THE FIRST SKIRMISH
Phin was as good as his word. He was on hand the next evening at a
little before eight, and he and Hansel set out to pay visits. The
campaign had begun.
Phin did not make the mistake of letting his friends know that he was
“rushing” Hansel, but, on the contrary, allowed them to think that he
and Hansel had been going by and had just dropped in for a moment.
Everybody was glad to see Phin; a few seemed genuinely glad to meet his
companion; but for the most part Hansel was received “on suspicion,”
as he put it to himself, and given plainly to understand that were he
not vouched for by Phin he would be quite unwelcome. But Hansel had
the tact to take no notice of such attitudes, did more listening than
talking, was modest on the subject of his football prowess and so, in
every case, created a good opinion, and was directly or indirectly
invited to come again. And Phin impressed upon him the necessity of
accepting the invitations. After they had left the eighth study at
shortly before ten, Phin accompanied Hansel back to 22 Prince, and,
seating himself at the table, drew up a list of the fellows whom Hansel
had met, and set down after each address a day of the week.
“That’s your calling list, Dana,” he said. “Better drop in in the
evenings as a rule; in that way you’re likely to meet other fellows.”
“Talk about swiping!” groaned Hansel.
“It isn’t swiping,” answered Phin. “You’re not after anything for
yourself. It’s diplomacy, that’s what it is. Now you put that list
where no one but you will ever see it. To-morrow night we’ll try a few
other visits.”
Hansel sighed, and Phin smiled at his dejection.
“Cheer up! To-morrow ought to finish the calls, if we have luck and
find fellows in. And, by the way, have you ever tried debating? No?
Well, you’d better begin. I’ll put your name up for the Cicero Society;
it meets in Academy Six, every first and third Friday.”
Hansel murmured his thanks confusedly, and the door crashed open in
front of Bert and Harry. There was a very pleasant half hour of talk
after that, and when Harry and Phin had taken their departures, the
roommates continued the conversation in unaccustomed friendliness.
The mass meeting called for the election of an assistant football
manager to take the place of the one who had held the office, but had
not returned to the academy, was not very largely attended. Few fellows
cared a button who was assistant manager, and those who did show up
were there more in the hope of being able to create a little “rough
house” than from any laudable desire to select a good incumbent for
the office. Custom prescribed that the manager should be chosen from
the fourth class, and the assistant manager from the third. Field, the
fourth class president, presided. After calling the meeting to order--a
not wholly successful operation, owing to a group of unsympathetic
fellows at the back of the hall--he stated the business in hand and
called for nominations. And he got them. Every famous man from Adam to
the President of the United States was placed in nomination, and it was
not until Field threatened to adjourn the meeting, and Harry had begged
the audience to “cut it out,” that order was sufficiently restored to
allow of serious business. The names of three candidates were then
proposed. One of the number arose precipitately and aroused merriment
by indignantly refusing to run. Then Bert proposed the name of Phin
Dorr, and there was a burst of applause. The remaining candidates
begged to be allowed to retire in Phin’s favor, and the voting was
merely a form. Phineas Dorr was unanimously elected assistant manager
of the Beechcroft Football Team. He accepted the honor in a few words
which everybody applauded wildly and sat down. Whereupon Harry rapped
for attention and announced to the backs of the departing audience
that there would be a mass meeting at the same time and place on the
following Saturday night to raise money for the support of the football
team. This announcement was hailed with a few groans, and Field
requested Harry to move adjournment. Hansel awaited Phin at the door
and, in the innocence of his heart, congratulated him. Phin smiled
grimly.
“Much obliged,” he said. “I guess you don’t know what a lot of hard
work and how little glory goes with the office. You couldn’t get any
fellow to take it if it didn’t lead to the managership.”
“Oh!” said Hansel. “But aren’t you pretty busy already?”
“Yes,” answered Phin, smiling grimly. “This means that I’ll have to
change my getting-up hour from six to five.”
Before the mass meeting took place several things of moment occurred.
Hansel received notice of his election to the Cicero Society and of
the fact that by paying a dollar to the treasurer he could become the
possessor of a printed certificate of membership. On Wednesday the team
journeyed to Parkham and defeated the local team 23 to 0. On Saturday
the State Agricultural School descended upon Bevan Hills, and for
thirty minutes of actual playing time kept every Beechcroft student’s
heart in his mouth. But in the end the visitors were forced to return
home without scoring, while the academy team had five points to its
credit. Hansel made numerous calls on his new acquaintances and rapidly
enlarged his circle of friends. But, after all, the most important
event, judged in the light of subsequent results, was the appearance
on Thursday morning at a French recitation of Harry Folsom in a white
sweater. Not that the color of the garment had anything to do with the
matter; had it been red or green or purple the outcome would have been
the same.
Mr. Ames had issued an edict at the beginning of the year to the effect
that students attending his classes must be suitably dressed. In short,
sweaters as features of class-room attire were prohibited. That is why
when on this particular morning Mr. Ames espied Harry with a white
turtle-neck sweater under his jacket he remonstrated.
“Folsom,” he observed, “I’ve told the class that I would not permit
them to wear sweaters. There is no occasion for it. You have plenty of
time in the morning to dress properly. This is a French recitation; not
a football game. I shall have to insist that you go to your room and
take that off. And as I can’t have students coming in after recitations
are under way, you need not return. I shall put you down as absent.”
Harry, amid the broad smiles of the others, took himself out with his
offensive white sweater and _Le Cid_ held the boards. Had the affair
ended there this story would have been quite different, Phin and
Hansel would not have thrown down the gauge of battle, and many other
things would not have happened. But Harry didn’t like the thought of
the ridicule which would probably follow the incident and told himself
that “Bobby was too blamed fussy.” In the act of removing the obnoxious
white sweater a beautiful idea came to him, and his face, which since
leaving the class room had been clouded with annoyance, suddenly
wreathed itself in a radiant smile.
An hour and a half later Mr. Ames held a recitation in German in
the same room, Academy Two. With a few exceptions the same students
attended as attended the French recitation. The class were assembled
and in their places and the hands of the clock pointed to one minute
of the hour when the door opened before a belated student. Mr. Ames,
in the act of opening his book, looked down the room. The expression
on his face instantly caused a unanimous turning of heads. Down the
aisle walked Harry, an expression of blissful unconsciousness on his
features. The white sweater was gone. In place of his former attire
was an immaculate suit of evening dress. Patent-leather pumps clad
his feet, the tails of his coat waved jauntily, a white vest framed
a dazzling expanse of shirt bosom, from which two pearl studs peeped
coyly forth, his collar and white lawn tie were in quite the best of
taste, his hands were chastely hid by pearl-colored gloves, and his
hair was sleek and shining. He took his seat gracefully and viewed
the convulsed countenances of his class mates with an expression of
courteous surprise. That expression was the last straw. Such a roar
of laughter went up as never before had been heard in those sacred
precincts. And Mr. Ames, after a brief struggle for composure, joined
his voice to the others. Only Harry remained composed, and the look of
well-bred bewilderment grew and grew. At last Mr. Ames conquered his
amusement and coughed suggestively. The room quieted down.
[Illustration: “In place of his former attire was an immaculate suit of
evening dress.”]
“Folsom,” he remarked, “you have gone to unnecessary extremes in
complying with my request, but I am glad that you appreciate my point
of view. Allow me to compliment you on your appearance. I assure you
you look much more respectable than at our last meeting.”
Harry bowed respectfully and work began. But all during the recitation
there were occasional choking sounds as some member of the class
allowed his attention to wander from the lesson to Harry.
Now one cannot with impunity wear dancing pumps and open jacket out of
doors on a bleak day in October. Harry discovered this fact the next
morning. At noon he was in the hands of Dr. Gordon suffering with a
nice attack of grippe. And that is why when, the following evening,
the mass meeting was called to order, the duty of stating the purpose
of the meeting fell, in the absence of the manager, to the assistant
manager, which was one of the first important results hinging upon the
wearing of a white sweater.
There was a full attendance, as was usually the case when there were
speeches announced. After Phin had stated briefly the object of the
meeting Mr. Ames arose, was cheered loudly--Field leading--and spoke
of the outlook for the season. There was no good reason, he said,
why, with the support of the school to count on, the team should not
win this year from Fairview. As for the game with Warren, they would
do their best to win that also, second in importance as it was to
the final contest, but it was possible that they would have to save
themselves for the greater game, as this year a lack of good new
material put more work on the old men. However, they would do the best
they knew how in each case, and he hoped the school would be back of
them on each occasion, and let them know it.
Mr. Foote had a few words to say which no one paid much attention
to--except the fellows on the platform, who had to appear polite.
Then it was Phin’s turn again. After a welcoming cheer had died away,
he announced the enforced absence of the manager, and begged the
indulgence of the audience for his inexperience. The audience was
becoming waked up by that time--there is nothing like cheering to
start the enthusiasm--and there were cries of “You’re all right, Phin!”
“Speak out, Phin!” “Don’t be coy!” Hansel, sitting with other members
of the team in the front row, thought Phin looked unusually serious. It
couldn’t be on account of nervousness, Hansel said to himself, for Phin
was quite used to talking in public; and the steady, untroubled gaze of
his hazel eyes proved that supposition false.
“Last year,” said Phin, “we raised five hundred and forty-three dollars
and seventy-five cents at the mass meeting. It was a good sum, and it
carried the team through the season and left a small balance on the
right side. This balance has, however, been already expended and the
management has been obliged to go somewhat into debt. I am informed
that a larger sum will be necessary this year. Before asking for it I
am going to read to you the manager’s report for last year, in order
that you will know in what manner the money you gave has been used.”
There were signs of uneasiness on the part of several of the fellows,
and Bert strove to catch Phin’s eye. But Phin didn’t look in his
direction as he took the sheet of paper from his pocket and spread
it open. The report wasn’t especially exciting; so much for football
paraphernalia; so much for maintenance of the gridiron; so much for
traveling expenses; and so on. At the beginning of the present season
there had been left on hand ninety-three dollars and forty cents.
“Of this sum,” continued Phin calmly, “thirty dollars and forty cents
has gone for footballs, repairs on the tackling machine, and incidental
expenses. The sum of sixty dollars has gone----”
“Mr. Chairman!” Bert was on his feet claiming attention.
“Mr. Middleton!” said the chairman.
“It doesn’t seem to me that this sort of thing is interesting. We are
here for the purpose of raising funds for the team, and I think we
ought to go ahead and do it. There are quite a number of us who have
other engagements this evening and want to get away. Besides, it has
not been the custom heretofore to go into uninteresting facts regarding
the accounts. Nobody, I’m sure, doubts the trustworthiness of the
manager. I move that we proceed to business.”
“Does Mr. Dorr insist on finishing the report?” asked Field.
“Not if the meeting doesn’t care to listen to it,” answered Phin
suggestively.
“Mr. Chairman!” called a voice from the body of the hall.
“Mr. Spring!” answered the chairman.
“I just want to say that it seems to me that the fellows who give the
money have a right to hear how it has been spent. I don’t think it’s a
question of doubting anyone’s trustworthiness; the report ought to be
made public as a--a matter of principle.”
This statement elicited quite a little applause.
“Do you still object, Mr. Middleton?” asked Field.
“No,” answered Bert, making the best of it; “if anyone wants to hear
the stuff, why, let them, by all means.”
When the laughter had subsided, Phin went calmly on.
“I am about through, anyhow,” he said. “The remaining sum of sixty
dollars was spent for ‘team expenses.’” There was an audible sigh of
relief from Bert, and even Mr. Ames looked more cheerful. Hansel, who
for the last few moments had been aware of something in Phin’s manner
and expression that was unusual, looked up in time to catch a quick,
meaning glance from the speaker. For an instant he was puzzled; Phin
expected something of him, but what? Then suddenly it came to him
in a flash that the battle had begun, that Phin had thrown down the
gauntlet, and he was on his feet, claiming recognition. He got it,
and----
“I should like to ask what is meant by ‘team expenses,’” he said. “All
expenses are team expenses, are they not?”
“Shut up, you fool!” hissed Bert.
“The expenses in question,” began Phin promptly, “are----”
“I object!” cried Bert, leaping to his feet and viewing Phin
threateningly.
“I don’t think the question need be answered,” said Field. “It is
somewhat--er--irregular.”
“We want to know!” cried a voice from the back of the hall.
“You bet we do!” said another.
Field rapped for order.
“If Mr. Dorr has finished I think it would be well to----”
“Mr. Chairman,” interrupted the troublesome Spring, the editor in
chief of _The Record_, the school monthly, “Mr. Chairman, I move you
that the assistant manager explain what is meant in this case by ‘team
expenses.’”
“Second the motion!” said another voice.
“It is moved and seconded,” said Field wearily, “that Mr. Dorr explain
the meaning. Those in favor of the motion will say ‘Aye.’”
There was a loud chorus of “Ayes.”
“Contrary minded, ‘No.’”
Followed a deafening shout of dissent from the front rows.
“The No’s appear to have it,” said Field. “The motion is----”
“Mr. Chairman!”
“Mr.--er--Dana!”
“I move that a standing vote be taken.”
“Seconded!” “Stand up!” “That’s the stuff!” These cries from the seat
of opposition at the back of the hall.
Field hesitated. Bert was scowling blackly. Cameron, to whom the
proceedings might naturally have been of interest, was apparently
unconcerned. Hansel wondered whether he understood what was coming.
Then a standing vote was taken and almost every fellow voted in the
affirmative. Field was forced to give in.
“It is moved and carried,” he announced shortly, “that the assistant
manager explain more fully.”
Phin, who during the proceedings had kept his place at the front of the
stage and awaited calmly the outcome, bowed.
“The words ‘team expenses’ are used in this particular case,” he
explained dryly, “to mean the fall term tuition of one of the members
of the team.”
The announcement caused a sudden commotion of audible remarks,
whisperings and whistling. Those, and they were greatly in the
minority, who knew who the member of the team was craned their heads
for a sight of the untroubled countenance of the star half back. Bert’s
face looked like a thunder cloud as he scowled alternately at Hansel
and Phin. Mr. Ames was studying his hands.
“Mr. Chairman!” It was Spring again. “Mr. Chairman, I’d like to ask
whether it was understood that the money collected for the team was to
be used to pay the tuition expenses of one of the students.”
This demand was loudly applauded. Field looked toward Phin.
“I believe,” answered the latter, “that there was a tacit understanding
to that effect. Of course, it would not do for the school to have
it publicly known that we pay a player’s expenses in order to
strengthen our team. But we did it last year, and if the collection is
sufficiently generous to-night we shall do it again. I may add that
unless we do it we shall possibly lose one of our best players.”
Spring again demanded recognition and got it from the bored chairman.
“I want to say,” declared Spring warmly, “that I, for one, knew nothing
about it. And I dare say there are a good many others who gave money
for the support of the team who are in the same fix.”
“You bet!” “Oh, cut it out!” “Sit down!”
“And what’s more,” continued Spring defiantly, “I don’t think we
should be called on to give money for such a purpose. If we can’t win
without buying players----!”
But the rest of his remarks were lost in the subsequent uproar. A dozen
fellows were on their feet, clamoring for recognition. The chairman
recognized Larry Royle.
“Spring is making a big fuss about nothing,” said the center. “What if
we do pay Bil--pay one of the players’ tuition? He’s a good man and we
need him; and he’s cheap at the price. It seems to me that one hundred
and fifty dollars is a small price to pay for a victory over Fairview.
And any fellow who doesn’t think that way about it had better keep his
old money in his pocket!”
He sat down amid enthusiastic applause from the football men and some
others. Spring struggled for Field’s eye, but the latter refused to
see him. Finally he subsided and immediately became the center of an
excited group. Field nodded toward Phin.
“I think that’s all I have to say,” said the latter, his voice almost
drowned by the hubbub. “It only remains for me to remind you fellows
that the team can’t hope for victory unless it is well supported. It
needs both money and the hearty coöperation of every fellow in the
school. But to-night it is money we are looking for. We ought to have
about six hundred and fifty dollars to see us through the season, and I
feel sure that with the spirit of the school what it is at present, we
will receive from you all we deserve. I thank you.”
Phin retired to his seat, viewed suspiciously by the football crowd to
whom his speech had sounded, at the best, rather ambiguous. Pencils and
slips of paper were in readiness and in a jiffy they were being passed
about the hall. Hansel stole a look at Phin. The assistant manager was
whispering calmly to Mr. Foote, who, during the excitement, had looked
on affably and uninterestedly. As for Hansel, he felt rather excited.
The struggle had begun, and from present indications they had won the
first engagement. When the slip was handed to him he found himself
in a quandary. Every fellow was expected to give as much as he could
afford. Hansel felt that he could afford five dollars, since so far his
incidental expenses had been very light, but if he did so, he would
be defeating in a measure his own end, which was to drive Cameron off
the team. If sufficient money was not pledged to-night, or secured
subsequently, to pay the rest of Cameron’s tuition, he thought, that
youth would have to leave school. Finally he compromised on two dollars
and a half, and signed his promise for that amount. Five minutes later
the slips were all returned, and Phin, Mr. Ames, and Mr. Foote were
adding up the amounts of the pledges. The meeting was breaking up, but
the fellows lingered to hear the result. At last Mr. Ames arose and
stepped to the front of the platform.
“I am requested to announce,” he said when quiet had been secured,
“that the total amount of the pledges is three hundred and eighty-eight
dollars and fifty cents.”
What more he had to say, if anything, was prevented by the noise
of scraping chairs, shuffling feet and excited voices, indignant,
laughing, triumphant as the case might be. The meeting came to an
abrupt close, but the echo of it lasted for many days. Meanwhile Hansel
and Phin had won the first skirmish.