HOOKER HAS A PLAN.
On Thursday afternoon the Oakdale football team put in the last
strenuous practice before the first real game of the season, which was
to be played Saturday on the home grounds, the contesting eleven coming
from Barville. As far as possible Captain Stone had drilled a knowledge
of the new rules into the heads of his followers, and although, like a
good captain, he was not wholly satisfied either with their advancement
or his own, he decided that stiff, strenuous practice work on Friday
would not be advisable, considering the possibility that someone might
get hurt, with insufficient time to recover before the Barville contest.
Therefore he simply notified his teammates to come out Friday for a
little brushing up in signals.
Encouraged by Sage, Hooker had practiced faithfully, and had made a
fairly good showing in the line of the scrub team when it played short
periods against the regulars. Fortunately, Roy’s “condition” had been
excellent when he began this, and therefore, save for a few minor
bruises and sprains, which caused temporary soreness or lameness, he
escaped injury. He was feeling somewhat elated over this when he left
the gymnasium in company with Fred.
“It doesn’t seem to be such a tough old game, after all,” said Roy. “Of
course a fellow gets pounded around a lot, but it doesn’t hurt him much
if he’s good and hard.”
“That’s the point generally overlooked by people who put up a holler
against the game,” said Fred. “Football isn’t for babies and weaklings,
and the fellow who goes into it should be in perfect health and hardened
by training that will enable him to stand up under pounding and jolts
which would put a feeble chap all to the bad in no time at all. Observe
how quickly fellows in fine condition recover from injuries on the field
which would seem sufficient to put them under the doctor’s care for
weeks or months. When some foolish chap who is soft as mush or has some
chronic weakness attempts to get into the game, notice how often it
happens that he’s the one seriously injured; and of course this gives
people who do not understand the circumstances and who are opposed to
the game a chance to raise a great to-do.”
“My folks have never wanted me to play.”
“Well, mine are not enthusiastically in favor of my playing, although my
mother is the chief objector. But she’s always worrying about me of
late, no matter what I do. It has been that way ever since——” He checked
himself suddenly.
“Ever since what?” asked Roy.
“Oh,” answered Fred evasively, “ever since I got old enough to go in for
such things. She doesn’t like to have me go gunning, and she actually
cried when father bought me my gun.”
“Oh, say,” exclaimed Hooker quickly, “that makes me think of something.
Why can’t we get in a little shooting Saturday morning? There ought to
be ducks over in Marsh Pond, and we could try ’em Saturday, and arrange
to get home by the middle of the forenoon--by half past ten or eleven,
at the latest. That would give us plenty of time to rest up before the
game.”
“But Marsh Pond is nearly five miles from here, and, in order to get
there early enough to pick up any ducks in the morning, we’d have to
turn out in the middle of the night and make a stiff tramp of it. I’m
afraid that would be a little too much, Hooker.”
“Now listen to me; I have a plan. I’m not in favor of rising at two or
three o’clock and hoofing it all that distance for half an hour’s
shooting after daybreak. You’re as wise to the signals as any fellow on
the team, aren’t you?”
“I think so,” nodded Fred modestly.
“Think so! Why, you’ve got them down pat. You can reel ’em off like hot
shot, and you know every time just what you’re firing at. A little
signal practice to-morrow wouldn’t do you any good, and, as I’m only a
scrub man, it isn’t worth my while bothering. I know where we can get a
good set of decoys to use on that duck hunt, and if you’ll go I’ll agree
to get ’em. We can start right after school to-morrow, and I’ll bet I
can hire Abe Hubbard to take us over to the pond with his old horse and
wagon. It won’t cost a great deal, for Hubbard isn’t doing much of
anything, and he’d be glad to pick up a dollar. It wouldn’t surprise me
if the sight of a whole dollar would hire him to tote us over there and
come for us any time we might set on Saturday. If I can fix it,” he
concluded eagerly, “will you go?”
They had paused in front of the post-office, and Fred meditated a moment
over the proposal. They were standing there as Sleuth Piper came up,
passed them and entered the building, turning to cast a swift glance in
their direction.
“It listens good, Hooker,” said Fred, tempted; “but where are we going
to stay all night? Have you thought of that?”
“You bet I have. Why, don’t you remember there’s an old camp over there,
which nobody ever uses nowadays? It has a stone fireplace, and if we
take an axe along to cut wood we can be as comfortable as you please.”
It was not remarkable that the temptation grew, for what real boy would
not be lured by the prospect of a night in an old camp in the woods?
“It listens good,” repeated Fred, smiling a bit; “but how about a boat?
Without a dog to do our retrieving, if we shoot anything we’ll certainly
need a boat. Spot is no water dog, and he’d be practically useless for
us.”
“There isn’t any boat,” admitted Roy; “but I know where there’s an old
raft on the shore within twenty rods of the shooting blind some hunters
made last fall. I know the raft ought to be there, for I used it when I
was over there fishing once this summer. I saw the blind and inspected
it, too, and it will be all right for us without doing a thing to it.
It’s close by the feeding grounds at the western end of the lake and
will serve us much better than a new one, as the ducks are thoroughly
accustomed to the sight of it by this time. You know how they shy
sometimes at a newly built blind they’ve never seen before. With that
raft near by for our use, we can pick up any ducks we knock down. Come
on, Fred, of course you’ll go.”
“I’ll speak to Stone about it in the morning.”
“That would be rather late, for you know I’ve got to see Hubbard and fix
it with him. Why not see Stone to-night? Give him a good game of talk.
Tell him you feel the need of something like this to brace you up. Hard
study, regular practice, monotony, anxiety about the game—you know the
sort of argument to put up. He’ll be a chump if he refuses. Why, if I
was on the team I’d simply see him and tell him I was going to go
anyhow.”
“And you’d put yourself in bad with old Stoney. He’s an easy-going
fellow in some things, but when it comes to football matters he believes
in discipline and enforces it, too.”
“Yes,” nodded Roy, “he’s a little too stiff to suit me; something of a
tyrant, it seems.”
“Not a tyrant; simply a captain who knows what is right and demands it
of his followers. If Stone says he doesn’t think I should go, of course
I won’t, that’s all.”
“But you will if he’ll agree?” cried Hooker exultantly. “Say, old man,
leave it to me; let me talk to Ben. I’ll tell him you want to go, but
don’t like to ask the privilege.”
“And that would be the truth.”
“Sure. No need to lie about it. Think perhaps he can put a substitute in
your place, same as he would have to do if you were hurt in a game, and
that will be a good thing, as it will brace the sub up on signaling.
Will you leave it to me, old chap?”
After a little hesitation, Sage agreed. “Go ahead; have your own way
about it. If Ben says it’s all right, I’ll go ducking with you.”
“I’ll let you know this very evening,” promised Hooker, as his friend
started up the street toward home.
Sage did not see Piper come quickly out of the post-office and hasten
after Roy. Having observed the two boys in earnest consultation,
Sleuth’s curiosity was at white heat.
Near eight o’clock that evening Hooker came to see Fred at the latter’s
home.
“It’s all right,” he announced in enthusiastic triumph. “I brought Stone
round nicely, and he says you may go. I’ve seen Hubbard, too, and fixed
it up with him. He’ll be ready to start right after school to-morrow,
and he’ll come for us at half past nine Saturday morning.”
Fred’s mother was listening with sudden interest. “What are you
planning, boys?” she asked.
Fred explained, observing that her face took on a shade of anxiety.
“Now don’t begin to worry, mother,” he begged. “You know Roy and I are
both careful with guns, and there isn’t a bit of danger. I don’t want to
fret you, but I hope you won’t object.”
She sighed a little. “I suppose it’s foolish, but I can’t help feeling
anxious about you when you go gunning. However, your father bought you
the gun, and, now that you have it, it wouldn’t seem reasonable for me
to seek to prevent you from getting some pleasure through the use of
it.”
“All boys love a gun,” smiled Andrew Sage, “and the right sort of a boy
rarely gets hurt with one.”
“Then it’s all fixed,” laughed Roy. “Get everything ready to start right
away after school, Fred. Take along a blanket, for you’ll need it in the
old camp. If we have any luck at all, we ought to bring home some
ducks.”
Roy had been gone some time when Fred’s mother came up quietly behind
his chair, bent over him and put her arms about his neck.
“Don’t think me foolish, my dear,” she said in a low tone. “You
understand why I can’t help worrying. You’re the only boy I have left,
now.”