THE BONE OF CONTENTION.
For a few moments the boys looked at one another in silence, their
faces expressive of dismay. To a fellow, they understood what it meant,
and presently some of them glanced toward Ben Stone. He likewise knew,
and, rising, he stepped forward to meet the captain of the eleven.
“Eliot,” he said in a low tone, “I think I’d better get out. I’m making
a lot of trouble.”
Before them all Roger placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Stone,” he
retorted, “the trouble is not of your making. I invited you to come out
for practice, and I hope you won’t go back on me now.”
As long as he put it that way, it was impossible for Ben to quit.
Minus Hayden, the boys repaired to the field. They lacked their usual
exuberance, however, and Ben detected some of them speaking together in
low tones. In spite of everything, he felt that he was an intruder, and
his self-consciousness made him particularly awkward and slow about the
work he was given to perform. He fumbled punts, he fell on the ball in
wretched form, and there seemed to be leaden weights in his shoes.
Occasionally he detected some of the boys watching him in anything but
a manner of approval.
Finally Eliot made up the team, filling Hayden’s place in the backfield
with a substitute and placing Stone at left guard.
“You’re good and solid,” smiled Roger, “and when you wake up you ought
to strengthen this wing of the line. Remember to start low and quick at
the signal.”
But although the signals, which were very simple, had been fully
explained to Ben, he could not grasp them quickly, and he was more or
less confused when the time came to act. Roger, however, seemed to
consider this very natural, and laughed at him in a good humored way.
“You’ll get onto it all right in time,” declared the captain. “Perhaps
this code of signals won’t be used at all after we get our coach. I’m
just trying the fellows out to get them used to the formations.”
“My deduction is—” began Piper; but no one listened to him.
Practice over, Ben returned to the gymnasium to change his clothes,
feeling far from pleased with himself. His discomfiture was increased
when he heard Berlin Barker telling some of the boys that he considered
it a great misfortune that Hayden should become huffed and leave the
team.
“I don’t know how we’re going to get along without him in the
backfield,” said Barker. “He’s fast, and he knows the game right down
to the ground. His place can’t be filled.”
“Oh, he’ll get over it,” prophesied Cooper cheerfully. “He will come
round in a day or two.”
“You don’t know him,” returned Berlin. “He’ll never change his mind.”
Ben sat alone in his room, thinking it all over. He felt that Barker
was right in believing that as long as he remained on the team Bern
Hayden would not return to it. That Hayden was a good player and a
valuable man he had no doubt. What did it matter whether he himself
played football or not? True, he would have enjoyed doing so, but, to a
certain extent, he had triumphed over the fellow who had tried to drive
him out of school, and might it not be best if that satisfied him?
Discord on the team was a serious misfortune, and only for Eliot’s
persistence he would have taken himself away already.
“Roger is a fine fellow,” he whispered. “He’s a friend worth having.
Still, in order to show his friendliness toward me, he should not
produce disruption on the eleven. For the good of the school I must
withdraw.”
He went out for a walk in the open air. Passing the post office, he saw
in the light which shone from the open door Berlin Barker and Bernard
Hayden talking together.
“Barker stands by Hayden,” he muttered, “and I suppose there are
others.”
He did not sleep well that night; he was disturbed by dreams, in which
he lived over again that desperate struggle with his malignant
enemy—the struggle that had brought upon him the great trouble of his
life.
Saturday morning Ben sought Roger Eliot at the latter’s home and was
given a hearty welcome. Roger invited him in, but the visitor preferred
not to enter, and they went into the garage, where Urian Eliot kept his
big touring car.
“She’s a beaut, Ben,” said Roger, admiring the polished, glittering
automobile; “but father is queer and won’t let me drive it. He had to
discharge our chauffeur; the man drank. It’s a shame for the car to be
hung up just now, with the roads in elegant condition. I can drive a
car as well as any one, but I have to consider my father’s whims. If we
get hold of another chauffeur before the season is over, I’ll take you
out for a ride that you’ll enjoy.”
Ben flushed; there was no halfway business about Roger, who had taken
his stand and was ready to let every one know that he regarded Stone as
a worthy friend. Ben had never set foot in an automobile, and the
promise of a ride in Mr. Eliot’s fine car gave him a thrill.
“Thank you,” he said; “I know I shall enjoy it.”
He found it difficult to introduce the topic which had led him there,
but presently he succeeded, and Roger listened calmly to his argument.
“Stone,” said the captain of the eleven, “you’re not looking at this
matter from the proper angle. I’ve told Hayden what I think of a fellow
who would allow personal prejudice to lead him into deserting his team.
Hayden wants to be captain next year, and he will be if he stands by
the team. Otherwise, some one else will be elected. He’ll think this
over when he cools down, and I prophesy that he will come back. It
would be a mistake for you to quit now, for it would weaken my
authority. Why, Hayden would be the man who was running the team, not
I. I want you out for practice this afternoon. By Monday, perhaps, Bern
will come to his senses.”
Roger was indeed a grim and determined fellow, and Ben was finally
compelled to yield to his judgment.
That afternoon, however, Barker, as well as Hayden, failed to come out
for practice. This made it necessary to use two substitute half-backs,
in neither of whom the boys had any confidence whatever. On the whole
the practice was of the most unsatisfactory sort, and, if possible,
Stone appeared at greater disadvantage than ever, something caused
almost wholly by his knowledge that he was a “bone of contention” and
his firm belief that the majority of the boys were greatly displeased
by the trouble he had caused.
On his way home he was in a downcast mood when Spotty Davis overtook
him. Spotty had suddenly betrayed an unwelcome inclination to extreme
friendliness.
“Oh, cheer up,” he said. “You ain’t to blame. Of course Hayden’s pretty
sore, but Roger is bound to have his way, and he won’t give in to
anybody.”
“That’s it,” said Ben; “I feel like an intruder. I feel that I’m doing
positive harm to the team. Why didn’t Barker come out?”
“Oh, he’s one of Bern’s friends, and I guess he’s going to stand by
him. It will be pretty hard luck to lose ’em both. I dunno how Roger’s
ever going to fill their places.”
“I’m breaking up the team,” muttered Ben. “I’d like to play football,
but——”
“Most of the fellers don’t seem to think you’d ever be much of a
player,” grinned Spotty frankly. “Now if we was going to lose Bern and
you could fill his place, it would be different. Anyhow, mebbe Hayden
and Barker will come back when the coach gets here. Roger says he’s
going to wire for him to-night. He’s got enough money pledged.”
“It will give me no more pleasure than it will Hayden to play on the
same team,” declared Ben; “but I’d be willing to do anything for the
good of the school. That’s why I thought I hadn’t better play. I’m not
anxious to make trouble.”
“Bern says you’ve always been a trouble maker. Oh, he’s got it in for
you, all right. But you’ve won a lap on him, the best he can do. It’s
bitter medicine for him to swaller. He tried to down you, and he’d done
it, all right, if you hadn’t put yourself on top by defending Amy
Eliot. That was lucky for you. Urian Eliot has got about as much pull
as anybody ’round these parts. You just better let things simmer along,
and they’ll come out all right.”
Nevertheless, Spotty’s words added to Stone’s disquietude of mind, for
he also believed that the loss of Hayden from the team—to say nothing
of Barker—could not be compensated for.
Sunday passed quietly. Not having a suit of clothes to satisfy him, Ben
did not attend church. He spent much of the day with Jimmy, and was
invited to supper by Mrs. Jones, who had heard all about his bravery
and persisted in talking of it. Mamie, however, snubbed him mercilessly.
When Roger appeared at school on Monday morning he informed the boys
that he had heard from Winton, who would arrive early enough in the
afternoon to begin the work of coaching that day. He even took
particular pains to tell Hayden.
“I’m not at all interested in your team, Eliot,” said Bern repellently.
“My team,” cried Roger—“_mine?_ Why, you ought to be as much interested
in it as I am. I took you for a fellow who would be loyal and——”
Hayden cut him short. “I don’t want to hear any more of that talk from
you. You’ll find me loyal enough to the team when you do what I ask of
you. If you don’t do it, I doubt if you’ll have any team in another
week.”
That night in addition to Hayden and Barker there were two other
deserters, Rollins and Sage. Eliot was compelled to explain the
situation to the coach. Winton listened and asked a few questions. In
the end he advised Roger to drop Ben Stone.
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