_Who he was and what, we knew not; he came among us as a stranger
and we took him in._
I
For an instant a hush that was more than that enveloped the grand stand,
the crowded veranda of the Athletic Club, and the bleachers opposite.
And then, as though by silent signal, the immense throng got upon its
feet, and with ragged cheers, broke through or leaped the boundary
ropes, and bore down the field, a tidal wave of shrieking youth that
police could not control.
The girls on the veranda, inspired by the ecstasy of their companions,
cried shrilly and wildly waved their handkerchiefs and the little flags
they carried. Many were left standing there to cheer alone, while their
escorts joined the surging mob that swept upon the dirty-gray, padded
and masked Olympians at the further goal.
No one seemed to pay the least attention to the Cornell giants as
laggingly they came up the field close to the ropes, and slipped
silently into the dressing-room, disconsolate in their defeat, their
chins upon their breasts, their eyes upon the ground.
And, as the girls left on the veranda to care for themselves, watched,
they saw eleven stuffed figures lifted in the air to ready shoulders
which bent beneath their weight and thus the strange procession of
triumph and of noise came up the field.
Above the heads of the moving mass of young humanity canes were waved
stiffly. Hats, torn and broken, were flung about the field. In the riot
of joy each man sought to shout louder, wave higher and leap further
than his brother, so great was the delight the triumph of the team
occasioned among them all. The little boys clinging in the trees and
clustered on the electric towers outside the fence, cheered with the mob
in the field and were glad likewise. The men in blue, waiting beside
their cars in the street, just beyond the gate, grinned at one another
intelligently, as roar after roar ascended to the turquois sky that
domed the gridiron.
On came the throng, running, bending, stumbling, while the cheers of the
flushed girls on the club house veranda rose shrilly above the
deeper-throated masculine yells. The victors, dirty beyond measure,
plastered with the brown, clinging mud in which they had so valiantly
wallowed for a good two hours--a splendid contest for the honor of the
colors on their stockings--rode their fellows' shoulders uncomfortably,
as the cavalcade, shapeless, soulless, inchoate but voiceful, seethed
and surged across the field. One of them, to save himself from falling,
clutched wildly at the long hair of the bareheaded youth beneath him;
another planted a heavy heel unwittingly in a second bearer's mouth, and
the youth wrenched free and ran up the field sopping his bloody lips,
but turning each tenth step to wave his reddened handkerchief and yell.
It was such a scene as might have been witnessed by Grecian maidens in
the Stadium of old, when other young giants--the distant ancestors of
these borne now in triumph--were themselves carried, as loftily, as
triumphantly, down the course.
The shouting continued so vigorously that it shook the windows of the
narrow, low-ceiled, suffocating room where other youths--the
vanquished--were peeling the garments of the battle, and silently
rubbing their smooth, pink bodies with wide, coarse towels.
The eyes of every girl above were turned down the field and all were
alight; each soft cheek glowed with ruddy color, every nerve was tense.
Among these now subdued spectators was one who had not cheered, but
whose excitement had been none the less great, as testified to by the
eagerness with which she leaned over the veranda rail, her cheeks white
from the pressure of her slim fingers against them.
Now, apparently oblivious to her immediate surroundings, her attitude
unchanged, she watched every swerve of the throng as little by little,
and unsteadily, it approached. As the human maelstrom swept on and the
stuffed shapes outlined so ridiculously against the sky became
distinguishable, one from another, the girl smiled and leaned further
over the rail. Another instant and she saw but one figure among the
many--Adams'. He sat higher than the others; was more conspicuous among
them. Again and again, that afternoon, she had seen him seize the ball
and, plunging, forge down the field, clasping it closely to his breast.
Once she had seen him flung heavily to the ground by a low tackle and
had held her breath when a little ring formed where he lay. She took in
her faint breath quiveringly when the ring broke and she saw him get
upon his feet unsteadily. Then the lines formed again--two slanting
walls of fine young brawn. But none of these things that she had seen
had set alight her eyes as they were lighted now.
With a yell of almost demoniacal joy, the mob surged beneath the
veranda, the warriors crouching on their unsteady pedestals to avoid the
timbers overhead. As he was borne beneath, and out of her delighted
sight, Adams cast one glance up at the girl leaning eagerly across the
rail. Her eyes had been awaiting his and the light that flared in both
their eyes as they met told her that he had fought for her; told him
that she had known he'd win.
She rose, then, folded her little flag and thrust it into the pocket of
her coat. With the others she descended to the club room below and
waited for him there.
She withdrew to one side and watched with curious interest the great
crowd in the street, fretting impatiently for a nearer glimpse of the
victors.
The four horses had been taken from a high tally-ho and a score of
youths were running ropes from the front axle of the vehicle away down
the street. The girl perceived it was the intention of the crowd to drag
the tally-ho to the city in the good old way of joyous, eager crowds.
And as she watched she saw a man in the blue overalls of a laborer, his
face and hands smoke-blackened, break through the throng on the walk and
approach the club house. She saw a policeman step in front of him and
bar the way. The laborer and the officer seemed to argue. The former,
his face toward her, she saw gesticulate angrily and stamp his foot, and
then she saw a look of dumb pain in his blackened face as the officer,
without more ado, seized him by the shoulders, roughly, and turning him
about, pushed him into the crowd which parted to make way for his broad,
squat figure.
The girl felt a hand upon her arm. She turned quickly and looked up into
Adams' face.
The little light of fright fled from her eyes and a mist gathered in its
place as she murmured eagerly: "Oh, John, John, how glorious it was!"
He smiled down at her gladly.
"And see," she said, "look--they are going to drag the team down town in
the tally-ho."
Through the window he saw the throng. His face at the pane was
recognized and a cheer rose that prompted the girl to draw back,
blushing. From where she stood at one side she could see a broken line
of the crowd.
"Oh, look, John!" she cried, "there's that dirty old man again. He's
been drinking--the police drove him away before."
He turned in the direction of her gaze, then drew away instantly from
the window.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
His face was pale and his mouth was set in a straight line.
"Nothing," he replied quickly. "Come----" and started toward the door
opening upon the now deserted field.
She followed him unquestioningly.
On the porch she said:
"Aren't you going on the tally-ho with the team?"
"No," he replied, "I don't like being made a fool of. There's a gate
over there on Cass Avenue. We'll go out that way and they won't see us."
"But, John----"
"I don't want to ride down town in state," he complained, testily. "I'd
rather be with you. I shall have to be with them until train time. Now,
I'd rather be with _you_." And he looked down at her and smiled.
By a devious route they finally reached the Campus Martius and at the
little door of a big Woodward Avenue hotel he left her, for she had told
him there would be friends awaiting her there with whom she would take
dinner later.
"At the train, dear?" she said, as he opened the door for her.
"Yes. Good-bye till then."
She followed his great figure with her eyes and saw it disappear in the
crowd below. Then she turned and passed down the narrow corridor from
the "ladies' entrance."