THINGS COME OUT ALL RIGHT
It was Saturday afternoon. Toby lay in bed in Number 22, very glad to
be home again after two days of the unfamiliar and monotonous white
walls of the infirmary. They had brought him home――for the little,
poorly furnished room was home, after all――that forenoon, and he had
partaken of a perfectly sumptuous dinner, the first in several days,
and had gone peacefully to sleep after it. But he was wide awake now
and feeling very comfortable and contented and beautifully rested. He
had been, they had told him, a pretty sick boy for a day or so after
Mr. Pennimore’s gardener and another man had rescued him and Tommy
Lingard from a sinking boat at the mouth of the river. (For it seemed,
although Toby didn’t pretend to understand it, that he had lost all
sense of direction and had rowed toward the Sound. Either that or his
tired arms had not been able to prevail over the current.) But he was
quite all right now. Of course, his head hurt a bit and his cold wasn’t
quite all gone, and he was still a little stiff in places, but aside
from those failings he felt fine!
The window was open a trifle and through it came sounds that brought a
puzzled frown to Toby’s forehead. They seemed to suggest something not
so pleasant as being at home again in his own bed. Then he remembered
and the frown disappeared. They were playing Broadwood down there on
the rink and if all this had not happened he would have been there
too, guarding his goal in the big game of the year. But, somehow, he
didn’t care so awfully much. Frank would play in his place, and Frank
deserved it. He owed Frank at least that much reparation for the unjust
suspicions he had of him. On the whole, he was glad that Frank had got
the position back again, and he only hoped that he would play such a
dandy game there that the hated Broadwood would go home scoreless!
Thinking of Frank sent his thoughts back to the afternoon before when
a very pale and timid Tommy Lingard had been shown in to him in the
infirmary and had haltingly muttered thanks for his rescue and then,
after much hesitation and many false starts, had cleared up the mystery
of the stolen Hockey Fund. He had owed Frank Lamson some money and
Frank had asked him for it that very night he had left his clothes to
be cleaned, threatening all sorts of awful punishments if he didn’t
pay it up on the morrow. And he had seen Toby go to the drawer of his
bureau to make change that night and so knew of the money kept there.
The next morning he had gone to Number 22 when he knew that Toby would
be in a class-room and taken box and contents and so paid his debt to
Frank Lamson. He hadn’t looked carefully at the money and had failed to
notice the marked quarter or the patched dollar bill, and when Toby had
asked about the latter he had told the first lie occurring to him. And
he was awfully sorry about it and would pay it all back, every cent,
and he only wished he could do it that minute because when a fellow
saves your life, like Toby had saved his――
The sound of triumphant cheering came up from the distant rink, borne
on the nipping little westerly breeze. Toby thrilled and wondered how
the game was going. He _would_ like to have played, after all! But
he owed that much to Frank, and so it had all happened for the best.
And by now――long before this, probably――Frank had got the note he had
written that morning and dispatched by the goody, in which he had told
of his suspicions and of the evidence leading to them and had humbly
asked Frank’s pardon. And after awhile, perhaps, Frank would come up
to see him and tell him it was all right, and――and maybe he would tell
Arnold and Arnold would come, too. Toby had wanted very much to write
Arnold as well; he tried several times; but he wasn’t very much of a
letter-writer yet and the things he wanted to say had got all mixed up
and confused and he had had to give it up. But Arnold would come sooner
or later. He was sure of that, for Arnold knew now that he wasn’t a
coward and Frank would tell him that he had written and apologized――
Another wild pæan of joy from the rink interrupted his thoughts. He
glanced at the clock on the bureau and to his surprise found that it
was nearly four! Why, then, the game must soon be over! If only Yardley
might win it he wouldn’t care at all that he hadn’t been able to play.
Or, at least, not much. He had rather wanted to get his letters and the
crossed hockey sticks between, but there was another year coming, and
so that, too, was quite all right.
Why, the cheering was getting nearer! The game must be over then!
And――and Yardley surely had won, else why should they cheer so? The
fellows were marching back from the rink. He could hear quite plainly
now, catch each word of the old familiar cheer: “_Rah, rah, rah! Rah,
rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Yardley! Yardley! Yardley!_” They were at the
gymnasium probably. Yes, they were cheering the players! He heard the
long-drawn “_Crumbie-e-e!_”
“We _must_ have won!” he cried, sitting up suddenly in bed. “We must
have!”
Footsteps pounded the stairs and hurried along the corridor and Toby’s
heart raced. Eager voices sounded in the corridor, came nearer! There
was a knock on the door and Toby, trying to say “Come in!” couldn’t.
But it didn’t matter for the door swung open at once and in came Arnold
and Frank, still in hockey togs, red-cheeked, bright-eyed, bringing
a breath of the frosty outdoors with them. It was Arnold who spoke
first, Arnold falling to his knees beside the bed and throwing one arm
across Toby’s body.
“We won, chum!” he cried. “Four to two! It was great! And old Frank
played a wonderful game――”
“Not as good as Toby would have,” interpolated Frank with conviction
from the foot of the bed.
“And Loring told me to tell you,” continued Arnold breathlessly,
unheeding of interruption, “that you’re to get your hockey letters, T.
Tucker!” Arnold paused then and his face sobered. Finally, in lower
tones he said: “Frank’s told me, Toby, and I don’t blame you for
thinking what you did. He doesn’t either. And I’m sorry, awfully sorry,
that I――I acted the way I did, and called you――what I did. You believe
me, don’t you?”
Toby only nodded. He wanted to speak but――well, a nod was easier!
Arnold’s hand found his on the coverlid and grasped it tightly.
“I wanted to make up long ago, Toby,” he whispered, “but――but I was
just a plain, rotten brute.”
Toby shook his head vehemently, but Arnold wouldn’t have it.
“Yes, I was, chum! A regular brute. Frank told me so a dozen times.
But――but it’s all right now, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” answered Toby happily. “It’s _all right_!”
From the direction of the gymnasium came another long cheer: “_Rah,
rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Tucker!_”
Toby, hearing, smiled contentedly. “I guess,” he murmured, “most
everything comes out all right if you’ll just let it!”
THE END
BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
_Hilton Series_
The Half Back
The young hero of this story is carried through preparatory school and
the freshman year at Harvard. The story closes with an account of a
Yale-Harvard game.
For the Honor of the School
The excitement of a cross country run, training for track athletics,
with a glimpse of football are all to be found in this school story.
The hero is both an athlete and a scholar.
Captain of the Crew
“Captain of the Crew” follows “For the Honor of the School” but is in
every sense a complete story. The author is concerned both with school
athletics and with the influences that build character.
_Erskine Series_
Behind the Line
A story of life at a preparatory school with the chief interest
centering around football. The author gives an intimate view of the
preparation and training necessary for a big game.
Weatherby’s Inning
A story of a young man’s struggle against untoward circumstances in
a small New England college. Baseball furnishes the chief athletic
interest.
On Your Mark
Track work furnishes the athletic interest in this story of school
life.
_The Grafton Series_
_These are stories of life at Grafton School. They are full of sport
and games, and will interest any boy who likes the rivalry of contests._
Rivals for the Team
Hugh Ordway comes to America from England. His room-mate, star
half-back of the team, gets him started in football, and on the eve of
the great contest they find themselves rivals for the same position.
Winning His Game
The day of the game between Grafton and Mount Morris arrives and Bud
Baker and Jimmy Logan, two important players, are missing. A search
reveals that they have missed the train. And then――well, read the story.
Hitting the Line
Monty Grail comes East from Wyoming to enter Mount Morris School. At
the Grand Central Terminal he meets two prominent students of Grafton
who induce him to enter their school instead. In the end he is not
sorry he changed his mind.
_The Purple Pennant Series_
_In these books Mr. Barbour tells of life in the average high school.
Each book is a thriller._
The Lucky Seventh
Gordon Merrick, with Dick Lovering, forms a ball team of the remnants
of the High School nine and challenges the boys of the summer colony.
The Secret Play
Clearfield High School loses her football coach, and against much
criticism, Dick Lovering, a cripple, coaches the team. When the day of
the big match comes, some unexpected things happen.
The Purple Pennant
An athletic meet in which the boys have running races, hurdling,
pole-vaulting and hammer throwing, is the climax of this story. The
book tells the story of the purple pennant and how it came into being.
_Each, illustrated, $1.50 net_
These Are Appleton Books
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, New York
Transcriber’s Notes:
――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_); text in
bold by “equal” signs (=bold=).
――Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to
follow the text that they illustrate.
――Printer’s, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently
corrected.
――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.
End of Project Gutenberg's Guarding His Goal, by Ralph Henry Barbour