ALTON SQUEEZES THROUGH
Instead of going on to Haylow, Willard entered Lykes and knocked at
the door of Number 2. As he had suspected, Martin was there. So were
Bob and Joe and Don Harris, Joe’s roommate. Don was only seventeen,
although his size made him look older, and, like Joe, was a senior. His
full name was Donald, but no one ever called him that. He played first
base on the school nine and played it well.
Willard had to hear about the expedition to the new railway bridge and
how Stacey and Bob had walked out to the end of the highest girder and
then had had to sit down before they dared turn around!
“That’s all right,” Don expostulated in reply to the laughter. “That
girder was only a foot wide when I started out on it and by the time I
was at the end it had shrunk to about half an inch! And when I looked
down the river was so far away I could just see it! Gosh, I thought
for a minute I’d have to stay there until they’d finished the bridge
so I could keep on across it!”
“I wanted to come back on my hands and knees,” confessed Bob, “and
I’d have done it if I’d been alone! No more circus stunts for little
Robert!”
“What were you doing all the afternoon?” asked Martin presently of
Willard, and Willard told of his meeting with McNatt. The incident of
the diving-rod amused them all hugely.
“That’s McNutt all over,” laughed Joe. “A couple of years ago someone
found him over on that hill beyond Badger’s farm digging a hole. He
said he was looking for fossil remains. Said the hill looked to him
like a glacial--glacial whatyoucallit--”
“Moraine,” supplied Bob.
“Yes, moraine. He dug a place big enough for a cellar, I heard, but he
never found anything but rocks. He’s a wonder, is Felix McNatt!”
“Is his name really Felix?” asked Martin.
“Sure! And he’s got a middle name that’s worse, only I’ve forgotten it.”
“Felix Adelbert,” said Don: “Felix Adelbert McNutt--I mean McNatt!”
“McNutt’s better,” laughed Bob. “It suits him perfectly. Remember the
time--last spring, wasn’t it?--when he was raising toads and one of
them got into bed with the chap who rooms with him--”
“Rooms with the toad?” asked Martin incredulously.
“No, with McNutt, you jay! What’s his name, Joe?”
“McNutt’s?” asked Joe, with a wink at Martin.
“Oh, you make me tired! Fuller, that’s the chap! Fuller crawled into
bed one night and found a toad there ahead of him and told the hall
master the next day. He said he didn’t mind having toads hopping around
the room, but that having to share his bed with them was almost too
much. And faculty agreed with him and McNutt had to get rid of his
toads.”
“What the dickens did he want with the things, anyway?” asked Don in
disgust. “I wouldn’t touch one for anything!”
“Oh, toads are all right,” answered Joe. “Quite harmless and friendly.
McNutt was raising them, it seemed. He’d read somewhere that an
able-bodied toad would eat seven million, three hundred and eighty
thousand, nine hundred and thirty-three bugs a year. I’m not absolutely
certain of the exact number, but it was something like that. Anyway,
McNutt figured that if he could raise a few hundred toads he could
sell them to farmers and get rich. He said he was trying to develop an
improved strain of toads that would be particularly--er--insectivorous:
I believe that’s the word.”
“In justice to the gentleman,” said Bob, “it should be stated that it
was the--the scientific interest of the thing rather than the pecuniary
reward that attracted him. Science is McNutt’s long suit!”
“I think Fuller, or whatever his name is, was most unreasonable,”
laughed Don. “Why, the world might be rid of insects by this time if he
hadn’t been so cranky! Do toads eat mosquitoes, Joe?”
“I guess so. I know they eat flies, anyway. I saw one do it once.
He stopped about a yard away and the fly didn’t even know he was
about. Then--_zip_--out went Mr. Toad’s tongue, like you uncoiled the
mainspring of a watch, and the fly was gone!”
“Flew away, probably,” suggested Martin.
“He did not, son! He was in Mr. Toad’s tummy.”
“You say the toad was a yard distant from the fly when the--when the
shot was fired?” asked Don.
“Well, maybe a couple of feet,” Joe compromised. “It was a long way.”
“Take off another eighteen inches,” begged Bob earnestly. “I want to
believe you, Joseph but two feet--” He shook his head sadly.
“Go to the dickens! It was two feet if it was an inch. Anyone will tell
you that a toad’s tongue is remarkably long.”
“Nobody has to tell me, after that yarn,” replied Bob gravely. “All I’m
wondering now is where the toad keeps his tongue when he’s not using
it!”
“I told you he coils it up,” laughed Joe, “like a watch spring.”
“It’s a mighty good thing toads can’t talk,” observed Willard. “With a
tongue like that, they’d never stop! McNatt asked me to come and see
him. He said he had a fine collection of minerals in his room.”
“Minerals? Boy, he’s got enough rocks there to build a house! And bird
nests and butterflies and beetles and--and things in jars that make
you shudder to look at ’em!” Joe shuddered merely at the memory. “He’s
always trying to hatch out moths and things in cigar boxes. Once he had
some silk-worms, I remember. Mr. Screven got him to bring them to class
one day. Funny things, they were. They didn’t live very long, because
McNutt couldn’t get the right sort of leaves for them to eat. They
should have had mulberry leaves, I think, and he thought some other
sort ought to do just as well, and the worms got mad and went on a
hunger strike! Fuller told me once that the room is so full of rubbish
that he can’t turn around. Said he was forever finding a family of
white mice or striped lizards tucked away in one of his bureau drawers
and that he always had to look before he sat down for fear of sitting
on something he shouldn’t!”
When the laughter had subsided Willard told of McNatt’s theory
regarding scientific football. He found that, as he told it, it
didn’t sound as plausible as it had when McNatt explained it, but it
certainly aroused amusement. Joe drew a picture of Gil Tarver pulling
out a memorandum book and looking up the right play. “Because, you
see, not even Gil could ever remember two hundred--was it two hundred,
Brand?--three hundred plays. Probably they’d make a rule that a
quarter-back must find his plays unassisted and must not consume more
than three minutes looking them up! Gil would have a pocket built on
his jacket to keep the book in, I suppose.”
“Gosh, suppose it dropped out!” exclaimed Don. “Would he be allowed
time-out to look for it?”
“Probably a center would be picked for his light-finger ability,”
suggested Bob. “It would be part of his stunt to reach through or
around the opposing center and steal the quarter-back’s memorandum
book, thus placing the enemy _hors de combat_!”
“Come on, Brand,” begged Martin. “This is getting wild.”
“Did McNatt ever play football?” asked Don.
“I think so,” Joe answered. “Yes, I know he did. He was out for the
team the first year I was here. You remember him, Bob?”
Bob shook his head. “No, but I’ve heard that he did play.”
“Yes, and I think he played the year before that. Something happened to
him, though, my freshman year. I guess he had an accident or got sick.
I know he wasn’t around long. Seems to me he was trying for half-back.
He’s not a bad old scout, Felix Adelbert. Only trouble is, I guess, his
brains are sort of scrambled.”
“Addled, maybe,” suggested Martin. “Addle-bert McNutt. Come on, Brand,
I’m getting it too!”
“I think I’ll accept his invitation some day,” said Willard, as they
crossed to Haylow. “I’d like to see that room of his!”
The occasion didn’t present itself that week, however, for Willard
found that life on the football gridiron had suddenly become both
real and earnest. Although Coach Cade had four good half-backs at his
command, Willard was not overlooked. But Friday he was on an equal
footing with Mawson and Moncks, to all appearances, and was certainly
in line for first substitute. He didn’t want anything serious or
painful to happen to either of those excellent chaps, but he couldn’t
help reflecting sometimes that if one or the other was to develop
something mild, like whooping cough or German measles, he could bear
it with equanimity! Failing the likelihood of anything of the kind
happening, however, he set himself earnestly to outdo those rivals in
practice. After all, while Mawson was rather a better punter and Moncks
was shiftier in a broken field, neither was unbeatable, and Willard
kept that fact resolutely in mind and worked hard.
Banning High School came on Saturday and put up a very pretty game
against the Gray-and-Gold. In fact, Banning sprang several surprises
on the home team, and for a time, during the first of the contest,
it looked as though Alton was in for a defeat. Banning was light
but fast, and instead of relying on a forward-passing game as she
was expected to rely, she met Alton’s own tactics and, from a close,
three-abreast formation, shot her backs through the opposing line with
discouraging ease. Any place outside guards pleased her, and Alton saw
her tackles and ends completely outplayed during the first two periods.
Banning’s speed was the secret of her success, and the Gray-and-Gold,
heavier and slower, seldom stopped the plays until they were well
through her line.
Banning scored first when, near the end of the second quarter, she
recovered a short kick on Alton’s forty-six and plunged and knifed
her way down to the thirty-one. Fast, snappy playing took the ball
there in just seven downs. Mr. Cade ran in a substitute left end and
a substitute left tackle then, and Banning slowed up. But she reached
the twenty-five-yard line before she was halted. There, it being fourth
down, with four to go, she made elaborate preparations for a placement
kick. Naturally enough, while guarding against a fake, Alton expected
a kick, and team and spectators were alike surprised when, the ball
having flown back to quarter and the kicker having swung his long leg,
there followed a long side-pass from the quarter to an end, just as
Alton charged! It looked to those on the sidelines as if the pigskin
went between the legs of the Alton end and tackle as they swept around,
but probably it didn’t. In any event, the waiting Banning end caught it
neatly and had covered ten yards of the intervening thirty before he
was challenged. He shot around the Alton left half and was only brought
down when Gil Tarver tackled on the eight yards.
The line-up was squarely on the five, and although the Gray-and-Gold
fought desperately there, it took the enemy just three plays to put the
ball over. A plunge at the center, with the whole Banning backfield
behind the quarter, who carried, yielded most of two yards. Then the
full-back ripped around left tackle for as much more, and, on third
down, with the other backs running to the right, that troublesome
Banning quarter shot through between guard and tackle on the left and
put the pigskin just over the last white streak!
The half ended with the score 6--0 in the visitor’s favor, and the home
team came in for a “panning” from the stands that, deserved or not, was
decidedly enthusiastic. However, the team was not suffering for lack
of criticism just then, even if it couldn’t hear what the spectators
were saying. Coach Cade, although mild-mannered, had a fair command of
language and could use it when needs be, and the players listened to
some home truths during the half-time.
When the team came back to the field it was noted that Moncks had
replaced Cochran at right half, Hutchins had taken Tarver’s place at
quarter and a third-string fellow was playing left tackle. Perhaps,
though, it was the talk they had listened to rather than the change
in the line-up that produced results, for certainly “Hutch” played no
better game behind center than Gil had, and the new tackle was far too
green to be of much use. That as may be, Alton showed speed from the
start and Banning’s backs were stopped at the line instead of beyond
it. Also, the Gray-and-Gold took the offensive when the third quarter
was a few minutes along and kept it throughout the rest of the game,
with the result that the score was tied in the third period, when
Moncks got away for a thirty-yard run and a touchdown, and untied
at the beginning of the last quarter, when Alton hammered her way
from well within her own territory to Banning’s eight yards and then
tossed the ball over to Macon between the goal posts. Oddly enough,
when Lake kicked an easy goal after the second touchdown, the score
became 13--6, which was the score of last week’s contest, and 13--6 it
remained. Martin said he guessed thirteen-six was a habit, but when Mt.
Millard School got through with Alton, seven days later, he changed his
mind!