OFF TO BROADWOOD
It was a very tired and rather sick Gerald that bumped home in the
coach with his head on Arthur Thompson’s shoulder. He was thoroughly
used up, and that was all there was to it, he told himself. If he
hadn’t had to make that spurt in the last quarter of a mile he would,
he was certain, have finished the race quite fresh. But the final
demand on his powers had been almost too much for him. Not that he
regretted it for an instant. He was mighty glad he had beat Loughan and
so secured the contest for Yardley. In fact, he was secretly a little
bit proud of himself, which emotion was, after all, quite excusable. It
was his first real athletic triumph, and it had been won in the face
of the whole school. He guessed that now they wouldn’t believe Hiltz’s
lie about his having cheated in the trial run! He glanced down the
length of the swaying coach to where Hiltz, looking rather the worse
for his morning’s exertions, was sitting in the far corner. He didn’t
seem happy, Gerald thought, and for the first time since he had left
Hiltz behind in the race the recollection of his victory over his rival
brought no thrill. After all, to have defeated Hiltz was a small thing
compared with having won the day for Yardley!
If Gerald was a little proud of himself, the school was even prouder.
Every fellow who won a place in the event came in for his meed of
praise and admiration from his fellows, but Gerald’s case was unique.
As Joe Chambers said, he was “such a little tyke, you see!” And
while all the others, Goodyear and Maury and Wagner and Sherwood and
Thompson and Felder, had each helped to win the meet, it was Gerald,
the youngest chap participating, who had at the last possible moment
snatched it out of the fire. He was the real hero of the day, and so
they had clustered about him and tried to shake his hand or thump him
on the back and had cheered him over and over and for a minute or two
had acted quite like crazy folks. Gerald had been only dimly aware of
this, however, and the cheering had seemed to come from a long way off.
It was only when the last man had finished and Arthur had half lifted
him into the coach that he had regained his wandering faculties.
About him the fellows were talking merrily, discussing and explaining
and questioning. Goodyear told how Scott had tried to make him take the
lead at the third mile and how he had refused the honor, preferring to
let the Broadwood crack choose the pace, and how Scott had grumbled at
intervals all the rest of the way, accusing him of being a “quitter.”
“I was awfully surprised to see you go by,” said Gerald rather weakly
to Arthur.
“I was surprised myself,” laughed Arthur. “Gee, I never had such a
stitch in my side as I had to-day. I thought for awhile that I was
surely down and out. But after I’d taken it easy for a bit it got a
whole lot better and finally it went away altogether and I felt finer
than I had since the start. If the race had been a mile or so longer I
guess I could have finished way up front. Well, you certainly smeared
Jake all right, didn’t you? When I came across you two it looked as
though you’d sworn undying friendship and wouldn’t be parted for
anything. You were putting your spikes down in his footsteps every
time.”
“I had him beaten from the beginning,” said Gerald, “but he didn’t know
it. I let him make the pace and all I had to do was to stay with him
and let him worry.”
“And I guess he worried, judging from the way he’s looking now. Guess
he hasn’t stopped yet. He’s probably wondering how he’s going to
explain it, after his story about the trial. I think I’ll ask him,
Gerald; bet you he will tell us he had a stitch in his side.”
“Please, I’d rather you didn’t,” begged Gerald. But Arthur either
didn’t hear or didn’t heed.
“Say, Jake,” he called, “what happened to you to-day?”
Hiltz looked up scowlingly. “Had a pain,” he answered morosely. “I’d
have finished ahead of you if I hadn’t.”
“Too bad,” said Arthur sympathetically while a quiet smile traveled up
and down the coach. “I had one myself and know what it’s like. Anyone
see Norcross? He was out of it almost from the start. Guess he wasn’t
feeling very fit to-day.”
“He went home long ago,” said Felder. “I met him just as we made the
turn down there. Told me he was all in, and looked it, too.”
“Too bad,” said Maury. “He’s a good runner when he’s in shape. Well,
fellows, we must do this again next year, now that we’ve got started.
Ryan says we ought to keep up the interest by holding a school run in
the spring and getting all the fellows to come out for it.”
“Might have a class race,” suggested Goodyear.
“Bully idea,” Sherwood agreed. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t build up a
good cross-country reputation here at Yardley.”
“I don’t care so much about the reputation,” put in Wagner, “if we can
only beat Broadwood two years out of three.”
“Why not three out of three?” asked Maury with a laugh.
“Oh, we mustn’t discourage them. They might quit, you know.”
“No, they wouldn’t,” said Sherwood. “Broadwood’s no quitter. I’ll say
that for her.”
“I thank you on behalf of our defeated rival,” said Maury, with a
polite bow. “You’re going over to the game, aren’t you?”
“Rather! I guess every fellow in school is going. There’s going to be
five coaches, all they could scrape up, and a bunch of us will have to
walk.”
“I shall borrow Hal’s motor cycle,” remarked Felder carelessly.
Goodyear punched him playfully in the ribs.
“Over my dead body, sonny! I need that myself.”
“Then you may take me on the handle bars.”
“All right, if you’ll stand the risk, I will. Got your life insured?”
“Yes, I put thirty cents on it only yesterday. The policy is payable to
you, Hal.”
“My, I don’t see how you got so much!” said Maury. “Wonderful what
risks these insurance companies will take nowadays to get business,
isn’t it?”
“All out, gentlemen!” called Goodyear. “Yardley, Yardley! One hour for
dinner!”
Everyone was very happy, for the morning’s success was accepted as an
augury of an afternoon’s victory, and dinner was a noisy and merry
affair, so noisy that Mr. Collins, the assistant principal, arose twice
in his place at table and informed the room at large that “really,
gentlemen, this noise must stop! You are carrying it too far!”
The football team and substitutes had their luncheon early and at half
past one their two conveyances were awaiting them. They went off to
cheers from as many of their fellows as were not engaged in commons,
while those that were scrambled to the windows and shouted from there;
and got another rebuke from Mr. Collins. The school at large set off
on foot, on bicycle and by coach as soon as dinner was over; all save
Gerald and Arthur and young Harry Merrow. They traveled to Broadwood
in Mr. Pennimore’s big car, Harry Merrow sitting very proudly beside
the chauffeur and waving his blue flag all the way.
It was an ideal football day for players and spectators alike. There
was an almost cloudless sky above, while around them stretched a
green-and-russet world bathed in sunshine. The breeze from the west
held a frosty nip, but a good thick sweater was all the extra clothing
required to insure comfort. Broadwood was in holiday attire as the
machine rolled in at the gate and ascended the curving road past the
dormitories. From almost every window a green flag with its white B
fluttered, while the front of the gymnasium, which was on the way to
the field, was draped in a great green banner with the word Broadwood
spelled along its length in startling white letters two feet high.
The automobile had eaten up the miles in quick time and Mr. Pennimore’s
party was on the scene before the bulk of the audience had arrived.
They found a place for the car at one corner of the field, but Gerald
and the others voted to see the contest from the side line nearer the
middle of the gridiron. The small grand stand began to fill with ladies
and their escorts and numerous other automobiles came gingerly across
the frosty turf and found positions near Mr. Pennimore’s car. By two
o’clock the spectators lined the field two deep, while on the roof of
the laboratory near at hand and in the windows of that building many
Broadwood fellows had found posts of vantage.
Broadwood was first on the field and was cheered enthusiastically by
its supporters and politely by the Yardley section which had taken
possession of one side of the gridiron. Ten minutes later Yardley
trotted on, Alf leading, and then the blue flags had their inning
and Yardley cheers arose in volume to the afternoon sky. Broadwood
fulfilled the requirements of the occasion with “a regular cheer for
Yardley fellows, and make it strong!” And then Yardley yelled “A-a-ay!”
in approval and gratification from across the field. And promptly at
two thirty Mills led his team to the northern end of the gridiron and
Yardley kicked off.