CHAPTER VI
PROFESSOR TINES OBJECTS
"Are you going to fight him?" asked Langridge of Gerhart, when they werebeyond the hearing of Tom and Phil.
"Of course! I owe him something for being instrumental in getting me putout of the game."
"Are you sure he did?"
"Certainly. Didn't I see him sneak up to Lighton and put him wise to thefact that I'd taken a few whiffs? I only smoked half a cigarette in thedressing-room, but Clinton must have spied on me."
"That's what Parsons did on me, last term, and I got dumped for it.There isn't much to this athletic business, anyway. I don't see why yougo in for it."
"Well, I do, but I'm not going to stand for Clinton butting in the wayhe did. I wish he had come at me. You'd seen the prettiest fight youever witnessed."
"I don't doubt it," spoke Langridge dryly.
"What do you mean?" asked his crony, struck by some hidden meaning inthe words.
"I mean that Clinton would just about have wiped up the field with you."
"I'll lay you ten to one he wouldn't! I've taken boxing lessons from aprofessional," and Gerhart seemed to swell up.
"Pooh! That's nothing," declared Langridge. "Phil Clinton has boxed withprofessionals, and beaten them, too. We had a little friendly mill herelast term. It was on the quiet, so don't say anything about it. Philwent up against a heavy hitter and knocked him out in four rounds."
"He did?" and Gerhart spoke in a curiously quiet voice.
"Sure thing. I just mention this to show that you won't have a very easything of it."
There was silence between the two for several seconds. Then Gerhartasked:
"Do you think he wants me to apologize?"
"Would you?" asked his chum, and he looked sharply at him.
"Well, I'm not a fool. If he's as good as you say he is, there's no usein me having my face smashed just for fun. I think he gave me away, andnothing he can say will change it. Only I don't mind saying to him thatI was mistaken."
"I think you're sensible there," was Langridge's comment. "It would bea one-sided fight. Shall I tell him you apologize?"
"Have you got to make it as bald as that? Can't you say I was mistaken?"
"I don't know. I'll try. Clinton is one of those fellows who don'tbelieve in half-measures. You leave it to me. I'll fix it up. I don'twant to see you knocked out so early in the term. Besides--well, nevermind now."
"What is it?" asked Gerhart quickly.
"Well, I was going to say we'd get square on him some other way."
"That's what we will!" came eagerly from the deposed quarter-back. "Icounted on playing football this term, and he's to blame if I can't."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," came from Langridge. "I never knewClinton to lie. Maybe what he says is true."
"I don't believe it. I think he informed on me, and I always will. Doyou think there's a chance for me to get back?"
"No. Lighton is too strict. It's all up with you."
"Then I'll have my revenge on Phil Clinton, that's all."
"And I'll help you," added Langridge eagerly. "I haven't any use for himand his crowd. He pushed me down stairs the other day, and I owe himone for that. We'll work together against him. What do you say?"
"It's a go!" and they shook hands over the mean bargain.
"Then you'll fix it up with him?" asked Gerhart after a pause.
"Yes, leave it to me."
So that is how it was, that, a couple of hours later, Tom and Philreceived a call from Langridge. He seemed quite at his ease, in spite ofthe feeling that existed between himself and the two chums.
"I suppose you know what I've come for," he said easily.
"We can guess," spoke Tom. "Take a seat," and he motioned to the oldsofa.
"No, thanks--not on that. It looks as if it would collapse. I don't seewhy you fellows have such beastly furniture. It's frowsy."
"We value it for the associations," said Phil simply. "If you don't likeit----"
"Oh, it's all right, if you care for it. Every one to his notion, as thepoet says. But I came on my friend Gerhart's account. He says he wasmistaken about you, Clinton."
"Does that mean he apologizes?" asked Phil stiffly.
"Of course, you old fire-eater," said Langridge, lighting a cigarette."Is it satisfactory?"
"Yes; but tell him to be more careful in the future."
"Oh, I guess he will be. He's heard of your reputation," and Langridgeblew a ring of smoke toward the ceiling.
"I'll take him on, if he thinks Phil is too much for him," said Tom witha laugh.
"No, thanks; he's satisfied, but it's hard lines that he can't play,"observed the bearer of the apology.
"That's not my fault," said Phil.
"No, I suppose not. Well, I'll be going," and, having filled the roomwith particularly pungent smoke, Langridge took his departure. If Tomand Phil could have seen him in the hall, a moment later, they wouldhave observed him shaking his fist at the closed door.
"Whew!" cried Tom. "Open a window, Phil. It smells as if the place hadbeen disinfected!"
"Worse! I wonder what sort of dope they put in those cigarettes? I likea good pipe or a cigar, but I'm blessed if I can go those coffin nails!Ah, that air smells good," and he breathed in deep of the September airat the window.
Thus it was that there came about no fight between Phil and the "sportyfreshman," as he began to be called. There was some disappointment,among the students who liked a "mill," but as there were sure to befights later in the term, they consoled themselves.
Meanwhile, the football practice went on. Candidates were being weededout, and many were dropped. Gerhart made an unsuccessful attempt toregain his place at quarter, but the coach was firm; and thoughLangridge used all his influence, which was not small, it had no effect.Gerhart would not be allowed to play on the 'varsity (which was the goalof every candidate), though he was allowed to line up with the scrub.
"But I'll get even with Clinton for this," he said more than once to hiscrony, who eagerly assented.
Phil, meanwhile, was clinching his position at quarter, and was fastdeveloping into a "rattling good player," as Holly Cross said. Tom wasnot quite sure of his place at end, though he was improving, and ranmile after mile to better his wind and speed.
"You're coming on," said Coach Lighton enthusiastically. "I think you'lldo, Tom. Keep it up."
There had been particularly hard practice one afternoon, and word wentdown the line for some kicking. The backs fell to it with vigor, and thepigskin was "booted" all over the field.
"Now for a good try at goal!" called the coach, as the ball was passedto Holly Cross, who was playing at full-back. He drew back his foot,and his shoe made quite a dent in the side of the ball. But, as oftenoccurs, the kick was not a success. The spheroid went to the side,sailing low, and out of bounds.
As it happened, Professor Emerson Tines, who had been dubbed "Pitchfork"the very first time the students heard his name, was crossing the fieldat that moment. He was looking at a book of Greek, and paying littleattention to whither his steps led. The ball was coming with terrificspeed directly at his back.
"Look out, professor!" yelled a score of voices.
Mr. Tines did look, but not in the right direction. He merely gazedahead, and seeing nothing, and being totally oblivious to the footballpractice, he resumed his reading.
The next moment, with considerable speed, the pigskin struck him full inthe back. It caught him just as he had lifted one foot to avoid a stone,and his balance was none too good. Down he went in a heap, his bookflying off on a tangent.
"The pigskin struck him full in the back"]
"Wow!" exclaimed Holly Cross, who had been the innocent cause of thedownfall. "I'll be in for it now."
"Keep mum, everybody, as to who did it," proposed Phil. "The whole crowdwill shoulder the blame."
The players started on the run toward the professor, who still reclinedin a sprawling attitude on the ground. He wa
s the least liked of allthe faculty, yet the lads could do no less than go to his assistance.
"Maybe he's hurt," said Tom.
"He's too tough for that," was the opinion of Bricktop.
Before the crowd of players reached the prostrate teacher he had arisen.His face was first red and then pale by turns, so great was his rage. Helooked at the dirt on his clothes, and then at his book, lying facedownward some distance away.
"Young gentlemen!" he cried in his sternest voice. "Young gentlemen, Iobject to this! Most emphatically do I object! You have gone entirelytoo far! It is disgraceful! You shall hear further of this! You may allreport to me in half an hour in my room! I most seriously object! It isdisgraceful that such conduct should be allowed at any college! I shallspeak to Dr. Churchill and enter a most strenuous objection! The idea!"
He replaced his glasses, which had fallen off, and accepted his bookthat Tom picked up.
"Don't forget," he added severely. "I shall expect you all to report tome in half an hour."
At that moment Dr. Albertus Churchill, the aged and dignified head ofthe college, and Mr. Andrew Zane, a proctor, came strolling along.
"Ah! I shall report your disgraceful conduct to Dr. Churchill at once,"added Professor Tines, as he walked toward the venerable, white-haireddoctor. "I shall enter my strongest objection to the continuance offootball here."
There were blank looks on the faces of the players.
A Quarter-Back's Pluck: A Story of College Football Page 6
