CHAPTER XXVII
"WHAT'S TO BE DONE?"
For perhaps five seconds no one spoke after Frank had announced hisdecision, a decision that meant more to him than anyone suspected. Thenthere came a spontaneous cheer--a cheer for the lad who could sacrificehimself for the honor of his college.
"What's the matter with Frank Simpson?" again demanded Bean Perkins.
Instantly came the answer:
"He's all right!"
"Tiger!" yelled the irrepressible Bean, and the yellow-striped cheer wasgiven with a will.
"Well, I suppose there's nothing else to be done," spoke Holly,regretfully.
"Nothing," replied Frank, and the wonder of it was that he could smile."Nothing but to accept my withdrawal, and so inform the committee fromExter."
"And then we've got to get busy and see who we can put in your place,and Shambler's," added Kindlings.
The resignation was formally accepted, and word was sent to Wallace andhis friends. They expressed their regret at the necessity, and evenadmitted that perhaps a ruling from the A. A. U. might bear out Frank'scontention that he was not a professional.
"But we haven't time for it," said Holly. "We'll take our medicine,though it's a bitter pill to swallow."
"I hope you don't think we did this because of any fear on our part thatwe couldn't win against your two men," spoke the Exter manager.
"Not at all," Holly assured him. "I appreciate your position, but it'stough on us, to lose two good men. I can't get over that cad Shambler."
"He certainly played a mean part," agreed Wallace. "This Simpson's caseis altogether different. I'm sorry for him."
"We all are," put in Kindlings. "Well, we've got a little time left inwhich to make good. I'm glad we don't have to go into the gamesto-morrow."
"Not wishing you any bad luck," spoke the Exter lad, with a frank laugh,"I hope we beat you."
"Randall is hard to beat," spoke Holly grimly. "You'll find us on thejob when the time comes."
But when the protesting committee had left the boys of Randall lookedat each other with troubled eyes.
"What's to be done?" was the general question.
No one could answer.
"Of course we've got to go on and play the game," declared Holly Cross."We've a few days in which to select some lads to take the places ofShambler and Frank. Oh, why couldn't it have been someone else? Thisleaves the mile run and the broad jump open, and we were counting onthose two contests especially. Of the others I'm not so much afraid. Butwho are we going to enter for those contests?"
"We're going to lose, I think," said Jerry Jackson mournfully.
"That's right--lose," echoed his twin.
"Say, you fellows make me tired!" exploded Kindlings. "We're _not_ goingto lose!"
"That's the way to talk, but how do you figure it out?" asked Holly."Who'll substitute for Shambler and Frank?"
"Sid Henderson will have to make the jump, and Tom Parsons, we'll dependon you for the mile run!" answered Dan quickly.
"Who, me? I can never beat the Exter man in the jump," asserted Sid.
"Say, don't you talk back to me!" retorted Kindlings, and there was anew note in his voice. "I tell you you're going to do it! Where'sParsons?"
"Here," answered Tom meekly.
"You get into practice quick for that mile run," ordered Dan. "You'vegot to do it. Sid, get into your togs at once. Holly, come on out andhold the watch on Tom. I'll see Moses and make it all right aboutlectures. We're in a hole and we've got to pull ourselves out."
At once it seemed as if new spirit had settled down over Randall. Therehad been gloom, following the withdrawal of Shambler and Frank, but withthe manly way in which Kindlings met the situation the skies seemed toclear.
It was the only way out of the dilemma. But everyone knew that, at best,it was but a slim chance. Neither Tom nor Sid were brilliant performers,though that is not saying they were to be despised, by any means. Theirtalents simply lay in other directions than track athletics. Yet theywere not far behind Frank and Shambler in the two events. They neededhard training, however, and the question was, could they get in form inthe short time left?
"They've got to!" declared Kindlings grimly. "It's going to betrain--train--train! from now to the minute of the games. It means a lotof practice--hard practice. Oh, if we only had a week more! Why didn'tthis come a little sooner?"
"Is there any chance of getting a postponement?" asked Phil. "I thinkunder the circumstances we're entitled to it."
"Entitled to it, yes, maybe," assented Dan, "but we won't crawl byasking for it. We'll take our medicine, and take it like men, and,what's more, we'll turn the trick, too!"
The squad of athletes was ordered out soon after the momentous meeting.Dr. Churchill met the situation squarely. He gave the boys all theleeway needed in the matter of attending lectures, and wrote a personalletter to the heads of Exter, Boxer Hall and Fairview, expressing regretat the turn of affairs.
And then Randall grimly set to work on her uphill climb.
That it was to be an uphill climb was soon made very evident. Whether itwas because of nervousness, or real inability to make good, or becausethey were so suddenly called on without adequate preparation, was notmade evident, but certain it was that neither Tom nor Sid gave brilliantperformances in the trials that followed. Tom's time was far behind thatof Shambler in the mile run, and, though it was only a matter ofseconds, everyone knew that seconds would count.
Sid, too, seemed to have lost his natural ability to cover ground inthe big jump, though he was by far the best man available after Frank'sdisbarment.
"This won't do," declared Holly, and though his heart was sinking, hekept up a bold front. "Get at it, boys," he urged the two on whom somuch depended. "You can make good yet! All you need is to think so."
"It's easy enough to say," complained Tom, who was tired from manytrials.
"Say, if you don't win, I'll roll you in the mud so your best girl won'tspeak to you for a month," threatened Kindlings. "And, as for you, Sid,I'll have you run out of Randall on a rail. So make good--both of you!"
"Um!" grunted Tom, disconsolately, and Sid looked at him with despair inhis eyes. They were both in a bad way.
There was but one more day before the games. It dawned--or rather, toquote Holly Cross, "it clouded up beautifully" from the start. There wasa chill, in the air, too.
"Tumble out!" cried Kindlings, as he banged on the door of the roomwhere the inseparables were sleeping. "Tom--Sid, we need you for somemorning practice."
"Oh, go on away," begged Tom.
"Let me dream on," requested Sid, drowsily.
"Tumble out!" shouted the inexorable Kindlings. "This is your lastchance. It's a nice cool morning for a run or a jump, and you'll be allthe better for it. Come on."
So, perforce, the substitutes who were to fill in for Frank and Shambler"tumbled out," literally, for they were half asleep. But a shower bath,a brisk rub, and the cheerful talk of Holly and Kindlings put new lifeinto them, and soon they were at vigorous practice. They did better thanon the previous day.
"If we only had another week, or even three days, I wouldn't be a bitworried," declared Holly at the conclusion of the trials. "They're bothdoing fine, Kindlings."
"I don't s'pose we can get an extension?"
"I wouldn't have the nerve to ask for it."
"Then we'll have to stand or fall as we are."
"That's it--hang together or hang separately as Patrick Henry, or someof the ancients, said," quoted Holly.
The excitement over the unexpected charges had somewhat died away, andRandall was more like herself. The withdrawal of Shambler had created alittle flurry, but not much. No one seemed to know where he had gone,and no word came as to what to do with his effects.
As for Frank, he was saddened, but not downcast. He announced hisintention of taking up his case with the Amateur Athletic Union as soonas the games were completed.
"I'm sure they'll uphold my contenti
on," he declared. "I'm an amateur,and I can prove it!"
"But it will be too late for any use," spoke Tom mournfully.
Words of sympathy had come from the girls, and Tom and his chums wereduly grateful for them. It developed that neither Boxer Hall norFairview were in favor of forcing the issue against Randall, but thatExter, with perhaps exaggerated notions as to what constituted "amateur"sport, had taken the initiative. Still Randall's lads did not complain.
It was the night before the big games. Gathered in the room of theinseparables were our old friends, Holly, Kindlings, Dutch, and a fewother kindred spirits.
"Well, it's all over but the shouting," said Dutch, in mournful tones."To-morrow will tell the tale."
"Get out, you old croaker!" cried Kindlings.
"We're going to win! I'm sure of it!"
"If we had another week, I believe we would," asserted Holly. "Tom andSid could pull up by then. I'm almost tempted to telephone, even at thislate day, and ask for a postponement. We're entitled to it, under thecircumstances."
"Oh, forget it," advised Phil. "Be a sport! Play the game!"
"Just the same I wish something would happen to put things off untilnext Saturday," insisted Holly.
"It's too late now," declared Kindlings. "We've got to take partto-morrow unless----"
He stopped suddenly, and held up his hand.
"What's the matter?" asked Tom, curiously.
"Hark!" exclaimed Dan. "What's that noise?"
For the Honor of Randall: A Story of College Athletics Page 27
