NEIL INTERVENES
Although Stuart managed to remain away from the football field during
practice, the temptation to witness the Saturday contests from a closer
point of observation than the running track was too strong to be
resisted. Anyway, even if a fellow didn’t any longer concern himself
with the fortunes of his own team, he naturally wanted to see how
the other fellow comported himself. So when the St. Charles contest
was played he and Neil were occupants of seats at a far end of the
stand. There wasn’t much to excite oneself over in the course of that
game, for the visitor was outplayed from the start, and out-generaled
as well. Coach Haynes put in a wealth of substitutes in the third
and fourth periods, and even then the final score was satisfactorily
decisive, being 21 to 0 in favor of the Cherry-and-Gray. But during
the succeeding game, that with the Brown Freshmen, Neil was really
sorry for his chum. Stuart pretended indifference and tried very, very
hard to maintain a studied calm, but the way in which he clenched his
hands and wriggled in his seat and made funny noises in his throat,
told Neil that he wasn’t happy. There was no good reason why he should
have been happy, for that matter. The Brown youngsters were too many
for the Cherry-and-Gray from the first kick-off, and, although Manning
fought hard and twice held the enemy from scoring in the first two
periods, she couldn’t get her own offense working decently and never
once threatened the enemy’s goal. Individually, the Manning linemen
were good, but they didn’t seem to get together well. The backfield
had lost its aggression completely and, while it was easy enough to
lay a portion of the blame on Wheaton, at quarter, by no means all of
it was due to him. Leo Burns, recovered from his injury, was at left
half, Billy Littlefield at right and Howdy Tasker at fullback. There
were flashes of hard, brilliant playing, but on the whole the Manning
backfield was a disappointment to-day, especially on attack. During the
intermission Stuart was rather silent and carefully avoided discussing
the game.
The Brown Freshmen started in in the third quarter harder than ever and
at the end of five or six minutes had scored their first touchdown.
Better playing and a heavier team counted at last. Coach Haynes made
two changes after that, putting Le Gette at right tackle in place
of Thurston and Hanson at right half in place of Billy Littlefield.
Hanson’s presence bolstered up the backfield perceptibly, but Stuart
couldn’t see any improvement in the right tackle position. Probably he
didn’t want to. There was one bright spot in the third period when,
toward the end of it, Howdy Tasker got away on an old-style fake-kick
play and circled Brown’s left end for thirty-odd yards, placing the
pigskin on the enemy’s twenty-eight. But the advance failed a few yards
beyond, for Wheaton fumbled a pass, and, although Burns recovered it,
a down had been lost. Tasker got a scant two yards outside left tackle
and then Hanson heaved to Muirgart and the ball grounded. Burns tried a
drop-kick from the thirty-five-yard line, but the ball sailed far wide
of goal.
Brown crashed her way to a second touchdown in the last period,
finding but weak opposition inside the ten yards and putting the ball
across from there in three tries at the right of the line. Each of her
touchdowns was followed by a goal, and the final score was 14 to 0.
Going back to the dormitory, Stuart’s long-pent emotions burst forth.
He called the team a disgrace, an insult to Manning traditions, a gang
of loafers and many other choice names. And he said hard things about
the generalship displayed and the sort of coaching that could take out
a good man like Thurston and put in Steve Le Gette. He didn’t criticize
Jack’s playing or Jack’s performance of his duties as captain, nor
did he deal unkindly with Wheaton, but about every other player was
thoroughly hauled over the coals. As for “Wheat,” Stuart declared that
he had done as well as any fellow had a right to expect. “He’s no
wonder, but he worked himself to death, pretty near, with a backfield
that was asleep on its feet most of the time! Why Littlefield just
stopped when he got to the line and looked for a comfortable place to
sit down! Hanson was some better, but he didn’t show enough punch to
break a lath. If that’s the sort of team Haynes thinks is going to
lick Pearsall, he’s got a jolt coming to him!”
Stuart had a lot more to say, and said it, his remarks lasting until
long after he and Neil had reached Number 12. Finally, though, wrath
and disgust were succeeded by a settled gloom that continued most of
the evening. Neil tried to persuade him to go over to the village to
the movies after supper, but he wouldn’t, and Neil went off by himself.
In the yard, though, he met Jack and Greg Trenholme and Howdy Tasker
and, on the way to the village, listened to much post-mortem talk from
the fullback. Coming back after, it must be acknowledged, a not very
hilarious evening at the little theater, Greg introduced the subject of
Stuart. “Neil, why doesn’t he take a tumble to himself and go back to
the team and help out? Doesn’t he know that the school’s getting sore
at him? After to-day it’ll look worse than ever.”
Neil didn’t answer, and it was Jack who attempted an excuse. “Let the
poor fellow alone,” he said. “He’s feeling pretty sore, I guess.”
“No reason for it that I can see,” said Tasker. “He threw up his job
when he didn’t have to. I call that deserting in the face of the enemy,
by jove! Now, instead of doing the decent thing and playing quarter, he
sulks. I like Stuart, but he’s a pigheaded ass!”
“We certainly need him,” said Jack feelingly. “I’m not saying anything
against ‘Wheat,’ for he wasn’t any rottener than most of us to-day, but
he can’t play the game that Stuart can at quarter, and no one pretends
that he can or ever will. I talked to Stuart about going back and got
sat on.”
“Have you tried it, Neil?” asked Greg.
“Yes.”
“No good, eh?”
“Some one,” said Tasker impatiently, “ought to talk turkey to him. I
should think he’d see that it’s his duty to play. Look here, Neil,
you’ve got more influence with him than any one else, I guess. Why
don’t you have a real talk and show him that――that――Gosh, I should
think after seeing to-day’s game he’d _want_ to get out and do
something! I know plaguy well I would!”
“I’ll see what I can do,” agreed Neil readily but not very hopefully.
“I’ll try him again to-morrow.”
“Atta boy! Tell him the school’s getting sore with him and――”
Jack interrupted Tasker. “No, don’t tell him anything of the sort,
Neil. That would just put his back up. Tell him the team needs him.
That’s the only thing that’ll fetch him.”
When Neil got back to the room, Stuart had turned in and was sound
asleep, and Neil nodded approvingly. “A good sleep will make him feel
better in the morning, I guess,” he said to himself. “And I’ll tackle
him before he gets a chance to catch a new grouch!”
It was while they were dressing that Neil said suddenly: “Stuart, will
you tell me the truth if I ask you something?”
Stuart grinned. “I’ll either tell you the truth or keep my mouth
closed,” he replied. “What’s the question, little one?”
“Aren’t you wanting to be back on the team, Stuart?”
For a long moment it seemed that Stuart meant to keep his mouth closed.
He gave far more attention to pulling on a sock than the task appeared
to demand. When, however, he had snugged it over his foot fastidiously
he looked up.
“Sort of,” he said.
Neil swung over to his dresser, selected a soft collar and thrust a
blue tie through the loops.
“Why don’t you?” he asked finally.
“Because I’ve got some self-respect, I suppose. And maybe I’m not
wanted, anyway.”
“That’s not so, Stuart. The fellows all want you.”
“Maybe some of them do.” Stuart pulled his trousers on and cinched the
belt with a jerk. “I’ll bet Haynes doesn’t, though.”
“What makes you think that?” asked Neil.
“Why, if he wants me, why doesn’t he――” Stuart stopped.
“Say so?” supplied the other. “Maybe he thinks it wouldn’t do any good.”
“Well, I guess it wouldn’t,” muttered Stuart.
“After all, if the team needs you, and it certainly does, what Mr.
Haynes says or doesn’t say hasn’t got much to do with it, I guess. It’s
the team you’d be helping and not the coach, Stuart.”
“I wouldn’t be much use there if Haynes didn’t want me, though. And I
guess he’s pretty well satisfied with things as they are.”
“I don’t see how he can be after yesterday’s slaughter,” replied Neil.
“But I’m glad you’ve explained.”
“Explained what?” asked Stuart suspiciously.
“Why you don’t go back,” answered the other. “I didn’t want to think
that it was just your pride that was keeping you from doing your duty.
If it’s because Mr. Haynes doesn’t want you, that’s different. I can
understand that, of course. No one wants to go where he’s not wanted.”
“You bet he doesn’t,” agreed Stuart.
“I’m glad to know that you would go back if it wasn’t for that,” said
Neil. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose so,” replied the other doubtfully. Then, seeing Neil’s
puzzled look, he added quickly: “Of course I would!”
Neil’s face cleared and he smiled. “That’s the ticket! That’s what I
wanted to be sure of!”
“Seems to me you’re mightily interested all of a sudden,” said Stuart
dubiously. “I don’t see that it makes much difference what the reason
is.”
“It makes all the difference in the world,” replied Neil earnestly.
“Anyway, it does to me. You see, Stuart, I’ve thought all along that
you ought to forget your――your differences with the coach and the
others and just remember that the team needed you. And I guess I’ve
blamed you when I oughtn’t to have. I thought it was just hurt pride
that kept you away. Now I find that you had a pretty good reason. Don’t
you see?”
Stuart thoughtfully stuck his military brushes together and nodded. “I
see,” he answered. “You ready?” At the door he added: “You’re a queer
idiot, old Neil!”
After breakfast Neil was missing and Stuart went across to Meigs to put
in the time before church with Jack. Since Jack’s roommate was Stearns
Wilson, Stuart had carefully avoided Number 17 of late, but now, since
Jud McColl had eliminated his only excuse for being down on Wilson,
there was no reason for staying away. Wilson, however, wasn’t in this
morning, as it proved, and Stuart and Jack had the room to themselves.
Something of the old intimacy between the two was lacking, it seemed,
and the talk, if not exactly constrained, wasn’t like the talks they
used to have. Stuart assured himself several times that he held no
resentment against Jack, but the fact remained that somewhere there was
a fly in the amber of their friendship. Stuart didn’t remain in Number
17 until church time, but left after a half hour or so, feeling oddly
relieved when he had closed the door behind him, and returned to Lacey.
Neil was still absent, and Stuart, selecting a magazine and throwing
himself on the window seat, wondered where the dickens he could be.
If by some magic power he could have seen Neil at that moment he would
have been very greatly surprised.