A CLASH OF AUTHORITY
Manning disposed of Lansing High School the next day without difficulty.
The score, 20 to 0, did not, in fact, represent the true strength of the
home team, for in the last half Coach Haynes ran in a bewildering number
of substitutes who, while they held the opponent from scoring, were not
able to add to the twenty points already won. The Cherry-and-Gray showed
excellent form, rather better than was customary in a first contest, and
Manning strolled away from the field comfortably certain that this
year’s “Cherries” were going to prove themselves one of the Big Teams in
the school’s history. Indeed, with practically six seasoned veterans to
build around, there was no apparent reason why the team shouldn’t turn
out to be as good as any in recent years. Stuart was in gay spirits that
evening, and only the fact that his proposal of Neil to membership in
Lyceum was to be acted on kept him from joining Jack and “Howdy” Tasker
and Fred Locker and several more of the football crowd in a visit to
Safford’s one movie house. Jack, bursting hilariously into Number 12
after supper with an announcement of the party, had to be satisfied with
Neil’s acceptance. Stuart watched them join the others at the gate and
go off along School Lane, and felt rather virtuous and heroic.
When he reached Lyceum House he found that various Saturday night
diversions had reduced the attendance at the first regular meeting to
less than a score of fellows. Stearns Wilson was there of course, for
he was President, and so, in his rôle of faculty director, was Mr.
Moffit. Thurston, Whaley, Tom Muirgart and Steve Le Gette represented
the football element. Stuart wasn’t especially pleased to see Le Gette,
who was a big, dark-complexioned, curly-haired fellow of eighteen, a
senior and candidate for a tackle position. Stuart had nothing especial
against the other. He doubted if they had spoken a hundred words to
each other since they had been in school. But he didn’t like Le Gette’s
sardonic smile, which always made him feel that the big black-haired
fellow was secretly laughing at him, and he was pretty certain that Le
Gette liked him no better. But his annoyance at sight of the other――if
it deserved the name――was slight and passing.
The secretary was painfully long-winded with his report, but he
finished it at last and at least six members relievedly moved its
adoption. Balloting on the names of five candidates for election
started then. Neil’s name came last, and Stuart made his little
speech――and did it very well since he had the knack of talking well
to an audience――and Stearns Wilson seconded the proposal very nicely,
saying much more than Stuart had dared hope he would when he had
enlisted his aid. As no one asked Mr. Moffit’s opinion, the director
could not enter the lists on behalf of the candidate. But after all,
Stuart reflected, it was of no consequence, for among the small number
present there was surely no one to vote against a fellow as well liked
as Neil. Even as he made this reflection, though, his gaze fell on
Steve Le Gette and an instant’s doubt assailed him. But it passed
quickly. Blackballing a candidate for election to Lyceum was something
that wasn’t done without good cause, without strong conviction of
the candidate’s undesirability, and Le Gette scarcely knew Neil and
certainly could have nothing against him. George Whaley briefly added
his second and voting began. Each member walked to the table, picked
a ball from the outer compartment of the box and dropped it into the
inner. Conversation, interrupted by the speeches, began again. Stuart,
talking to Mr. Moffit, faltered as he watched Le Gette stride to the
box and cast his vote, and then secretly laughed at himself for his
doubt.
Will Severence, the secretary, drew aside the cover as casually as
he had on four previous occasions. Then, however, his manner altered
abruptly and he glanced swiftly, questioningly about the room. After
a moment’s hesitation he announced: “One contrary vote, fellows,” and
held up a little black ball. A second of silence followed. Then several
spoke at once, but it was Muirgart’s voice that was loudest.
“Some silly mistake!” he exclaimed incredulously. “No one would be
crazy enough to turn down a fellow like Orr!”
“Of course,” agreed Stearns Wilson. “Must be a mistake.”
“Try it over,” suggested Thurston.
It was irregular and some discussion followed, but in the end, since
every one appeared willing and Mr. Moffit smilingly declined to give
a ruling, the vote was taken a second time, and in silence. Severence
once again surveyed the result, and there was a troubled tone in his
voice as he answered the silently questioning gaze of the meeting.
“Just the same,” he said. “One black.”
“_What!_” Stuart half started from his chair, but Mr. Moffit laid a
gently restraining hand on him.
“Oh, I say, that’s a rotten shame!” declared George Whaley. “What’s
the idea?” He appealed frowningly about the room. “Look at the fellows
we’ve taken in already to-night! I’d like to know who’s got it in for
Orr!”
“Well, don’t scowl at me,” growled Thurston. “I didn’t do it.”
“Same here!” “Nor I!” Several voices disclaimed until Stearns Wilson
rapped sharply on the desk. “Is there any further business?” he asked.
Stuart again made as if to rise and again Mr. Moffit’s hand restrained
him. Some one moved adjournment, some one seconded and the meeting was
over. Whaley and Muirgart moved toward Stuart, but he was already on
his feet, making for the door, his face black with rage. He pushed past
them with a muttered growl. Taking his cap from the table in the hall,
his gaze unwittingly encountered the face of Steve Le Gette through the
open door and their eyes met. Le Gette’s countenance seemed to Stuart
to express a triumph at once derisive and amused. Mr. Moffit called
from the doorway an instant later, but Stuart, already crunching the
gravel of the Principal’s Walk, either did not or pretended not to hear.
Neil was back in Number 12 when Stuart reached it, comfortably reclined
in a morris chair, reading. Stuart closed the door behind with a slam
and shied his cap to the bed. “The dirty pup!” he raged. “The sneaking
bounder! But I’ll get even with him if it takes all the rest of my
life! He can’t do that to me and get away with it!”
Neil’s cheeks went a little white, but he only smiled as he said: “No
use getting mad about it, Stuart. He had a right to turn me down if he
wanted to, I guess.”
“No, he didn’t, by jingo! He――Look here!” Stuart paused in his
irritable tramping between door and table. “How’d you know?”
“Must have guessed it from your manner,” laughed Neil. “How many were
there against me?”
“One, but that was enough. It was Steve Le Gette, the dirty dog. He
doesn’t like me, but that’s no reason to take it out on you! Just
because I put your name up――――”
“Are you sure it was Le Gette?” Neil looked puzzled. “Why, I don’t even
know him, except by sight! Why should he――he――――”
“Because he wanted to get at me, I tell you! But I’ll get _him_, Neil,
as sure as shooting!”
“Did he tell you he did it?”
“Tell me? Of course he didn’t! He wouldn’t have had the courage to tell
it! But he looked it. It was on his ugly face from the moment I got
there. I half suspected it, but I couldn’t quite think he’d do it, even
if he wanted to. Every one there was so――so astonished they wouldn’t
believe it! We took the vote over! If you’d seen the sneering, rotten
look he gave me afterwards! I wish I’d punched his face right then. If
Moffit hadn’t been there――――”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” said Neil quietly. “After all, it’s rather my
affair than it is yours, isn’t it?”
Stuart stared in real surprise. It hadn’t occurred to him before that
Neil might be the one to feel it most. Even now he wasn’t ready to
acknowledge it.
“Not by a long shot,” he declared. “The insult was to me. He’s got
nothing against you, couldn’t have. If any one else had proposed you
he wouldn’t have cared. If I’d realized I’d have had Thirsty or Whaley
do it. I’m not through yet, though. I’ll get you in next term, you can
bet!”
“I’m not sure that I’d want you to,” said Neil doubtfully. “Isn’t there
something a little――well, a little degrading about coming back like
that after you’ve been shown once that you aren’t wanted?”
“Not a bit! Look here, Neil, every fellow there wanted you in, and they
were all as surprised and――and mad as I was! You bet I’ll try again!
And I’ll make it go, too! When I get through with Le Gette he won’t
know a black ball from a white!”
“I’d lots rather you just let the whole thing drop,” said Neil
earnestly. “Taking revenge on Le Gette isn’t worth while. Besides,
being blackballed isn’t――well, it isn’t altogether pleasant, and I’d a
heap rather not have it talked about, and all that, you know.”
“I’m not going to talk about it,” answered Stuart grimly. Then, after a
moment, getting Neil’s point of view, he added: “It’s nonsense to feel
that way about it, though, old chap. Lots of fellows are turned down
for Lyceum or Manning without any one thinking anything about it. And,
gee, some fellows get three and four black balls against them! Every
one there to-night knows that it was just spite-work. You don’t need to
let it worry you one mite.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather you didn’t go after Le Gette, Stuart, if you
don’t mind very much. In the first place, you have no real proof――――”
“Proof enough,” growled the other.
“And in the second place, it’ll just make talk. Let’s forget it.”
“Not on your life! There won’t be any talk, Neil, but Le Gette will
know that I’ve settled with him!”
Neil said no more. He believed that by morning Stuart would have calmed
down somewhat. And it wasn’t wise to oppose Stuart beyond a certain
point, anyway. He just got more set in his notions. Stuart returned to
the subject several times before sleep settled down over Number 12.
Had Stuart encountered Le Gette the next forenoon there would probably
have been an explosion; perhaps blows. But, as luck had it, he didn’t,
and by eleven-thirty, at which time an open hour fell to him, he had
thought of a better, more subtle method of revenge. He went into the
village and found Mr. Haynes. The coach, sitting in his shirt-sleeves
by an open window of his living room, listened silently to the tale.
When Stuart had reached the end of his eloquence he lighted his briar
again and said: “Too bad, Harven. Possibly, though, you’ll be able to
make it the next time. From what I hear, this chap Orr is too fine a
fellow to be treated like that.”
“He’s a corker,” declared Stuart stoutly. “Yes, I’ll make it the next
time all right, Mr. Haynes, but it’s this time that I’m talking about.”
“I see. Well, was there something you wanted from me? I’m afraid I’m
not in a position to be much help to you, as much as I’d like to.”
“Why, I came to you because I wanted you to know just what a rotter Le
Gette is! I’m not going to have that sort of a fellow on the team, sir.
We don’t want his kind. The others wouldn’t if they knew. Of course,
I’m not going to tell it around. It’ll get around without my telling,
anyway. I just wanted you to understand what the reason was, Mr.
Haynes.”
The coach blew a cloud of smoke from his lips and through it viewed
Stuart in a puzzled fashion. “Let me get this right, Captain Harven,”
he said after a moment. “Am I to understand that you’re proposing
to――well, dispense with Le Gette’s services on the team?”
Stuart looked surprised, too. “Of course! I propose to fire him! What
else is there to do? A fellow like Le Gette isn’t fit for the team.
That’s what I’m here about.”
“I see.” Mr. Haynes was silent for the better part of a minute, while
Stuart watched him with dawning suspicion. Then: “I don’t think the
position you take is tenable, Captain Harven,” he said gently. “Because
a private quarrel exists between you and Le Gette you propose to
deprive the squad of a very clever player. Now――――”
“The quarrel has nothing to do with it,” replied Stuart impatiently. “I
can look after my own quarrels. But Le Gette did a sneaky, contemptible
act. Don’t you see that? A football team is――is――well, in a way it’s
a society, Mr. Haynes, a club. It has its social side as well as its
other, and we don’t want to have dealings with a fellow like Le Gette,
a fellow that will make a personal matter the excuse for harming one
whom he doesn’t even know.”
“Are you sure you aren’t making this a personal matter, too? Are you
sure it’s because you want to guard the members of the team from the
contaminating influence of Le Gette? Or are you merely trying to get
even with him? Better think about that a minute.”
“Of course I’m sore against him,” answered Stuart resentfully. “I don’t
deny that. Any fellow would be. But, just the same, I’m acting for
the――the welfare――――”
“Granting that, though, Captain Harven,” interrupted the coach, “how do
you know that Le Gette really did what you say he did? As I understand
it, there is no way of telling whether a voter drops in a black ball
or a white ball at your elections. Has Le Gette acknowledged he voted
against Orr?”
“No, not in words. He doesn’t have to. I _know_! His looks were enough.
Besides, he was the only one there that could have! The others all
wanted Neil elected.”
“Well, suppose you’re correct in your assumption,” said the coach.
“There is more than a reasonable doubt, I’d say, but suppose you are.
Do you seriously ask me to fire Le Gette for this offense and on this
evidence?”
“No, for I’ll fire him myself,” flared Stuart. “I’m captain of the
team, even if being captain doesn’t amount to much this year! At
least, I fancy, I’ve got the right to say whether or not a player is
fit to be on the team!”
Mr. Haynes shook his head gently. “I doubt that, Harven.”
“What! Do you mean to say――――”
“Exactly.” The coach’s voice was quiet but very firm, very assured.
“I mean, Captain Harven, that it is the coach’s place to select the
players. That I take to be one of his duties. If he is to instruct a
team in football he certainly has the privilege of deciding who shall
belong to that team; in other words whom he considers eligible to his
instruction. And if he has the power to choose the members he must
surely have the power to dispense with them.”
“Where does the captain come in in your scheme?” sneered Stuart.
“The captain has the duty of leadership,” replied the coach, without
appearance of offense. “The team selected, he becomes its head,
responsible to the coach for its obedience to his orders and, more
than all, for its morale. There should be close and frank coöperation
between captain and coach. The captain undoubtedly should occupy an
advisory position in all matters pertaining to the team. He should
act as a liaison officer between the players and the coach. I am sorry
that coöperation between us so far this season hasn’t amounted to
much. From the first, rightly or wrongly, I have observed an attitude
of resentment in you toward me. I have said nothing, in the hope that
it would pass, in the trust that you would soon set aside any slight
personal dislike of me that you had and meet me fairly and frankly
halfway. But this you don’t seem inclined to do. I’ll acknowledge
that the matter of the training table was unfortunate, but I think
that, were you perfectly fair to me, you would acknowledge that no
offense was meant and sponge it off the slate, Harven. Wait, please:
let me finish. There can’t be divided authority in the running of a
football team any more than there can be in any other effort toward
success. It is best to have the duties of your office and mine clearly
defined for our mutual understanding. I am paid a salary――two thousand
dollars, to be exact――to come here and do my level best to turn out
a winning football team. As I understand it, I am responsible only
to the Committee on Athletics and, under them, am in full command. I
couldn’t do the work justice if matters were any different, Harven.
You have been chosen the captain of the team, an intermediary between
the players and the coach. Your authority does not extend beyond that
of any other member of the team _outside_ the team. To grant you the
right to select and discharge players would be fatal to my authority.
You would become the court of last resort and your word would be law,
not mine. I couldn’t work under those conditions. Surely you must see
that, Captain Harven.”
“Until this year the captain has had an equal say with the coach in the
affairs of the team,” answered Stuart hotly. “Until you came there was
never any question as to who had authority or who hadn’t!”
“And until this year you were not captain,” replied Mr. Haynes coldly.
“I’m sorry, Harven. I wish things had turned out differently. Perhaps
I’m not wholly free from blame, but, frankly, I don’t know how to
handle you, my boy. I hope we’ll come together presently. Meanwhile
I’m here for just one thing. You know what that is. And I propose to
accomplish that thing. I want your help, need it badly, but, with it or
without it, I’m going to be coach of this team and hold the reins.”
Stuart jerked to his feet and stared down on his host with white
face and angry eyes. “You refuse to fire Le Gette, then?” he demanded
tensely.
“I do, Captain Harven. I refuse most decidedly.”
“Suppose I say, then, that I won’t work on the team with him?”
“You can’t,” answered the coach earnestly. “You have a duty to the
school, just as I have toward my employer. Clashes between you and me,
my boy, must not be allowed to damage the prospects of the team. We’ll
fight our battles together off the field and not, as you say Le Gette
did, make the innocent suffer.”
Stuart’s eyes fell, but the hostility was still in his voice as he
answered: “All right, sir. I’m just as keen as you are for having
Manning win this year. You needn’t lay all the blame on me, though, for
not coöperating. You treated me rotten from the first. I shan’t forget
that. I guess you’ve got the Athletic Faculty behind you, so there’s
nothing for me to do but lie down and play dead! I’m not going to fight
you. If I asked for a show-down I guess the team would be on my side,
all right, but I’m not playing baby. I’ll see it through because it’s
my team as much as it is yours, even if you don’t think so. There’s
one thing, though, I’m promising myself, Mr. Haynes. When the season’s
over I’m going to give myself the satisfaction of telling you just what
I think of you!”
“When the season’s over I’ll be ready to hear it, Captain Harven,”
answered the coach quietly.
Stuart went out wishing mightily that slamming the door would not be
beneath his dignity.