Acton's Feud Part 2

Acton laughed, for a n.i.g.g.e.r was to Worcester as a red rag to a bull. "St.

Amory's for n.i.g.g.e.rs!" d.i.c.k would say with intense scorn.

"Anyhow," said Acton, "I think there's no need for us to be quite so slack."

"You'll pull us up a bit?" said d.i.c.k, with genuine admiration.

"Thanks. But I meant the whole house generally."

"Not much good. We're Biffen's, that never did nor never shall, etc."

"I don't know. There's sixty of us, barring your n.i.g.g.e.rs; we ought to get eleven to look at a football with a business eye out of that lot, you know."

"We ought to, but don't."

"We ought to do something in the schools too."

"We ought to, but don't, though Raven is in for the Perry Exhibition.

Guess he won't pull it off, though."

"We'll see about that, too," said Acton. "As for the n.i.g.g.e.rs--"

"Oh, never mind them!" burst in Worcester. "Without humbug, Acton, do you really want our house to move a bit?"

"Rather!"

"Well, then, consent to captain our footer eleven and we give ourselves a chance, for I can't make the fellows raise a gallop at any price, and I somehow think you can. Have a try. If you are sick of it at Christmas, I'll come in again; honour bright. It isn't too good-natured of me to ask you to pull Biffen's out of the mud, but you're the only fellow to do it if it can be done. Will you?"

"You wouldn't mind resigning?"

"By Jove, no!" said Worcester, precipitately.

"Don't mention it. Not at all, old man, not at all."

"Well, I've been thinking that, if you didn't mind, I'd like to try my hand on our crowd; though, since you don't move 'em, there can't be much chance for me to do anything smart."

"That doesn't follow, for you aren't me, old man."

"Then I'll have a shot at it."

Worcester grasped Acton's hand, as the French say, "with emotion."

"But the house will have to elect me, you know; perhaps they'd fancy Raven as captain. He can play decently, and they know him."

"Well, Biffen's are a dense lot, but I'm hanged if even their stupidity would do a thing like that. They've seen you play, haven't they?"

"Thanks. Fact is, d.i.c.k, I feel a bit bored by the patronage of Taylor's and Merishall's, and Sharpe's and Corker's, and all the rest of the houses."

"Oh! Biffen's laid himself out for that, you must see."

"I don't fancy Bourne's sneers and Hodgson's high stilts."

"Haven't noticed either," said d.i.c.k.

"H'm!" said Acton, rather nettled by d.i.c.k's dry tone. "I have. As for the n.i.g.g.e.rs--"

"The other houses despise us on their account. We're the Dervish Camp to the rest."

"As for the n.i.g.g.e.rs, they shall do something for Biffen's too," said Acton, rather thoughtfully.

"You mean in the sing-songs? Well, they'll spare the burnt cork certainly."

"Well, that's an idea too," said Acton, laughing, "but not the one I had.

That will keep."

Worcester might have some curiosity to know what Acton's idea was, but he wasn't going to inquire anything about the n.i.g.g.e.rs.

"It's awfully brickish of you, Worcester," said Acton, as Grim was heard trotting up the corridor "to stand down."

"Not at all; the sacrifice is on your altar."

"Then _allons_. Here's Grim knocking, and I've to see Corker at 9.40.

You'll excuse me."

Grim came in and commenced to clear away, and the two sallied out.

CHAPTER IV

BIFFEN'S PROGRESS

That day, after morning school, Biffen's held a meeting, and thereat Acton was proposed captain by Worcester and seconded by Raven; and Biffen's confirmed Worcester's qualified opinion of their sense by electing him _nem. con_.

From that day Acton threw his heart and soul into the regeneration of Biffen's. There did not pa.s.s an afternoon but that he turned out for footer, and coached, encouraged, bullied, stormed, praised each individual member of the team with the strictest impartiality and Spartan justice.

The smallest fault was dragged out into the light of day, and commented on with choice fulness, and any clever concerted piece of work got its due reward. Acton would stand no half-hearted play; he wanted the last ounce out of his men. The fellows stared a bit at first at his deadly earnestness, so unlike d.i.c.k's disgusted resignation at their shortcomings; but they found the change refres.h.i.+ng on the whole, for they could stand a lot of bullying from a fellow like Acton, who never seemed to make a mistake, or to have an off-day, and who could give stones and a beating to the best man among them. They respected his skill, and buckled to the work in hand. In about a fortnight there was a suggestion of style about the moving of some of the fellows up the field. Worcester backed up Acton with whole-hearted enthusiasm, and Raven was lost in wonder at the forward movement. This backing Acton found rather useful, for d.i.c.k and Raven were as popular as any in St. Amory's.

Some of the fellows were inclined to turn restive after about a fortnight, when the novelty of earnestness in football had worn off, but Acton's demands were as inexorable as ever. Matters came to a head (probably, as I expect, to the new captain's inward satisfaction) when his girding upset Chalmers--about the best forward of Biffen's regenerated lot. There was to be a match with some of the Fifth for the Sat.u.r.day, and Acton had arranged a preliminary canter the day before to test his attack. Chalmers was the winger, but on the day he was tremendously selfish, and stuck to the ball until he was robbed or knocked off it. Now, Acton loathed the "alone I did it" type of forward, and asked Chalmers pretty acidly what his inside man was for. This riled Chalmers considerably, for he had a large private opinion about his own play, and he said pretty hotly, "Mind your own business, Acton."

Acton said very coolly, "I am going to do so. Please remember, Chalmers, this is not a one-horse show."

"Seems distinctly like it, judging by the fellow who's been doing all the talking for the last age."

"Play the game, and don't be an a.s.s."

"I object to being called an a.s.s," said Chalmers, in a white rage.