The High School Left End Part 32

Morton---I think the matter can be fixed satisfactorily. If you call this to the attention of the Athletics Committee won't they vote to appropriate the price of a new hat out of the High School athletics fund? You know, the fund is almost overburdened with money this year."

"That might not be a bad idea," broke in the princ.i.p.al eagerly.

"Will you call this to the attention of the Committee, Mr. Morton, For it was in coming here to watch the young men that I lost my fine, new hat."

"Now, I'm heartily sorry," replied Mr. Morton, "but I am certain the members of the committee will feel that money contributed by the citizens of the town can hardly be expended in purchasing hats for anyone."

"But-----" Mr. Cantwell began to expostulate. Then he stopped, very suddenly. Just as plainly as anyone else present the princ.i.p.al now saw the absurdity of expecting a new hat out of the athletics fund. Mr. Cantwell shot a very savage look at innocent-appearing Dave Darrin.

"My afternoon is spoiled, as well as my hat," remarked the princ.i.p.al, turning to leave with as much dignity as could be expected from man who bore such a battered hat in his hands.

"The hatter might be able to block your hat out and repair it,"

suggested Hudson, though without any real intention of offering aid. "Our coachman had that sort of trick done to played-out old silk hat that Dad gave him."

"Mr. Hudson," returned the princ.i.p.al, turning and glaring at this latest polite tormentor, "will you be good enough to remember that I am not extremely interested in your family history.

"Back to your practice, men!" called the coach sharply, after the last had been seen of the back of the princ.i.p.al's black coat.

"It was too bad!" muttered d.i.c.k, in a tone of genuine regret.

"Say that again, and I'll make an effort to thrash you, Prescott!"

challenged Hudson, with a grin.

"Well, I am sorry it happened," d.i.c.k insisted. "And mighty sorry, too."

"You couldn't help it."

"I know it, but that hardly lessens my regret. I don't enjoy the thought of having destroyed anyone else's property, even if I couldn't help it and can't be blamed.

"Prescott said he didn't know I was there!" exclaimed Mr. Cantwell angrily to himself. "Bos.h.!.+ That boy has been a thorn in my side ever since I became princ.i.p.al of the school. Of course he saw me---and he kicked wonderfully straight! Oh, how I wish I could make him wear this hat every day during the balance of the school year! Such a handsome hat---eight dollars!"

"It's a shame to tell you," confided Dave Darrin, as he and d.i.c.k headed the s.e.xtette of chums on the homeward tramp, "but you're certainly looking in great condition, old fellow."

"I feel simply perfect, physically," d.i.c.k replied. "I have, in fact, ever since I first began to train in the baseball squad last season. It's wonderful what training does for a fellow!

I know there's a heap of bad condition in the world, but I often wonder why there is. Why, Dave, I ought to knock wood, of course, but I feel so fine that it seems as though nothing could put me out of form."

At that moment young Prescott had no idea how easily a few minutes could bring one from the best possible condition to the brink of physical despair.

CHAPTER XIX

LAURA AND BELLE HAVE A SECRET

"Only a team of fools would hope to stop Gridley High School this year."

Thus stated the Elliston "Tribune" after Gridley had walked through Elliston High School, one of the strongest school teams of the state, by a score of eight to nothing.

That copy of "The Tribune" found its way over to Gridley, and fell into the hands of some of the High School boys.

"Be careful, young men," warned Mr. Morton. "Don't get it too seriously into your heads that you can't be beaten, or your downfall will date from that hour. The true idea is not that on can't be beaten, but that you won't. Stick to the latter idea as well as you do to your training, and it will be a good eleven, indeed, that can get a game away from you."

"Only two more to play this year, anyway," replied Hudson. "We can't lose much."

"The team might lose two, and that would a worse record than any Gridley eleven has made in five years," retorted Mr. Morton dryly.

"We won't lose 'em, though," rejoined Tom Reade. "Every fellow in the squad is in a conspiracy to pull the eleven through the next two games---by its hair, if necessary."

"That line of thought is better than conceit," smiled the coach.

The game with Paunceboro High School came off, one of the most stubbornly fought battles that Gridley had ever entered. It seemed impossible to score against this enemy.

Again and again d.i.c.k broke around the left end in a spirited dash, or Dan Dalzell made one of his swift sorties at right end. Then, by the time that Paunceboro had grown used to end dashes, Gridley would make a smas.h.i.+ng charge at center.

All these styles of attack, however, Paunceboro met smilingly.

In the first half there was no score.

Yet Paunceboro did not succeed any better in getting through or around Gridley's line of flexible human steel. Until within ten minutes before the close of the second half, it looked like a tie between giants of the school gridiron.

Then, by a series of feints in which Prescott, Darrin, Drayne and Hudson bore off the most brilliant honors, although all under Wadleigh's planning, Paunceboro was sorely pressed down against its own goal line.

Just in the nick of time Paunceboro made a safety, and thus sent the ball back up the field. But it cost Paunceboro two reluctantly-given points, and that was the score---two to nothing.

Gridley was still victor in every game so far played in the season.

November was now far along, and there remained only the great Thanksgiving Day game. This contest, against Filmore High School, was to be fought out on the Gridley field.

"Your football season will soon be over, d.i.c.k," remarked Laura Bentley, one afternoon when Prescott and Darrin, on their way back from coach's gridiron grilling, met Laura and Belle on Main Street.

"This season will soon be over," replied d.i.c.k "but I hope for another next year."

"And then, perhaps, at college?" hinted Belle.

"If we go to college," replied d.i.c.k slowly.

"Why? Don't you expect to?" asked Laura, in some surprise.

"We are not sure," murmured d.i.c.k, "that we want to go to college."

"Why, I thought both of you were ambitious for higher education,"

cried Belle.

"So we are," nodded Dave.

"Oh! Then, if not to college, you are going to some scientific school?" guessed Laura.

"I wonder if you two could keep a secret?" laughed d.i.c.k teasingly.

"Try us!" challenged Belle Meade.