A Boy Knight Part 24

"O Frank," exclaimed Ned, "you're being terribly 'roasted' all over the parish. Somehow the thing is getting bigger and bigger, and you're made out worse and worse."

"Can't help people talking, son," was Frank's reply.

"I know, Hank, but it's something awful. Why don't you do something?"

"I'm open to suggestions, wise one. What do you advise me to do?"

"Why, deny it!"

"I have."

"Well, tell them that you can prove you didn't do it. Show 'em that you were not around there when it happened."

"That's just it. Who knows when it happened?"

"Well, isn't there anything you can do? It's fierce to get the rep you're getting."

"Search me, kid. I don't know anything more that I can do."

As they approached the field, they found most of the players already on hand, in their uniforms. Subs were beginning to line up against the regulars, for the practice, but Frank noticed at a glance that John Derby, of the second team, was in a regular uniform.

"Oho," he thought, "that looks strange. And that uniform looks suspiciously like mine!" His heart sank.

Of all things that Frank liked, football came first. In the last game, with Grayson High, his playing had certainly counted big in winning the game for Regal. He was the only boy from his year on the team but no one could run and dodge as fast. His grit helped, too, for he would fight on, no matter how rough he was handled. In the early fall, he had been carried off the field protesting, although he was terribly bruised.

Considering all this, it seemed impossible that Derby had been promoted to his uniform on the eve of their biggest game. Tomorrow they were to play Stanley High for the Interscholastic champions.h.i.+p.

However, he hurried, with as much coolness as possible, to the dressing room. He found his locker empty. Standing nearby was the captain of the team, Robert Fitzpatrick.

"What does this mean, Bob?" said Frank, quietly.

"Didn't they tell you, Mulvy?"

"Tell me what?"

"That you're off."

"Why, no. This is the first notion I've had of it. I came out for practice."

"Well, I'd rather someone else told you, Mulvy. I just want to say we had a hot row over you. I stood up for you, but four of the players said they'd resign unless you were dropped. So I had to give in, or 'bust'

the team."

"What's the charge against me, Bob?"

"Don't you know?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, you ought to."

"I know the report that's around," said Frank, "but you fellows certainly don't want to go on record for condemning a man before he's heard?"

"Why, they said you admitted it."

"That's not so. I said I knew about it. I did not need to say that. I had my knowledge as a confidence, and I could have denied all knowledge of it. But because I had the s.p.u.n.k to speak out as I did, you fellows brand me. It's all right. I'll take my medicine."

"It wasn't easy for us to drop you, Mulvy. Tomorrow is the big game, and we need our best team. I put that before them strong. But I was out-voted."

"Well, Bob, I want to thank you for what you did. But tell me one thing.

You know how the fellows move heaven and earth to get a strong team. You know how, when a fellow got into a sc.r.a.pe, or was behind in studies, or even if he was bounced, all the others stood by him and fought to retain him. Now, I know I'm a b.o.o.b, but nevertheless, I know my worth to the team, and so do you. Tell me, then, why this action in my regard?"

"Well, I'll be frank with you, Mulvy. They look upon this matter differently. From all accounts, it was a thug affair, and it's gotten all over the parish. The fellows won't stand for it, not even if it hurts our chances for tomorrow's game."

"Thank you, Bob, for being so frank. Now, another question. It's my last, don't be afraid to be candid. Do you think the same as the others?" For a moment there was no reply.

"O, excuse me," said Frank, "I did not mean to embarra.s.s you. Please don't answer."

Turning, he saw five or six of the team standing about. They had all heard the conversation. Not one had come forward to befriend him.

"It's all right, fellows, I have no kick. I'm in bad. But I hope you'll find out some day that I'm misrepresented."

So saying, he walked away, down-hearted, but full of exultation. He was paying a high price for that offering to the Sacred Heart. It hurt. But he was glad that he was doing something worth while for G.o.d.

He left the field. He could not bear to stay and look on. He had not gone far when d.i.c.k and Ned overtook him. "Say, fellows, don't mind me,"

he said to them. "Go back and take in the sport."

"Not without you," said d.i.c.k.

At the same time, Ned put his hand in his, but said nothing.

Frank's eyes filled. Here was trust. Here was devotion. They walked along for five minutes, not a word being spoken. Rather, many words were uttered, but they were the silent language of the heart.

"I think I'll see Father Boone," Frank said eventually. "I want to get his advice on something. Good-bye fellows. I'll never forget how true you were to me." And he headed off in the direction of the Club, hoping to find the priest in his office there.

(III)

Father Boone was in and he was very serious, as it was easy to see from his face and manner. For he had just heard how his boy, Frank, was being treated.

"Of course," he meditated, "my lips are sealed. All that I know is confessional. But I must think out some way of coming to Frank's rescue.

What a chivalrous lad he is! What a fine sense of honor! He'll see it through, no matter what the cost. I trust that most of my boys would suffer anything rather than lie or do wrong. But this is heroic. It shows fine mettle. His religion is his strength.

"But can I allow him to be a victim of injustice? Daly knew the secrecy of the confessional but, at the same time, I told him that I could not give him absolution unless he repaired the wrong he did, as far as lay in his power. The only thing in his power then, was to give me permission to use what he told me. I told him plainly that someone else was under suspicion of the deed. I pointed out that in case that one were in danger of incurring the guilt and punishment, it was a matter of justice on his part to a.s.sume the responsibility of the act.

"Of course he gave me the authorization to declare that he and he alone was the author of the damage. He even begged me to do it, for his peace of soul and as penance for his sins. He showed he had the right disposition for absolution. But it's not all right for me. He was too weak to sign a paper and if I were to use the knowledge I have, what would prevent people from saying that I was violating the sacred seal?

My word alone could be questioned by anyone. A slur on the confessional would result, and untold harm would be done.

"But here I am discussing the matter, as though it were open to discussion. No, I was just ruminating. My lips are sealed forever."