THE HATE OF A RIVAL
The day following was one of intense, almost complicated routine.
There were books and supplies to be drawn for the new academic year.
There were uniforms and other articles of apparel to be drawn. The
sections were detailed and section marchers to be appointed. There were
details of military organization to be announced. Some of the young men
had to go up for physical examination, even if only of the eyes.
At the afternoon recreation hour Hepson led the big football squad out to
the field. Hundreds of midshsipmen went there to see how the Navy would
show up in the vitally important tests. At the outset Hepson was
everywhere, like a buzzing, excitable wasp. Nor did he prove to be minus
a sting at times.
"I think, sir," suggested Hepson, going over to Lieutenant-Commander
Havens, the head coach, "that it would be well for us to know something
about the running speed of every candidate."
"Very good, Mr. Hepson; try out any man that you're curious about,"
replied the officer.
"Darrin, Dalzell, Page, Farley, White, Bryant," called the captain of
the Navy team. "Each of you pick up a ball. Line up at this goal-line,
Joyce, will you take a stop-watch and go over to the other goal-line?
Adams, go along and assist Joyce. I want a record of the time it takes
each man to cover the distance, running as fast as he can with the ball."
The men designated took their places.
"I'll run you first, Darrin," announced the captain. "Go like a streak,
if you can. If you fall down it counts zero. Start when I say 'go.' Are
you ready?"
"Quite ready."
"Go!"
At the word Dave sped away like a shot, Hepson giving a hand signal as he
uttered the starting word, that the time-keeper at the other end might
know when to release the watch. Dave's time was noted. Then Dan took a
try, covering the distance in only two fifths of a second more time than
Darrin had required. Farley was a second and three fifths behind Darrin's
time; Page, a full two seconds behind. White and Bryant then ran, but
only succeeded in about tying Page's work.
Then six more men were called to the line and tried out. After that a
third squad. By this time Midshipman Hepson had his mind about made up
as to the relative speeds of some of the most likely men for the final
Navy team.
"Get out for some kicks, now!" called Hepson.
"When are you going to play football?" growled one man.
Midshipman Hepson turned on him like a flash.
"Jetson, there's a substitute captain in the squad, but you're not the
man. Neither are you one of the coaches."
"Oh, you make me--" began Jetson, but Midshipman Hepson cut him
short with:
"If you can't keep silence when you've nothing to say, your absence from
the field will be considered a favor to the whole squad."
Jetson scowled, but said nothing more. Neither did he offer to retire
from the field.
"Jetson has always been a kicker and a trouble mosquito," whispered Dan
Dalzell to his chum.
"Oh, in a lot of ways Jetson is a nice fellow," Darrin replied quietly.
"The greatest trouble that ails him is that he has just a trifle too
large opinion of the importance of his own opinions. There are a lot of
us troubled in that way."
The kicking practice was put through with dash and vim. Then Midshipman
Hepson, after a brief conference with the head coach, called off the
line-up for the provisional Navy team, following this with a roster of
the second team, or "Rustlers," so called because they force the men of
the Navy team to rustle to keep their places.
Dave Darrin was called off for left tackle, Dan for left end. Farley and
Page held the corresponding positions on the right end of the line-up.
"Begin the game, the Rustlers to have the ball," called
Lieutenant-Commander Havens.
"And mix it up lively, Navy," called Hepson, who, both on account of his
size and other qualifications, played center.
At the whistle-blast the Rustlers kicked it off--a beautiful,
long, arching curve. The ball came to quarter-back, who passed it
to Dave Darrin.
Then the fun began.
The Navy line hit the Rustlers hard and tried to bump through. Dan
Dalzell devoted every ounce of his strength and every turn of his energy
to boosting Darrin through--and Dave himself was not idle. There was an
instant of sullen, hard resistance. Then, somehow, Dave was shot through
the opposing line. Like a deer he sped, Dan hanging to his flanks. It was
up to the Rustlers' halfback now, and that bulky young midshipman leaped
to the fray, cleverly barring the way.
At least, the Rustlers' halfback thought he had Darrin blocked. It is
never wise to take too much for granted.
As the halfback planted himself for the grapple, Dave suddenly dropped
through that opponent's grip and went to the ground.
As though he had been shot through, Dave Darrin went under and past, on
one side, between the halfback's legs. He was up again, with Dan at his
back. Fullback came at them, but Dan bumped that player aside. Dave
dashed on across the line, scoring a touchdown.
Never had the gridiron been the scene of greater excitement than in that
rousing moment.
"Darrin! Darrin! Darrin!" came hoarsely; from hundreds of throats.
"Dalzell! Dalzell!" came the next gusty roar.
Hepson wiped a moist brow with one hand.
"There are two real players, if they can keep that up," muttered the
captain of the eleven.
Jetson had been the tackle opposed to Dave. Just now Jetson was nursing a
bump to his vanity.
"How on earth did I ever happen to let Darrin through?" Jetson demanded
of himself. "I won't do it again, anyway. If I can only make Darrin look
small, I may get his place on the Navy eleven. Darrin is a good fellow,
but I've got to make the team, confound him!"
The kick for goal failed. Then the Navy took the ball and promptly
enough the Rustlers came back with it, Jetson carrying.
Dave and Dan met the ball-carrier. The Rustlers' support failed, and
Jetson went down with the ball. Nor could the second team advance the
ball, so it presently came to the Navy men again.
"I want you to put it through again like a cannon-ball, Darrin,"
Midshipman Hepson whispered as they passed.
So the quarter-backs called for a repetition of the play, giving
different signals.
Dave received the ball with a rush of his old-time fervor and confidence.
Dan started behind him as full of fire as ever.
In a fraction of a second the impact of the two opposing lines came.
Jetson went down, one of his legs flying between Darrin's in such a way
as to constitute a foul.
Dave Darrin went down on top of the ball. Half a dozen players sprawled
over him. The referee's whistle blew.
"Jetson, that was a mean, deliberate trip," remarked Darrin, as he sprang
to his feet. He spoke coolly, with a warning flash in his eyes.
"Not on my part," retorted Jetson.
"You thrust your leg between mine as you went down."
Coach signed to referee not to renew the game for the moment. Then
Lieutenant-Commander Havens and the two team captains crowded close.
"I didn't do it deliberately, as you charged," retorted Jetson, hot
with anger.
"You deny it?" insisted Dave.
"I do."
"On your word as a gentleman you did not intend, a foul trip?" demanded
Midshipman Darrin.
"I have already answered you."
"Answer me on your word as a gentleman."
"I don't have to."
"Very good, then," retorted Dave, turning away with a meaning smile.
"Hold on. I pledge you my word as a gentleman that I did not intend
to make a foul trip," said Jetson, swiftly realizing the error of
his refusal.
In the meantime Lieutenant-Commander Havens had turned to Motley, of the
first class, who was serving as referee.
"Mr. Motley," demanded coach, "did you see just what happened?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you call it a foul trip?"
"I do, sir. If I were referee in a regular game, I would penalize the
team and order the player from the field."
"Mr. Jetson--" began the coach, but, swift as a flash Dave Darrin
interposed, though respectfully, saluting at the same time.
"Will you pardon me, sir. Mr. Jetson has given me his word that he did
not intend a foul trip. I accept his word without reservation."
"Very good, then," nodded coach. "But Mr. Jetson, you will do well to be
careful in the future, and avoid even the appearance of evil."
"Yes, sir; very good, sir," answered Jetson, looking decidedly sheepish.
In giving his word Jetson had told the truth, or had intended to. The
exact truth was that he really did not realize what he had done until it
was too late to avoid the foul. He had meant to stop Darrin, somehow.
"Pull that scrimmage off again," directed Coach Havens dryly.
The ball was placed, the whistle sounded, and again Dave received the
ball and tried to break through. With the Rustlers prepared for the move,
it was blocked and the ball was "down."
Jetson felt his face burning. He knew, well enough, that many of the
players regarded him with suspicion.
"I suppose that suspicion will stick, and my chances of making the Navy
eleven are now scantier than ever," muttered the unfortunate midshipman
to himself.
The whistle blew before any further advantage had been gained. Coach
and Midshipman Hepson had gained considerable insight into the work
of the team.
"Mr. Hepson," said coach aside, in the interval that followed, "you have
done well, I think, to place two such men as Darrin and Dalzell on the
provisional team."
"I am glad you think so, sir," replied the Navy football captain, "for
that is the way it strikes me."
"If you keep them at the left flank you'll have something like dynamite
there," smiled coach. "Mr. Darrin goes through like a cannon-ball, and
Dalzell is always just where Darrin needs him."
"These men have played together before, and they're used to team work,
sir," said Midshipman Hepson.
"So? Where did they play before coming to Annapolis?"
"On what was, in their day, one of the best High School eleven's
going, sir."
"Oho! Do you know, Mr. Hepson, they play more like college men than
anything else. It must have been a bully High School team that
graduated them."
"From the little that I've heard, sir, that High School team was a
great one."
Coach and captain walked back to the scene.
"You will now play another ten-minute period," directed Mr. Havens.
"Jetson will withdraw from the second eleven during the next period and
Doyle will take his place."
"So that's what coach and team captain were hatching up?" thought
Midshipman Jetson. "That gives me a black eye, and my chances of making
the Navy eleven are now worse than ever. Probably I won't even make sub."
As Navy and Rustlers again collided in the fray, Jetson watched Dave's
work narrowly, furiously.
"Darrin always was a smooth one," Jetson declared angrily to himself.
"And now, just because he raised a 'holler', my football prospects are
set back for this year. Probably I can't make the eleven next year,
either. And it's all Darrin's fault!"
In forming the second half the coach called:
"Mr. Jetson will resume his place as right tackle on the second eleven."
"Jetson's not here, sir," called a midshipman.
"Where is he?" asked Coach Havens.
"I think he went off the field, sir, to un-tog."
"He should not have left the field without permission," remarked the
coach coldly.
Jetson heard of the remark that evening, and his anger against Dave
Darrin increased.