ANOTHER BOY.
Don’s musings were broken in upon by a familiar voice, which cried:
“Hello there, old man! What’s the matter with you--in a trance? Come
out of it!”
Looking up, Don saw Leon Bentley stopping outside the fence. As usual,
Leon was smoking a cigarette. He was dressed in a padded football suit,
with his cap set rakishly over one ear, and his manner was that of one
possessed of unlimited conceit and an overwhelming sense of his own
importance.
Don had never liked Bentley but his dislike had not been particularly
noticeable, for he was a fellow who, on account of his quick temper and
sulky moods, had few associates and no close companions among the boys
of the village.
Bentley had a strong taste for flashy clothes and cheap jewelry, being
inclined to swagger and boast and use profane language, so it was not
strange that any thoroughly self-respecting boy in the village did not
care to be regarded as his intimate friend.
At one time close friendship had seemed to exist between Leon and
Rob Linton, a lad whose bullying inclinations had caused him to be
disliked secretly by those who openly professed admiration and regard
for him; but even Linton, awakened at last to his own faults, sickened
of Bentley and fell to avoiding him as far as possible, which left Leon
casting about for another associate.
Remembering the words of his father and his own resolution to try to
control his temper, even though Linton’s free-and-easy manner around
within him a feeling of resentment, Don held himself in check, nodded
shortly, and said:
“Hello, Bentley. Going to practice?”
“Sure thing,” returned Leon, airily. “Got to do it, I suppose, though
it’s a horrid bore. Fellow has to practice to keep in the swim and be
a real athlete; and he has to be an athlete nowadays, or take part in
athletic sports, at least, in order to stand any show with the girls.
If he isn’t right in it they’ll throw him down for some fellow who is,
even though that fellow may be as long, lank, awkward and clownish as
that duffer John Smith. Why, even a girl like Dora Deland, proud as
she is, has fallen to raving over him since he happened to turn out
something of a baseball pitcher. You must show your skill, old man, if
you hope to cut any figure with Zadia Renwood.”
Bentley fell to laughing over his final words, as if he regarded them
as a good joke; but he stopped suddenly as he saw Don step quickly
toward the fence, scowling his fiercest.
“Have a care with that tongue of yours, Bentley!” Scott almost snarled.
“Because I happen to be acquainted with Zadia Renwood does not give you
license to make cheap talk, and I won’t take it from you.”
Leon whistled softly, and then hastened to declare:
“I didn’t mean anything, Scott, so what’s the use to flare up and get
mad like that! You ought to take something for that temper of yours. At
the smallest spark you go off like a flash of powder.”
Don paused, and his flushed face suddenly began to pale, for he
realised how soon he had flown into a passion after vowing to do his
best to control his temper, which filed him with shame and vexation
over his own weakness.
With an effort, the boy cast out from his soul the anger that had
seized upon him, and he actually forced a faint smile to his face,
which made it seem rather handsome in a dark and cloudy way.
“You’re right, Bentley,” he said; “I was a fool to become angry over
your careless words, but neither Zadia Renwood nor any other girl
is anything to me, for you know I dislike girls. They’re all silly
creatures.”
“They may be silly, but they’re sweet,” Bentley grinned, in a manner
that was decidedly repulsive to the other boy. “I tell you, girls are
great inventions, and I know you’d like them, old man, if you’d just
overcome your foolish prejudice against them. And Zadia Renwood is a
peach, too! I’m sure she’s struck on you, and you only have to brace
up----”
Don stopped the speaker with a gesture.
“That will do, Bentley!” he exclaimed, harshly, holding himself in
check. “Even if I cared for girls, I’d steer clear of Dolph Renwood’s
sister.”
“You don’t like him?” questioned Leon, pulling out a package of
cigarettes and selecting one, which he proceeded to roll gently between
the palms of his hands, all the while watching Don with a curious,
cunning look in his washed-out gray eyes.
“I hate the cad!” broke out Scott; but he suddenly seemed to remember
his failing and got a firm hold on himself. “He puts on too many airs,
Bentley, and he makes a great bluff that he’s a football expert; but it
is my private opinion, which I am willing to express publicly, that he
doesn’t know the rudiments of the game.”
“I think so, too,” eagerly nodded the lad outside the fence, as, with
his yellow-stained fingers, he nervously pulled a little of the filling
from one end of the paper wrapper. “And Sterndale is a fool to let that
city fop run things the way he does. Never knew Dick to be so soft
before, but I suppose we’ll have to stand it if we wish to play the
game. Come, it’s time we were on the field now.”
Don hesitated. “I don’t think I’ll go,” he said, in an unsettled manner.
“Oh, rats!” cried Leon, lighting the prepared cigarette from the
stub of the one he had finished, which he tossed aside. “Come along,
Scott, for you’re needed, and it’s your duty to play for the honor of
Rockspur.”
“By your own words a few moments ago, you confessed that you are not
going into the game for any such reason, but simply to win admiration
from the girls. I do not believe any fellow who plays football for such
a reason can do his best and be of real value to the team.”
A suggestion of color mounted to the sallow cheeks of the
cigarette-smoker, and he laughingly retorted:
“That was talk, Scott; of course I’m going into the game to help the
home team win. We can’t afford to lose any good man, and so you’ll come
along with me. As for Renwood, we’re not the only ones who are sick
of his high-handed style of lording it over us, and we may be able to
bring about a change, if we go at it in the right manner. Get your suit
and come on.”
Plainly undecided, Don leaned on the fence.
“My suit is in the dressing-room under the grand-stand,” he said. “I
did make up my mind not to have anything more to do with the team as
long as Renwood was coaching----”
“That was when you were mad, old man. Of course, I don’t blame you, but
don’t let your temper cause you to go back on your own town. Renwood
doesn’t really belong here, anyhow; he’s only just moved here since his
father, seeing that Rockspur is bound to become a famous summer resort,
has bought up the East Shore land as a speculation. I don’t believe in
letting such an outsider come in and run things. If you and I combine
against him, we can bring enough of the others to our way of thinking
to set him back into the place where he belongs.”
Don did not fancy the idea of forming such an alliance with Bentley,
but he sought to justify it by telling himself that it was for the good
of the Rockspur football team, and that there was no harm in uniting
with Leon on such an issue.
“I’ll not become friendly with him,” thought Don, “simply because we
both think the same way about this matter. A man is likely to find
it needful to have business relations with another whom he would not
accept as an associate, and this is purely a matter of business.”
He was soon to learn that such relations are always to be avoided when
possible, and that, justly or unjustly, a man or a boy is judged by the
company he keeps.
“Come on,” urged Leon. “We’ll talk it over on our way to the ground.”
“When I was angry I declared I wouldn’t play on the team with Renwood,”
Don mentally said; “but it is my duty not to let my anger control me.”
Then, vaulting over the fence, he joined Bentley, and they set off
together toward the football field.