The Half-Back Part 22

The two friends reached the house, and Remsen led the way into his room, and set about unpacking his things. Joel took up a position on the bed and gave excellent advice as to the disposal of everything from a pair of stockings to a typewriter.

"It's a strange fact," said Remsen as he thrust a suit of pajamas under the pillow, "that Outfield West is missed at Hillton more than any fellow who has graduated from there for several years past. Perhaps I don't mean exactly strange, either, for of course he's a fellow that every one naturally likes. What I do mean is that one would naturally suppose fellows like Blair or Whipple would leave the most regrets behind them, for Blair was generally conceded to be the most popular fellow in school the last two years of his stay, and Whipple was surely running him a close second. And certainly their memories are still green. But everywhere I went it was: 'Have you heard from Outfield West?' 'How's West getting on at college?' And strange to say, such inquiries were not confined to the fellows alone. Professor Wheeler asked after West particularly, and so did Briggs, and several others of the faculty; and Mrs. Cowles as well.

"But you are still the hero there, March. The cla.s.sic history of Hillton still recounts the prowess of one Joel the First, who kicked a goal from field and defeated thereby the hosts of St. Eustace. And Professor Durkee shakes his head and says he will never have another so attentive and appreciative member of his cla.s.s. And now tell me, how are you getting on with Dutton?"

So Joel recited his football adventures in full, not omitting the ludicrous touch-down, which received laughing applause from his listener, and recounting his promotion to the position of Varsity subst.i.tute.

"Yes, I saw in the paper last week that you had been placed on the sub list of the Varsity. I hope you'll have a chance to play against Yates, although I don't wish Prince any harm. He's a good fellow and a hard worker. h.e.l.lo, it's one-fifteen. Let's get some lunch."

A half hour later they parted, Joel hurrying off to recitation and Remsen remaining behind to keep an appointment with a friend. After this they met almost every day, and Remsen was a frequent caller at Joel's room, where he with Joel and Outfield held long, cosy chats about every subject from enameling golf b.a.l.l.s to the Philosophy of Kant and the Original Protoplasm.

Meanwhile the season hurried along. Harwell met and defeated the usual string of minor opponents by varying scores, and ran up against the red and blue of Keystone College with disastrous results. But one important contest intervened between the present time and the game with Yates, and the hardest sort of hard work went on daily inside the inclosed field. A small army of graduates had returned to coach the different players, and the daily papers were filled, according to their wont, with columns of sensational speculation and misinformation regarding the merits of the team and the work they were performing. Out of the ma.s.s of clas.h.i.+ng "facts" contained in the daily journals but one thing was absolutely apparent: to wit, the work of the Harwell Eleven was known only to the men and the coaches, and neither would tell about it.

At last, when chill November had been for a few days in the land, the game with the red and white clad warriors from Ithaca took place on a wet and muddy field, and Joel played the game through from start to finish, Prince being engaged in nursing his treacherous ankle, which had developed alarming symptoms with the advent of wet weather. The game resulted in a score of twenty-four to five, the Ithacans scoring a neat, but inexcusable, goal from field in the first half. Joel played like a Trojan, and went around the left end of the opposing line time and again for good gains, until the mere placing of the ball in his hands was accepted by the spectators as equal to an accomplished gain.

Wesley Blair made a das.h.i.+ng charge through a crowded field for twelve yards and scored a touch-down that brought the onlookers to their feet cheering. Dutton, the captain, played a steady brilliant interfering game, and Kingdon, at right half-back, plunged through the guard-tackle holes time and again with the ball hugged to his stomach, and kept his feet in a manner truly marvelous until the last inch had been gained.

But critics nevertheless said unkind things of the team work as they wended their way back over the sodden turf, and shook their heads dubiously over the field-goal scored by the opponents. There would be a general shaking up on the morrow, they predicted, and we should see what we should see. And the coaches, too, although they dissembled their feelings under cheerful countenances, found much to condemn, and the operations of bathing, dressing, and weighing that afternoon were less enjoyable to the breathless, tattered men.

The next day the team "went into executive session," as Joel called it, and the predicted shake-up took place. Murdoch, the left guard, was deemed too slight for the place, and was sent to the side line, from where he presently crawled to a seat on the great empty stand, and hiding his blanketed head wept like a child. And there were other changes made. Joel kept his place at left half, pending the bettering of Prince's ankle, and Blair was secure at full. But when the practice game began, many of the old forms were either missing or to be seen in the second Eleven's line, and the coaches hovered over the field of battle with dark, forbidding looks, and said mean things whenever the opportunity presented itself, and were icily polite to each other, as men will be when they know themselves to be in the right and every one else in the wrong. And so practice that Thursday was an unpleasant affair, and had the desired effect; for the men played the game for all that was in them and attended strictly to the matter in hand, forgetting for the time the intricacies of Latin compositions and the terrors of coming examinations. When it was over Joel crawled off of the scale with the emotions of a weary draught horse and took his way slowly toward home. In the square he ran against Outfield, who, armed with a monstrous bag of golf requisites, had just leaped off a car.

"h.e.l.lo, Joel," he cried. "What's happened? Another off-sider? Have you broken that finger again? Honest Injun, what's up?"

"Nothing, Out; I'm just kind of half dead. We had two thirty-minute halves, with forty-'leven coaches yelling at us every second, and a field like a turnip patch just before seeding. Oh, no, there's nothing the matter; only if you know of any quiet corner where I can die in peace, lead me there, Out. I won't keep you long; it will soon be over."

"No, I don't, my flippant young friend, but I know something a heap better."

"Nothing can be better any more, Out. Still--well, what is it?"

"A couple of hot lemonades and a pair of fat sandwiches at Noster's.

Come along."

"You're not so bad, Out," said Joel as they hurried up the street. "You have _moments_ of almost human intelligence!"

CHAPTER XXI.

THE DEPARTURE.

The backs and subst.i.tute backs, together with Story, the quarter, Captain Dutton, and one or two a.s.sistant coaches, including Stephen Remsen, were a.s.sembled in Bancroft 6. The head coach was also present, and with a long pointer in one hand and a piece of chalk in the other was going through a sequence for the benefit of the backs, who had been called a half hour ahead of the rest of the Eleven. The time was a half hour after dinner.

On the blackboard strange squares and lines and circles confronted the men in the seats. The head coach placed the tip of the pointer on a diagram marked "No. 2. Criss-Cross."

"This is the second of the sequence, and is an ordinary criss-cross from left half-back to right half-back. If you don't understand it readily, say so. I want you to ask all the questions you can think of. The halves take positions, as in the preceding play, back of the line behind the tackle-guard holes. The ball goes to left half, who runs just back of quarter. Right half starts a moment after the ball is put in play, also going back of quarter and outside of left half and receiving the ball at a hand pa.s.s from the latter, and continuing on through the hole between left end and tackle. Right end starts simultaneously with left half, taking the course indicated, in front of quarter and close to the line, and interfering through the line for the runner."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 2nd PLAY]

"Left end blocks opposing end outward. Quarter clears the hole out for the runner. Full-back does not start until the pa.s.s from quarter to left half is made. He must then time himself so as to protect the second pa.s.s. In case of a fumble the ball is his to do the best he can with through the end-tackle hole. If the pa.s.s is safe he follows left half through, blocking opposing left end long enough to keep him out of the play.

"You will go through this play to-morrow and you will get your slips to-morrow evening here. Now is there anything not clear to you?"

Apparently there was a great deal, for the questions came fast and furious, the coaches all taking a hand in the discussion, and the diagram being explained all over again very patiently by the head. Then another diagram was tackled.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 3rd PLAY]

"The third of this sequence is from an ordinary formation," began the head coach. "It is intended to give the idea of a kick, or, failing that, of a run around left end. It will very probably be used as a separate play in the last few minutes of a half, especially where the line-up is near the side line, right being the short side of the field.

You will be given the signal calling this as a separate play to-morrow evening.

"Full-back stands as for a kick, and when the signal is given moves in a step or two toward quarter as unnoticeably as possible; position 2 in the diagram. He must be careful to come to a full stop before the ball is snapped back, and should time himself so that he will not have to stay there more than a second. The instant the ball is snapped full-back runs forward to the position indicated here by 3, and receives the ball on a short pa.s.s from quarter. Left half starts at the same instant, and receives the ball from full as he pa.s.ses just behind him, continuing on and around the line outside of right end. It is right half's play to make the diversion by starting with the ball and going through the line between left tackle and guard; he is expected to get through and into the play on the other side. Left end starts when the ball is snapped, and pa.s.sing across back of the forwards clears out the hole for the runner. Quarter interferes, a.s.sisted by full-back, and should at all costs down opposing half. Right end helps right tackle throw in opposing end. Much of the success of this play depends on the second pa.s.s, from full-back to left half, and it must be practiced until there is no possibility of failure. Questions, fellows."

After the discussion of the last play a half hour's talk on interference was given to the rest of the Eleven and subst.i.tutes, who had arrived meanwhile. Remsen and Joel left Bancroft together and crossed the yard toward the latter's room. The sky was bright with myriads of stars and the buildings seemed magnified by the wan radiance to giant castles. Under the shadow of University Remsen paused to light his pipe, and, without considering, the two found themselves a moment later seated on the steps.

From the avenue the clang-clang of car gongs sounded sharp and clear, and red and white and purple lights flitted like strange will-o'-wisps through the half light, and disappeared into the darkness beyond the common. The lights in the stores beamed dimly. A green shade in Pray's threw a sickly shaft athwart the pavement. But even as they looked a tall figure, weariness emanating from every movement, stepped between window and light, book in hand, and drew close the blinds.

"Poor devil!" sighed Remsen. "Three hours more of work, I dare say, before he stumbles, half blind, into bed. And all for what, Joel? That or--that?" He pointed with his pipe-stem to where Jupiter shone with steady radiance high in the blue-black depths; then indicated a faint yellow glow that flared for an instant in the darkness across the yard where a pa.s.ser had paused to light his pipe.

"We can't all be Jupiters, Remsen," answered Joel calmly. "Some of us have to be little sticks of wood with brimstone tips. But they're very useful little things, matches. And, after all, does it matter as long as we do what we have to do as well as we can? Old Jupiter up there is a very fine chap undoubtedly, and if he s.h.i.+rked a minute or two something unpleasant would probably occur; but he isn't performing his task any better than the little match performed his. 'Scratch--pouf' and the match's work's done. But it has lighted a fire. Can you do better, Mr. Jupiter?"

Remsen made no reply for a moment, but Joel knew that he was smiling there beside him. A little throng of students pa.s.sed by, humming softly a song in time with their echoing footsteps, and glanced curiously at the forms on the steps. Then Remsen struck a match on the stone.

"'Scratch--pouf!'" he said musingly, relighting his pipe. In the act of tossing the charred splinter away he stopped; then he laid it beside him on the step. "Good little match," he muttered. Joel laughed softly.

"March," asked Remsen presently, "have you changed your mind yet about studying law?"

"No; but sometimes I get discouraged when I think of what a time it will take to arrive anywhere. And sometimes, too, I begin to think that a fellow who can't talk more readily than I ought to go into the hardware business or raise chickens for a living instead of trying to make a lawyer out of himself."

"It isn't altogether talk, March," answered Remsen, "that makes a good lawyer. Brains count some. If you get where you can conduct a case to a successful result you will never miss the 'gift o' the gab.' Talking's the little end of the horn in my profession, despite tradition.

"I asked for a reason, March," he went on. "What do you say to our forming a partners.h.i.+p? When you get through the Law School you come to me, if you wish, and tell me that you are ready to enter my office, and I'll answer 'I'm very glad to have you, Mr. March.' Of course we could arrange for a regular partners.h.i.+p a year or so later. Meanwhile the usual arrangement would be made. It may be that you know of some very much better office which you would prefer to go to. If you do, all right. If you don't, come to me. What do you say?"

"But--but what good would I do you?" Joel asked, puzzled at the offer.

"I'd like it very much, of course, but I can't see--"

"I'll tell you, March. I have a good deal of faith in your future, my boy. You have a great deal of a most valuable thing called application, which I have not, worse luck. You are also sharp-witted and level-headed to a remarkable degree. And some day, twenty or thirty years from now, you'll likely be _hard_-headed, but I'll risk that. By the time you're out of college I shall be wanting a younger man to take hold with me.

There will be plenty of them, but I shall want a good one. And that is why I make this offer. It is entirely selfish, and you need not go searching for any philanthropy in it. I'm only looking a bit ahead and b.u.t.tering my toast while it's hot, March. What do you say? Or, no, you needn't say anything to-night. Think it over for a while, and let me know later."

"But I don't want to think it over," answered Joel eagerly. "I'm ready to sign such a partners.h.i.+p agreement now. If you really believe that I would--could be of use to you, I'd like it mightily. And I know all about your 'selfishness,' and I'm very grateful to you for--for b.u.t.tering your toast."

Later, when they arose and went on, Remsen consented to accompany Joel to his room, bribed thereto with a promise of hot chocolate. They found Outfield diligently poring over a Greek history. But he immediately discarded it in favor of a new book on the Royal Game which lay in his lap hidden under a note book.

"You see," he explained, "old Pratt has taken a s.h.i.+ne to me, and I expected him to call this evening. And I thought at first that you were he--or him--which is it? And of course I didn't want to disappoint the old gentleman; he has such a fine opinion of me, you know."

While Outfield boiled the water and laid bare the contents of the larder, Joel told him of Remsen's offer. A box of biscuits went down with a crash, and Outfield turned indignantly.

"That's all very fine," he exclaimed. "But where do I come in? How about Mr. West? Where does he get his show in this arrangement? You promised that if I studied law, too, Joel, you'd go into partners.h.i.+p with _me_.