HEADED FOR THE FIELD OF BATTLE
Big Bob was already looking better, after what had passed between
Jack and himself. Although time counted with the captain of the
Chester eleven just then, as he had a number of things he wished to do
before noon, he felt that he could well afford to stand by Bob a
little longer, and get him to feeling more cheerful.
Football games often depend on small things that might seem trifles to
those who do not know that the condition of mind as well as of body,
on the part of every member of the squad, has much to do with ultimate
success or failure. Therefore, as it might turn out that victory would
depend on some play on the part of the fullback, Jack was earnestly
desirous of arousing all the ambition he could in Bob's heart.
"Now, see here, Big Bob," he went on to say, as they sauntered along,
Jack occasionally waving a hand affably to some boy who called out to
him across the street, "I wouldn't think any more than I could help
about your father's actions. Because of your guilty conscience you can
see only suspicion in his watching you so closely, but I'm able to
view it from a different angle." "Tell me what you mean, please,
Jack?"
"It strikes me this way," the other complied. "Your father has just
begun to realize how much you and the other children mean to him. I
think he has had his eyes opened to this in some way, and that in the
future you'll find him changed. Then it would be only natural for your
mother to confide her fears concerning your health to her husband.
That accounts for his watching you when he thinks you're not noticing.
He wonders if you are really sick, and won't own up to it for some
foolish reason. I wouldn't be surprised if he gets you to drop in and
see the doctor, so as to be examined all over. Why, they may even be
giving you a _tonic_, Bob, to try and fetch back that lost appetite of
yours."
"Do you think so, Jack?" said the other, with a grim smile flickering
about his mouth. "Well, I know the very best tonic that could come to
me, which would be the news that the letter he wrote had reached its
destination abroad. Oh! if only I could learn that, I'd feel like
flying, my heart would be so light. And play, why, Jack, if such
glorious news came to me right now I'd wake up those Marshall boys
this afternoon, believe me. They'd think a _cyclone_ had struck
the line when I butted up against it. I'd tear everything to pieces,
and the whole gang couldn't stop me; for all the world would be bright
again, the birds singing, and best of all, I could once more look my
father straight in the eye."
"I wish that sort of thing would happen, that's all, Bob," laughed
Jack, partly to conceal the fact that he was pretty much shaken up
himself by the way Big Bob expressed his state of feelings. "But even
if you don't get word about the letter, I'm confident that your
position will be well looked after this afternoon."
"You can depend on me, Jack," said the other, simply, for Bob was not
given to boasting.
"There is nothing more you want to say to me, is there?" asked Jack,
for they had by now arrived in front of his gate.
"I guess not," answered Bob, making a dive for the right hand of his
comrade, which happened to be free of bundles, and which he squeezed
most heartily. "Thank you a thousand times for giving me so much fresh
hope, Jack. I'm going to try once more to believe that the whole nasty
business will come out right. See you when we start across for
Marshall this afternoon. I've laid out not to eat more than half a
ration this noon, because I want to be in fighting trim."
So they parted, with a wave of the hand; and at least Big Bob did have
a more contented look on his face than when he first called out to
Jack across the main street of Chester, to ask for a little of his
time.
Of course there was no attempt made to restrain the members of the
team from eating any reasonable amount of food. They did not go in
training for days and weeks before a gridiron battle, as is done in
all colleges, their diet restricted to certain lines of food best
calculated to add to their vigor, without making them loggy. But Joe
Hooker had impressed it on their minds that it would be well for them
to avoid certain things that might upset their stomachs; and all had
bound themselves not to attend any parties, or stay out of bed later
than ten o'clock on any night.
Small things like this often have a tremendous influence in deciding a
fiercely contested battle on the gridiron. If one man has been
indulging in too rich food, so that his digestion is impaired in the
least, he has weakened his system; and in case the crisis of the fight
chances to fall upon his shoulders, he will possibly be unable to bear
the strain as he might had he been in perfect physical shape.
So far as he knew, every fellow was in the pink of condition, Jack was
telling himself as lie worked at something up in his den that morning.
He had been chiefly concerned about Big Bob; but this last little
interview with the fullback gave him renewed confidence. The mere fact
that his father had at last mustered up enough interest in boys'
sports to promise to attend the game at Marshall that afternoon had in
itself inspired Bob to determine to do his family credit, if it came
to him to have an active part in the offense, or rather the defense;
for that was where his duty generally came in.
"We've got all the show we deserve," Jack told himself, after viewing
the situation from every possible angle. "Joe Hooker has taught us all
he knows about the game, and he says we are going to do his coaching
credit. That means he believes Chester has a fair chance to win. And
if every fellow is as determined to crush Marshall under as Big Bob
seems, we'll do the trick, that's sure."
Of course Chester labored under a big handicap, in that they knew so
little concerning the playing abilities of their opponents. Most of
the boys had, of course, attended previous meetings between Harmony
and Marshall, since there was so little interest shown in Chester for
any sports. They had seen those young gladiators from the rival towns
lock horns, and struggle excitedly for supremacy upon the flat
gridiron marked stretch of ground, cheering for one or the other side
without prejudice, as their fancy chanced to dictate; but that was not
like feeling the brunt of a rush, or trying to outgeneral a swiftly
running player with the ball, heading for a touchdown. Actual
hostilities alone could give them the confidence in themselves which
they needed.
"But," Jack went on to assure himself, "after the first period we'll
all be on our tiptoes, and ready to show them what we can do. By then
we'll have a good grasp on their style of mass play, and what old Joe
has taught us will turn to our advantage. However, it's up in the air
still, and as much our game as Marshall's. The only thing I know is
that we expect to fight with every ounce of strength we've got in us,
and never give up till the last whistle blows. No one could ask for
more; no boy do more. And I do firmly believe we'll come back home
tonight crazy with joy over our first scalp."
Later on, having eaten a light lunch, Jack set out for the rendezvous,
clad in his now well-worn suit. Rough usage soon takes the edge off a
new set of football togs, for much of the work is done upon the
ground. Whether grass stains or dirt marks, it does not matter. Like a
sensitive hunter who proceeds to soil a new suit of khaki garments
which he has been compelled to buy, lest some one take him for a
novice in the shooting line, so those who play football take the
keenest pride in their most disreputable clothes. Every stain stands
for a possible struggle on the field that may have spelled a crowning
event for the participant. So they come to look upon these marks as
those of distinction, just as a soldier would the medal he so proudly
wears upon his breast.
The boys were gathering when Jack reached the scene, although it would
be more than a good hour before the start was to be made. Some of them
looked a shade anxious, he was sorry to notice, though really that was
to be expected. Jack made it his duty to try to banish this feeling as
far as possible, and to imbue everyone with some of the same
confidence that was filling his own heart.
As usual, his influence soon began to make itself felt. There were
Steve and Toby also who hastened to back him up, realizing what a
factor toward success this feeling of firm reliance on their ability
to fight their own battles would be certain to prove.
It was not long before a tremendous crowd had gathered. Boys who
expected later on to go over to Marshall stopped to take a last look
at the eleven, and figure out the "dope" as to whether they looked
like winners or "quitters." And in nearly every instance they went
away firmly convinced that Jack's team would give Chester no reason to
be ashamed. It seemed to be in the air that great things were about to
happen for the old town, so newly awakened. Perhaps the pleasing
memory of how Jack Winters had led his nine to victory against both
Marshall and Harmony during the late baseball season still lingered in
their minds, to inspire fresh confidence.
"Well," Doc Speaker remarked, as he sat in a car with his folks, and
surveyed the struggling throng gathered to wish the boys the best of
luck, "one thing certain, Sis, if anybody can bring Marshall's scalp
home tonight it's Jack Winters. No one seems to just know how it
comes, but there's a certain magnetism about that fellow that goes
clean through the bunch. You know leaders like Napoleon and our own
Teddy Roosevelt are born, not made. Jack is built on that plan. Other
fellows who have made up their minds to dislike him, as I did at
first, soon come under the magic spell of his nature, and end by
believing he can do almost anything he tries. And so we are all firm
in the belief he'll carry his team to a glorious victory that'll cause
those Harmony chaps to sit up and take notice, because of course every
last one of them will be on deck today, to pick up points about our
style of play, and see if our line shows any yellow spot."
When finally the big carryall, run by a motor, started off, headed
down with the eleven players, Joe Hooker, and the numerous
substitutes, it did seem as though the town were deserted. Several of
the mills had even closed for the day in order to give their hands an
opportunity to go across and help cheer for Chester.
The road all the way to Marshall, distant something like ten miles,
was filled with all manner of vehicles from a farm wagon and an old-
time buggy to the latest thing in seven-passenger cars. And had a
stranger chanced to come upon that road he must have wondered what all
the travel meant, possibly concluding that some late circus had come
to a neighboring town, or else Billy Sunday was holding forth there to
immense audiences.
The nearer they drew to Marshall the greater the congestion became.
Other roads leading into the town were likewise thronged with
pedestrians, and every manner of vehicles. Such a tremendous
outpouring of the people, and not young folks alone, either, had never
been known before. Seeing such mobs the Chester boys could not help
feeling that they must acquit themselves with credit that day or be
forever disgraced.
In this grim frame of mind they finally reached the field where the
battle of the young gladiators was scheduled to take place, to see a
sight that would thrill anyone capable of being moved by such a
spectacle.