Dick Hamilton's Football Team; Or, A Young Millionaire On The Gridiron

by Howard Roger Garis

  CHAPTER X

  DICK IS REBUFFED

  For a moment the four cadets--two on one side and two on theother--stared at each other. The face of Dick Hamilton was rather pale,but he held himself well in control. As for Paul, he had one hand on theshoulder of his chum, and had taken an eager step forward to confrontPorter.

  That bully regarded the two friends with a sneer on his face, and thecountenance of Weston wore an amused smile.

  "Well, I thought you were going to say something," half-snarled Porter."If you are, put some steam on. We're in a hurry."

  "You made an accusation just now," went on Paul, making a motion to Dickto keep silent.

  "I did, and I think I can back it up. Why it's plain to everybody howthe thing is worked. It's even known as Hamilton's football team, and nowonder he is picked to play on it."

  "It isn't my team at all!" burst out the young millionaire.

  "Well, you're paying for the coaches," put in Weston. "That's whythey----"

  "They don't know a thing about it!" cried Paul Drew. "That's what I wantto say. From the beginning it was feared that something like this mightcrop up, and so Dick arranged to hand the money to the athleticcommittee, of which I happen to be a member. Our committee pays thesalaries of the coaches, and also for their board, and the coachesthemselves only know that much. They have no more idea that Dick isfooting the bills than that an inhabitant of Mars is doing it, and ifany one makes a statement to the contrary--well, we have a way ofdealing with such persons at Kentfield," and Paul looked significantlyat Porter and Weston.

  "Does that satisfy you?" asked Dick quietly, as Paul paused. "I wouldhave told you the same thing, but perhaps it is just as well to comefrom a member of the committee. I am only too glad to help out the teamby hiring the coaches, but they don't know me from any other player, andI took my chances with all of you. If I had been turned down, as I halfexpected to be, it would have made no difference."

  "Wait until you get turned down, and then you'll sing a different tune,"remarked Porter bitterly, and Dick realized how he must feel.

  "I'm sorry," said the young millionaire gently, "and if I had anyinfluence at all you should be on the Varsity, for I think you are agood player."

  "The coaches don't," and Porter laughed sarcastically.

  "There's plenty of chance yet," went on Dick. "We are to have anotherpractice game this week, and there may be a turn about in some players."

  "I have a large sized gold framed picture of 'em naming me," exclaimedPorter with sarcasm. "But I take back what I said about your moneygetting you on. It did seem so, at first."

  "Perhaps naturally," agreed Dick. "But your apology is accepted," and heheld out his hand. "I hope we can be friends," he concluded.

  "I guess so," mumbled Porter, with rather a shamed air.

  "I presume Mr. Weston seconds what his friend says," spoke Paulsignificantly.

  "Oh, yes," and it was with rather an obvious effort that the crony madereply. "Come on, Porter, or the best billiard tables will all beoccupied."

  "Well, I'm glad that's over," remarked Dick to Paul, as they turnedaway. "I was afraid this would crop up, and it's just as well to settleit. I only hope it does settle it, and that no other fellows will thinkas Porter and Weston did."

  "Oh, some of them are bound to think it anyhow," said Paul easily."Don't mind it, for it will wear away sooner or later. I'm afraid,though, that the team will be known as yours."

  "I don't want that, Paul."

  "Can't be helped, old man. After all it's a high honor. I wish I couldafford a football team, and a steam yacht."

  "Maybe you will some day. And, come to think of it I may not have asteam yacht much longer."

  "Why, are you going to sell it?"

  "No, but dad's finances are in a bad way, and may become worse."

  "You don't mean to say he's lost all his money?" and Paul gave Dick astartled glance.

  "Oh, we have enough to keep the wolf from howling under the parlorwindows, and I don't expect to have to go to work in Uncle Ezra's woolenmill right away, but dad is involved in some trolley deal, and it's'crimping' him, as he says. He's got most of his money tied up in itnow, and some men, of whom Porter's father is one are trying to get theroad away from dad."

  "Does Porter know this?"

  "He doesn't know it's my father whom his father is fighting, and I'djust as soon he wouldn't. But I've got to do something to help out, andone thing is to locate a Mr. Duncaster," and Dick told of his encounterswith the eccentric man, and how he held a large block of stock in thetrolley line.

  "I'll help if I can," agreed Paul. Then they got their ice cream sodas,and strolled back to the academy.

  That night Dick wrote his father a long letter, explaining about thefootball team, and also detailing his meetings with Mr. Duncaster.

  * * * * *

  "He lives in a place called Hardvale," wrote Dick, "and he seems to beas hard as the place is named. However, I'll try to see him, and get himto sell you the stock. You had better write me some specificinstructions, and say how high I can go in bidding for it. If Mr.Porter, whose son is here at Kentfield, learns that Duncaster has thestock, he may have a try for it, so I'll have to go at it quietly. ButI'll do my best."

  * * * * *

  Then, having done as much as he could in his father's business matters,our hero resumed his interrupted studies.

  There was more football practice the next day, and the coaches now putthe Varsity team through some rigorous work. The cadets were a littleinclined to find fault at the strenuous tasks assigned to them, but theexperts were exacting, and said that if Kentfield expected to be in thechampionship class she must work for it.

  Meanwhile the scrub was being moulded into shape, for a good opponent isa necessary element in practice, and unless there is something to fightagainst practice goes for little.

  And how eager that same scrub was to make touchdowns against theVarsity! How they did work, taking desperate chances all the while, andthe individual players making names for themselves by brilliant dashes.For they all wanted to get on the first team, and they bore in mind whatthe coaches had said about giving them a chance if they did well.

  "We certainly have our work cut out for us," remarked Dick, after aparticularly gruelling day. "I'm as lame as a fellow who's tumbleddownstairs."

  "Same here," agreed Paul. "Some one walked all over me in that lastscrimmage."

  But the effect of the hard work was fast becoming noticeable, for theteam was getting to be like "nails" as Mr. Martin said, and the playerswere working more in unison.

  There was a practice game between the Varsity and scrub on Saturday, andit was the best one yet, from a critical football viewpoint. The coachesnodded their heads in approval when the first team made six touchdowns.And, though the scrub did manage to get a field goal, it was not to thediscredit of the Varsity.

  "We're picking up," declared Dick, as he ducked under a shower bath inthe gymnasium. "We'll be able to challenge Blue Hill again, and theywon't dare turn us down."

  "I think we're going to try on some other team first," said Paul. "Iheard the coaches talking about it. But say, who's going to be ourcaptain--have you heard?"

  "Not a word about it. Maybe it will fall on you, since Teddy is out."

  "Jove! it would be an honor, but I don't hope for it. I'd like to seeyou fill that berth," went on Paul unselfishly.

  "Nonsense!" exclaimed Dick. "I guess--blub--glub--ugh!" for he turnedhis head up and the shower from the spray filled his mouth and noseunexpectedly.

  "Wow! That was a wet one!" he cried when he had caught his breath.

  "Dutton would like to be captain, I hear," put in George Hall, who wasin the next shower to Paul. "He says he's going to try for it."

  "And he'd be a good one," declared Dick heartily, for he and his formerenemy were now firm friends, though not exactly chums.

  There were many speculations as t
o who would head the eleven, but thecoaches had advised the cadets to wait until the Varsity team wasdefinitely selected before holding an election, and this had been agreedto.

  There came a long telegram for Dick late that Saturday night. It wasfrom his father, and showed more plainly than anything else how anxiousthe financier was. For he did not wait to write a reply to Dick'sletter, preferring the speed of the wire.

  * * * * *

  "See Duncaster by all means," read part of the message, "and offer himten points above par for the stock--all he has. It's a big price, but itwill soon be worth more. See him soon."

  "I'll make a trip out there Monday," decided Dick. "Whew! Things arebeginning to happen evidently."

  With Paul for a companion our hero hired an auto and made the journey toHardvale. Grit sat on the floor of the tonneau, with a contented look onhis ugly but honest countenance.

  "Grit may come in handy if Duncaster sets his dogs on us," remarked Dickwith a grim smile, as they bowled along at good speed.

  "Why, do you expect trouble?" asked Paul.

  "Not exactly, but I imagine he hasn't much use for me. He didn't actvery friendly the last time we met, and then the sight of the auto maymake him angry, remembering how we ran him down. But it's too slow totake a horse. I hope we find him at home."

  It was rather a lonesome part of the country through which they weretraveling--a sparsely settled district that, somehow, reminded the youngmillionaire of the gloomy landscape at Dankville where his Uncle Ezralived.

  Mr. Duncaster was at home, a fact which a crabbed old housekeeperconveyed to the boys in no very cheerful voice.

  "But I don't believe he'll see you," she added. "He's just woke up fromhis afternoon nap, and he's always a little riled then."

  "Hum," mused our hero, "rather an unfavorable time to call, but it can'tbe helped. Will you tell him Dick Hamilton wants to see him?" herequested of the housekeeper.

  "Oh, I s'pose so," and the woman went off grumbling, leaving the twolads standing on the doorstep.

  "Polite," commented Paul with a short laugh.

  The woman came back presently.

  "He wants to know what you want," she said.

  "I'd like to see him, and explain in person," said the youngmillionaire, "but will you tell him it is about the stock of the MidvaleElectric Road he holds. I wish to purchase it for my father."

  "Oh, you do; eh?" snarled a voice behind the housekeeper, and thewizzened and rather scowling face of Mr. Duncaster was thrust out. "Sothat's why you called on me, Dick Hamilton? I haven't forgotten you, asyou'll note. Ha! There's another of the tin soldiers," he sneered as hecaught sight of Paul. "If I had my way you'd all be breaking stone onthe road, and you wouldn't have those soldier suits on, either," and hechuckled hoarsely. Clearly he was none the better for his nap.

  "I called in reference to the Midvale stock," explained Dick, tryinghard to keep down his anger and speak politely. "My father told me tooffer you ten above par for it."

  "Ten; eh?" and Mr. Duncaster chuckled. "Did he say you were to go higherin case I refused that offer?"

  "No, he did not."

  "Well then you can go back where you came from and tell your father thatI won't sell."

  "Do you mean for that price? Do you want more money? I can wire myfather, and say----"

  "You needn't say anything for me!" snapped the crabbed man. "I won'tsell at that price, nor any other he can offer me. I've had a betteroffer than his, you can tell him, but I won't do business with him. Nowget away from here! This isn't war time and I don't want a couple of tinsoldiers on my front steps," and once more the old man chuckled at hisinsulting words.

  Dick and Paul flushed, but made no retort.

  "Won't you consider any offer at all from my father?" asked the youngmillionaire, wondering if the other bid for the stock had come from Mr.Porter. "I will send him a message, telling him you----"

  "I told you that you needn't tell him anything from me!" snapped Mr.Duncaster. "I won't sell, and that's all there is to it! Now get out!"and he slammed shut the door.

  For a moment Dick paused irresolutely on the steps. Then, with a shrugof his shoulders, he said:

  "Turned down! Well I'll have to try some other way. It will be adisappointment for dad though."

  As the two chums walked out of the yard the chauffeur came toward themwith a small pail.

  "What are you going to do?" asked Dick.

  "Get some water for the radiator. It's almost out. I see a well overhere."

  He approached it to draw up the bucket, when a window was raised, andthe head of Mr. Duncaster was thrust out.

  "Here! Keep away from that well!" he cried. "You shan't have any of mywater for your old rip-snorting contraption. I believe you are thefellow who ran into me the other night. Get away from there and wateryour machine somewhere else."

  "Hum! You're a cheerful companion for yourself in your old age,"remarked the chauffeur, as he turned back.