BLOWS ARE STRUCK
The second went off jubilantly. Steve was a hero for an hour. In the
locker room "Boots" said some nice things to them, pointed out a few
faults and took himself away just as the first team and its substitutes
came piling in. Most of them looked pretty grim about the mouths.
Evidently in the few minutes that Mr. Robey had detained them on the
field, they had been provided with food for thought. Andy Miller
encountered Steve on his way to the bath.
"That was good work, Edwards," he said heartily. "You fellows certainly
put it over us to-day." He shook his head ruefully. "We ought to have
got that touchdown in the last period." Then he smiled grimly, and,
"We'll get you to-morrow, though," he said with conviction. "How's
everything with you?"
"Fine and dandy, thanks," replied Steve heartily.
"Good! You haven't been around to see me, by the way. You and Hall must
think a confidence-man isn't a proper acquaintance."
"We're coming around soon, Miller. The fact is, I--well, I made such a
mutt of myself that last time----"
"Oh, nonsense! That's all right, Edwards. Don't let that worry you.
Besides, you took my advice, I guess, and that squares it. Mind if I
give you some more, by the way?"
"Of course not! I wish you would."
"Only this, Edwards. On defence don't watch the ball. They'll tell you
to, but don't do it. Watch your opponent. Watch his eyes. He will tell
you when the ball's snapped. He's got to watch it and you haven't, and
then if you keep your eyes on him you can guess where he's coming almost
before he starts. It may sound cheeky for me to tell you this, because,
as a matter of absolute fact, Edwards, you played all around me
to-day----"
"Oh, piffle, Miller!"
"Yes, you did," insisted the captain grimly. "I know it, if you don't.
But you try what I tell you to-morrow and see what a jump you'll get on
the other fellow. Come around and see me soon, you and Hall."
Andy moved away and Steve hurried on to find a shower before the new
crowd claimed them all. He was pretty well fagged out this afternoon,
and for once the thought of that swimming class didn't appeal. But after
a tepid shower and then a hard rush of ice-cold water over his tired
body, he felt different. Coming out of the bath he almost collided with
Eric Sawyer. Eric had a nasty cut over his right eye that gave him a
peculiarly ugly expression, and it was soon evident that Eric's temper
was as ugly as his appearance.
"Hello, fresh," he growled, scowling at Steve and barring his way in the
narrow passage. "What call had you to butt in on me to-day?"
"I was playing the game, that's all," replied Steve coolly.
"You think you're a wonder, don't you? Well, you wouldn't have got me if
I hadn't slipped. And the next time you interfere with me on the field
or anywhere else I'll fix you for keeps. Now you mind that, you fresh
young kid."
"You're a wonder at making threats, Sawyer," returned Steve angrily.
"Why don't you do something besides talk?"
"I'd give you a good thrashing if you weren't so small," Eric growled.
"Oh, that's all right," replied Steve airily. "We can't all have piano
legs, you know."
"Say, you let my legs alone! For two cents I'd tell what I know about
you, you cheater, and we'd see how long you'd stay so cocky!"
"What you know about me?" laughed Steve. "You go right ahead and tell
anything you want to, Sawyer. Whatever it is, it's a lie, I guess."
"Oh, is it? It's a lie that you swiped Upton's blue-book with his
composition in it, I suppose. It's a lie that you were going to use it
until Daley went up to your room and found it, I dare say. It's----"
"Yes, it is a lie, and you know it, Sawyer," flamed Steve. "If you tell
any story like that around----"
"I'll tell what I please, kid, and you can't stop me." Several fellows
came along the passage, viewing the two curiously, and Eric dropped his
voice a note. "You stop bothering me, Edwards, or I will tell, and if I
do, this place will be too hot for you. We don't like cheaters here----"
Steve sprang at him madly, but Eric stepped aside and Steve's blow went
past.
"None of that!" warned Eric in a low, ugly voice. "Ah, you want it, do
you?"
Steve hit again and Eric countered and got in a blow on the younger
boy's neck that sent him staggering against the wall. Then arms wrapped
themselves around Steve and a voice said:
"Here, what's up, Eric? Cut it out, Edwards!"
Steve, struggling, found himself in the firm grasp of Innes, the big
first team centre-rush. "He called me a cheat!" he cried angrily. "You
let me go, Innes!"
"So he is a cheat," returned Eric contemptuously. "He swiped Carl
Upton's French composition and was going to hand it in as his own if
Daley hadn't caught him at it!"
"That's a lie!" cried Steve. "Ask Mr. Daley himself! You're saying it
because I kept you from making that touchdown, you--you----"
"Hold on, Edwards!" said Innes. "Don't call names." By this time the
passage had filled with fellows, among them Andy Miller. Miller pushed
forward.
"What's up, Jack?" he asked of the centre. Innes shrugged his big
shoulders.
"Oh, just a scrap. Run along, you fellows. It's all over."
"It isn't over!" declared Steve, still trying to detach himself from the
big fellow's grasp. "He's got to take it back! He's got to take it back
or fight!"
"Cut it out, Edwards!" said Miller sternly. "Don't act like a kid.
What's the trouble, Eric, anyway?"
"Oh, this kid got fresh with me," replied Eric with a malevolent glare
at Steve. "Said I had piano legs----" There was an audible snicker from
some of the audience--"and I told him to shut up and he made a swipe at
me and I shoved him away. That's all."
"He said I cheated!" raged Steve.
"So you did. You stole Upton's French comp. out of Daley's room and he
found it on your table."
"That's a lie! I don't know how that book got there. Mr. Daley will tell
you----"
"Cut it, Edwards! I saw you carry the book out of the room myself! Now
what do you say?"
"I say you lie! I say----"
"Stop that, Edwards!" Miller turned to Eric. "You've got no right to say
things like that, Eric, and you know it. I don't believe he did anything
of the sort. If he had, Mr. Daley would have had him expelled. Now you
two fellows stop squabbling. You've been at it all the fall. If you
don't, I'll see that you both lose your positions. And that goes!"
"Then tell him to let me alone," replied Eric with a shrug.
"Oh, forget it, Sawyer," exclaimed a voice down the passage. "You're
twice as big as he is. Let the kid alone."
"Sure, I'll let him alone," growled Eric with an angry glare in the
direction of the speaker. "Only he's got to stop getting fresh with me.
I've warned him half-a-dozen times."
"And you'll have to warn me half-a-dozen more times," responded Steve
grimly, "if you think I'm going to stand around and be called names. If
I were as big as you are, you wouldn't dare----"
"That'll be about all from both of you," said Andy Miller. "Now beat it.
If I hear of any more trouble from either of you while the season lasts,
I'll have you both out of the game in a wink. If you've got to row, do
it after we've beaten Claflin. Move on now! Get off the corner, all of
yez!" And Andy good-naturedly pushed the fellows before him down the
passage. Innes released Steve, but stepped between him and Eric.
"Come on, Edwards," he said with a laugh. "Be good and get your clothes
on. Cap will do just what he says he will, too. You take my advice, kid,
and bury the hatchet."
Steve went back to his locker, and with trembling hands dressed himself.
Harry Westcott and Tom joined him and asked in low voices about the
trouble. But Steve was non-communicative. He was wondering how much of
Eric Sawyer's charge the fellows who had heard it were believing.
Finally,
"No swimming to-day?" asked Tom.
Steve shook his head. "No," he answered. "Tell the fellows, will you?
I'm--I'm too tired. I'm sorry."
"It's pretty late, anyway," murmured Harry. Together the three crossed
the room toward the door. Already, as it seemed to Steve, fellows were
regarding him suspiciously. Eric was not in sight, having gone on to his
bath, for which two at least of the trio were thankful. Harry left them
at the corner of Torrence, and Steve and Tom went on in silence to their
room. Somehow it seemed difficult nowadays for them to find things to
talk about. Steve resolutely sat himself down and drew his books toward
him, while Tom, after fidgetting around for a few minutes, announced
that he was going over to the office to see if there was any mail, and
went out again. Steve was glad when he had gone, for he was relieved
then of further pretence of studying. He couldn't get his mind on his
books. The encounter with Eric Sawyer had left him irritable and
restless, and he couldn't help wondering whether the fellows believed
what Eric had said. He was grateful to Andy Miller for the latter's
support, but it was doubtful if Andy's words had convinced anyone. And
the charge was an ugly one. Steve winced when he considered it. It had
seemed to him as he had left the locker room that already the fellows
there had looked at him differently. He could imagine them talking about
him and weighing Eric's story. Further reflections were interrupted by
the reappearance of Tom, an open letter in hand and several newspapers
sticking from a pocket.
"Nothing for you but a couple of papers," he said. "What do you suppose
those silly fathers of ours are doing now?"
"Fighting a duel?" asked Steve with an attempt at humour.
"Not quite," Tom answered, "but they're getting ready for a law-suit."
"What about?"
"I can't make out," replied the other disgustedly, scanning the letter
again. "It's something about some contract for building supplies,
though. Gee, they make me tired! Always squabbling!"
"Who's bringing the suit, your father or mine?" asked Steve.
"Mine," said Tom hesitantly.
"Then I don't see that you need to blame my dad for it," retorted Steve.
"It takes two to make a quarrel, though," answered Tom sagely. "I don't
believe my father would start anything like that unless--unless there
was some reason for it."
"Oh, I suppose my father beat him out on a contract and he got sore,"
said Steve, with a short laugh. Tom looked across in surprise and
puzzlement. The tone was unlike Steve, while never before had they taken
sides in their fathers' disagreements. Tom opened his mouth to reply,
thought better of it and slowly returned the letter to its envelope.
"I guess it'll blow over," he said finally. "I hope so."
Steve shrugged his shoulders. "Let them fight it out," he said. "It may
do them good."
The next day it was soon evident to Steve that Eric Sawyer's story of
the purloined blue-book was school property. Fellows whom he knew but
slightly or not at all observed him doubtfully, others greeted him more
stiffly--or so Steve thought--while even in the manners of such close
friends as Roy and Harry and one or two more he fancied that he could
detect a difference. Much of this was probably only imagination on
Steve's part, but on the other hand there were doubtless many fellows
who for one reason or another chose to believe the story true. Steve was
popular amongst a small circle of acquaintances and well enough liked by
others who knew him only to speak to, but, naturally enough, there were
fellows in school who envied him for his success at football or took
exception to a certain self-sufficient air that Steve was often enough
guilty of. These, together with a small number who owed allegiance to
Eric Sawyer, found the story quite to their liking and doubtless told
and retold it and enlarged upon it at every telling. At all events,
Steve knew that gossip was busy with him. More than once conversation
died suddenly away at his approach, and he told himself bitterly that
the school had judged him and found him guilty. He passed Andy Miller in
the corridor between recitations, and Andy, being in a hurry and having
a good many things on his mind at that moment, said, "Hi, Edwards!" in a
perfunctory sort of way and went by with only a glance. Steve concluded
that even Andy was against him now, in spite of his defence yesterday.
In the afternoon it seemed that there was a difference in the attitudes
of his team-mates on the second, and, so inflamed had his imagination
become by this time, he even imagined he detected a contemptuous tone in
"Boots'" speech to him! The result was that Steve "froze up solid," to
use Roy's phrase, and, secretly hurt and angry, presented a scowling
countenance to the world that was sufficient to discourage those who
wanted and tried to let him see that they didn't believe Eric's story.
When he got back to his room after the swimming lesson that afternoon,
he found Tom nursing a very red and enlarged nose. He had a wet towel in
his hand and was gingerly applying it to the inflamed feature.
"What--where----" began Steve.
"Scrap with Telford," replied Tom briefly.
"What about?" demanded Steve.
"Nothing much."
"Let's see your nose."
Tom removed the towel and Steve viewed it. "He must have given you a
peach," he said critically. "What did you do?"
Tom smiled reminiscently. "Nothing much," he answered.
"Huh! Let's see your knuckles. 'Nothing much,' eh? They look it! Did
faculty get on to it?"
Tom shook his head. "No, it was back of the gym. Just the two of us. It
didn't last long."
"Who got the worst of it?"
"That depends on what you call the worst," answered Tom judicially. "I
got this and he got one like it _and_ a black eye. At least I suppose
it's black by this time. It looked promising."
Steve laughed. Then he said severely: "You ought to know better than
take chances like that, Tom. Suppose faculty got on to it. Besides,
fighting's pretty kiddish for a Fourth Former!"
Tom viewed Steve amusedly over the wet towel. "Coming from you, Steve,
that sounds great!" he said.
"Never mind about me. What I do doesn't affect you. What were you
fighting about?"
Tom looked vacant and shook his head. "I don't know. Nothing special, I
guess."
"Don't be a chump! You didn't black his eye and get that beautiful nose
for nothing, I suppose. What was it?"
"Well, Telford said--he said----"
"You're a wonder!" declared Steve. "Don't you know what he said?"
"I forget. It was something--something I didn't like. So I slapped his
face. That was on the gym steps. He said 'Come on back here.' I said
'All right.' Then we--we had it. Then he said he was wrong about
it--whatever it was, you know--and we sort of apologised and sneaked
off." Tom felt of his nose carefully. "I saw about a million stars when
he landed here!"
"That's the craziest stunt I ever heard of!" said Steve disgustedly.
"And you want to hope hard that no one saw it. If faculty hears of it,
you'll get probation, you chump."
"I know. It won't, though. No one saw us."
"Who's Telford, anyway?" Steve demanded.
"Telford? Oh, he's a Fifth Form fellow."
"What does he look like?"
"Look like?" repeated Tom vaguely. "Oh, he's a couple of inches taller
than I am and has light brown hair and--and a black eye!"
"Is he the fellow who goes around with Eric Sawyer?" demanded Steve
suspiciously. "Wear a brown plaid Norfolk? The fellow who shoved me into
the pool the night we had that fracas with Sawyer?"
"Did he? I don't remember. I didn't see who did that. I--I guess maybe
he's the chap, though. I've seen him with Sawyer, I think."
"What did he say?" asked Steve quietly.
"Who say?"
"Telford."
"When?"
"To-day! When you had the row! For the love of Mike, Tom, don't be a
fool!"
"I don't remember what he said."
"Was it about--me?"
"You? Why would it be about you?" Tom attempted a laugh.
"Was it?" Steve persisted.
Tom shook his head, but his gaze wandered. Steve grunted.
"It was, then," he muttered.
"I didn't say so," protested Tom.
"I say so, though." Steve was silent a moment. Then, "Look here, Tom,
there's no use your fighting every fellow who says things about me," he
said. "If you try that, you'll have your hands full. I--I don't care
what they say, anyway. Just you keep out of it. Understand?"
"Sure," answered the other untroubledly.
"Of course"--Steve hesitated in some embarrassment--"of course I
appreciate your standing up for me and all that, but--but I'll fight my
own battles, thanks, Tom."
"You're welcome," murmured Tom through the folds of the towel. "Keep
the change. I'll fight if I want to, though."
"Not on my account, you won't," said Steve sternly.
Tom grinned. "All right. I'll do it on my own account. Say, I'll bet
Telford's nose is worse than mine, Steve. I gave him a bully swat!"