The Turner Twins

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER XVIII--BEFORE THE BATTLE

  "The fellow who put these posts in," grunted Bob, as he heaved andtugged, "must have had more time than brains!"

  It was Thursday afternoon. A hard frost, which had frozen the ground ahalf-inch deep, had counseled him to finish the work of wrecking thearbor. But three posts remained, and at one of these Bob, after havingdug around it, and pried at it with a bar until patience was exhausted,was tugging lustily. Laurie, wiping the sweat of honest toil from hisbrow, cast aside the bar and gave a hand.

  "Come on," he said hopefully. "One, two--three! Heave!"

  "Heave!" muttered Bob.

  But although the post, which had formed a corner of the arbor, gave fromside to side, it refused to leave its nest. Panting, the boys drew offand observed it glumly.

  "Guess we'll have to dig some more," said Bob.

  "Wait a minute. Let me get a purchase on it with the bar."

  Laurie seized that implement again and drove it into the softened earthbeside the post. As the first drive didn't send it far enough, he pulledit out, and put all his strength into the next effort. This time hesucceeded beyond all expectations. The bar slipped through his fingersand disappeared from sight!

  "Well!" he gasped. "What do you know--"

  "Where-where did it go to?" cried Bob, dumfounded.

  "It went--it went to China, I guess! It just slipped right through myhands, and kept on slipping!" Laurie knelt and dug at the hole with hisfingers.

  "Find it?" asked Bob. "Try the shovel."

  "No, I can't feel it. Hand it here." Laurie took the shovel and dugfrantically. Then Bob dug. The result was that they enlarged anddeepened the hole around the post, but the crowbar failed tomaterialize.

  "I suppose," said Laurie, finally, dropping the shovel and tilting backhis cap, "what happened was that I struck a sort of hole, and the barwent right down in. Maybe it was a rat-hole, Bob."

  "I guess so. Anyway, it's gone, and we'll have to get a new one."

  "Oh, I guess we'll find it when we get the post out. Let's try the oldthing."

  They did, and, after a moment of indecision, it came out mostobligingly. But there was still no crowbar to be seen. Laurie shook hishead, mystified. "That's the funniest thing I ever saw," he declared.

  "It surely is! Look here; maybe there's an old well there."

  "Then why didn't the post go down into it?"

  "Because it's covered over with stones. The bar happened to slip intoa--a crevice."

  Laurie nodded dubiously. "That might be it," he agreed. "Or perhapswe've discovered a subterranean cavern!"

  "Caverns always are subterranean, aren't they?"

  "No; sometimes they're in the side of a hill."

  "Then they're caves."

  "A cave and a cavern are the same thing, you smart Aleck."

  "All right; but even if a cavern is in a hill, it's underground, andsubterranean means under--"

  "Help! You win, Bob! Come on and get hold of this log and let's get itout of here." And, as they staggered with it across the garden to add itto the pile of posts and lumber already there, he continued: "There'sone thing certain, Bob, and that's that you won't get me to play tennison your court. I'd be afraid of sinking into the ground some fine day!"

  "Maybe you'd find the crowbar then," said Bob. "Heave!"

  Laurie "heaved," patted the brown loam from his hands, and surveyed thepile. "There's a lot of good stuff there," he pondered. "Some of it'ssort of rotten, but there's enough to build something."

  "What do you want to build?"

  "I don't know. We could build a sort of covered seat, like the one inPolly's yard, where folks could rest and look on. Take about six ofthese posts and some of the strips, and some boards for the seat--"

  "Who'd dig the post-holes?" inquired Bob, coldly.

  "Oh, we could get a couple of the others to help. Honest, Bob, it wouldbe a lot of fun. Maybe we couldn't do it before spring, though."

  "I might leave the stuff here," said Bob. "Thomas could sort of pile ita little neater, you know. I love to carpenter. Sometime we'll draw aplan of it, Nod."

  "Right-o! How about those other posts? No use trying to do anything with'em to-day, is there?"

  "No; we'll have to have another crowbar."

  Laurie looked relieved. "Well, let's go over and see whether the Widow'sgot any of those little cakes with the chocolate on top," he suggested."Hard work always makes a fellow hungry."

  There was a rousing football meeting in the auditorium that evening,with speeches and music, songs and cheers; and the enthusiasm spilledover to the yard afterward, and threatened to become unruly until DanWhipple mounted the steps of School Hall and spoke with all theauthority of eighteen years and the senior class presidency. Whereuponsomeone suggested a cheer for the Doctor, and the joyous crowd throngedto the west end of the building and gave nine long "Hillman's," with a"Doctor Hillman" on the end. And then suddenly the lights flashed on onthe porch, and there were the Doctor and Miss Tabitha, the formerlooking very much as if he had awakened very recently from a nap--whichwas, in fact, the case. But he was smiling as he stepped to the doorwayand near-sightedly surveyed the throng.

  "This--er--testimonial would appear to demand some sort of a response,"he announced, as the applause that had greeted his appearance died away."But I find myself singularly devoid of words, boys. Perhaps some of yourecall the story of the visitor in Sunday-school who was unexpectedlycalled on by the superintendent to address the children. He hemmed andhawed and said, finally, that it gave him much pleasure to see so manysmiling, happy faces. And he hoped they were all good little boys andgirls and knew their lessons. And then his eloquence failed him, andafter an unhappy interim he asked: 'And now, children, what shall Isay?' And a little girl in the front row lisped: 'Pleathe, Mithter, thay"Amen" and thit down!'

  "Perhaps I'd better say 'Amen' and sit down, too," he went on, when thelaughter had ceased; "but before I do I'd like to assure you that I am'rooting' just as hard as any of you for a victory the day afterto-morrow. My duties will not allow me to see the team in action, asmuch as I'd like to, but I am kept well informed of its progress. I havemy scouts at work constantly. Mr. Pennington reports to me on the workof the linemen; Mr. Barrett advises me each day as to the backs; Mr.Wells is my authority on--er--stratagem."

  This amused his hearers intensely, since none of the three instructorsmentioned had ever been known to attend a game or watch a practice.

  "And," continued the principal, when he could, "I follow the newspaperreports of our enemy's progress. Of course, I don't believe all I read.If I did I'd be certain that only overwhelming disaster awaited us onSaturday. But there is one thing that troubles me. I read recently thatthe Farview center is a very large youth, weighing, if I am notmistaken, some one hundred and seventy pounds. While mere weight andbrawn are not everything, I yet tremble to consider what may happen tothe slight, atomic youth who will oppose him. Young gentlemen, I shudderwhen I dwell on that unequal meeting, that impending battle of David andGoliath!"

  When the new burst of laughter had subsided, the doctor continued moresoberly: "I wish the team all success, a notable victory. Or, if thegods of battle will it otherwise, I wish it the manly grace to acceptdefeat smilingly and undismayed. I am certain of one thing, boys, whichis that, whether fortune favors the Dark Blue or the Maroon and White,the contest will be hard fought and clean, and bring honor alike to thevictor and vanquished. You have my heartiest good wishes. And"--thedoctor took the hand of Miss Tabitha, who had been standing a few stepsbehind him--"and the heartiest good wishes of another, who, while not aclose follower of your sports, has a warm spot in her heart for each andevery one of you, and who is as firmly convinced as I am of theinvincibility of the Dark Blue!"

  "Three cheers for Tab--for Miss Hillman!" cried a voice; and, at first atrifle ragged with laughter, the cheers rang forth heartily. Then cameanother cheer for the doctor and a rousing one for "Hillman's!_Hillman's!!_ HILLMAN'S!!!" And the
little throng, laughing andchattering, dispersed to the dormitories.

  Friday saw but a light practice for the first team and a finalappearance of the scrubs, who, cheered by the students, went through afew minutes of snappy signal work, and the waving sweaters and blanketsdashed off to the field-house, their period of servitude at an end. Forthe first team there was a long blackboard drill in the gymnasium aftersupper, and Ned, who, somewhat to his surprise and very much to hisgratification, had been retained on the squad, returned to Number 16 atnine o'clock in a rather bemused condition of mind. Kewpie, whoaccompanied him, tried to cheer him up.

  "It'll be all right to-morrow, Nid," he declared. "I know how you feel.Fact is, I wouldn't know one signal from another if I got it thisminute, and as for those sequences--" Words failed him. "But when youget on the field to-morrow it'll all come back to you. It--it's sort ofpsychological. A trick of memory and all that. You understand!"

  "I don't see why he needs to worry, anyhow," observed Laurie, cruelly."He won't get a show in to-morrow's game."

  Ned looked hopeful for a moment, then relapsed into dejection as Kewpieanswered: "I'd like to bet you he will, Nod. I'd like to bet you thathe'll play a full period. You just watch Farview lay for Pope! Boy,they're going to make hard weather for that lad! They were after himlast year, but they couldn't get him and he played right through. ButI'd like to bet you that to-morrow they'll have him out of it before thelast quarter."

  "What do you mean?" asked Laurie, in surprise. "They don't play thatsort of a game, do they?"

  "What sort of a game?" responded Kewpie. "They play hard, that's the waythey play! And every time they tackle Pope, they'll tackle him so he'llknow it. And every time he hits the line, there'll be one of thosered-legs waiting for him. Oh, they don't play dirty, if you mean that;but they don't let any chances slip, believe me!"

  "It sounds sort of off color to me, though," Laurie objected. "How areyou going to put a fellow out of the game if you don't slug or dosomething like that?"

  Kewpie smiled knowingly. "My son," he said, "if I start after you andrun you around the dormitory about twenty times--"

  Ned, in spite of his down-heartedness, snickered at the picture evolved,and Kewpie grinned.

  "Well, suppose some one else did, then. Anyhow, after he'd done it abouta couple of dozen times, you'd be all in, wouldn't you? He wouldn't haveto kick you or knock you down or anything, would he? Well, that's what Imean. That's the way they'll go after Pope. They'll tire him out. Youunderstand. And every time they tackle him, they'll tackle him good andhard. Well, suppose Pope does go out, and there's a chance for a fieldgoal, as there's likely to be. Who will Pinky put in? Why, Nid, ofcourse! Who else is there? Brattle can't kick one goal in six. No morecan Deering. What do you think Mulford's been nursing Nid all the seasonfor?"

  "Next year?" said Laurie, questioningly.

  "Sure--and this year, too. You watch and see. I'd like to bet you thatNid'll have a goal to kick to-morrow--yes, and that he'll kick it, too!"

  "Don't!" groaned Ned. "I never could do it!"

  "Well," laughed Laurie, "I don't bet for money, Kewpie, but I tell youwhat I'll do. If Ned kicks a goal to-morrow, I'll take you over to theWidow's, and I'll buy you all the cream-puffs you can eat at onesitting!"

  "It's a go!" cried Kewpie. "And if he doesn't, I'll do it to you!"

  "Of course," explained Laurie, in recognition of his brother's look ofpained inquiry, "I'm not making the offer because I think Ned can't doit, or because I don't want him to play. You bet I do! It's because I dowant him to, Kewpie. You see, I usually lose bets!"

  "All right, you crazy galoot. I've got to beat it. Pinky made us swearby the Great Horn Spoon to be in bed by ten. Good night. Don't let thesignal stuff worry you, Nid. It'll come out all right to-morrow. Youunderstand. Night!"

  When the door had closed, Laurie laughed and turned to Ned. "He's a goodold scout, isn't he? I say, what's the matter with you, Ned? You looklike the end of a hard winter! Cheer up! It may not be true!"

  But Ned shook his head, although he tried to smile unconcernedly. "It'llhappen just the way he told, Laurie," he said, sadly. "I just know itwill! They'll get Pope out of the way, and there'll be a field goalwanted, just as there was Wednesday, and Mulford will send me in!"

  "Well, what of it? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

  "I--I'm scared!"

  "Oh, piffle, Neddie! You've got nerves, that's all. The night before thebattle, you know, and all that! In the morning you'll be as right asrain. Get your clothes off and tumble in. Want me to read a story toyou? There's a corker in the 'Post' this week."

  "No, thanks; I guess not. I'd better go to sleep."

  But, although Ned, stifling a desire to sit up and read the corkingstory himself, put the light out at ten minutes before ten, he lay awakeuntil after midnight and suffered as blue a case of funk as any boy everdid. And when, at length, sleep came, it was filled with visions inwhich he stood in the center of a vast arena, the object of countlesseyes, and tried over and over, and never with success, to kick aperfectly gigantic leather ball over a cross-bar that was higher thanthe Masonic Temple at home!

  The truth is that Ned was over-trained and stale. And the further truthis that when he awoke to as sweet a November morning as ever peered downfrom a cloudless sky through golden sunlight, he felt, as he phrased itto himself, like a sock that had just come through the wringer!