CALLERS
Ira had just time to get to the field before practice began. The work
today was easy, consisting principally of signal drill in preparation
for the game with Day and Robins's School on the morrow, and Ira was
put in Basker's squad and trotted around the gridiron for a good
half-hour. Coach Driscoll had given them four new plays to learn and
they were still far from perfect in them when time was called. The
others went off to the gymnasium, all save a few kickers and Ira.
Ira had still a session of passing ahead of him. On the practice
gridiron the second team was playing Warne High School and, from the
few brief glimpses Ira caught of the contest, getting beaten. To his
satisfaction, several of the quasi-official assistant coaches went off
to watch the second team game, leaving only Basker and Almy to deal
with him. Coach Driscoll was hard at work with the goal-kickers.
Ira did very well this afternoon, and even Basker, who was a critical
youth, said so. They kept him at it until it was almost too dark to
see, by which time everyone else had departed and the second team field
was deserted. "I guess Driscoll will put you in tomorrow for awhile,"
observed Basker, as they went back through the twilight. "If he does,
just you keep your head and you'll get on all right."
"The big thing to remember," said Bill Almy, "is to take all the time
you want. Don't let anyone hurry you in getting the ball away, Rowland.
And if the other side interferes with you, yell right out! Make a big
fuss about it. If you do the officials will watch the other side so
close they won't dare to try it on again. In fact, it isn't a bad idea
to claim interference, anyway, if you get half a chance."
"We won't have much trouble with Day and Robins's," said Basker. "It
will be a good game to get some experience in, Rowland. Are you going
to get back in time for Kenwood, Bill?"
"Not likely," replied the centre sadly. "This thing doesn't do much.
Doc says a double fracture is always slower work than a single one.
He's as pleased as pickles about it, the silly chump. Smiles all over
his face whenever he looks at it. I wish he had it!"
"I don't see then but that Rowland has a pretty good chance to get in
against Kenwood."
"Chance? It's a dead sure thing. I'm not knocking Terry Conlon, but he
won't last the game. You know that yourself. Terry plays like a house
on fire at first and then begins to let up. Oh, Rowland will get in all
right. I hope he does, too. He's worked like a Trojan."
"I haven't minded it much," said Ira. "All that's worrying me is the
fear that Mr. Driscoll will change his mind about me again and try to
make an end of me!"
"Look out that Beadle doesn't make an end of you!" laughed Basker.
"Who's Beadle?" Ira asked.
"The Kenwood centre. He's a peach of a player, isn't he, Bill?"
"Beadle," replied Almy slowly, "is about as good a centre rush as
you'll find on a prep school team today. That's saying something, too.
He's as pretty a player to watch as I ever saw. I'm sorry I'm not to
try him again. I've been thinking I'd give him a better fight this
time. Last year he put it all over me, and I don't mind owning up to
it. The man's as quick as greased lightning."
"He's as strong as an elephant, too," added Basker. "And he plays hard.
You'll subscribe to that, eh, Bill?"
Almy smiled. "Well, next to a steam roller, Beadle's the toughest thing
to stop I know of. He isn't a dirty player, but he certainly can mess
you up to the King's taste. I'll never forget my handsome phiz after he
got through with it last Fall!"
"Is that the fellow I'll have to play against?" asked Ira.
"Yes, if you get in," assented Almy. "Like the sound of it?"
"Not a bit," replied Ira. "I'm hoping that Conlon will last all through
the game!"
When he got back to the room he found the encyclopedia piled up beside
the door, twelve big, heavy volumes. It was a little after five and he
was fairly certain that "Old Earnest" was still in his room downstairs.
He left the door wide open and, during the next three-quarters of an
hour, listened intently for sounds from below and several times crept
to the banisters and peered over. It was not until nearly six, however,
that Hicks' door crashed shut--"Old Earnest" had an emphatic manner
with doors--and Ira caught sight of him starting down the first flight.
Giving him time to get clear of the house, Ira gathered up four of the
books and made his first trip. Hicks' room was in darkness, but the
bracket in the hall faintly illumined a patch near the door and Ira
set the volumes against the baseboard and returned for more. To his
relief he completed the transfer before Humphrey appeared, for Humphrey
would be sure to ask questions and Ira didn't know that he could
explain the affair to his roommate's satisfaction. Humphrey clattered
in shortly after he had returned from the final trip and they went over
to supper together.
Afterwards Humphrey announced in tones that held a queer mixture of
pride and apology that he was going over to see a fellow in Goss. "You
know him, I guess," he added carelessly. "Sterner. He's a second year
fellow. President of the class, I think. He spoke at the meeting that
night."
"No, I don't know him except by sight," answered Ira. "Where did you
meet him!"
"Oh, he was with Brad this afternoon. He comes from Tonawanda. That's
near my home, you know."
"As Mart says, no one can blame him," laughed Ira. "I'd come away, too,
if I lived in a place with such a name."
"Tonawanda? What's the matter with the name?" demanded Humphrey. "It
isn't half as bad as some of the names in your part of the country.
What's that one you sprung the other night? Chemquat----"
"Chemquasabamticook? Oh, that's just a river. Our towns have pretty
names, like Skowhegan and Norridgewock and Pattagumpus," replied Ira
gravely. "Well, see you later."
He found Mart Johnston in possession when he reached the room. Mart
explained that Brad had tried to get him to go to a meeting of the
Debating Society and that he had had to run off after dinner to
escape that horrible fate. "They all talk," he said, "and no one says
anything. And they get most frightfully excited and tear their hair and
froth at the mouth and beat on the table, and all they're fussed up
about is whether Daniel Webster was a greater man than John L. Sullivan
or whether honesty is the best policy! They're a queer bunch, those
debaters, I should think! But if I'm in the way here I can go somewhere
else. I can't go home until after eight, because Brad will get me if I
do, but I can walk the streets or go to sleep in a doorway."
"You're not in my way," laughed Ira, "and Humphrey is calling on Mr.
Sterner of Tonawanda."
"Who's he?"
"Sterner of the second," explained Ira. "He comes from Tonawanda, New
York, and that makes a bond of sympathy between him and Nead. Nead
hails from Buffalo. From what he said I gathered that the two places
were near each other."
"No one can blame you. Well, how's the battle going? Are you a
scientific centre rush yet? I heard Fred say some nice things about you
the other day. I guess he and Driscoll are real proud of you."
"I'm afraid they won't be when they see me play. Basker says they'll
put me in tomorrow. Bet you anything I'll pass the ball over Wirt's
head or do something else perfectly awful!"
"Pull yourself together, old man. You can't do any worse than some of
the others Driscoll has had at centre. Someone's at the door, I think.
Oh, _do_ you suppose it's Brad? I won't go without a struggle!"
It wasn't Brad, however, but Hicks, Hicks looking oddly bewildered and
embarrassed as he entered in response to Ira's call. His embarrassment
wasn't reduced any when he found Mart there, and he started to retire,
but thought better of it and slammed the door mightily behind him as
one burning his bridges. Ira, surmising his errand, tried to head him
off.
"You know Johnston, don't you?" he asked.
"How are you, Hicks?" inquired Mart. "How's the old boy?"
"How do you do?" murmured Hicks. "I--I wanted to ask----"
"Have a chair," interrupted Ira. "Did you--did you find out about
the--er--the Hamiltonian Theory?"
"Hamiltonian-System," Hicks corrected. "Not all I want. There's a book
in the catalogue that I couldn't find. They're very careless at the
library about misplacing volumes, and--" Hicks paused and frowned. "Oh,
yes," he resumed. "I want to ask you if--if you know anything about
that Encyclopedia Universal. I came in awhile ago and----"
"I've heard it was a very good encyclopedia," said Ira hurriedly,
winking desperately at Hicks and all to no purpose. "Don't you think
so, Mart?"
"Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Go ahead and rave! Don't mind my presence on the
scene. Gibber away, you two!"
"But, what I mean," resumed Hicks, after a puzzled look at Mart, "is
how did it get there? I thought maybe--perhaps--You see, I hadn't
mentioned it to anyone else----"
"Also, you wanted to know when they were and, if so, to what extent,"
rattled Mart glibly. "And, while we are inquiring into the matter, let
us also consider the other side of it. For instance, fellows: If it is
as we say it is, then why not let them do it? Or, failing that, and all
other things being equal----"
"Oh, dry up!" laughed Ira. "Don't mind him, Hicks. He's crazy. Tell you
what, I'll drop down to your room later and we'll--we'll talk it over."
Ira winked meaningly. Hicks stared and shook his head.
"What I'm getting at," he said carefully, "is this. When I got in
from supper I found my encyclopedia piled up on the floor of my
room. I didn't ask Converse to send it, and I thought that possibly
you--ah--knew something about it."
Ira sank into a chair and tried to look innocent. There was evidently
no use in attempting to head "Old Earnest" off.
"Oh, I see," he said affably. "You--you've got it back, eh?"
"Yes. At least--Yes, I've got it back. But what I wanted to know
was----"
"Ah, now we're coming to it!" murmured Mart. "Go on! You interest me
strangely, Hicks!"
"Well, did you--I mean--" Hicks's embarrassment was becoming painful
and Ira took pity on him. He nodded.
"Yes, I did, Hicks," he said apologetically. "I hope you don't mind.
You see, you needed the books and--and I happened to have the money,
and Converse sold them dirt cheap----"
"Someone," muttered Mart, "has done something. But what?
Books--money--dirt cheap! The plot thickens. Have patience, Martin,
have patience! All will be revealed to you in good time."
"Oh!" Hicks swallowed once as though it hurt him and got up from his
chair. "Well--" He observed Ira in a puzzled way. "I--I'm greatly
obliged to you--er--What is your name, please?"
"Rowland," answered Ira gravely. "I hope you won't think it was cheeky
of me, Hicks."
"Old Earnest" shook his head slowly. "No, no, I--I don't. I'm so--so
glad to have them, you see, Rowland! It was--very good of you. Of
course I'll pay you for them. But I--you'll have to give me time. I'm
much obliged. Good evening."
"Old Earnest" fairly bolted to the door and an instant later it crashed
shut with a shock that made the walls shake. Ira stole a glance at
Mart. That youth, his legs stretched far across the old brown carpet,
his head back, was whistling softly and tunelessly. Silence reigned for
a long minute. Then:
"Oh, don't be an ass!" exclaimed Ira.
"I beg your pardon?" Mart turned and regarded him in polite surprise.
"You spoke, I believe."
"You heard what I said," laughed Ira. "Why shouldn't I buy his old
books for him? He's dead-broke and----"
"Ira, my lad," said Mart sternly, "what have you been and gone and
done?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, what dreadful crime have you committed? When I do anything
like that, anything--er--kind-hearted and noble--which is very, very
seldom--it's because I've been naughty. That's how I square myself with
what would be my conscience if I had one. Isn't that the way with you?"
"I got his books because I had the money and he didn't and he needed
them. You heard him say he'd pay me back. It's merely a business
arrangement."
"Oh, certainly, certainly! My fault!"
"Well, then, dry up," grumbled Ira.
"But I haven't said anything, have I?"
"You've looked things, though."
"Have I? Well, I'll stop looking things, Ira. I suppose you don't want
me to say that you're a--a rather decent sort, eh?"
"I do not," answered Ira emphatically.
"Then I won't. I do wish, though, that you'd let me ask you one
tiny little question. It's this. Pardon me, I prithee, if it sounds
impertinent. Are you--that is, have you--oh, gosh! I'll try again. Are
you a wealthy citizen, Ira?"
"Why, no, I guess not. I have enough money, of course."
"I see. Very nice. 'Enough money, of course.' Well, I only asked
because I assumed--we all did, in fact,--that you were sort of hard-up."
"Hard-up? Why?" asked Ira, puzzled.
"Well, you see, you--you didn't spend much money on--things----"
"Meaning my clothes?" asked the other, smiling.
Mart nodded apologetically. "Clothes for one thing. And then I--we
got the idea that as your father was a lumberman you wouldn't be very
well-off."
"I see. Well, dad isn't exactly a lumberman in the way you mean. He's
president of the Franklin Lumber Company and owns most of the stock.
I dare say you could call him rather well-off. And of course he gives
me all I need--and a bit more, I guess. As for spending, why, I don't
know, Mart. You see, I've lived in a small place all my life, and
there's never been very much to spend money on. And, besides, folks
up our way are sort of saving. You get the habit, I guess. I always
buy whatever I want that seems worth while, but I like to see that I'm
getting the value of my money when I do buy. I didn't know I was giving
you the idea that I was poverty-stricken. I certainly didn't mean to,
Mart."
"Say no more. My fault! We sort of jumped to delusions, so to say.
Personally, I'm glad that you aren't in the pauper class. It makes it
easier for me to get around to the real, bona fide reason of my visit.
You thought I dropped in for a social call or to escape Brad and his
Debating Society, but I didn't, Ira. My real reason--but I hardly like
to broach it even now."
"Go ahead," Ira laughed. "If it's a loan you can have it, you know."
"Well, it is," acknowledged the visitor, palpably embarrassed. "I--the
fact is--Oh, hang it, could you lend me fifty dollars?"
Ira nodded promptly. "I _could_," he replied.
"Well--er--will you?"
Ira shook his head. "No, I won't."
"Oh! Why? I'll pay it back."
"I know it, but you couldn't pay it back for a month of Sundays, Mart,
and while you owed it you'd be no use to me as a friend. That's so,
isn't it?"
"How do you mean, no use?"
"I mean that you'd have it on your mind and you'd be wondering whether
I was getting impatient and you'd get so you'd dislike me because you
owed me money. How would twenty dollars do?"
Mart laughed. "It wouldn't do, old Mr. Solomon. Nor ten. Nor five. But
I will borrow a half if you've got it."
"What's the idea?" asked Ira. "Were you fooling?"
"Sure! I just wanted to see what sort of a philanthropist you were.
Where's my fifty cents?"
"In my pocket," answered Ira grimly. "And that's where it's going to
stay!"