CHAPTER VII
THE FIRST LINE-UP
Evidently Dr. Churchill surmised that something unusual had occurred,for he changed his slow pace to a faster gait as he approached thefootball squad, in front of which stood Professor Tines, traces of angerstill on his unpleasant face.
"Ah, young gentlemen, at football practice, I see," remarked the doctor,smiling. "I trust there is the prospect of a good team, Mr. Lighton. Iwas very well pleased with the manner in which the baseball nineacquitted itself, and I trust that at the more strenuous sport thecolors of Randall will not be trailed in the dust."
"Not if I can help it, sir; nor the boys, either," replied the coach.
"That's right," added Captain Holly Cross.
"I see you also take an interest in the sport," went on Dr. Churchillto Professor Tines. "I am glad the members of the faculty lend theirpresence to sports. Nothing is so ennobling----"
"Sir," cried Professor Tines, unable to contain himself any longer, "Ihave been grossly insulted to-day. I wish to enter a most emphaticprotest against the continuance of football at this college. But amoment ago, as I was crossing the field, reading this Greek volume, Iwas knocked over by the ball. I now formally demand that football beabolished."
Dr. Churchill looked surprised.
"I want the guilty one punished," went on Professor Tines. "Who kickedthat ball at me?"
"Yes, young gentlemen, who did it?" repeated the proctor, for he thoughtit was time for him to take a hand. "I demand to know!"
"It wasn't any one in particular, sir," answered Coach Lighton,determined to defend his lads. "It was done on a new play we weretrying, and it would be hard to say----"
"I think perhaps I had better investigate," said Dr. Churchill. "Younggentlemen, kindly report at my study in half an hour."
"If you please, sir," spoke Phil Clinton, "Professor Tines asked us tocall and see him."
"Ah, I did not know that. Then I waive my right----"
"No, I waive mine," interrupted the Latin teacher, and he smoothed outsome of the pages in the Greek book.
"Perhaps we had better have them all up to my office," proposed theproctor. "It is larger."
"A good idea," said the president of Randall. "Gentlemen, you mayreport to the proctor in half an hour. I like to see the studentsindulge in sports, but when it comes to such rough play that the life ofone of my teachers is endangered, it is time to call a halt."
"His life wasn't in any danger," murmured Tom.
"Hush!" whispered the coach. "Leave it to me, and it will come out allright."
"But if they abolish football!" exclaimed Phil. "That will be too much!We'll revolt!"
"They'll not abolish it. I'll make some explanation."
Dr. Churchill, Professor Tines, and the proctor moved away, leaving avery disconsolate group of football candidates on the gridiron.
"Do you suppose Pitchfork will prevail upon Moses to make us stop thegame?" asked Jerry Jackson. "Moses," as has been explained, being thestudents' designation of Dr. Churchill.
"We'll get up a counter protest to Pitchfork's if they do," added hisbrother, Joe Jackson.
"Hurrah for the Jersey twins!" exclaimed Tom. The two brothers, wholooked so much alike that it was difficult to distinguish them, werefrom the "Garden State," and thus had gained their nickname.
"Well, that sure was an unlucky kick of mine," came from Holly Crosssorrowfully.
"Nonsense! You're not to blame," said Kindlings Woodhouse. "It mighthave happened to any of us. We'll all hang together."
"Or else we'll hang separately, as one of the gifted signers of theFourth of July proclamation put it," added Ed Kerr. "Well, let's go takeour medicine like little soldiers."
In somewhat dubious silence they filed up to the proctor's office. Itwas an unusual sight to see the entire football squad thus in parade,and scores of students came from their rooms to look on.
Dr. Churchill and Professor Tines were on hand to conduct theinvestigation. The latter stated his case at some length, and reiteratedhis demand that football be abolished. In support of his contention hequoted statistics to show how dangerous the game was, how many had beenkilled at it, and how often innocent spectators, like himself, weresometimes hurt, though, he added, he would never willingly be a witnessof such a brutal sport.
"Well, young gentlemen, what have you to say for yourselves?" asked Dr.Churchill, and Tom thought he could detect a twinkle in the president'seye.
Then Coach Lighton, who was a wise young man, began a defense. He toldwhat a fine game football was, how it brought out all that was best in alad, and how sorry the entire squad was that any indignity had been putupon Professor Tines. He was held in high esteem by all the students,Mr. Lighton said, which was true enough, though esteem and regard arevery different.
Finally the coach, without having hinted in the least who had kicked theball that knocked the professor down, offered, on behalf of the team, topresent a written apology, signed by every member of the squad.
"I'm sure nothing can be more fair than that," declared Dr. Churchill."I admit that I should be sorry to see football abolished here,Professor Tines."
Professor Tines had gained his point, however, and was satisfied. He hadmade himself very important, and had, as he supposed, vindicated hisdignity. The apology was then and there drawn up by the proctor, andsigned by the students.
"I must ask for one stipulation," said the still indignant instructor."I must insist that, hereafter, when I, or any other member of thefaculty approaches, all indiscriminate knocking or kicking of ballscease until we have passed on. In this way all danger will be avoided."
"We agree to that," said Mr. Lighton quickly, and the incident wasconsidered closed. But Professor Tines, if he had only known it, was themost disliked instructor in college from then on. He had been hatedbefore, but now the venom was bitter against him.
"We're well out of that," remarked Tom to Phil, as they went to theirroom, having gotten rid of their football togs. "I wonder what funPitchfork has in life, anyhow?"
"Reading Latin and Greek, I guess. That reminds me, I must bone away abit myself to-night. I guess Sid is in," he added, as he heard some onemoving about in the room.
They entered to find their chum standing on a chair, reaching up to oneof the silken banners Tom had hung with such pride.
"Here, you old anchorite! What are you doing?" cried Phil.
"Why, I'm trying to make this room look decent," said Sid. "You've gotit so cluttered up that I can't stand it! Isn't it enough to havepictures stuck all over?"
"Here, you let that banner alone!" cried Tom, and he gave such a jerk tothe chair on which Sid was standing that the objector to things artistictoppled to the floor with a resounding crash.
"I'll punch your head!" he cried to Tom, who promptly ensconced himselfbehind the bed.
"Hurt yourself?" asked Phil innocently. "If you did it's a judgment onyou, misogynist that you are."
"You dry up!" growled Sid, as he rubbed his shins.
Then, peace having finally been restored, they all began studying,while waiting for the summons to supper. When the bell rang, Phil andTom made a mad rush for the dining-room.
"Football practice gives you a fine appetite," observed Phil.
"I didn't know you fellows needed any inducement to make you eat," spokeSid.
"Neither we do," said Tom. "But come on, Phil, if he gets there firstthere'll be little left for us, in spite of his gentle words."
"We'll have harder work at practice to-morrow," continued Phil as theysat down at the table. "It will be the first real line-up, and I'manxious to see how I'll do against Shipman."
"He's got Gerhart's place for good, has he?" asked Tom.
"It looks so. Pass the butter, will you? Do you want it all?"
"Not in the least, bright-eyes. Here; have a prune."
"Say, you fellows make me tired," observed Sid.
"What's the matter with you lately, old chap?" asked Tom. "You're as
grumpy as a bear with a sore nose. Has your girl gone back on you?"
"There you go again!" burst out Sid. "Always talking about girls! Ideclare, since those pictures and things are up in the room, you twohave gone daffy! I'll have 'em all down, first thing you know."
"If you do, we'll chuck you in the river," promised Phil.
Thus, amid much good-natured banter, though to an outsider it might notsound so, the supper went on. There was more hazing that night, in whichPhil and Tom had a share, but Sid would not come out, saying he had tostudy.
"Come on, Tom," called Phil the next afternoon, "all out for the firstreal line-up of the season. I'm going to run the 'varsity against thescrub, and I want to see how I make out."
"Has the 'varsity eleven all been picked out?" asked Tom anxiously.
"Practically so, though, of course, there will be changes."
"I wonder if I----"
"You're to go at left-end. Come on, and we'll get our togs on."
After a little preliminary practice the two teams were told to line-upfor a short game of fifteen-minute halves. Coach Lighton named those whowere to constitute a provisional 'varsity eleven, and, to his delight,Tom's name was among the first named. Phil went to quarter, naturally,and several of Tom's chums found themselves playing with him.
"Now try for quick, snappy work from the start," was the advice of thecoach. "Play as though you meant something, not as if you were going ona fishing trip, and it didn't matter when you got there."
The ball was put into play. The 'varsity had it, and under the guidanceof Phil Clinton, who gave his signals rapidly, the scrub was fairlypushed up the field, and a little later the 'varsity had scored atouchdown. Goal was kicked, and then the lads were ready for anothertussle.
The scrub, by dint of extraordinary hard work, managed to keep the ballfor a considerable time, making the necessary gains by rushes.
"We must hold 'em, fellows!" pleaded Phil, and Captain Holly Cross addedhis request to that end, in no uncertain words.
Shipman, the scrub quarter, passed the pigskin to his right half-back,and the latter hit the line hard. Phil Clinton, seeing an opening, dovein for a tackle. In some way there was a fumble, and Phil got the ball.The next instant Jerry Jackson, who was on the 'varsity, slipped andfell heavily on Phil's right shoulder. The plucky quarter-back stifled agroan that came to his lips, and then, turning over on his back,stretched out white and still on the ground.
"Phil's hurt!" cried Holly Cross. "Hold on, fellows!"
Tom bent over his chum. He felt of his shoulder.
"It's dislocated," he said. "We'd better get the doctor for him,Holly."