CHAPTER XVI
DIPLOMACY
Martin's statement that he had been assigned to left tackle positionwas not believed very implicitly that night, although, in the press ofother matters demanding discussion, none expressed doubt. But the nextday proved that Martin had spoken no more than the truth, for when thescrimmage commenced he was in Leroy's place, and there he stayed notonly for the rest of the day but for the rest of the season. At lefthalf, Willard and Mawson each served, the latter yielding to Willardnear the end of the practice. The second team managed a field-goal thatafternoon, but the first scored three touchdowns and for once showedplenty of punch.
With Lake at left end and Martin Proctor at left tackle, that sideof the line improved remarkably. For a few days Martin fitted nonetoo perfectly into the new position, but he had had much experience,wanted badly to be something better than a second-choice player andworked hard, with the result that long before the Kenly game he waslooked on as a remarkably good tackle. The weak spot in the teamcontinued, however, for no satisfactory alternative to Steve Brownehad been found. Browne tried pitifully hard to fill the difficultrequirements of the full-back position, but he failed utterly andpalpably. Linthicum was tried, and so was Austen, a half-back from thesecond, but none suited. Kenly was developing a stiff line this year,as proved by the last two games she had played, and more weight andaggressiveness in the backfield was sorely needed at Alton. Discountinghis possible ultimate failure to find a satisfactory full-back, CoachCade experimented with plays built on the substituting of Bob Newhallor Stacey Ross for a half or the full-back. The difficulty, however,lay in the fact that the backfield man who played up in the line foundit hard to perform his temporary duties satisfactorily. Placing Bobat full-back for straight plunges between tackles worked fairly welland was accountable for some good gains against the second team, butBrowne in Bob's place was as ill-fitting as a square peg in a roundhole and would doubtless prove in Captain Joe Myers' words, "easy meat"for Kenly. Coach Cade had a strongly-imbedded dislike for unbalancedformations, anyhow, and, although he used shifts sparingly and wasresponsible for the play that put Captain Myers behind the line so thathe might receive a forward-pass, he wanted no more "freaks" and frownedon these new inventions even while he used them. And so matters stoodon that Wednesday morning preceding the Hillsport game when Willard,having a whole fifty minutes between recitations, took a Latin bookover to the first base bleachers and draped himself over three seats inthe sunlight. It was a genuine Indian summer day, with no breeze, oronly just enough to disturb the straight column of smoke that came fromthe big chimney behind Lawrence Hall, a very blue sky that melted to ahazy, purplish gray toward the horizon and a flood of mellow sunlightover all. By occasionally changing his position when the edges of theplanks pressed too fervently against him, Willard managed a whole pageof his book, making many marginal notes in his very small and extremelyneat writing. He was, though, getting somewhat drowsy when the soundof footsteps came to him and he looked up to find Felix McNattapproaching. McNatt had soiled hands and wore a triumphant expression,and both were explained when, having climbed to Willard's side andseated himself there, he lifted the wooden lid of the grape basket hecarried.
"Agaricus pratensis," he announced impressively.
"The same to you," answered Willard, "and many, many of them."
McNatt smiled humoringly. "I found them over near the farm. They arerather scarce about here."
Willard eyed the contents of the basket unenthusiastically. Thefive mushrooms made very little appeal to him and he hoped McNattwasn't going to ask him to help eat them. "Are they edible?" he askedanxiously.
"Oh, yes, although my book says they're not so tasty as many othersorts."
"They don't look awfully appetizing," murmured Willard. "Do you cookthem or what?"
"They're excellent fried," replied McNatt, gazing almost affectionatelyinto the basket. "Or you can stew them in milk."
"No, thanks." Willard shook his head. "I don't like the smell of them.They--they smell as if they were dead!"
"Of course they're dead," said McNatt a trifle impatiently. "Or Isuppose they are. Possibly they continue to live for a certaintime after they are picked: I must find out about that: it would beinteresting to know."
"Very," agreed Willard politely. "Are you going to eat them?"
To his great relief, McNatt shook his head. "No, there aren't enough tomake a mess."
"Aren't there? I should think those would make a mess all right, abeastly mess!"
McNatt smiled, even chuckled. "I fancy you aren't a mushroom lover," hesaid. "You wait, though. Some time I'll get a fine lot of puff-ballsand we'll have a feast. You'll change your mind then."
"Maybe I'll change more than that," said Willard sadly. "Maybe I'llchange my habitation. Lots of folks have gone to heaven after eatingmushrooms, haven't they?"
"No, not mushrooms," said McNatt, "toadstools. There's a difference."He covered the basket again, set it carefully between his feet andgazed in silence for a moment across the field. Presently: "You are onthe football team, aren't you?"
"Yes," said Willard, "sort of. I'm a substitute half."
"What sort of a team have we got this year?"
"Pretty fair, I think. Haven't you seen them play?"
"I saw part of the first game, but you can't tell much about a team soearly. I haven't followed it very closely since then."
"Well, we're sort of getting together, I guess," said Willard. "Therehave been a good many changes made and so the team isn't playingtogether awfully smoothly yet. Mr. Cade's having a lot of troublefinding a full-back."
"A full-back? Is that so?" McNatt seemed rather more interested thanpreviously. "What's wrong there, Harmon?"
Willard explained as best he could and McNatt nodded assent. "He'sright," he declared. "To my way of thinking the full-back is the mostimportant man on the team. He's got to be strong and clever and haveenough weight to carry him through the first defense. I don't bank muchon the very heavy sort, though. They generally lack the proper mentalattributes. Do you know, Harmon, it's strange to me that scientistshave never made a thorough study of the relation of mind quality tobody formation. Now take a type of fellow who is big of torso andneck; large above the waist, you understand; probably he will have alarge head, too; most of them do. That fellow will be a persistent,hard fighter when he's started and he will have good sound judgment.But he won't be resourceful and he won't be capable of quick decision.See what I mean? I believe that a thorough study of the subject wouldenable anyone to tell a man's mental character off-hand by observinghis physical construction."
"You'd better come out this afternoon and look over the substitutes,"laughed Willard. "Maybe you could pick out a full-back for Mr. Cade."
"Full-backs," answered McNatt solemnly, "are very scarce. Good ones, Imean. I remember that when I played here two or three years ago it wasdifficult to find a satisfactory substitute."
"It isn't a substitute that's bothering this year," said Willardruefully, "it's the real thing. Where did you play, McNatt? I mean whatposition."
"Full-back," answered the other gravely.
"Full-back!"
"Yes, I played there my first year off and on, although I was onlyfifteen. I was large for my age, though. The next year I played theposition until I was taken sick. After that I sort of fell out of thegame. Well, I must get back." He picked up his basket, nodded and wentstriding off toward Upton.
Willard watched him go thoughtfully. After a minute, though, he tuckedhis pencil into a pocket, seized his book and hurried across to Lykes.Luck was with him when he knocked at Number 2 and entered. Joe waspropped up on the window-seat, half hidden by a newspaper.
"Hello, Brand," he said. "What's on your mind?"
"More than is on yours, I guess," answered Willard meaningly.
Joe laughed. "Think so? Well, that's the first paper I've seen in aweek. I was looking over the Saturday games. Yale's coming back allright, isn't she? That fe
llow Loughlin who played left tackle forawhile is an Alton fellow. Wasn't considered much good here, though, asI remember."
"Say, Joe, suppose a fellow played football this year and then didn'tplay for two years more. Would he be any good?"
"Good for what?"
"Football. I mean, could he--could he come back?"
"Oh! I don't know, Brand. I guess it would depend on the fellow. Aren'tthinking of giving up the game, are you?"
"No. Look here, Joe, suppose a fellow was a corking good full-backthree years ago and then didn't play any more. Suppose he was to goback to the game tomorrow. How long would it take him to--to rememberwhat he'd forgotten and--and find himself again?"
"Brand, it's too early in the day for hypothetical questions," repliedJoe, stretching and yawning. "It would depend on so many things, boy:on how well the chap had kept himself in condition, principally. Gotany fellow in mind, or are you just doing this for exercise?"
"I've got someone in mind," answered Willard earnestly. "There's a chaphere who used to play football three years ago, and from what he sayshe must have been pretty good. Anyway, he was regular full-back on theteam. Then he was taken sick and had to quit, and he never went back."
"Who's that?" demanded Joe, sitting up.
"McNatt," answered Willard.
"McNatt! Oh, I thought you'd discovered someone, Brand. I guessMcNatt's a joke."
"He did play, though, didn't he?" Willard persisted.
Joe nodded. "Yes, he did, and that's a fact." He paused and kickedthoughtfully at the paper on the floor. "He played all one year, Ithink, either on the second or on the first as substitute. The firstyear I was here he played for awhile. That was his second year. Seemsto me he stopped about the middle of the season. I don't remember muchabout him, though. But, great gosh, the fellow's no football man!Just--just look at him!"
"He's out of training, of course," agreed Willard, "but seems to me ifhe was good enough to be regular full-back three years ago he might beworth trying now."
"That's so, Brand! Look here, you tell him to come on out and we'llgive him a fair show, as late as it is. It would be worth a dollar ofany fellow's money to see McNutt playing football!"
Willard shook his head. "I'm not sure he'd do it, Joe."
"Why not? What's the idea?"
"Well, I don't believe he cares for it any more. He's a funny duck,McNatt. I guess it would take a lot of persuasion to get him back."
"But I thought from what you said that he wanted to try it," said Joe,puzzled. "What _does_ he want?"
"To be let alone, I think," answered Willard, smiling. "No, the ideawas mine, Joe. McNatt hasn't any more ambition to play football thanI have to--to collect mushrooms! But when he told me about havingplayed full-back I remembered that we are hard up for a fellow for thatposition, and so I came over here to speak to you about it."
"Well, dog my cats," exploded Joe, "if the fellow can play footballit's his duty to do it! Doesn't he know that? Where is he? I'll have atalk with him. I don't suppose he's worth bothering with, but there'salways a chance! And we can't afford to miss it!"
"What are you going to say to him?" asked Willard.
"Say to him? Why, that we need his services, of course. I'll tell himthat if he shows up decently he will stand a good chance of playingagainst Kenly. I guess that ought to fetch him."
"That might fetch some fellows, Joe, but I'm afraid it wouldn't fetchMcNatt." Willard shook his head gently. "I may be wrong, but I guesshe's about as stubborn as they make them. You know you can tell a lotabout a fellow's--er--character by his physical formation, Joe, andMcNatt's got long legs and--and everything."
"I don't know what you're talking about," answered the otherimpatiently, "but, stubborn or not, he will play football if I getafter him!"
"All right." Willard shrugged his shoulders. "If I were you, though,I'd go at him sort of easy."
"Oh, I'll be easy enough," said Joe untroubledly. "He's in Upton, isn'the? What's the number? Forty-nine?" Joe looked at his watch and got tohis feet. "I've got twenty minutes before French. I'll run over and seehim. Of course nothing will come of it, though. A fellow who's been outof training as long as he has can't come back in three or four weeks.Besides, I dare say he's forgotten all the football he ever knew."
Willard parted with Joe at the entrance. "Good luck," he called as Joewent off. "Try diplomacy first, Joe!"
Joe smiled back confidently and waved a careless hand.
It was not until he reached the gymnasium in the afternoon that Willardlearned the result of Joe's visit to Number 49 Upton. Joe was stillangry. "The fellow's a perfect fool," he snapped in reply to Willard'spolite inquiry. "And he's as stubborn as a mule! Sat there and talkedfor ten minutes about how the full-back position ought to be playedand then calmly told me he wouldn't try for the team for a thousanddollars!"
"And then you bullied him," laughed Willard.
"I told him what I thought of him," answered Joe grimly. "He made me soblamed mad I could have punched his head. Just sat there and blinkedand shook his silly bean! And when I'd flayed him alive he wanted toknow if I wouldn't like to see his mineral collection. Oh, the chap'splain nutty!"
"He is sort of peculiar," agreed Willard soberly.
"Peculiar!" Joe laughed mirthlessly. "He's crazy in the head. Know whatI think? Well, he showed me a lot of mushrooms he had there; nasty,smelly things they were, too; and I'll bet he eats 'em and they'veaffected his mind. I don't know what to do with him!"
"Guess you'll have to forget it and just let him alone," said Willardsoothingly.
"I can't afford to let him alone," protested Joe impatiently. "Why,gosh, if that fellow can play full-back the way he can talk it he'd bea wonder! Look here, Brand, you see what you can do. I talked my headoff and it didn't have any effect on the poor fish. You--you have a goat him, will you? And do it today. Honest, that fellow ought to showwhether he's any good or not. It's his duty! Of course we can't _make_him play, but you'd think he'd _want_ to!"
"All right," agreed Willard, "I'll see what I can do, Joe, but Ihaven't much hope. If your diplomacy failed, why, I'm not likely tosucceed."
Joe looked at Willard suspiciously. "Hang it, I was diplomatic," heprotested. "I was as sweet as sugar to him until he shut his mouthtight and said he wouldn't do it."
"If he had his mouth shut," said Willard, "I don't see how he could sayanything, Joe. Maybe he hummed it, though?"
"Oh, go to the dickens!" growled the other.
There was an unusually hard and protracted practice game thatafternoon, and Willard played at left half through fifteen strenuousminutes during which the second, given the ball over and over to testthe first team's defense, hammered and banged until she finally gotacross the line for a score. Willard, like most of the others, gotsome hard knocks and when he was released he felt very little ambitionfor the task that Joe had set him. But supper helped a lot, and athalf-past seven he set out for McNatt's room. Even when he knocked atthe door of Number 49 he hadn't decided what he was to say.
Not only McNatt was in this evening, but his roommate, Winfred Fuller.Fuller was a sophomore, a smallish, anemic-appearing youth who, or soWillard fancied, wore a harried, apprehensive look, as though lifewith McNatt's toads and beetles and strange messes was graduallyaffecting his mind. Fuller sat, straightly uncompromising, on theedge of a chair and gazed at Willard with owlish fixity during thefirst ten minutes of the latter's visit, and Willard was heartily gladwhen, muttering some excuse, the boy took himself off. McNatt was mosthospitable and offered to cook a few choice mushrooms that he hadpicked that afternoon under someone's stable if Willard fancied them.But Willard explained that, being on a diet, mushrooms were a forbiddenluxury, and McNatt was not offended. After that the talk turned tothe subject of football "situations" and McNatt was reminded that hehad found the memorandum of which he had spoken on the occasion ofWillard's last visit, and stretched a hand toward the littered table.But unfortunately the paper had again disappeared, and alth
ough McNattsearched long and determinedly, making the confusion more confused, itrefused to be discovered. Finally, giving up the quest, McNatt sat downagain, stretching his long legs across the floor and thrusting a pairof large, very chapped hands into his pockets.
"Myers came to see me this morning," he remarked placidly. "He'scaptain of the football team this year. But you know him, of course.I forgot you were on the team, Harmon. Queer fellow, Myers: awfullyobstinate and opinionated, don't you think?"
"Well, he's likely to have rather pronounced views on any subject thathe's very much interested in," replied Willard cautiously. "Footballfor instance."
McNatt chuckled. "It was football he came to see me about. He wantedme to play full-back. It seems the fellow they've got isn't verysatisfactory. You told me that, too, I think."
"Yes, I did," said Willard, "and I'm mighty glad you're going to helpus out, McNatt!"
McNatt frowned and shook his head. "Oh, but I'm not. I told Myers Icouldn't, you know. He--I don't think he liked it."
"You're not!" exclaimed Willard incredulously. "But--but why?"
McNatt stared a moment as though a trifle surprised. "Why, I'm out offootball, Harmon! I thought I told you that. I haven't played sincemy second year here. I've given it up completely. You see, I hadn'tany patience with the fuddling way they taught it. Everything's sohit-or-miss. No science at all. You acknowledged that yourself, Harmon."
Willard nodded. "Yes, that's true. But, look here, McNatt, it seemsto me the game of football needs fellows like you; fellows, I mean,who--er--who realize what's wrong with it and have the--the courage andbrains to remedy it."
McNatt tilted back and shook his head slowly. "They won't listen,Harmon," he said. "I tried Myers today. He couldn't see what I meant atall. Just got very impatient and told me I was a slacker. I'm afraidMyers has a one-track mind, Harmon."
"Joe is awfully anxious to beat Kenly," replied Willard, "and he takesit for granted that every other fellow is just like he is. He losessight of the fact that there are fellows here in school like you,McNatt, who don't give a whoop whether Alton wins or doesn't."
McNatt shook his head almost violently. "You mustn't say that," heprotested. "Although not actively participating in football anylonger, Harmon, I am still vastly interested in it and follow it verycarefully. And, naturally, I want Alton to defeat Kenly. Yes, indeed,decidedly! You mustn't--ah--consider me unpatriotic."
"Oh," murmured Willard. "I didn't understand. I thought--"
"Yes?" encouraged McNatt.
"Why, only that, not being willing to help the School out by going backto the team, you didn't--didn't care very much!"
McNatt smiled gently. "I'm afraid you're rather like Myers," he chided."You can only see what's directly in front of your eyes. Myers couldn'tunderstand that I might find other things more important than football.I explained that my scientific pursuits meant more to me than playingfull-back on the eleven."
"Then I'm not like Joe," responded Willard, smiling, "for I canunderstand it. I suppose what does puzzle me, McNatt, is your not beingwilling to apply your science to the bettering of the game and thedefeat of the enemy. Seems to me you've got a big chance to demonstrateyour theories and to help the School at the same time."
McNatt looked surprised. "But I've explained that they won't listen!"he said.
"Don't ask them to listen," replied Willard smilingly, yet veryearnestly. "_Show them!_"
"Show them? You mean--"
"Exactly! Go out and play full-back as it should be played.Scientifically. According to your ideas. Prove there's something in it,McNatt. Afterwards you can talk and they'll listen."
McNatt drew his hands from his trousers pockets and rubbed themthoughtfully together. "I wonder if it could be done," he muttered."You see, Harmon, it isn't the playing of one position that counts, butthe conduct of the whole game, the--the _modus operandi_. And yet--" Herelapsed into silence again.
"Being there, though, right on hand, would help, wouldn't it?" Willardasked. "I mean, you'd be in a better position to offer your advice andaid. And maybe you might play full-back so well that they'd realizethat--that science has its place in football."
"Do you know," exclaimed McNatt quite excitedly, "you almost persuademe to try it, Harmon! By golly, you do! This man that is coaching thisyear--I forget his name--; is he the sort you can talk to? You knowsome of these coaches are so--so _set_! You can't get them to listen toanything at all!"
"I don't think Mr. Cade is that sort," replied Willard reassuringly."I'd say he was quite open to conviction, McNatt. In fact--" and hereWillard smiled to himself--"in fact, I think I can promise that hewill listen to anything that promises success for the team. There'sone thing, though, that might bother you, old chap. You've been out oftraining a good while and of course condition's got a heap to do withplaying football well."
McNatt shook his head impatiently. "My condition's all right," heanswered. "I'll have to read up on the new rules, though. They've madeseveral changes since I played before. I suppose I ought to see Myersand tell him I've changed my mind."
"I've got a rules book," said Willard, "and I'll bring it over toyou the first thing in the morning. As for telling Myers, I wouldn'ttrouble. I'm quite likely to run across him myself this evening andI'll pass the good word to him if you like."
"I'd be very much obliged," answered McNatt gratefully, "but don't goout of your way, please. Funny you should turn up here tonight, Harmon.I'm glad you did, though, I really am. I wouldn't have realized what anopportunity this thing affords me if you hadn't!"