CHAPTER XVII
DROPPED FROM THE TEAM
WHETHER owing to Danny Moore's tonic, the doctor's prescription or agood night's rest, Don awoke the next morning feeling perfectly wellphysically, and his first waking moments were cheered by the knowledge.Then, however, recollection of the fact that physical well-being wasexactly what wasn't required under the circumstances brought quickreaction, and he jumped out of bed to look at himself in the mirrorabove his dresser in the hope of finding pale cheeks and hollow eyes andsimilar evidences of impending dissolution. But Fate had played a sorrytrick on him! His cheeks were not in the least pale, nor were his eyessunken. In short, he looked particularly healthy, and if other evidenceof the fact was needed it was supplied by Tim. Tim, when Don turnedregretfully away from the glass, was sitting up and observing him withpleased relief.
"Ata boy!" exclaimed Tim. "Feeling fine and dandy, aren't you? I guessthat medicine was cheap at the price, after all! You look about ahundred per cent better than you did yesterday, Donald."
Don started to smile, caught himself in time and drew a long sigh. "Youcan't always tell by a fellow's looks how he's really feeling," hereplied darkly.
"Oh, run away and play! What's the matter with you? You've got colour inyour face and look great."
"Too much colour, I'm afraid," said Don, shaking his headpessimistically. "I guess--I guess I've got a little fever."
Tim stared at him puzzledly. "Fever? What for? I mean---- Say, are youfooling?"
"No. My face is sort of hot, honest, Tim." And so it was, possibly theconsciousness of fibbing and the difficulty of doing it successfully wasresponsible for the flush. Tim pushed his legs out of bed and viewed hisfriend disgustedly.
"Don, you're getting to be one of those kleptomaniacs--no, that isn'tit! What's the word? Hydrochondriacs, isn't it? Anyway, whatever it is,you're it! You've got so you imagine you're sick when you aren't. Forgetit, Donald, and cheer up!"
"Oh, I'll be all right, thanks," responded the other dolefully. "Iguess I'm lots better than I was."
"Of course you are! Why, hang it, man, you've simply got to be O. K.today! If you're not Robey'll can you as sure as shooting! Smile for thegentleman, Don, and then get a move on and come to breakfast."
"I don't think I want any breakfast, thanks."
"You will when you smell it. Want me to start the water for you?"
"If I was a hydrochondriac I wouldn't want any water, would I?"
"Hypochondriac's what I meant, I guess. Hurry up before the mob getsthere."
Tim struggled into his bath-robe and pattered off down the corridor,leaving Don to follow at his leisure. But, instead of following, Donseated himself on the edge of his bed and viewed life gloomily. If Timrefused to believe in his illness, how was he to convince Coach Robey ofit? He might, he reflected, rub talcum on his face, but he was afraidthat wouldn't deceive anyone, the coach least of all. And, according tohis bargain with Harry Walton, he must sever his connection with theteam today. If he didn't Walton would go to the principal and tell whathe had witnessed from his window that Saturday night, and not only he,but Tim and Clint as well, would suffer. And, still worse, the teamwould be beaten by Claflin as surely as--as Tim was shouting to him fromthe bathroom! He got up and donned his bath-robe and set off down thecorridor with lagging feet, so wretched in mind by this time that itrequired no great effort of imagination to believe himself ailing inbody.
To his surprise--and rather to his disgust--he found himself intenselyhungry at breakfast and it was all he could do to refuse the steak andbaked potato set before him. Under the appraising eye of Mr. Robey, hedrank a glass of milk and nibbled at a piece of toast, his very soullonging for that steak and a couple of soft eggs! Afterward, when hereported to Danny, the trainer produced fresh discouragement in him.
"Fine, me boy!" declared the trainer. "You're as good as ever, aren'tyou? Keep in the air all you can and go light with the dinner."
"I--I don't feel very fit," muttered Don.
"Get along with you! You're the picture of health! Don't be sayinganything like that to Mr. Robey, or he might believe it and bench you.Run along now and mind what I tell you. Game's at two-fifteen today."
It was fortunate that Don had but two recitations that morning, for hewas in no condition for such unimportant things. His mind was too fullof what was before him. At dinner it was easy enough to obey Danny'scommand and eat lightly, for he was far too worried to want food. Thenoon meal was eaten early in order that the players might have an hourfor digestion before they went to the field. Chambers came swinging upto the school at half-past one, in all the carriages to be found at thestation, while her supporters trailed after on foot. The stands filledearly and, by the time the Chambers warriors trotted on to the gridironfor their practice, looked gay and colourful with waving pennants.
Don kept close to Tim from the time dinner was over until they reachedthe locker-room in the gymnasium. Tim was puzzled and disgusted over hischum's behaviour and secretly began to think that perhaps, after all, hewas not in the condition his appearance told him to be. Don listlesslydragged his playing togs on and was dressed by the time Coach Robey camein. He hoped that the coach would give him his opportunity then todeclare his unfitness for work, but Mr. Robey paid no attention to him.He said the usual few words of admonition to the players, conferred withManager Morton and the trainer and disappeared again. Captain Edwardsled the way out of the building at a few minutes before two and theyjogged down to the field and, heralded by a long cheer from the stand,took their places on the benches. It was a fine day for football, brightand windless and with a true November nip in the air.
Chambers yielded half the gridiron and Coach Robey approached the bench."All right, first and second squads," he said cheerfully. "Try yoursignals out, but take it easy. Rollins, you'd better try a half-dozengoals. Martin, too. How about you, Gilbert? You feeling all right?"
Don felt the colour seeping out of his cheeks as the coach turned towardhim, and there was an instant of silence before he replied with loweredeyes.
"N-no, sir, I'm not feeling very--very fit. I'm sorry."
"You're not?" Mr. Robey's voice had an edge. "Danny says you'reperfectly fit. What's wrong?"
"I--I don't know, sir. I don't feel--well."
A number of the players still within hearing turned to listen. Mr. Robeyviewed Don with a puzzled frown. Then he shrugged impatiently.
"You know best, of course," he said shortly, "but if you don't worktoday, Gilbert, you're plumb out of it. I can't keep your place open foryou forever, you know. What do you say? Want to try it?"
Don wished that the earth under his feet would open up and swallow him.He tried to return the coach's gaze, but his eyes wandered. The firsttime he tried to speak he made no sound, and when he did find his voiceit was so low that the coach impatiently bade him speak up.
"I don't think it would be any good, sir," replied Don huskily. "I--I'mnot feeling very well."
There was a long silence. Then Mr. Robey's voice came to him as cold asice. "Very well, Gilbert, clean your locker out and hand in your thingsto the trainer. Walton!"
"Yes, sir?"
"Go in at left guard on the first squad." Mr. Robey turned again to Don."Gilbert," he said very quietly, "I don't understand you. You areperfectly able to play, and you know it. The only explanation thatoccurs to me is that you're in a funk. If that's so it is a fortunatething for all of us that we've discovered it now instead of later.There's no place on this team, my boy, for a quitter."
Coach and players turned away, leaving Don standing alone there beforethe bench. Miserably he groped his way to it and sat down with hanginghead. His eyes were wet and he was horribly afraid that someone wouldsee it. A hand fell on his shoulder and he glanced up into Tim'stroubled face.
"I heard, Don," said Tim. "I'm frightfully sorry, old man. Are you sureyou can't do it!"
Don shook his head silently. Tim sighed.
"Gee, it's rotten, ain't it? Maybe
he didn't mean what he said, though.Maybe, if you're all right Monday, he'll give you another chance.I'm--I'm beastly sorry, Don!"
The hand on his shoulder pressed reassuringly and drew away and Timhurried out to his place. Presently Don took a deep breath, got to hisfeet and, trying his hardest to look unconcerned but making sorry workof it, skirted the stand and retraced his steps to the gymnasium. Hisone desire was to get out of sight before any of the fellows found him,and so he pulled off his togs as quickly as he might, got into his otherclothes, made a bundle of his suit and stockings and shoes and left themin the rubbing-room where Danny could not fail to find them and thenhurried out of the building and through the deserted yard to Billingsand the sunlit silence and emptiness of his room.
There was very little consolation in the knowledge that he had done onlywhat was right. Martyrdom has its drawbacks. He had lost his positionwith the team and had been publicly branded a quitter. The fact that hisconscience was not only clear but even approving didn't help much. Beingthought a quitter, a coward, hurt badly. If he could have got at HarryWalton any time during the ensuing half-hour it would have gone hardwith that youth. After a time, though, he got command of his feelingsagain and, since there was nothing better to do, he seated himself atthe window and watched as much of the football game as was visible fromthere. Once or twice he was able to forget his trouble for a briefmoment.
Chambers put up a good game that day and it was all the home team coulddo to finally win out by the score of 3 to 0. For two periods Chambershad Brimfield virtually on the run, and only a fine fighting spirit thatflashed into evidence under the shadow of her goal saved the latter fromdefeat. As it was, luck took a hand in matters when a poor pass fromcentre killed Chambers's chance of scoring by a field-goal in the secondquarter.
Brimfield showed better work in the second half and twice got the ballinside the visitor's twenty-yard line, once in the third period andagain shortly before the final whistle blew. The first opportunity toscore was lost when Carmine called for line-plunges to get the pigskinacross and Howard, who was playing in St. Clair's position because of aslight injury to the regular left half, fumbled for a four-yard loss.Chambers rallied and took the ball away a minute later. In the fourthperiod dazzling runs outside of tackles by Tim Otis and hardline-plugging by Rollins and Howard took the ball from Brimfield'sthirty-five to the enemy's twenty-five. There a forward passgrounded--Chambers had a remarkable defence against that play--and, onthird down, Rollins slid off left tackle for enough to reach the twenty.But with only one down remaining and time nearly up, a try-at-goal wasthe only course left, and Rollins, standing squarely on the thirty-yardline, drop-kicked a scanty victory.
In some ways that contest was disappointing, in others encouraging.Team-play was more in evidence than in any previous game and themaroon-and-grey backfield had performed prodigiously. And the plays had,as a general thing, gone off like clock-work. But there were weak placesin the line still. Pryme, at right guard, had proved an easy victim forthe enemy and the same was true, in a lesser degree, of Harry Walton, onthe other side of centre. And Crewe, at right tackle, had allowedhimself to be boxed time after time. It might be said for Crewe,however, that today he was playing opposite an opponent who was morethan clever. But the way in which Chambers had torn holes in Brimfield'sfirst defence promised poorly for next Saturday and the spectators wentaway from the field feeling a bit less sanguine than a week before. "Noteam that is weak at both guard positions can hope to win," was thegeneral verdict, and it was fully realised that Claflin's backs werebetter than Chambers's. For a day or two there was much talk of apetition to the faculty asking for the reinstatement of Tom Hall, but itprogressed no further than talk. Josh, it was known, was not the kind toreverse his decision for any reason they could present.
And yet, although the weekly faculty conference on Monday night had nowritten petition to consider, the subject of Tom's reinstatement didcome before it and in a totally unprecedented manner.
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