The High School Left End Part 16

Then, at a sign, the young men pa.s.sed before the coach to receive their printed instructions.

"Something new you've gotten up, Mr. Morton?" inquired one of the fellows.

"No," the coach admitted promptly. "These rules aren't original with me. I ran across 'em, and I've had them printed, by authority from the Athletics Committee. I wish I had thought up a set of rules as good."

As fast as they received their copies each member of the squad darted away to read the rules through. This is what each man found on the printed sheet:

_"1. Work hard and be alive.

2. Work hard and learn the rules.

3. Work hard and learn the signals.

4. Work hard and keep on the jump.

5. Work hard and have a nose for the ball.

6. Work hard all the time. Be on speaking terms with the ball every minute.

7. Work hard and control your temper and tongue.

8. Work hard and don't quit when you're tackled. Hang onto the ball.

9. Work hard and get your man before he gets started. Get him before the going gets good.

10. Work hard and keep your speed. If you're falling behind your condition is to blame.

11. Work hard and be on the job all the time, a little faster, a little sandier, a little more rugged than the day before.

12. Work hard and keep your eyes and ears open and your head up.

13. Work hard and pull alone the man with the ball. This isn't a game of solitaire.

14. Work hard and be on time at practice every day. Train faithfully.

Get your lessons. Aim to do your part and to make yourself a perfect part of the machine. Be a gentleman. If the combination is too much for you, turn in your togs and call around during croquet season."_

"What do you think of that, as expounding the law of football?"

smiled coach, looking down over Dave Darrin's shoulder.

"It doesn't take long to read, Mr. Morton And it ought not to take long to memorize these fourteen rules. But to live them, through and through, and up and down---that's going to take a lot of thought and attention."

To the four ex-"soreheads" not a word had been said about the late unpleasantness, nor was this quartette any longer in Coventry.

Trenholm, Grayson, Drayne and Hudson were the four best football men of the Bayliss-Dodge faction. Now that they were to play with the High School eleven all concerned felt wholly relieved.

As the young men were leaving the gym. that afternoon Coach Morton found a chance to grip d.i.c.k's arm and to whisper lightly in his ear:

"Thank you, Prescott."

"For what, Mr. Morton."

"Why, for what you managed to do to hold the school eleven together.

That was clever newspaper work, Prescott. And it has helped the school a lot. I'm no longer uneasy about Gridley High School on the gridiron for this season. We'll have a team now!"

With a confident nod the coach strolled away.

As the gym. doors were thrown open the members of the new football squad rushed out with joyous whoops. Some of the more mischievous or spirited actually tackled unsuspicious comrades, toppling their victims over to the ground. That line of tactics resulted in many a "chase" that brought out some remarkably good sprinting talent. Thus the squad dissipated itself like the mist, and soon the grounds near the school were deserted.

Bayliss and Bert Dodge went away to nurse a grievance that nothing seemed to cure.

For these two, now that their strong line of resistance had been broken, found themselves secretly longing, as had the four deserters, for a place in the football squad.

Bert Dodge sulked along to school, alone that Friday morning.

Bayliss, however, after a night of wakefulness, had decided to "eat crow."

So, as d.i.c.k, Dave and Greg Holmes were strolling along schoolward, Bayliss overhauled them.

"Good morning, fellows," he called, briskly, with an offhand attempt at geniality.

All three of the chums looked up at him, then glanced away again.

"Oh, I say, now, don't keep it up," coaxed Bayliss. "We High School fellows all want to be decent enough friends. And how's the football? I don't suppose the squad is full yet. I---I half believe I may join and take a little practice."

"Thinking of it?" asked d.i.c.k, looking up coolly.

"Yes---really," replied Bayliss.

"See the coach, then; he's running the squad."

"Yes; I guess I will, thanks. Good morning!"

Bayliss sauntered along, blithely whistling a tune. He knew Coach Morton would give him the glad hand of welcome for the squad and the team.

"Oh, Mr. Morton," was Bayliss's greeting, as he encountered the coach near the school building steps.

"Yes?" asked the submaster pleasantly.

"I---I---er---I didn't make the meeting yesterday afternoon, but I guess you might put my name down for the squad."

"Isn't this a bit late, Bayliss?" asked the submaster, eyeing the youth keenly.

"Perhaps, a bit," a.s.sented the confident young man. "However-----"

"At its meeting, last night, Mr. Bayliss, the Athletics Committee of the Alumni a.s.sociation advised me to consider the squad list closed."

"Closed?" stammered Bayliss, turning several shades in succession.

"Closed? Do---do you mean-----"

"No more additions will be made to the squad this year," replied the coach quietly, then going inside.

Bayliss stood on the steps, a picture of humiliation and amazement.

"Fellows," gasped Bayliss, as Prescott and his two chums came along, "did you hear that? Football list closed?"

"Want some advice?" asked d.i.c.k, halting for an instant.

"Yes," begged Bayliss.

"Never kick a sore toe against a stone wall," quoth d.i.c.k Prescott, and pa.s.sed on into the school building.