by Roy J. Snell
CHAPTER XVII GLIDING TOWARD FRESH ADVENTURE
Artie Stark was carried off the field in triumph. This was naturalenough. Dynamite did not in the least begrudge him the honor, for had itnot been his spectacular run in the last minute of the game that savedthe day? How many had seen Dynamite's wild plunge through the line, theplunge that broke up the opponent's play? Very few. Such things are notseen. It is the lad with the long run to his credit who receives thecheers. Dynamite did not care. He did not so much as think of it. Hismind was occupied with other matters. He and Johnny Thompson walked offthe field together.
"Poor Kentucky," Dynamite was saying. "He doesn't seem to have any luck."
"All the same," Johnny replied quietly, "it was he who won today's game."
"That's just it," his generous hearted companion agreed. "To think ofpractically putting the game on ice, then being smashed up!
"I only hope," he added soberly, "that it's not too bad. We sure don'tget the breaks. Just when we're all keyed up and ready to go afteranything, then to lose our best man!"
"It is tough," Johnny agreed.
"And next Saturday," Dynamite groaned afresh, "we're up against St.Regis, the lightest, fastest team in the Little Seven. Think what it willbe with Kentucky out of the game. But then," he sighed, "it may not be sobad."
"You'll get over to the infirmary and see him won't you?" Johnny asked.
"Right away."
"I'll see you later," Johnny turned to the right. "Have to get over tothe Blue Moon. The place will be a wild scramble." It was, all of thatand more. Plenty of work for everyone. The Blue Moon was coming to be ahuge success.
Four hours Johnny worked at top speed. Dishing up ice cream, pouring outsteaming hot chocolate, slicing buns for hot dogs, directing his threehelpers, he found little time for thinking. When, however, the laststraggler had wandered through the open door and Aunt Mandy had said, "Ifyou all don ob-ject, I'll be agoin' on home," Johnny found time to thinkof many things. As his eyes moved swiftly over the place, taking in histhree candy cases, all but emptied in a single evening, as they rested onthe polished counter and the shining table, a feeling of joy and prideswept over him. He had said to the hostile world, "Here I am, ready forwork. Shove over. Make me a place." The world had answered, "There is noplace." He had replied, "O. K. then I'll make myself a place."
He had done just that. The Blue Moon was a success, would be more andmore of a success in the months to come. It had become an institution,and part of old Hillcrest. Yes, he, Johnny Thompson, was a part ofsomething big and fine. It was wonderful, this association with some ofthe finest young people in the world.
"I made a place," he whispered proudly. "A place for myself andKentucky."
Kentucky, the name awakened him. How was Kentucky? He must know. Slammingthe stove drafts shut, snapping off the lights, twirling the key in thedoor, he was away to the heating plant, hoping to find Dynamite.
He was not disappointed. "It might be worse," the big boy said soberly."General shock and one cracked rib. The doc has him all taped up. Surecan't play next Saturday.
"That," he added slowly, "is not so bad. We can afford to take one morelicking. But when it comes to week after next, when we go up against ourancient rival, Naperville, for that final game of the season, and, likeas not, for the championship, then, if Kentucky's out for good, it'sgoing to be just too bad!"
"We'll do the best we can for him," said Johnny. "And here's hoping thebest is good enough."
Dynamite's dire prophecy regarding the St. Regis game was not withoutfoundation. At the very beginning, playing on their own field, St. Registook the lead. But then, with two "pony" teams pitted against one anotherand with Hillcrest's best pony in the paddock, or rather on the bench,what chance did they have? Hillcrest took a good licking and Kentuckytook it hardest of all. At the end the score stood 21 to 6.
Seeing how down-hearted the mountain boy was, Johnny Thompson said,"Never mind, Kentucky old boy, about the middle of the week, when tradeis lightest, we'll step on the starter and go spinning back to ourbeloved hills. There are some things down there I'd like to look into alittle further. What do you say?"
"That," said Kentucky, with a broad grin, "will be somethin'." His grinwas even broader than Johnny had expected it to be. Little wonder, forthis boy had thoughts all his own. He was thinking, "Doc won't let me goout on the field and practice, 'fraid I'll get this old rib bumped again.Down in the mountains Doc has nothing to say about it. I'll just slip outinto the moonlight for a little practice with old Nicodemus." He chuckleda wise chuckle. But to Johnny he said never a word.
On Wednesday afternoon of that week they were on their way.
Our minds are strange. For some of us a place left behind is a placeforgotten. It was so with Johnny Thompson. The moment that Stone Mountainloomed up before him, Hillcrest was forgotten. Like the passing of themorning mist, the Blue Moon, Red Dynamite, the entire football team andall that was Hillcrest at its best, were forgotten. At once his mind wasfilled with other scenes, other problems. The old mill with its suckingpumps producing its strange liquid treasure, Donald Day, poor old UncleMose, the ornery and penny-pinching Blinkey Bill, the proposed lightningfrom the blue sky, the aviator down in the valley with his new type ofmotor, all these clamored for first place in his imaginative mind.
"Kentucky," he said, throwing back his square young shoulders, "life iswonderful!"
"It sure is," Kentucky agreed. He was thinking of old Nicodemus and themoon that would hang like a Japanese lantern over the hills that night.
And so they glided on down past Stone Mountain to the mouth of PoundingMill Creek and fresh adventure.
