Right Guard GrantŮÍŗųŗÚŁ ÍŪŤ„ů ŠŚŮÔŽŗÚŪÓ
CAPTAIN AND COACH
Although the store had reopened for business only that morning several customers had already been in and out, and when the doorway was again darkened momentarily Russell Emerson looked up from his task of marking football trousers with merely perfunctory interest. Then, however, since the advancing figure, silhouetted flatly against the hot September sunlight of the wide-open door, looked familiar, he eased his long legs over the edge of the counter and strode to meet it.
ďHello, Cap!Ē greeted the visitor. The voice was unmistakable, and, now that the speaker had left the sunlight glare behind him, so too was the perspiring countenance.
ďMr. Cade!Ē exclaimed Russell. ďMighty glad to see you, sir. When did you get in?Ē
Coach Cade lifted himself to the counter and fanned himself with a faded straw hat. ďAbout two hours ago. Unpacked, had a bath and here I am. By jove, Emerson, but itís hot!Ē
ďĎIs it?íĒ mimicked the other. ďDonít you know it is?Ē Then he laughed. ďGuess I was a fool to get out of that bath tub, but I wanted to have a chat with you, and Iím due at Doctor McPhersonís this evening.Ē He stopped fanning his reddened face and tossed his hat atop a pile of brown canvas trousers beside him. ďJohnnyĒ Cade was short of stature, large-faced and broad in a compact way. In age he was still under thirty. He had a pleasantly mild voice that was at startling variance with his square, fighting chin, his sharp eyes and the mop of very black and bristle-like hair that always reminded Russell of a shoe brush. The mild voice continued after a moment, while the sharp eyes roamed up and down the premises. ďGot things fixed up here pretty nicely,Ē he observed commendingly. ďLooks as businesslike as any sporting goods store I know. Branched out, too, havenít you?Ē He nodded across to where three bicycles, brave in blue-and-tan and red-and-white enamel, leaned.
ďYes,Ē answered Russell. ďWe thought we might try those. Theyíre just samples. ĎStickí hasnít recovered from the shock of my daring yet.Ē Russell laughed softly. ďStickís nothing if not conservative, you know.Ē
ďStick? Oh, yes, thatís Patterson, your partner here.Ē Mr. Cadeís glance swept the spaces back of the counters.
ďHeís over at the express office trying to trace some goods that ought to have shown up three days ago,Ē explained Russell. ďHow have you been this summer, sir?Ē
ďMe? Oh, fine. Been working pretty hard, though.Ē The coachís mind seemed not to be on his words, however, and he added: ďSay, that blue-and-yellow wheel over there is certainly a corker. We didnít have them as fine as that when I was a kid.Ē He got down and walked across to examine the bicycle. Russell followed.
ďIt is good-looking, isnít it? Better let me sell you one of those, sir. Ought to come in mighty handy following the squads around the field!Ē
Coach Cade grinned as he leaned the wheel back in its place with evident regret.
ďGee, I suppose Iíd break my silly neck if I tried to ride one of those things now. I havenít been on one of them for ten years. Sort of wish I were that much younger, though, and could run around on that, Cap!Ē
ďYouíd pick it up quickly enough,Ē said Russell as he again perched himself on the counter. ďRiding a bicycleís like skating, Mr. Cade: it comes back to you.Ē
ďYes, I dare say,Ē replied the other dryly. ďMuch the same way, I guess. Last time I tried to skate I nearly killed myself. What are you trying to do? Get a new football coach here?Ē
Russell laughed. ďNothing like that, sir. What we need isnít a new coach, I guess, but a new team.Ē
ďHím, yes, thatís pretty near so. I was looking over the list this morning on the train and, well Ė Ē He shrugged his broad shoulders. ďLooks like building from the ground up, eh?Ē
ďOnly three left who played against Kenly.Ē
ďThree or four. Still, we have got some good material in sight, Cap. I wouldnít wonder if we had a team before the seasonís over.Ē The coachís eyes twinkled, and Russell smiled in response. He had a very nice smile, a smile that lighted the quiet brown eyes and deepened the two creases leading from the corners of a firm mouth to the sides of a short nose. Russell Emerson was eighteen, a senior at Alton Academy this year and, as may have been surmised, captain of the football team.
ďSeen any of the crowd lately?Ē asked the coach.
ďNo. I ran across ĎSlimí once in August. He was on a sailboat trying to get up the Hudson; he and three other chaps. I donít think they ever made it.Ē
ďJust loafing, I suppose,Ē sighed the coach. ďI dare say not one of them has seen a football since spring practice ended.Ē
ďWell, I donít believe Slim had one with him,Ē chuckled Russell. ďI guess I ought to confess that I havenít done very much practicing myself, sir. I was working most of the time. Dad has a store, and he rather looks to me to give him a hand in summer.Ē
ďYou donít need practice the way some of the others do,Ē said Mr. Cade. ďWell, weíll see. By the way, weíre getting that fellow Renneker, from Castle City High.Ē
ďRenneker? Gordon Renneker you mean?Ē asked Russell in surprise.
Mr. Cade nodded. ďThatís the fellow. A corking good lineman, Cap. Made the Eastern All-Scholastic last year and the year before that. Played guard last season. If heís half the papers say he is he ought to fill in mighty well in Stimsonís place.Ē
ďHow did we happen to get him?Ē asked Russell interestedly.
ďOh, itís all straight, if thatís what youíre hinting at,Ē was the answer. ďYou know I donít like Ďjumpers.í Theyíre too plaguy hard to handle, generally. Besides, thereís the ethics of the thing. No, weíre getting Renneker honestly. Seems that he and Cravath are acquainted, and Cravath went after him. Landed him, too, it seems. Cravath wrote me in July that Renneker would be along this fall, and just to make sure I dropped a line to Wharton, and Wharton wrote back that Renneker had registered. So I guess itís certain enough.Ē
ďWell, thatís great,Ē said Russell. ďI remember reading about Gordon Renneker lots of times. If we have him on one side of Jim Newton and Smedley on the other, sir, weíll have a pretty good center trio for a start.Ē
ďNewton? Well, yes, perhaps. Thereís Garrick, too, you know, Cap.Ē
ďOf course, but I thought Jim Ė Ē
ďHe looks good, but I never like to place them until Iíve seen them work, Emerson. Place them seriously I mean. Of course, you have to make up a team on paper just to amuse yourself. Hereís one I set down this morning. Iíll bet you, though, that there wonít be half of them where Iíve got them now when the seasonís three weeks old!Ē
Russell took the list and read it: ďGurley, Butler, Smedley, Garrick, Renneker, Wilde, Emerson, Carpenter, Goodwin, Kendall, Greenwood.Ē He smiled. ďI see youíve got me down, sir. Youíre dead wrong in two places, though.Ē
ďOnly two? Which two? Oh, yes, center. What other?Ē
ďWell, I like ĎRedí Reilly instead of, say, Kendall. And Iíll bet youíll see Slim playing one end or the other before long.Ē
Mr. Cade accepted the paper and tucked it away in a pocket again. ďWell, I said this was just for amusement,Ē he observed, untroubled. ďThere may be some good material coming in that we havenít heard of, too. You never know where youíll find a prize. Were any of last yearís freshmen promising?Ē
ďI donít know, sir. I didnít see much of the youngsters.Ē
ďSeen Tenney yet?Ē
ďYes, he blew in this morning. Heís going to make a good manager, I think.Ē
ďHope so. Did he say anything about the schedule?Ē
ďYes, he said it was all fixed. Hillsport came around all right. I donít see what their kick was, anyway.Ē
ďWanted a later date because they held us to a tie last season,Ē said the coach, smiling.
ďGee, any one could have tied us about the time we played Hillsport! That was during that grand and glorious slump.Ē
ďGrand and glorious indeed!Ē murmured the coach. ďLetís hope thereíll never be another half so grand! Well, Iíll get along, I guess. By the way Ė Ē Mr. Cade hesitated. Then: ďI hope this store isnít going to interfere too much with football, Emerson. Mustnít let it, eh? Good captains are scarce, son, and Iíd hate to see one spoiled by Ė er Ė outside interests, so to speak. Donít mind my mentioning it, do you?Ē
ďNot a mite, sir. You neednít worry. Iím putting things in shape here so that Stick can take the whole thing on his own shoulders. Iím not going to have anything to do with this shop until weíve licked Kenly Hall.Ē
ďGood stuff! See you to-morrow, then. Practice at three, Cap, no matter what the weatherís like. I guess a lot of those summer loafers will be the better for losing five or six pounds of fat! And about this Renneker, Cap. If you run across him it might be a good idea to sort of make yourself acquainted and Ė er Ė look after him a bit. You know what I mean. Start him off with a good impression of us, and all that.Ē
Russell chuckled. ďItís a great thing to bring a reputation with you, isnít it?Ē he asked.
ďEh?Ē The coach smiled a trifle sheepishly. ďOh, well, I donít care what you do with him,Ē he declared. ďChuck him down the well if you like. No reason why we should toady to him, and thatís a fact. I only thought that Ė Ē
ďRight-o!Ē laughed Russell. ďLeave him to me, sir. Canít sell you a bicycle then?Ē
ďHuh,Ē answered Mr. Cade, moving toward the door, ďif you supply the team with its outfits and stuff this fall I guess you wonít need to sell me a bicycle to show a profit! See you to-morrow, Cap!Ē
In front of the store, under the gayly-hued escutcheon bearing the legend: Sign of the Football, Mr. Cade paused to shake hands with a tall, thin youth with curly brown hair above gray eyes, a rather large nose and a broad mouth who, subsequent to the football coachís departure, entered the store hurriedly, announcing as he did so: ďThey canít find it, Rus! The blamed thingís just plain vanished. Whatíll we do? Telegraph or what?Ē
ďIíll write them a letter,Ē replied Russell calmly. ďI dare say the stuff will show up to-morrow.Ē
ďSure,Ē agreed Stick Patterson sarcastically. ďItís been turning up to-morrow for three days and it might as well go on turning Ė What was Johnny after?Ē
ďJust wanted to talk over a few things. Give me a hand with this truck, will you? I want to get in an hourís practice before supper. Bring some more tags along. Whereís the invoice? Can you see it?Ē
ďYes, and so could you if you werenít sitting on it. My, but itís hot over in that office! I suppose Johnny wasnít awfully enthused over the outlook, eh?Ē
ďNo-o, but he brought some good news, Stick. Ever hear of Gordon Renneker?Ē
ďNo, whoís he?Ē
ďHeís a gentleman who played football last year down on Long Island with the Castle City High School team. Won everything in sight, I think.Ē
ďWho did? Runniger?Ē
ďThe team did. Renneker played guard; right guard, I guess; and got himself talked about like a moving picture hero. Some player, they say. Anyway, heís coming here this fall.Ē
ďOh, joy! Iíll bet you anything you like heíll turn out a lemon, like that chap Means, or whatever his name was, two years ago. Remember? The school got all het up about him. He was the finest thing that ever happened Ė until heíd been around here a couple of weeks. After that no one ever heard of him. He didnít even hold a job with the second!Ē
ďI guess Rennekerís in a different class,Ē responded Russell. ďThey put him down on the All-Scholastic last fall, anyway, Stick.Ē
ďAll right. Hope he turns out big. But I never saw one of these stars yet that didnít have something wrong with him. If he really could play, why, he was feeble-minded. Or if he had all his brains working smooth he had something else wrong with him. No stars in mine, thanks! Shove the ink over here. How about dressing the windows? Want me to do it?Ē
ďSure. Want you to do everything there is to be done, beginning with twelve oíclock midnight to-night. Thatís the last. Pile them up and letís get out of here. Itís after five. If youíll come over to the field with me for an hour Iíll buy your supper, Stick. And the exercise will do you good!Ē
TWO IN A TAXI
Something over eighteen hours later the morning train from New York pulled up at Alton station and disgorged a tumultuous throng of youths of all sizes and of all ages between twelve and twenty. They piled down from the day coaches and descended more dignifiedly from the two parlor cars to form a jostling, noisy mob along the narrow platform. Suit-cases, kit-bags, valises, tennis rackets, golf clubs were everywhere underfoot. Ahead, from the baggage car, trunks crashed or thudded to the trucks while an impatient conductor glanced frowningly at his watch. Behind the station the brazen clanging of the gongs on the two special trolley cars punctuated the babel, while the drivers of taxicabs and horse-drawn vehicles beckoned invitingly for trade and added their voices to the general pandemonium. Then, even as the train drew on again, the tumult lessened and the throng melted. Some few of the arrivals set forth afoot along Meadow street, having entrusted their hand luggage to friends traveling by vehicle. A great many more stormed the yellow trolley cars, greeting the grinning crews familiarly as Bill or Mike, crowding through the narrow doors and battling good-naturedly for seats. The rest, less than a score of them, patronized the cabs and carriages.
Leonard Grant was of the latter. As this was his first sight of Alton he decided that it would be wise to place the responsibility of delivering himself and a bulging suit-case to Alton Academy on the shoulders of one who knew where the Academy was, even if it was to cost a whole half-dollar! The taxi was small but capable of accommodating four passengers at least, and when Leonard had settled himself therein it became evident that the driver of the vehicle had no intention of leaving until the accommodations were more nearly exhausted. He still gesticulated and shouted, while Leonard, his suit-case up-ended between his knees, looked curiously about and tried to reconcile the sun-smitten view of cheap shops and glaring yellow brick pavement with what he had learned of Alton from the Academy catalogue. Judging solely from what he now saw, he would have concluded that the principal industries of the town were pressing clothes and supplying cheap meals. He was growing sensible of disappointment when a big kit-bag was thrust against his knees and a second passenger followed it into the cab.
ďMind if I share this with you?Ē asked the new arrival. He had a pleasant voice, and the inquiry was delivered in tones of the most perfect politeness, but something told Leonard that the big fellow who was making the cushion springs creak protestingly really cared not a whit whether Leonard minded or not. Leonard as courteously replied in the negative, and in doing so he had his first glimpse of his companion. He was amazingly good-looking; perhaps fine-looking would be the better term, for it was not only that his features were as regular as those on a Greek coin, but they were strong, and the smooth tanned skin almost flamboyantly proclaimed perfect health. In fact, health and physical strength fairly radiated from the chap. He was tall, wide-shouldered, deep-chested, and yet, in spite of his size, which made Leonard feel rather like a pygmy beside him, you were certain that there wasnít an ounce of soft flesh anywhere about him. He had dark eyes and, although Leonard couldnít see it just then, dark hair very carefully brushed down against a well-shaped head. He was dressed expensively but in excellent taste: rough brownish-gray tweed, a linen-colored silk shirt with collar to match, a plain brown bow-tie, a soft straw hat, brown sport shoes and brown silk socks. The watch on his wrist was plainly expensive, as were the gold-and-enamel links in his soft cuffs. What interested Leonard Grant more than these details of attire, however, was the sudden conviction that he knew perfectly well who his companion was Ė if only he could remember!
Meanwhile, evidently despairing of another fare, the driver climbed to his seat and set forth with loud grinding of frayed gears, cleverly manipulating the rattling cab around the end of the nearer trolley car and dodging a lumbering blue ice-wagon by a scant four inches. Then the cab settled down on the smooth pavement and flew, honking, along Meadow street.
ďAre you an Alton fellow?Ē inquired Leonardís companion as they emerged from the jam. He spoke rather slowly, rather lazily, enunciating each word very clearly. Leonard couldnít have told why he disliked that precision of speech, but he did somehow.
ďYes,Ē he answered. ďAnd I suppose you are.Ē
The other nodded. There was nothing really supercilious about that nod; it merely seemed to signify that in the big chapís judgment the question was not worthy a verbal reply. As he nodded he let his gaze travel over Leonard and then to the scuffed and discolored and generally disreputable suit-case, a suit-case that, unlike the kit-bag nearby, was not distinguished by bravely colored labels of travel. The inspection was brief, but it was thorough, and when it had ended Leonard knew perfectly that no detail of his appearance had been missed. He became uncomfortably conscious of his neat but well-worn Norfolk suit, his very unattractive cotton shirt, his second-season felt hat, his much-creased blue four-in-hand tie, which didnít match anything else he had on, and his battered shoes whose real condition the ten-cent shine he had acquired in the New York station couldnít disguise. It was evident to him that, with the inspection, his companionís interest in him had died a swift death. The big, outrageously good-looking youth turned his head toward the lowered window of the speeding cab and not again did he seem aware of Leonardís presence beside him.
Leonard didnít feel any resentment. The big fellow was a bit of a swell, and he wasnít. That was all there was to it. Nothing to be peeved at. Doubtless thereíd be others of the same sort at the Academy, and Leonard neither expected to train with them or wanted to. What did bother him, though, was the persistent conviction that somewhere or other he had seen the big chap before, and all the way along Meadow street he stole surreptitious glances at the noble profile and racked his mind. So deep was he in this occupation that he saw little of the town; which was rather a pity, since it had become far more like his preconceived conception of it now; and the cab had entered the Meadow street gate of the Academy grounds and was passing the first of the buildings before he was aware that he had reached his destination. He would have been more interested in that first building had he known that it was Haylow Hall and that he was destined to occupy a certain room therein whose ivy-framed window stared down on him as he passed.
The driver, following custom, pulled up with disconcerting suddenness at the entrance of Academy Building, swung off his seat, threw open the door on Leonardís side and wrested the battered suit-case from between the latterís legs. Then he as swiftly transferred Leonardís half-dollar from the boyís fingers to his pocket and grabbed for the distinguished kit-bag beyond. Leonard, unceremoniously thrust into a noonday world dappled with the shadows of lazily swaying branches and quite unfamiliar, took up his bag and instinctively ascended the steps. There were other youths about him, coming down, going up or just loitering, but none heeded him. Before he reached the wide, open doorway he paused and looked back. Straight away and at a slight descent traveled a wide graveled path between spreading trees, its far end a hot blur of sunlight. At either side of the main path stretched green sward, tree dotted, to the southern and northern boundaries of the campus. Here and there a group of early arrivals were seated or stretched in the shade of the trees, coolly colorful blots against the dark green of the shadowed turf. Two other paths started off below him, diverging, one toward a handsome building which Leonard surmised to be Memorial Hall, holding the library and auditorium, the other toward the residence of the Principal, Doctor Maitland McPherson, or, in school language, ďMac.Ē Each of these structures stood close to the confines of the campus; the other buildings were stretched right and left, toeing the transverse drive with military precision; Haylow and Lykes, dormitories, on the south flank; Academy Building in the center: Upton and Borden, dormitories, too, completing the rank. Somewhere to the rear, as Leonard recalled, must be the gymnasium and the place where they fed you; Lawrence Hall, wasnít it? Well, this looked much more like what he had expected, and he certainly approved of it.
He went on into the restful gloom of the corridor, his eyes for the moment unequal to the sudden change. Then he found the Office and took his place in the line before the counter. He had to wait while three others were disposed of, and then, just as his own turn came, he heard at the doorway the pleasant, leisurely voice of his late companion in the cab. There was another boy with him, a tall, nice-appearing chap, who was saying as they entered: ďYouíre in Upton, with a fellow named Reilly, who plays half for us. Itís a good room, Renneker, and youíll like Red, Iím sure.ĒŮÍŗųŗÚŁ ÍŪŤ„ů ŠŚŮÔŽŗÚŪÓ
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