On Your Mark! A Story of College Life and Athletics

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER XXIII

  THE FRESHMAN GAME

  "Your aunt was in Los Angeles California Monday expected stay week address Mission House. Is anything wrong? MOTHER."

  This message Allan found awaiting him when he hurried home from dinnerthat evening. So far so good, he reflected. But Monday was threedays gone, and if his aunt had changed her mind and gone on!--well,he didn't like to consider that contingency. Seating himself at hisdesk, he composed two messages, one to his aunt and one to the managerof the Mission House. In the latter he requested that his message toMiss Mary G. Merrill be forwarded to her, in case she had left thehotel. In the other message he finally expressed, at the expense ofthirty-four words, what he wanted his aunt to do. Then he hurried againto the telegraph office and begged the emotionless operator to get bothmessages off at once. The operator nodded silently.

  "You haven't received any other message for me, have you?" askedAllan. The operator as silently shook his head. Allan wandered backto his room. Studying was a task this evening, and he was glad whenTommy demanded admittance. A few minutes later Pete, too, arrived,looking very satisfied with life. Allan did not notice the exchange ofglances between the last comer and Tommy, and if he had he would nothave understood them, nor would he have connected them with the matteruppermost in his thoughts. Tommy raised his eyebrows inquiringly andPete nodded with a smile and mysteriously tapped the breast of his coat.

  Allan was full of his quandary and found much relief in tellingeverything to Tommy and exhibiting the telegrams received andcopies of those sent. Pete, strange to say, and somewhat to Allan'sdisappointment, did not display the amount of interest in the subjectwhich Allan thought he should have; and even Tommy seemed soon to tireof the matter. Allan fell into silence, reflecting pessimistically onthe readiness of your friends to abandon your troubles. Pete and Tommyleft early--Tommy had been on the point of leaving ever since hisarrival--and with their parting injunctions to "cheer up" and "don'tlet it bother you" in his ears, Allan went sorrowfully to bed.

  The next day was Friday, and it dawned cloudy and chill. May has itsmoods, even in Centerport, but it was unfortunate that it should havedisplayed the fact to-day, for the gloominess of the weather increasedAllan's despondency until Two Spot, blinking inquiringly from theMorris chair, saw that the world was awry and decided to go to sleepuntil things were righted again. And the answer to his St. Thomas Clubmessage, which came just before noon, did not tend to lighten Allan'sspirits.

  "Ware of Erskine," it ran, "won third in mile run Decembertwenty-sixth."

  Allan, as he tossed the sheet of buff paper angrily aside, wonderedwhether, after all, he had not taken part in the meeting whiletemporarily unbalanced; he had heard of such things, he thought. Orperhaps he had fallen asleep and--but no, his imagination couldn'tconceive of any one running a mile race and negotiating inclinedcorners without waking up! It was a strange and maddening mystery,and the more he puzzled over it the stranger it seemed and the moreexasperated he became.

  Stearns called after lunch and listened to an account of thedevelopments with perfunctory interest. He had given up hope of havingAllan enter the meet, and had decided that it didn't much matter. Forit was evident that Allan was worried and nervous, and the chancesthat he would give a good account of himself, if he ran, were slim.Stearns was sympathetic, but Allan could see that he, like Pete andTommy, wasn't inclined to let the matter trouble him overmuch.

  After the track captain had left, Allan fell into still deeperdespondency and mooned about his room--which was the last thing heshould have done--until four o'clock, when a half-hour of jogging onthe track took him out. No reply from Aunt Mary had reached him bydinner time, and although he stayed awake until eleven, in violation oftraining orders, listening eagerly for the opening of the gate whichshould announce the advent of the messenger, he was at last forced togo to sleep without the message. You may be certain his sleep did himlittle good. He dreamed all night, or so it seemed, and morning foundhim tired and haggard. His first look was toward the door-sill, but nobuff envelope rewarded it.

  "That settles it," he muttered, bitterly; "I'm not going to hope anylonger."

  Having reached this decision, he threw back his shoulders and walkedto breakfast whistling a tune. To be sure, the tune wasn't alwaystuneful, and sometimes it died out entirely, but it was a braveeffort. Breakfast at the training table was an uncomfortable meal forhim. The others were in the best of spirits, and there was present ahalf-suppressed excitement that showed itself on the countenances andin the bearing of the fellows.

  None there save Stearns and Pete knew of Allan's trouble, and theygave no sign. Pete even seemed to Allan to be indecently happy, andhis attempts at conversation met with scant encouragement. Half-waythrough the meal Rindgely's absence was discovered, and Kernahan wasdespatched to hunt him up. He had not returned when Allan left thehouse. Every one was cautioned to spend the forenoon out-of-doors andreport promptly at eleven-thirty for lunch.

  The town soon took on a gala appearance. The sidewalks were thronged byten o'clock, and none seemed to have anything to do save discuss theoutcome of the afternoon's performances. Erskine banners hung from theshop windows and fluttered over front doors. Pete wanted Allan to goout to the field with him and see the Erskine-Robinson freshman game,but Allan had no heart for it, and refused to leave his room. He had norecitations, for the professors had very generally given cuts. He wrotea letter to his mother--a very dismal production it was, too--and thensat at the window with Two Spot in his lap and watched the crowds passon their way to the game.

  The college band, followed by a mob of singing, cheering freshmen,went by in a cloud of dust, and presently a barge containing the homenine passed, and Allan had a glimpse of Hal's gray-clad shoulders.The Robinson youngsters had already gone out. The steady stream oftownfolk and students became broken; groups of three and four passed atintervals; now and then a couple of students, laughing and chatting,or a solitary mortal hurried by the house. Then, quite suddenly, as itseemed, all traffic ceased, and Poplar Street resumed its wonted quiet.

  Half an hour later Allan's eyes, roaming from the magazine which he wasstriving to read, sighted a faded blue coat across the little park, andhis heart leaped into his throat. A messenger boy, whistling a blithetune, toiled slowly along, as though his shoulders bore the weight ofa great sorrow. Once, when almost at the corner, he stopped, leanedagainst the fence and seemed on the point of going to sleep. Then heroused himself and came on. Allan restrained an impulse to dart outinto the road and waited on the porch, with his heart beating like atrip-hammer. The boy reached the corner, glanced with mild interest atAllan--and went on up Main Street.

  After the first moment of blank and sickening dismay, Allan went tothe end of the porch and looked after him. Perhaps, after all, he wasmistaken, and would discover the fact and turn back. But eventually thelad sauntered across the street and disappeared around the corner ofMcLean. Allan went back to his chair, his heart like lead and a lump inhis throat that wouldn't be swallowed.

  * * * * *

  Out at Erskine Field great things were happening. The purple-letteredyoungsters were more than holding their own against the far-heraldedteam of Robinson. It was the sixth inning, and the score stood 9 to5 in Erskine's favor. Hal had played a magnificent game at secondand already had a double-play to his credit, and had, besides,succeeded beyond all of his team-mates at hitting the redoubtablebrown-stockinged pitcher. Side by side on the warm turf back ofthird-base, Tommy and Pete were sitting cross-legged, having passed theropes by virtue of Tommy's ever-present note-book, with its staringinscription, "Erskine Purple," on the cover. The last man of theErskine side went out, the teams changed places, the seventh inningbegan with Robinson's tail-enders coming to the plate, and Pete resumedhis narrative, which had been interrupted by Hal's hard drive toleft-field.

  "He didn't have any idea what I had come for," Pete said, "and wasgoing to be very nice and polite; he
can be when he likes, you know.But I wasn't there to pass compliments or swap stories, so I got rightdown out of the saddle and talked business. 'Rindgely, I know that youran in the St. Thomas Club meet in Brooklyn the night after Christmas,under the name of A. Ware, and won fifteen dollars,' I said, 'andyou've got to come out in the open and say so.' Of course, it was arank bluff; I was pretty certain about it after I'd talked with you,but I didn't know absolutely, and couldn't prove anything. If he hadkept his nerve and told me to go to thunder, it would have been all offon the spot, and I'd had to crawl off with my tail between my legs.But it took him so sudden that he just gasped and got pale around thegills. Then I knew I had him roped. So I just waded in and gave itto him hot and heavy. Told him he was a horse-thief and an all-roundgaloot; that he ought to be ashamed of himself, and a lot more. When Igot through he was a pretty sick steer. I had him hog-tied and branded.Then he began to play fair.--Ginger! look at that hit! Good work!That's two out, ain't it? Only one? Well, it ought to be two."

  "And then what?" asked Tommy, making strange marks in the score-book onhis knee.

  "Well, I got kind of sorry for the poor old jack-rabbit. He told meall about it, and swore up and down he hadn't meant any harm; thathe wanted to try what he could do against some good men at the mile,and hadn't cared a hang about the money. 'But what did you use Ware'sname for?' says I. 'Wasn't your own bad enough?' 'Because,' says he,'I didn't want my folks to know about it; they live there in Brooklyn,and might have seen my name in the paper next day. I didn't think aboutmaking myself ineligible,' says he, 'and I didn't think I was doingWare any harm.' Well, that may be a lie, but he was sure in the dumps,and so I agreed to make things easy for him. 'You write it all outin black and white and sign your name to it,' says I, 'and if I canI'll keep dark about it. If Allan gets a message from his aunt, allright; if he doesn't, I show your document to Nast. I'll wait till thetwo-mile is called.' Bully for you, Hal! That's three, ain't it? Sure!Hit it out, Seven!"

  "You see," he went on, after the nines had changed places and theErskine captain had seized his bat, "you see, I didn't want to be anyharder on Rindgely than I had to. He said if the faculty got hold ofit they'd be sure to either bounce him bodily or hold up his diploma.Well, I guess they would, all right, eh?"

  "Sure to," answered Tommy, promptly, as he marked the first man out atfirst, scored an assist to the credit of the opposing pitcher and aput-out to that of the Brown's first-baseman.

  "So that's the way we fixed it up. And I hope Allan gets word fromauntie, for I'm blessed if I want Rindgely to get kicked out withoutgraduating. It would be hard luck for a chap to do four years at hardlabor here and then slip up just when he was going to grab the prize,wouldn't it?"

  "Hardest kind of luck," said Tommy. "Hope you don't have to show theconfession."

  Erskine went out in one, two, three order and the eighth inningcommenced. The band was doing gallant work and Pete found conversationbeyond his powers until the last strains of a lively two-step haddied away. By that time the Brown's second man had been retired, andRobinson's hopes were dwindling fast.

  "Is he going to run this afternoon?" asked Tommy.

  Pete shook his head.

  "No; you see, I couldn't let him do that; it would be against the law;if Allan couldn't run he couldn't, and that's certain."

  "No, he hasn't any right to," said Tommy, thoughtfully. "He's plainlyineligible because he ran for money; and then, there would be otherreasons."

  "Well, that's the way I figured it out," said Pete, with a note ofrelief in his voice. He was glad to have his decision supported bysome one who knew more about such things. "But he saw himself that itwas all up with him as a runner. He said he'd be sick to-day, and,as he wasn't at breakfast, I guess he is. I'll bet Dr. Prentiss willhave a hard time finding out what's wrong with him." And Pete chuckledwickedly.

  "All out," said Tommy. "Say, Hal! Oh, _Hal_! Give us a home run, Hal!Get out! Of course you can. We want some more runs."

  "I guess we don't stand much show of winning this afternoon," wenton Pete. "With Rindgely out of it and Allan all balled up, I can seeRobinson getting a few points."

  "They'll win first in the mile, all right," answered Tommy. "Hooker'snot in the same class with Rindgely this spring, and Harris isn't a bitbetter; though maybe he'll manage to get placed. As for Allan, he neverhas had any too good a chance at the two miles, and now, after all thisrumpus, it's a fair bet he'll be out of it entirely. It's a mean shamethe way things have gone, and when you think that it's all Rindgely'sfault, expulsion doesn't seem a bit too bad for him."

  "Maybe," said Pete, doubtfully, "but I don't want to be the feller toget him bounced; that's all. If Allan's confounded old relative doesn'tcome to time I'll--well, I guess I'll give Rindgely's statement to youand let you attend to things."

  "You've got another guess, Pete," said Tommy. "_I_ don't want anythingto do with it. Besides, you worked the racket and ought to see it out."

  Pete sighed dolefully.

  "I suppose I'll have to," he murmured.

  Again the inning closed without a tally, and Robinson came in for herlast turn at bat. Her players looked very determined, and it seemednot impossible that they would go in and make up the four runs thatthreatened to defeat them. And the band played again. Pete and Tommywere driven from their places by the crowd, which had left the standsand were invading the field, and they allowed themselves to be pushedforward to the foul-line.

  "I suppose Allan thinks I'm a brute," said Pete, dismally. "I didn't gonear him last night. But I just couldn't stand seeing him so miserable,and not blurting out everything I knew. So I fought shy. I just hope itends all right."

  Whether that ended all right another chapter will have to tell, butthere was no doubt about the game ending that way. Robinson went downbefore superb pitching, and with the score still 9 to 5, the spectatorsflooded over the field and their cheers drowned even the band.