Tiffany Vergon, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team.
JACK WINTERS' GRIDIRON CHUMS
BY MARK OVERTON
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. GRUELLING FOOTBALL PRACTICE
II. THE BOY WHO WAS IN TROUBLE
III. BIG BOB CONFESSES
IV. A FRIEND IN NEED
V. A MESSAGE FROM MARSHALL
VI. JACK AND JOEL INVESTIGATE
VII. STRANGE FRUIT FOR A TREE TO BEAR
VIII. A CALL FOR HELP
IX. HEADED FOR THE FIELD OF BATTLE
X. WHEN THE GREAT GAME OPENED
XI. THE STRUGGLE ON THE GRIDIRON
XII. GLORY ENOUGH FOR ALL
XIII. WHEN BED FIRE BURNED IN CHESTER
XIV. WHAT FOLLOWED THE CELEBRATION
XV. IN THE BURNING HOUSE
XVI. JACK SPEAKS FOR LITTLE CARL
XVII. THE AFTERMATH OF A GOOD DEED
XVIII. BIG BOB BRINGS NEWS
XIX. LOCKING HORNS WITH HARMONY
XX. THE GREAT VICTORY--CONCLUSION
JACK WINTERS' GRIDIRON CHUMS
CHAPTER I
GRUELLING FOOTBALL PRACTICE
A shrill whistle sounded over the field where almost two dozen
sturdily built boys in their middle 'teens, clad in an astonishing
array of old and new football togs, had been struggling furiously.
Instantly the commotion ceased as if by magic at this intimation from
the coach, who also acted in practice as referee and umpire combined,
that the ball was to be considered "dead."
Some of those who helped to make the pack seemed a bit slow about
relieving the one underneath of their weight, for a half-muffled voice
oozed out of the disintegrating mass:
"Get off my back, some of you fellows, won't you? What d'ye take me
for--a land tortoise?"
Laughing and joking, the remaining ingredients of the pyramid
continued to divorce themselves from the heap that at one time had
appeared to consist principally of innumerable arms and legs.
Last of all a long-legged boy with a lean, but good-natured face, now
streaked with perspiration and dirt, struggled to his feet, and began
to feel his lower extremities sympathetically, as though the terrific
strain had centered mostly upon that particular part of his anatomy.
But under his arm he still held pugnaciously to the pigskin oval ball.
The coach, a rather heavy-set man who limped a little, now came
hurrying up. Joe Hooker had once upon a time been quite a noted
college athlete until an accident put him "out of the running," as he
always explained it.
He worked in one of Chester's big mills, and when a revolution in
outdoor sports swept over the hitherto sleepy manufacturing town, Joe
Hooker gladly consented to assume the congenial task of acting as
coach to the youngsters, being versed in all the intricacies of gilt-
edged baseball and football.
It had been very much owing to his excellent work as a severe drill-
master that Chester, during the season recently passed, had been able
actually to win the deciding game of baseball of the three played
against the hitherto invincible Harmony nine.
Mr. Charles Taft, principal owner of the mill in question, was in full
sympathy with this newly aroused ambition on the part of the Chester
boys to excel in athletic sports. He himself had been a devoted
adherent of all such games while in college, and the fascination had
never entirely died out of his heart. So he saw to it that Joe Hooker
had considerable latitude in the way of afternoons off, in order that
the town boys might profit by his advice and coaching.
"A clever run, that, Joel," he now told the bedraggled boy who had
just been downed, after dragging two of his most determined opponents
several yards. "The ball still belongs to your side. Another yard, my
lad, and you would have made a clean touchdown. A few weeks of hard
practice like this and you boys, unless I miss my guess, ought to be
able to put old Chester on the gridiron map where she belongs. Now
let's go back to the tackle job again, and the dummy. Some of you, I'm
sorry to say, try to hurl yourselves through the air like a catapult,
when the rules of the game say plainly that a tackle is only fair and
square so long as one foot remains in contact with the ground."
So Joe Hooker had been laying down the law to his charges every decent
afternoon, when school was out, for going on two weeks now. He seemed
to feel very much encouraged over the progress made by a number of the
boys.
Already he had weeded out three aspirants for honors on the eleven,
who had shown no genuine aptitude for the exciting game where headwork
and footwork combined go to bring success.
Others feared the coach had his eagle eye fastened on them, being
doubtless conscious-stricken with the knowledge that they were not in
their element. Indeed, it was no unusual thing to hear one of these
boys say to his mates that he hardly knew whether he cared to try for
the squad after all; which admission would serve to let him down
gracefully in case his suspicions were later on confirmed.
But there were others who developed wonderfully under the friendly
instruction of the one-time star player. Among them, besides the tall
chap, Joel Jackman, might be mentioned a number of boys whose
acquaintance the reader of other volumes in this series has already
formed.
There was Jack Winters, looked upon as a leader in all sports, and
late captain of the baseball nine; it seemed to be already taken for
granted that he was bound to be given some position on the gridiron,
for Jack seemed to have a wonderful faculty for getting the best out
of those who played in strenuous games with him.
Jack Winters was really something of a newcomer in Chester, but he had
hardly landed in the old town than something seemed to awaken; for
Jack made up his mind it was a shame that, with so much good material
floating around loose, Chester could not emulate the example of the
neighboring towns of Harmony and Marshall, and do something. There
were those who said Jack's coming was to Chester like the cake of
yeast set in a pan of dough, for things soon began to happen.
Then there was Toby Hopkins, one of Jack's particular chums, a lively
fellow, and a general favorite. Another who bore himself well, and
often elicited a word of praise from the coach, was sturdy Steve
Mullane, also a chum of the Winters boy. Besides these, favorable
mention might also be made of Big Bob Jeffries, who surely would be
chosen to play fullback on account of his tremendous staying
qualities; Fred Badger, the lively third baseman who had helped so
much to win that deciding game from Harmony before a tremendous crowd
of people over in the rival town; and several other boys who may be
recognized as old acquaintances when the time comes to describe their
doings on the gridiron.
It was now well into October.
Already the leaves had begun to turn scarlet and gold on some of the
hedges, and even in the forest, where the boys were beginning to go
for the early nuts. Early in the mornings there was a decided tang to
the air that hinted at frost. Considerable talk was being indulged in
whenever a group of boys came together, concerning the prospects for a
regular old-fashioned winter, and many hopes along this line were
indulged in.
There was a good reason for this, Chester being most favorably
situated to afford her young people a chance to enjoy ice sports when
the bitter weather came along. Right at her door lay beautiful Lake
Constance, several miles across; and the intake at the upper end near
the abandoned logging camp was the crooked and picturesque Paradise
River, where wonderful vistas opened up with each hundred yards, did
any one care to skate up its course for miles.
And with this newly aroused spirit for outdoor sports in the air, also
a splendid gymnasium in the course of building where the boys of
Chester could enjoy themselves stormy days, and many nights, during
the winter, it can be easily understood that a glorious prospect
loomed up before them. Why, over in Harmony they were getting
decidedly envious of the good luck that had befallen Chester; and all
reports agreed that their football squad was working fiercely overtime
with the idea of overwhelming utterly all rivals on the gridiron, once
the Fall sports opened.
By slow degrees, as he saw best, Joe Hooker was leading his charges
along the rugged path; for there is no loyal road to a knowledge of
the intricacies of successful football. Constant practice alone will
make a player act through intuition, since the plays are so lightning-
like that there is never any time to figure out what is to be done;
all that must be considered beforehand, and the player be able to
decide what the most probable scheme of his opponents is likely to be.
After they had again gone through a series of tackles, using the
dangling dummy for the practice, and being shown by old Joe in a
spectacular fashion just what was the proper and lawful method of
interfering with the man who was supposed to be running with the ball,
play was called off for the day.
It was about time, for some of the fellows were panting for breath,
owing to the vigorous way in which they had been working. Besides,
most of them would need a bath before they could be allowed to sit
down at the family table.
"I've been asked by several persons deeply interested in football,"
Joe Hooker remarked, as they gathered around him for a parting word,
some looking anxious, as though they half expected to receive their
dismissal then and there, though it was not Joe's way to "rub" it into
any one, "what chance we had to meet Harmony with a team that would be
a credit to Chester. To all such I give the same answer. There is no
reason to despair. We have plenty of promising material, though it
will need constant whipping to get it in shape between now and the
first game with Marshall. That will be a test. If we down those
fighters we can hope to meet Harmony on something like even terms.
Tomorrow I shall have to drop out several boys who, I'm sorry to say,
do not show the proper qualifications for the rough game; but I want
them to understand that we appreciate their offering their services,
and we need their backing all the time. Our motto must be 'Everything
for Chester!' Now get away with you, and if the day is half-way
decent, meet me here tomorrow, prepared to strive harder than ever to
hustle for victory."
And with that the boys commenced to start homeward.