WARWICK INVADES QUEEN'S.
It was the morning of the closing football game of the Queen's School
schedule, Saturday, November 12, and recitations were hurried the
least little bit. Even the teachers felt the excitement of the day.
This was shown by the generous disposition to overlook poor lessons
for at least one morning of the school year, and some of them even
cut the hours short.
David, who had interviewed the Doctor and taken his place with his
class the first of the week, felt the thrill of enthusiasm, and was
burning for the slow hours to drag along till 2 o'clock when the
great contest was to be called. Football was literally in the air,
for everywhere in the school yard, where there was a chance for it
between the recitations, groups of boys were gathered and footballs
flew high from vigorous toes, and there was the resounding thwack as
the ball dropped in some fellow's arms thirty yards away from the
kicker.
It was an ideal day for the game--just a little nip of frost in
the air, the merest suggestion of the coming winter, but this was
tempered by a bright, warm sun. It was not so warm that the players
would be exhausted by the heat, nor was it so cold that spectators
were put to the inconvenience and discomfort of heavy wraps.
About noon the invading hosts of Warwick began to reach the Queen's
School, and spread themselves about the grounds, flaunting the
red and black colors of Warwick. Here and there groups of boys
from the two schools gathered together, and there was some little
fraternizing, but as a general thing the black and red and the blue
and gold did not mix well. The rivalry between the two schools in
everything was intense, and the members of each thought the other
school just a little inferior in most things.
This feeling sometimes resulted in blows being struck and blood shed
from bruised noses when encounters took place between representatives
of the two away from school grounds. But to-day was the day of the
year, and while rivalry was strong, the feeling of antagonism was
held in check, for wasn't Queen's the host to-day, and Warwick the
guest? No blood should be shed this day except on the fair field of
battle--the gridiron.
"What's the matter, Jimmy?" said Frank to that individual, whom he
chanced to meet hurrying along the path in front of Warren Hall.
"Have you seen that ghost again?"
"No, but I'm pretty nervous."
"Been losing sleep over the apparition?"
"Oh, shucks, no. The old ghost doesn't bother me, but I just met
Horton and he told me that he may put me in before the game is over.
I'm scared to death."
"And what's to worry you about that? I thought that's what you wanted
most of anything on this green, grassy earth."
"Well, I do, but what would happen if I didn't make good?"
"Oh, don't worry about that, you'll be Johnny on the spot, I'm
willing to bet. And if you get in, you'll get your 'Q.' Just think of
it--your first year!"
"I'm not thinking of the 'Q' so much as whether I can do what I've
got to do. I feel just like I did that day when you and I swam at
the water carnival at Turner's Point last summer--shaky all over."
Frank grinned as he recalled it.
"I remember that well enough. Before the race came off I was sure
that the moment I hit the water I'd go down, and drown, but as soon
as I hit the water I thought no more about it. And you will be like
that. I tell you it's a big honor to be able to get on the team the
first year. Not many Freshmen get the chance. I'm proud to know you,
Mr. James Turner."
"Quit your jollying, Frank, and tell me if you've seen the ghost
since. You never saw such a scared kid as Lewis was that night, and
you couldn't get him down on the playgrounds after eight o'clock if
you were to pay him real money."
"Yes," said Frank, "David and I saw it night before last in exactly
the same place. It seemed to come from nowhere and disappeared behind
the football stand. Seems as if it went into the water. Isn't it
queer?"
"It is mighty queer, indeed. What did Gleason say about it?"
"Oh, he wasn't in at the time. He'd gone over to the library early
in the evening, and David and I were alone. When he came in and
we told him about it, he said it must surely be the ghost of the
drowned boy. He had inquired of old Peter Flipp, the shoemaker up on
the hill, and Peter told him that the meadows were what he called
'hanted'."
"Did you see it clearly this time?"
"No, not so clearly as the first time; the moon, you know, is on the
wane now, and the grounds were darker, but still light enough to show
pretty plainly. It was the same figure, and seemed to move pretty
swiftly, faster than a walk, I should say, and slower than a run,
and, as before, it was above the ground."
"Well, it beats me," said Jimmy. "I've never heard of anything like
it. I must be getting along. Here comes Gleason now. Good-bye, old
speed. I'll see you later," and Jimmy turned away, as Gleason came up.
"Telling him what the score is going to be this afternoon, old
Web-foot?" inquired Gleason.
"No, Codfish, I was telling him about the second visitation of that
thing down on the grounds by the river. When this football season is
over, I'm going to lay for that old ghost or whatever it is."
"Oh, I wouldn't do that," said Gleason, "you don't know what might
happen. I've heard of people who tried a hand with ghosts and their
hair turned white in a single night from sheer fright. I wouldn't
like to see my trusty wife in such a condition as that."
"Just the same I'd like to take a closer look at that thing, and I
don't believe I'd be afraid; but at present there is something else
to be done, and that's to get something to eat and get down to the
grounds in time for a good seat."
"Looks like a big crowd to-day. Guess these Warwickers have all left
their happy homes to see the slaughter, and I'm afraid they're not
going to be disappointed," said Gleason.
"Oh, don't lose heart, you can't tell. There may be a Freshman in
the game before it's through, and that will help a lot." Frank threw
this last word over his shoulder to Gleason as he hurried to the
dining-room. Coming from the hall, after a hastily snatched bite, he
overtook the Wee One, and together they journeyed to the gymnasium,
where both teams were to dress for the fray, Warwick having been
given the big locker room on the second floor, while Queen's
retained the lower floor.
As they approached the gymnasium a big coach drove down the river
road in a cloud of dust. It was positively covered with boys. It bore
the football eleven of Warwick and its immediate crowd of heelers.
Wherever a boy could stick, he had stuck himself, and every one swung
the colors of the school.
"Gee whiz, look at those mastodons," cried Wee Willie as the Warwick
players began to uncoil themselves from various parts of the coach.
"They'll eat us alive. I know they must be cannibals. Poor Queen's,
poor Queen's."
"They certainly are whales," said Frank, "but they look a bit logy to
me. A good fast team ought to keep them on the jump."
"Yes, but where do you see that good, fast team? It doesn't live
hereabouts, does it?"
"Oh, don't get discouraged so early in the game. Wait at least till
they've played a few minutes."
By this time the coach had unloaded, and the heelers of the eleven,
reinforced by fifty or more boys of those who had come down earlier
in the day, got together and gave the snappy school yell:
"War I wickety-kick,
War I wickety-kick,
Rah, rah, rah, WARWICK."
"They yell as if it were all over, don't they?" observed David, who
had just come up.
"There does seem to be something of jubilance in it, that's a fact,"
said the Wee One. "And the eleven is certainly big enough to give
the York Freshmen a rub if weight amounts to anything. Come on, we'd
better get to our places, the stand is filling up."
Every one around the country-side within a radius of ten miles was
present. Country lads and lassies making a holiday of it; fond papas
and mammas to see Charlie or Freddie or Tommy take his part in the
game. And mamma was very shivery about what might happen to the young
man in the conflict so soon to come. And then there were the young
beaux of both Warwick and Queen's who had blossomed out into their
very best, each with a pretty little maid, perhaps from as far away
as Milton, at his side, who simply revelled in the blue and gold or
the red and black. Some of the girls even carried the color scheme
into their hats and clothing. And such a hum of talk and such a
clatter, as the crowds climbed the wooden bleachers looking for the
best vantage points, and such a world of questions for the young
beaux to answer the pretty little maidens.
"Oh, dear," says one fair questioner, "what are those white H's at
each end of the field for?"
"White what?" says the escort.
"Those big wooden things like an H--two straight pieces, and another
across the middle; it looks like an H. What does it stand for?"
"Stand for, stand for, why it stands to get kicked at. It's the goal
post, Minnie."
"O, stupid, I should have known. And those little white lines. I
suppose they're out if they run across them."
"Of course they are," says the escort, busy watching the corner
of the field where the teams make their appearance, and not
comprehending what she says.
But Frank, the Wee One, David and Gleason have no attachments of any
kind. Frank had written an urgent letter to his father and mother to
come up, but Mrs. Armstrong was not very well, and could not make the
trip, and Mr. Armstrong was too busy at the office. "Will come up
when you are on the team," was the answer. And the quartet were all
very well satisfied to see the game this way.
Suddenly there was a great waving of red and black flags as the
Warwick eleven came lumbering onto the field with Captain Channing at
their head. A burst of cheering rolled up. The snappy Warwick yell
floated out over the field and then a rollicking song.
In the middle of the song up rose the whole Queen's side of the stand
and let out a roar, for the Queen's team was seen coming 'way down
by the far end. Their quick movements were in sharp contrast to the
heavier Warwicks. And as the school saw their active prancing, a
feeling came from somewhere that after all the hard knocks they might
win to-day. The cheer leaders were busy pumping melody out of the
bunch on the stands:
"What are you doing, whispering? Get into it and let's hear you. It's
as silent out here as the town of Milton on a summer afternoon." This
brought a laugh, for Milton was not noted for its activity at any
time of the year. And they got into the song which the cheer leader
called for.
Both teams were, meanwhile, going through a brief practice in signal
drill.
"My, how Channing boots that ball--see it soar!" cried Frank, and
soar it did. Channing was a remarkable punter for a schoolboy, and
every kick he sent off was labelled danger for the catching backs.
"Jimmy is not in the line-up," observed the Wee One to Frank.
"No, didn't expect he would be at first, but I think he'll get in,
for I don't believe Hillard will last long. He was never very good as
a defensive player anyway."
"Horton wants to put him in anyway at the first of the game so as to
get the best of his speed. Good plan, too."
"Think it is a mistake," ventured the Codfish, "because these fellows
from up the river are going to slam-bang that line of ours, and
they'll need all the defence they can get, and on defense Turner is
about twice as good as Hillard. If I were coaching I'd put my best
backs in and try to stop these fellows' fire, and then when I had
them stopped I'd put in my fast fellows and run around them."
"There's wisdom in what you say, Solomon, but as you're not the
coach, you can't give us a demonstration, and Mr. Horton will."
By this time the teams had finished their signal drill, and gathered
each in a little knot while the captains went out to midfield to toss
the coin for position on the field.
"There she goes," said the Wee One. "Bet you Queen's gets it."
"You lose," said Gleason, "Warwick got it and Channing's taking the
wind at his back. Oh, my, oh, my! That's bad, right off the bat."
The Warwick captain had elected to take the wind, and the breeze
now blowing would be a considerable help to him. The sun affected
neither, as the football field lay nearly north and south.
"There we go," cried Frank, as a piercing whistle announced the
beginning of hostilities.