CHAPTER VIII
THE BOY IN THE GREEN SWEATER
The following Wednesday, Willard received promotion of a sort. By thattime the number of candidates at practice had noticeably lessened andthe four squads had become three. Last year's first team survivors anda goodly number of the second team players formed Squad A, while sometwenty youths who showed particular promise made up Squad B. Into thelatter company Willard went. A third squad whose personnel changed fromday to day as new candidates appeared or old ones fell out, was knownofficially as C, but popularly as "The Goats."
Formation drill had begun and Willard ran through signals at the lefthalf-back position, alternating with another youth named Kruger. Onlythe simplest formations were used and the pace never exceeded a trot.Preliminary to this, there was tackling practice at the dummy eachday, and more or less passing and starting. After formation drillWillard joined nearly a dozen other backfield candidates and put ina half-hour of punting and catching and running. Willard's kickingeducation had been rather neglected, for at high school, during the twoyears he had played, the full-back and quarter had shared the kickingduties. Here, however, it was held that a back should be proficientin every department of the game, and Willard showed up rather poorlybeside many of his rivals.
The second eleven came into existence the last of that week and thefirst real scrimmage of the season took place on Friday between it andthe first in preparation for the initial contest the next day. Willardwas glad he had not been picked for the second, for he had not yetgiven up hope of better things, and knew from experience how difficultit is to make one's way from the second team to the first. Severalfellows from Squad C were selected, however, and among them Kruger,which left Willard for awhile in undisputed possession of the lefthalf-back job. It wasn't long, though, before a weedy, temperamentalboy named Longstreth took Kruger's place. Longstreth had been promotedfrom the Goats and seemed to have an idea that his mission in life wasto inject what he called "tabasco" into Squad B. One way of doing itwas to aid in the coaching, and he simply oozed advice to both CoachCade and Richards, the quarter-back. The coach stood it patiently, butNed Richards ultimately turned upon him and wounded his sensibilitieshorribly, so horribly that Longstreth became a changed boy anddeliberately let the squad worry along without "tabasco." But most ofthis was later on and subsequent to the Alton High School game, whichstarted the season for the Academy.
Willard watched that contest from the bench: or, rather, from a seaton the ground near the bench, since the capacity of the bench waslimited. It wasn't much of a game, even for a first one, and therewas nothing approaching excitement in it until, near the end of thethird ten-minute period, High School threw a scare into her opponentby scoring a touchdown when Cochran, at right half, dropped the balland the High School left end scooted away with it for sixty-odd yardsand brought joy to the visitors. Academy's quarter-back ought to havestopped him, but Tarver made a miserable tackle and the runner wrenchedhimself loose and went over the line without further challenge.
High School missed an easy goal and the score was tied at 6--6, forthe Academy had been able to put over but one touchdown against aweaker but plucky enemy and Cochran had missed the goal as badly as theopponent had later. The Academy rooters woke up from their lethargythen, and there was some cheering during the remainder of the periodand throughout the last quarter. It was not until the latter was wellalong, however, that Academy pulled the game out of the fire. Then,working to striking distance by means of two forward-passes thattook the ball from midfield to High School's thirty-yard-line, theGray-and-Gold hammered the opposing left side until it gave way andMacon, on an end-around play, landed the pigskin over the goal-line.This time, Cochran having given way to a substitute, Tarver tried fora goal and made it, and the game ended a few minutes later with theAcademy on the long end of a 13--6 score.
Coach Cade used many substitutes during the final quarter, and MartinProctor was one of them, and Willard was delighted to see his chum putup a fine game at right guard when Bob went out. At left half, theposition that Willard was especially interested in, Arnold Lake playedto the end of the third period and then gave place to Mawson. Bothplayed well and Willard was more certain than before that if he wasto make the first team this year it would have to be in some othercapacity than that of left half!
When the game was done the Squad A players who had not participatedwere lined up against a Squad B eleven and there followed a shortscrimmage in which Willard played left half for B and had a lot of fun.Squad A wasn't formidable and it was no great stunt to gain outsideher tackles, and once Willard got nicely away and would have made theonly score of the scrimmage if an obnoxious youth named Hutchins, andbetter known as "Hutch," hadn't pulled him down on the six yards. Fromthere, in spite of all her efforts, B couldn't make much gain and thefourth down found the ball a yard short of the line. The scrimmageended with a score and the empty stand attested the amount of interestthe game provided the onlookers who had remained after the big contest.But Willard had enjoyed it and won a set of bruised fingers when one ofthe enemy had set an ungentle foot thereon, and he was quite contentedthe rest of the evening. But he did a lot of thinking and consultedMartin on the advisability of trying for an end position, and showed nogratitude when he was advised to fatten himself up and try for center!
"You seem to be willing to stick on the bench all season," he saidaggrievedly, "but I don't see any fun in that. If I--"
"How do you mean, stick on the bench?" demanded Martin. "I'm not goingto stick on any bench. Haven't you noticed how pale and wan Bob isgetting to look? He won't last much longer. I think it's sleepingsickness or something else slow and certain. He won't acknowledge he'ssick, but I can tell! There's a worried look about his eyes and CalGrainger says he sleeps more than he used to."
"Oh, shut up!" said Willard, grinning.
"Fact, though! You look at Bob some time when he doesn't knowhe's--ah--under observation and you'll see what I mean. Sleepingsickness is very insidious, Brand, but always fatal. I'm sorry for Bob,of course, but I'm not hypocritical about it!"
"Bob will be playing guard and you'll be lugging the water pail when wemeet Kenly," retorted Willard. "I'm in earnest, though. Why shouldn't Itry for end instead?"
"Because you're a half-back, sonny. Playing end is something elseagain, and you'd have to learn a lot of new tricks, and the seasonmight be over before you'd learn 'em."
"Well, I'd be ready for next year," murmured Willard.
"If that's all you're looking for, stay where you are. They'll be usinghalf-backs as well as ends next year, unless the Rules Committee getsgay again!"
"Well, of course I do want to make the team this fall," acknowledgedthe other.
"Naturally. So do I. I wanted to last fall, too, but a cruel fatewilled otherwise."
"Oh, you don't care," scoffed Willard. "You haven't any--any--ambition."
"Ambition? Get out! I'm full of ambish! But I don't propose to beunhappy because I can't have the whole pie. I like the fun of playing,Brand, and I don't worry much because I don't always get into thegame. After all, I'm doing my bit, you know. Someone's got to besecond-choice. Besides, think what a comfort it is to Joe and Bob toknow that if they have to leave the game there I am ready to take theirplaces and carry on the good work! Don't you suppose that thought helps'em to weather many a--many a dark hour?"
"No, I don't," answered Willard disgustedly. "But I guess it helps themto go on playing sometimes when they're all in! The idea of lettingyou in--"
"Don't say it!" warned Martin, laying a hand significantly on a book."Them's hard words! Listen, Brand: are we going to the lecture oraren't we not?"
"What's it all about?"
"The Cliff Dwellers of--of Montana, or some place."
"Arizona?"
"Maybe," replied Martin cautiously. "Anyway, the fellow's good. Hewas here last year. Let's go. I've always wished I'd been born acliff-dweller. There's something awfully fascinating in the idea ofshinning up
a tree-trunk and climbing through a window when you'reready for bed! Think what fun there must have been at a prep school inthose days. When the fellow who lived above you was climbing up all youhad to do was reach out and push the tree-trunk away. Gee, you miss alot of innocent amusement by being born too late!"
Sunday dawned cloudy and dismal, with occasional sprinkles of rain.Breakfast was a half-hour later, and when that was over there wasnothing much to do but furbish up for church. But shining one's shoesand brushing one's Sunday suit doesn't consume much time, no matterhow thorough and deliberate one may be, and after Willard was readythere still remained the best of an hour. The steam heat had not yetbeen turned on and the dormitory was chill and unsympathetic. He triedto write a letter to the folks at home, but only got as far as: "DearFather and Mother." Martin's usually placid humor was perceptiblyrumpled this morning, and efforts to engage him in conversationresulted in grunts and growls. Willard was heartily glad when it cametime to start off for church, even though he felt uncomfortable in aderby and detested carrying an umbrella.
Dinner was at one, a heavy repast topped off with ice cream and cakethat left the diner feeling like an anaconda who had just swallowed agoat. Willard, who had failed to get placed at Joe's table and was withan unusually uninteresting group at the far end of the hall, arose fromthe board wishing he had not accepted young Stanley's offer of his icecream. Or perhaps it was the cake that was to blame. In any case, hefelt horribly full and sluggish, and when, at the door, Bob brightlysuggested a nice long tramp over to Banning to see the new railwaybridge that was under construction he shook his head and pleadedletters to write. Banning was three miles away, and Willard wasn't surehe could even get back to his room before going to sleep!
"Well, if you change your mind, come on over to the room," said Bob."We won't be starting for half an hour, I guess."
Willard said he would, being quite certain that his mind was incapableof any change. When he reached Number 16, Martin, too, was disgustinglyactive. "Come on, Brand," he cried. "We're going over to see the newbridge at Banning. Get an old pair of shoes on."
"I don't want to see any bridges," replied Willard morosely. "I--I sawone once."
"What if you did, you chump! You never saw this one. Don't be a piker.Look, it's going to clear up!"
Willard gazed through the window with lackluster eyes and shook hishead feebly. "I've got to write home," he murmured, subsiding into achair.
"You look more as if you were going to sleep," said Martin in disgust."All right, sonny, see you later."
Martin went out, slamming the door behind him and whistling gayly downthe corridor. Willard shook his head again. He had never noticedbefore how objectionably noisy Martin was! Several rooms away agraphophone was playing loudly and boys were singing. Everyone,reflected Willard, seemed to be unnaturally animated today. He guessedthey hadn't eaten two plates of ice cream! After a long time, duringwhich he stared somnolently at his shoes, he pulled himself out of thechair with a groan and reseated himself at the table. Half an hourlater he signed the fourth page of his letter "Your aff. son, Willard"and folded it quickly lest he yield to the temptation to read it over.He knew that if he did that he would never send it!
When it was ready for mailing he walked to the window and looked out.It really was clearing! Even as he looked, the sun broke through for amoment and shone weakly on the damp field and the running track beyond.He felt a good deal better now and he wished he had gone to Banningwith the others. Well, he hadn't, and rather than moon around in thatchilly room he would slip on an old suit and take a walk. Possibly hewould meet the crowd coming back later. He changed from his Sundayattire to an old pair of knickerbockers, a sweater, golf stockings,old shoes and a cap and set forth, proceeding first to the mail boxin front of Academy Hall and getting rid of his letter. Stacey Rosshailed him from a third-story window of Lykes as he made his way pasttoward the athletic field, and he stopped and exchanged badinage for amoment, declining Stacey's invitations, the first of which was to "Comeon up," and the second to "Go to the dickens!"
He knew that the river lay somewhere to the west and not more than amile distant, and he set out to find it. His way led him across theathletic field and over the stone wall that bounded it and so into ameadow that descended gradually to a winding fringe of woods a quarterof a mile away. Whether the woods hid the river he didn't know. Itdidn't seem likely, however, for he had a notion that the stream wasquite a considerable one: in fact, it must be if the railroad wasbuilding a large and expensive bridge across it some two miles furtherinland!
Before he reached the woods he had thrice been ankle-deep in water,but it was only marsh water and the trees, he found, hid only a narrowand shallow brook. By this time the sun was really out, although notvery brightly, and the woods and the stream, with its mossy stonesand bordering ferns, looked very pretty. He wondered if there wereany trout there, and pursued it for some little distance lookingfor likely holes. When he had satisfied himself that no respectabletrout would deign to live in such a brook he made his way across it byjumping from stone to stone, only once missing, and went on throughan alder growth on the other side. When he emerged he was at the footof a second meadow interspersed with outcropping ledges and clumps ofwhite birches and maples and wild cherry trees. Afar at the left, nearwhere the road presumably wound, was a farm with a white dwelling and ared barn and many comical haycocks that looked golden in the sunlight.Ahead of him a stone wall crossed the summit of the field, pricked outat intervals with spindling cedars whose somber foliage stood darklyagainst the clearing sky. The September sun, freeing itself from theclouds, shone warmly in Willard's face as he went on up the rise. Whenhe reached the wall he saw the river below him, a broad, curving ribbonof blue. But it was a good half-mile away yet, and he sat himself onthe wall to rest before going on.
The sun felt pleasant to him and, after he had sat there a few minutes,he began to lose interest in a nearer acquaintance with the river.Instead of going on in that direction, he decided, he would turn tothe left and try to reach the road. Doubtless Bob and Martin andthe others would be returning before very long. Turning his gazesouthward, he became aware of the fact that he was not alone. Some twohundred yards away a figure was approaching, a figure which appearedat first glance to be that of a man wearing a dark green sweater andadvancing up the slope at a strangely deliberate pace. A second look,however, showed that the person was a boy of perhaps eighteen yearsand that as he walked he held the end of a forked stick in each handand was oblivious to all else. He was a tall and rather heavy youthwith extremely long legs that moved with machine-like precision andregularity over the grass. His slightly bent head prevented a clearsight of his face, but Willard thought he recognized the boy as one hehad glimpsed once or twice about school. Why he should be pacing alonghere a mile from home, however, a Y-shaped branch in his hand, was amystery, and Willard watched curiously as he came nearer and nearer.