mean that I got my place by
favoritism, exactly, but I guess there’s no use pretending that if it
wasn’t for your interceding for me with Bingham, Rice would still be
first-string quarter.”
“Hm,” said Jonesie judicially.
“And――and that brings me to another thing. Yesterday after the game I
got to thinking about all this and I thought I’d go to Bingham and have
a frank talk with him. So――――”
“Good Lord!” groaned Jonesie.
“Pardon? I thought you spoke. So I did. I told him that I was afraid it
was scarcely fair to Rice and――and suggested that maybe I ought to――to
sort of drop out for this season.”
“What――what did he say?” asked Jonesie faintly.
“Why, that’s the funny part of it. He said he didn’t know anything
about it! At first he even pretended he didn’t know who you were!”
“Good Old Bing!” exclaimed Jonesie, slapping his leg and grinning. “If
that isn’t just like the boy!”
Wigman looked puzzled. “But he said――――”
“Wait!” Jonesie held up a hand. “I’ll tell you just what he said,
Wigman. First off he pretended he didn’t know what you were talking
about. Didn’t he?” Wigman nodded. “Then he made believe he didn’t know
who I was. When you explained he said, ‘Oh, Jonesie, you mean. Ha, ha!’
Just like that. Then he probably told you straight out that I’d had
nothing to do with the thing, that I’d never mentioned your name to him
and that, even if I had, it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference.
Didn’t he? Isn’t that about what happened, Wigman?”
“Yes, pretty nearly exactly. And he said that the reason they’d put me
in place of Rice was because I was playing a better all-around game and
that nothing else had anything to do with it.”
“And there you are!” exclaimed Jonesie triumphantly.
“But――but why should he say he didn’t know you, Jones? He does, of
course, and you have spoken to him for me, haven’t you?”
Jonesie smiled wisely. “He says not, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, but――――”
“And he ought to know.” Jonesie winked meaningly. Vague comprehension
illumined Wigman’s countenance.
“Oh!” he said doubtfully. “You mean he doesn’t want to acknowledge even
to me――――”
“Wigman, there’s a whole lot more politics in a school like this than
you dream of,” responded Jonesie gravely. “Bing has his reason. Let it
go at that. Don’t inquire too――er――closely.”
“Oh! Then you think――――”
“Sure!”
“What?”
“Why, that you ought to take what you’ve got and ask no questions,”
said Jonesie promptly. “Get me?”
“But if they have――have been easier with me than with other fellows――――”
“It’s because you deserved it. Wigman, Cutler and Bing and I
have――er――done what was wisest and best for you and the School.
Remember, Wigman, there’s the School to think of, too. The greatest
good to the greatest number, you know. Got to think of that, Wigman.
It may seem a bit tough on Rice, but don’t let that worry you. Just
tell yourself that we have our reasons, Wigman, reasons which neither
Bing nor I are ashamed of. If it was necessary we’d tell ’em to the
School right out. But it isn’t. You go ahead and keep your mouth shut,
Wigman, that’s all you need do.”
“And――and,” asked Wigman, visibly impressed, “you don’t think I’m
taking any unfair advantage of Rice?”
“Not a bit. Take my word for it. Besides, Bing told you the same thing,
didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“There you are then! Don’t you trouble. If there’s any worrying
to be done”――Jonesie arose and patted Wigman reassuringly on the
shoulder――“if there’s any of that to be done you just leave it to me
and Bing!”