Being on probation didn’t prevent Hugh from seeing the game that Saturday afternoon, and he and Guy and a lower middle youth named Stiles sat together through the best part of two hours and watched Grafton play two twelve-minute and two ten-minute periods with the Leeds High School team. It was unseasonably warm for the first week in October and the players felt the heat. The game dragged along uninterestingly until, in the final period, Coach Bonner put in a number of second-string players. That brought the two teams nearer equality and, although there was no more scoring, the last ten minutes contained several exciting incidents. Weston, at quarter-back in place of Nick, got away on a sixty-five-yard run and all but scored. A Leeds left end pulled down a forward pass for a twelve-yard gain that momentarily looked like a touchdown. Keyes, the only one of the back field to play the game through, fooled the enemy with a short punt that almost resulted in a score when a Leeds player dropped the ball and it was pulled out of the air by Siedhof. But in the end the score remained as at the finish of the first half, 13 to 0, in favor of the home team, and Grafton dawdled back to the campus not greatly impressed.
Hugh parted from Guy and Stiles and went on up to his study. Bert was not yet back, and, after thoughtfully staring from the window at the passing groups below, he went out and down the corridor to Number 34. His rap on the half-opened door elicited a response and he entered to find the single occupant of the room minus coat and waistcoat, perched at the window and surrounded by books and papers. Cathcart was tall and thin, with a fair complexion and a good deal of unruly red-brown hair. Just now, a green shade over his eyes and a pair of black rubber spectacles on his nose, he presented an amusing vision as he glanced near-sightedly across. Cathcart was eighteen, a senior and an acknowledged “grind.” It was said of him that faculty had almost broken his heart in his lower middle year by refusing to let him take more than twenty-one hours a week. He got as much pleasure out of studying as Bert Winslow did from football or Guy Murtha from baseball, and was absolutely unable to get the point of view of the fellow who considered study a disagreeable thing to be avoided as much as possible. It was not until Hugh was halfway across the room, which combined study and bedroom, that Cathcart recognized him. When he did he untangled himself slowly, distributing sheets of paper around the floor, and slid to his feet.
“Hello,” he said doubtfully.
“Hello,” answered the visitor.
Then, without further remarks, they set to rescuing the scattered papers. This gave them time to consider the situation and when they faced each other again Cathcart said: “About the other night, Ordway: I hope you didn’t think there was anything personal in what I did?”
“Not for a moment, Cathcart. I’d have done just what you did, you know. That’s quite all right, I assure you.”
“Well, I’m glad you take it that way, really. You see, being proctor has its drawbacks. I wasn’t anxious for it, but it makes a big difference in my expenses for the year, you see. I get my room a good deal cheaper, and that’s rather nice in my case. I was glad faculty let you off as easily as they did, Ordway.”
“Thanks, yes, they were really very decent to me. Where I made my mistake, Cathcart, was in not coming up the other stairway.” Hugh smiled. “You wouldn’t have heard me then, I fancy.”
“I don’t think I would,” agreed the other. “I—I wish you had. Someone said you got shut up in the gym, I believe?”
“In School Hall.” Hugh narrated his adventures on Thursday evening.
“But if you had shouted out the window someone would surely have heard you,” said Cathcart.
“Yes, but I didn’t want to give those lower middle beggars the satisfaction, if you know what I mean. And I rather funked having it get around that I’d been such a silly ass, too! I say, I’m keeping you from work, eh?”
“No, you’re not, really. Push those books aside and make yourself comfortable. I wish you’d tell me whether Bert has it in for me, Ordway.”
“Oh, I don’t think so! He was a bit crumby that night, but he soon gets over it.”
“I hope so. I like Bert. I suppose I’ll have to make up my mind to getting a few of the fellows down on me before the year’s over. Bound to, I guess. It’s hard to make them realize that it’s my duty to report things. They don’t think anything about it if it’s one of the masters, but they resent it if it’s a proctor. How do you like the school, Ordway? I suppose it’s different from your schools in England.”
“I fancy so. I never went to an English school, though; never went to any school before I came here. Of course I’ve heard lots about the English schools; I know quite a few chaps at Rugby and Charterhouse and Winchester; and I rather fancy we’re a bit different here. But I like it very much. Fact is, Cathcart, I was in a regular blue funk about coming here. I rather thought the chaps would rag me a lot, you know, but they haven’t. Nick Blake does, but I don’t mind Nick a bit. Of course, I am different, I fancy; rather stupid about a lot of things; and I’m only just beginning to understand that you chaps don’t mean more than about half you say. It puzzled me a lot at first, you know. You have a way of poking fun at things, if you know what I mean, that sounds odd until you understand that it is fun. I didn’t; not at first. I’m learning, though.”
“I suppose we are different,” acknowledged Cathcart, “in some ways. Sometimes I think we don’t take things seriously enough, Ordway, we fellows here at Grafton. Not that Grafton is much different from other preparatory schools, though.”
“That’s what I like,” said Hugh eagerly. “I think your way of not taking things seriously is awfully jolly. It isn’t that you really don’t—don’t know that they’re serious—when they are—but you simply don’t take them so. As I say, I’ve never been to an English school, but I’m sure you fellows over here get a lot more fun than we do on the other side. Just at first some of the fun seemed to me to be rather—I say, I hope you won’t mind it, old chap, but it seemed a bit silly, if you know what I mean.”
“I think a lot of our fun is,” replied Cathcart, “but it’s generally fairly harmless. Of course, the other night was different, but that was exceptional here. We aren’t in the habit of blacking each other’s eyes, you see.”
“But I liked that! That was—was so jolly spontaneous, eh? Some of the fun seems a bit—well, a bit studied, but that wasn’t. A lot of chaps have been awfully apologetic about that affair, and I don’t see why. On the other side we’d have thought nothing about it, and the masters wouldn’t have noticed it, I fancy. But we’re a bit more used to using our fists than you chaps, I think. I say, though, here I am talking like ‘a bloomin’ Britisher,’ as Nick says, when I’m really just as much American as I am English.”
“Are you really? That explains it, then. There’s something about you that doesn’t seem entirely English, Ordway. You don’t look terribly English, for one thing.”
“My mother is American,” said Hugh. “Her family has lived in Maryland ever since the place was settled, I fancy. I’ve been over here off and on, you know, ever since I was a kid. It’s queer, Cathcart, but sometimes I feel as if I was all American and sometimes as if I was all English! Queer game, eh?”
“Jekyll and Hyde idea?” asked the other, with a smile. “But don’t ask me which is Jekyll!”
“I won’t,” laughed Hugh. “Don’t want to embarrass you. What’s that stuff you’re digging at?”
“Benson’s ‘Medieval History,’” replied Cathcart. “It’s very interesting.”
“But, I say, we don’t have that, do we?”
“No, I’m just taking it up as a reading course. I have a good deal of spare time this term and next, you see.”
“Fancy that! I dare say you’re a regular shark at study, eh? Honor Man and all that?”
“Well, yes, I was Honor Man three terms last year and two the year before and one in my junior year. It isn’t hard, you know.”
“Do you go in for games at all? Tennis or golf or anything?”
“N-no, not now. I play tennis a little, but I haven’t done much at it since spring. There doesn’t seem to be much time.”
“Yes, but look here, old chap, tennis would do you a jolly sight more good than Whatshisname’s ‘Medieval History’!”
“I don’t feel the need of it, Ordway. You see I have gym work during the fall and winter terms and then in spring I go in for tennis a couple of times a week.”
“You need more than that. Look here, I’m out of football for a couple of weeks anyhow, Cathcart. What do you say we have a try at tennis some day? What hours do you have in the mornings?”
“I’m pretty full every morning but Thursday and Saturday,” replied the other doubtfully. “I wouldn’t be much of a fellow for you to play with, Ordway. I’m terribly stale. Fact is, I only do it in spring because I have to.”
“Oh, I’m no marvel, old chap! Anyway, that doesn’t matter, does it? We can have some sport. What time Thursday, now?”
Cathcart laughed. “Well, eleven to twelve, if you really want me to play.”
“Eleven to twelve is all right for me. Don’t forget. Got a good racket?”
“Why, come to think of it, I don’t believe I know where it is. Seems to me someone borrowed it last term. I’ll have a look for it, though.”
“Don’t bother too much about it. I’ve got one you may use and welcome. I say, I hope you don’t think me awfully cheeky to come in and take up your time, eh?”
“I don’t, indeed, Ordway! I think it mighty nice of you. I was rather afraid you held it in for me, you see.”
“Oh, rot! As though I would! Thursday at eleven, then? I’ll stop here for you, eh?”
“Yes, do, for I might forget it. Thursday’s a good way off, though, and if you find time you might drop in again. It’s good to talk with a fellow who doesn’t spout football every minute!”
“Right-o! And come across to 29, Cathcart, will you? There are heaps of things I’d like to talk about.”
Hugh usually had his last recitation at one, and that left him a long afternoon to get through with. One could always study, but when the weather was fair, and it held fair that autumn well into November, staying indoors was not what he wanted. He had one or two set-to’s at tennis with various acquaintances but by three o’clock he was always on hand at the first team gridiron, following the play and trying his best to profit by what he saw. There was no cheering news from Hanrihan, however, that week, nor had Hugh taken Guy’s advice and spoken to Ted Trafford about his reinstatement. He didn’t feel up to doing that, but would have been highly pleased had Bert or Nick done it for him. Neither did, though, so far as he learned. They seemed to accept his termination with football as final for that fall. The only incidents of importance that week were the tennis with Wallace Cathcart on Thursday and the football game with St. James’ Academy on Saturday.
The tennis was something of a surprise to Hugh. He secretly thought rather well of himself as a player, although he never boasted, and had expected to have the rather awkward appearing Cathcart at his mercy. But things turned out differently and Hugh had to work hard for the two sets they played. In spite of the fact that his opponent didn’t take the game seriously and had not, according to his statement, played since the preceding spring, he was able to give Hugh a hard tussle. Cathcart had a bewildering serve when, towards the middle of the first set, he began to get command of it, and he possessed a remarkably clever way of getting about the court. Weak on backhand strokes, he wisely avoided them whenever possible and spun the ball across low and hard from the face of his racket in a way that made Hugh admire and marvel.
When, at the end of the first set, won by Hugh, 6–4, they rested a minute, Hugh took Cathcart to task. “I say, old chap, it’s a crying shame for you not to play more. Why, you’re a natural tennis player, ’pon my word you are! Look here, why don’t you, eh?”
“I don’t know.” Cathcart, breathing hard from his exertions, thought a moment. “I really believe I could play fairly decently if I put my mind on it and practiced. And it is good fun. I’d forgotten what fun it was, Ordway. Do you think you could show me how to get those backhand returns? Or wouldn’t you care to?”
“Glad to! The trouble is you funk ’em, you know.”
“I’m afraid of them. If I can’t get into position to take them on the right I let them go. I’m awfully weak on backhand work.”
“Practice is all you need, then. That’s a perfectly spif—a perfectly corking serve of yours! I have to take it almost at the backline, do you know? Shall we go on?”
In the second set Cathcart won the second and fourth on his service and then, losing the sixth to Hugh, took advantage of the latter’s momentary let-down and made the set four-all. After that, though, he tired and Hugh had no difficulty in winning the ninth and tenth games and capturing the set by the previous score.
Cathcart agreed to play again Saturday morning, but begged off the next day, having discovered some work he ought to do. Hugh took Ned Stiles on instead, but had poor sport.
The St. James game in the afternoon was a rattling good one. For the first time that season Coach Bonner put his full strength into the field at the start. Dresser was at left end, Franklin at left tackle, Kinley at left guard, Musgrave at center, Driver at right guard, Trafford at right tackle, Tray at right end, Blake at quarter, Winslow at left half, Vail at right half, and Keyes at full. St. James was a heavy team, averaging a year more in age, perhaps, and surely ten pounds more in weight, and played close-formation football in a very clever manner. Grafton’s game this year, so far as one could determine at this stage, was to be a combination of wide-open and old-style football. She had an experienced trio in Musgrave, Driver and Trafford, a fair guard in Kinley and a good tackle in Franklin. Roy Dresser, at left end, was almost certain of his position, but Tray, on the other wing, was less satisfactory. In the back-field, Blake and Winslow had seen two years of service on the first and second teams, Vail was a newcomer in football, although a senior, and Keyes had made the team at the end of the preceding season. The back-field was rather lighter than Mr. Bonner could have wished for, but it was fast and “scrappy.” So far it gave promise of being a good defensive eleven, with its offensive abilities still to be proved.
Today’s game showed up many weak points, for St. James was a hard enough proposition to cause Grafton to make use of everything she knew. It was St. James who scored first, shortly after the kick-off, when Nick misjudged a punt in front of his goal and a brown-stockinged player fell on the pigskin near the twenty-yard line. Grafton gave back slowly, but the visitors made it first down on the nine yards. Then two tries failed to gain more than as many feet and the St. James full-back booted the ball over very prettily.
Grafton came back hard and forced the playing for the remainder of the period but was unable to get a score. In the second quarter, Nick began a march from the middle of the field to the Brown’s goal that would not be denied and Keyes was eventually pushed over for a touchdown. Keyes failed at the goal. St. James gained on rushes against Kinley when she got the ball back, but the half ended with the score 6 to 3 in the home team’s favor.
When the third period opened Trafford kicked off and St. James again started her smashing at tackle and guard on the left, but the gains grew shorter there and she switched to the other wing and finally got her left half around Tray for a twenty-yard sprint that laid the pigskin in dangerous proximity to the Scarlet-and-Gray goal. Some hard fighting followed, with St. James digging her cleats valiantly and smashing at everything in sight. Hugh got very excited at this period of the contest and squirmed about on his seat in a most un-English manner. Grafton took the ball away on her twelve yards and the stands cheered with joy and relief.
But the joy was short-lived, for Keyes punted miserably from behind his goal line and the ball was St. James’ again near the twenty-yards. She got five on the very first play between Kinley and Franklin and followed it with three more off Franklin. The latter was hurt in the play and Parker took his place. St. James lost slightly on a run around end, but gained her distance on the next down when a fake kick developed into a line-plunge through center.
Grafton, flocking along the edge of the field, implored her warriors to “Hold ’em!” But with less than ten yards to go and four downs at her command the prospect looked extremely good for the visitor. A plunge at Kinley was stopped for no gain. Then a complicated crisscross play sent a half-back past Captain Trafford for three yards, Tray being boxed to the king’s taste. Grafton began to breathe easier then, but the third down added two yards more when the St. James full-back tore through Kinley. That brought the ball to the five-yard line, and the Brown team arranged itself for a try at goal. Ted Trafford diagnosed the play as a fake and Nick hustled his back-field close in. When the ball went back it was caught by a half who faked an end run and then, when the left wing of the Grafton line had been drawn in, threw across to his right end. That youth had only to drop across the line to score the touchdown. In fact drop was all he could do, for Bert tackled him the moment the ball settled into his hands. The punt-out landed the pigskin directly in front of the crossbar and St. James added another point, bringing her total to 10. The whistle sounded a moment later.
Grafton had now to score at least five points to win. A field goal and a safety would do it, or two field goals or a touchdown, but with only ten minutes left none of those seemed very likely. When, however, Nick had sent Vail around the enemy’s right flank for some eighteen yards and followed it by breaking through the Brown’s center himself for six more, putting the ball on the St. James’ thirty-two yards just three minutes after the last period had begun, the Grafton supporters became more hopeful. Keyes smashed into the line twice for a total of five, and it was first down on the enemy’s twenty-seven yards. Then, when the Scarlet-and-Gray scented a touchdown or, at the least, a field-goal, Vail fumbled a pass and a St. James forward squirmed through and snuggled the pigskin beneath him.
St. James kicked on second down and Bert caught on his own forty-three yards and ran back five. Grafton opened her line wide and passed obliquely to Vail and the right half dodged past two white marks before he was stopped. Delayed passes brought short gains and the pigskin was on the Brown’s forty. Keyes got two off left tackle, Bert failed to gain at the center and Keyes punted to St. James’ five-yard line. Tray stopped the quarter for little gain and St. James kicked from behind her goal after one weak attempt at rushing. Nick caught near the sideline at about the thirty-two yards and started a run that wrought Grafton to a condition of frenzied excitement. He passed four of the enemy, running straight along the white boundary, dodged a half-back near the fifteen yards and was only stopped when the St. James quarter forced him out at the eight yards.
Grafton cheered exultantly and shouted “Touchdown! Touchdown!” and Coach Bonner, thus far chary of substitutes, sped four into the line-up. Yetter went in for Kinley, Weston for Nick Blake, Milford for Tray, and Zanetti for Vail. It was Zanetti who made the first try and gained two yards on a wide end run. That brought the ball directly in front of goal. From a kick formation Bert plunged at left guard and when the resulting confusion of bodies had been untangled the pigskin lay almost on the three yards. With the crowd yelling like mad, Keyes again went back and held out his hands, Nick called his signals and Roy Dresser, on an end-around play, carried the ball across the line almost unmolested, the fake attack on the center fooling the defenders completely!
Just to prove that he could kick a goal, even if he had failed in his previous attempt, Keyes put it over from a wide angle, and Grafton’s score was 13. The period came to an end a minute or so later, the final score, 13 to 10, and St. James cheered a bit disgruntledly and Grafton quite contentedly.
Hugh, having passed through a succession of thrills that had left him rather limp, loitered back to the tennis courts and, finding a seat on a stone roller, watched a game of doubles without seeing much of it. The contest he had just witnessed had settled his conviction that he wouldn’t be at all happy unless he was allowed to return to the football field and try for a place on the scrubs. Just now he felt quite certain that, given the opportunity, he could prove his right to a position there, and, while the white balls darted to and fro across the nets unseen by him and the voices of the players fell on deaf ears, he drew beautiful mental pictures in all of which he, Hugh Oswald Brodwick Ordway, clad in canvas and leather, stood out very prominently.
After a while he discovered that the courts were almost deserted and that he was shivering, and so, plunging hands in pockets in Grafton fashion, he tramped thoughtfully back to Lothrop.