TRYING TO BE FRIENDLY.
During the forenoon of the day that was to witness the preliminary
skirmish with Gold Hill, Frank’s mind was not wholly on his studies.
He had been disturbed by his examination of the severed rope, and by
the professor’s remarks concerning Jode Lenning and Bleeker. It was
impossible for Frank to get away from the ugly suspicions of foul play
that had taken hold of him. He felt relieved when Fritz sang out the
dinner call, and books and recitations could be dismissed for the rest
of the day.
Following the noon meal, Merry collected the football squad and started
in to give them a little talk.
“Now, fellows,” said he, “we’re going to have thirty minutes of play
with Gold Hill this afternoon, and I want every one of you to be right
up on your toes. Gold Hill is going to watch you to see whether you
have improved any over last year, and we’re going to keep our eyes
peeled for weak points in the Gold Hill team. I don’t think they’ll
find out any more about us than we will find out about them, so honors
will be easy. Play the game, that’s all. The mesa isn’t quite so
good as the O. A. C. athletic field, but it’s plenty good enough
for this little try-out. I’m not at all particular whether you win a
little sawed-off preliminary set-to like this one, but I _am_ mighty
particular that you don’t let Gold Hill win. Hold them.
“Another thing: There has been too much knock-down and drag-out in this
rivalry between Gold Hill and Ophir. A petty feeling of partisanship
has crept into all the contests between the two clubs, and it has
reached a point where it has become a disgrace. It’s up to you, by your
actions to-day, to wipe out the bitterness. Colonel Hawtrey is anxious
to have an era of good feeling crop out between the rival clubs, and
I guess it’s about time something of the sort did crop out if every
contest doesn’t end in a free-for-all rough-house. The colonel says the
Gold Hill fellows will meet us halfway in friendly sport, and I know
that you will do your part to have everything pleasant and agreeable.
Mr. Bradlaugh wants it that way, too. He told me so himself, and what
he says ought to carry a good deal of weight. Let’s be true sportsmen,
fellows, and when the other squad comes over here, just remember that
bygones are to be bygones, and that, with this afternoon, we’re setting
a new mark in the competitions with Gold Hill.”
A cheer, which tried to be hearty, greeted Merriwell’s remarks. Handy,
the captain, stepped out to ease himself of a few words.
“Most of you were up the cañon with me yesterday afternoon,” said he,
“and heard the talk I had with Colonel Hawtrey. The colonel’s as fine
as they make ‘em, fellows, and he’ll do his part to keep the Gold
Hillers in line. I reckon we’ll do ours. From now on, instead of being
licked by Gold Hill, every clatter out of the box, we’re going to do
some of the licking ourselves. It’s a fine thing to be a good loser,
but it’s just as fine, according to my notion, to be a good winner,
and show some consideration for the other fellow. Gold Hill never
showed us much consideration, but we’re going to forget the habit they
used to have of ‘rubbing it in.’ All we’re to remember is that we’re
making a cut for a new deal to-day, and that we’re meeting on neutral
territory— which is a good place to start the good work. We’re to play
thirty minutes, with a fifteen-minute interval between the quarters. Be
a credit to Ophir. That’s all.”
The cheering still lacked the vim and heartiness which Merriwell would
like to have seen, but the Ophir fellows had a long string of bitter
defeats to live down, and they were human, and the remembrance of their
fights with the rival club could not be wiped out in a minute. It
would take a good many friendly competitions, with both sides showing
consideration and forbearance, to bring the relations of the clubs into
the zone of true sportsmanship. But that would come, Merriwell felt
certain, and to-day would mark the beginning.
It was one-thirty when Colonel Hawtrey rode into camp. He had been
notified by telephone that the game was to be played, and he had come
personally to help inaugurate the “era of good feeling.” Mr. Bradlaugh
had also been notified, but business matters compelled him to remain
away from Tinaja Wells. He sent his regrets, however, and warned the
Ophir lads that he would expect them to prove that they were true
sportsmen in every sense of the word.
The colonel was taken into camp with every expression of good will. Not
one in the Ophir crowd had any fault to find with the big man from Gold
Hill. For years he had tried his utmost to smooth out the differences
between the rival clubs, but had found a mysterious influence working
against him and upsetting all his plans. He had not the remotest idea
that Jode Lenning was back of this evil influence, but had he given
some attention to Jode he might have succeeded long before in bringing
affairs of the two clubs to a more amiable basis.
When two o’clock came, ten Gold Hill men came trotting into the camp
on the flat, Jode Lenning at their head. The colonel, after greeting
Jode, passed his eye over the fellows behind him.
“Only ten!” he exclaimed. “What does this mean, my boy?”
“Parkman was late in starting,” Jode answered, “and we didn’t wait for
him. He’ll be along soon.”
“Where’s Bleeker?”
“He has a grouch of some kind, colonel, and wouldn’t come.” Lenning
laughed good-naturedly. “He’ll get over it, though,” he added. “You
know how Bleek is!”
“I know he’s one of the best men on the team,” the colonel remarked,
“and that you’re handicapped without him. You haven’t any substitutes.”
“We’re not going to need any, with this bunch.”
There was lofty contempt in Lenning’s voice. Here, at the very start of
the new schedule of friendly rivalry, Lenning was giving vent to the
spirit that had done so much to put rival athletic affairs in a bad way.
“Tut, tut!” said the colonel, with a look of annoyance, “these Ophir
fellows are as fine a lot of players as I’ve ever seen, and we’ll find
that we’re up against a pretty stiff proposition.”
Hooking his arm through Lenning’s, the colonel led him off to one side
and began talking with him in low and earnest tones. Lenning could be
seen to smile and put on his most agreeable manner.
“Did you hear that, Chip?” Handy asked, in a husky and angry whisper,
of Merriwell.
“Never mind Lenning,” Frank answered. “Have the fellows circulate among
the visitors and show them there’s no hard feelings. Because Lenning’s
a cad, that’s no reason the rest of the Gold Hill team are cut on the
same pattern.”
The Ophir lads went bravely at their task of inaugurating a new spirit
of friendliness with the other team. Going among them, they drew them
apart in groups, and before long there was considerably less frost in
the atmosphere than there had been.
Presently the colonel and Lenning approached Merriwell and Clancy.
Lenning wore a furtive smile which he no doubt intended to be genial
and winning. He put out his hand to Merry.
“Hello, Merriwell!” said he. “I’m sorry we had that disagreement over
the camping site. I was in the wrong entirely. You see, I had my heart
set on this place, and when I learned that you Ophir fellows had it, it
made me mad. I acted like a fool, and that’s no lie. But we’ve got a
fine place, over at Camp Hawtrey, and I hope you and the Ophir fellows
will return this visit, and give us a chance to convince you that we
mean to be friends, and all the better friends because we are rivals.”
Frank took the offered hand, passing it on to Clancy, who came up at
that moment.
“There’s no sense in being at loggerheads, Lenning,” said Frank. “You
may be sure that we’ll soon visit your camp.”
Intuitively, Frank had felt that Jode Lenning’s clutching fingers
reflected anything but a genial nature. He could not help but think
that Lenning was acting a part, and for Hawtrey’s exclusive benefit.
“I’m going to make it a point, my lads,” put in the colonel jovially,
“to be present at all your contests. And,” he added, “I’m looking
forward to a little wholesome excitement.”
Just at that moment Parkman, the straggler, arrived in the camp. There
was a queer expression on his face as he sidled up toward Lenning,
turning away suddenly when he found the colonel’s eyes upon him.
“Got here at last, eh, Parkman?” observed Hawtrey pleasantly. “I
suppose you were mending some of your gear. It’s a good thing to
overhaul your football equipment occasionally and make sure that
everything is in proper trim for use.”
A blank look crossed Parkman’s face, but vanished when he caught a
significant glance from Lenning.
“That’s right, sir,” said Parkman, and walked away.
“I heard,” spoke up Lenning, “that Darrel met with an accident
yesterday. I—I hope it wasn’t serious?”
He threw a doubtful look at the colonel as he put the question. The
colonel seemed to be paying little attention to what was said, and yet
Frank felt sure that he saw a glint of sudden anxiety rise in his eyes.
“Broken arm, that’s all,” replied Merry. “Darrel will be all right in a
few weeks.”
“You’d better take your crowd out for a little signal practice, Jode,”
suggested the colonel. “I’ll go with you. It will soon be time for the
game,” he finished, looking at his watch.
“Good idea, sir,” assented Lenning; and called to the Gold Hill players.
With the colonel at his side, Lenning led the way toward the mesa.
Parkman dodged along at their heels, seeking a chance for a word in
private with Lenning, but finding none.
“Say, Chip,” said Clancy, when the Gold Hillers had vanished over the
edge of the mesa, “when I took Lenning’s hand I felt as though I had
a fistful of cold fish. Allow me to repeat what I said before—that
Lenning person is strictly nig.”
“Let it go at that, Clan,” answered Merry. “The rest of the Gold
Hillers are all right.”
“It’s a hard job, making friends with that outfit,” said Handy, coming
up just then and mopping the sweat from his face. “Everybody’s under a
good deal of a strain, and most of the Gold Hillers seem to be taking
their cue from Lenning. He’s a pill.”
“Sugar-coated,” grinned Clancy, “when the colonel’s around.”
“He makes me sick,” grunted Handy bluntly. “We’ve taken the colonel on
for referee,” he continued, to Merriwell, “by way of showing our good
will. Let’s go up on the mesa and get busy. I’ll be glad as blazes when
this game is over with.”
“Them’s my sentiments, too, old man,” added Clancy, dropping in beside
Merriwell as the Ophir team started for the field.
Gold Hill won the toss. The wind was at its back, and a Gold Hill toe
lifted the ball far into the field.
The game was on. From the side lines, Merriwell and Clancy were
watching every move with keen, critical eyes.