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Rockspur Eleven

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<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXV. DON DECIDES TO PLAY.</h2></div> Sterndale came down from the football field in a discouraged condition, although he tried not to betray his feelings. He could see the boys had lost confidence in themselves, with the exception of Bentley, who was full of conceit and arrogance, seeming to regard himself as the only player of consequence on the team. On his way home, Dick almost ran against Don Scott. It was growing dark, and something was the matter with the street lamp on that corner. “Say, Scott, wait a minute!” exclaimed the captain of the nine, catching hold of the other. “I’m in a hurry,” muttered Don. “Never mind; you can give me five minutes for old times’ sake. You and I got along pretty well on the baseball team. We never had any particular trouble, did we?” “No.” “Well, this trouble on the eleven is all nonsense.” “Needn’t been any trouble only for that sneak Renwood, Sterndale.” “I know how it was. See here, Scott, do you want to see Highland get the best of us and crow over us just because you had a row with Renwood?” “No, but——” [218]“I know you don’t!” declared Dick, with a show of satisfaction. “I’ve felt it all along! I was sure that, deep down in your heart, you wanted us to win.” “It’s only Renwood,” muttered Don, hesitatingly. “If you hadn’t had him——” “We had to, old man. We didn’t know beans about football, and he did. We couldn’t afford to hire a coach, and he’s coached us for nothing. There we were.” “But he hasn’t tried to coach you to win. I know it! He’s standing in with Winston, who is working for a rep. I have it straight, Sterndale. The sooner you get rid of Renwood the better off the eleven will be.” “I can’t think that. I want proof. Prove what you say and I’ll kick him out on the jump.” “If I bring a man who heard him talking with Winston—who heard enough to learn there is an understanding between them?” “If I’m satisfied the man isn’t lying, I’ll kick Renwood off the team,” declared Dick. Don realized on the instant that the captain would not believe Leon Bentley, so it was useless to bring Bentley forward. “But I don’t believe it, Scott,” the big leader of the village boys went on. “You have misjudged Dolph Renwood. He feels as bad as anybody over our defeat, and he’ll work hard to help us win, Saturday. But there’s a weakness in our team. We want you back at half, and then we can put Smith on the end of the line, where he[219] was in the first place. Can’t you let bygones be bygones, old man, and come back and help pull us out of the hole? You can bet your life I’ll appreciate it if you do! Now, don’t say you won’t, Don! I’ve favored you before now, and I’m ready to do it again. Of course you’ll do this for me! I know you will!” There was something almost irresistible in Sterndale’s manner, so that Don found it nearly impossible to refuse his entreaty; but the doctor’s son was not to be turned thus easily from his determination to keep off the eleven as long as Renwood had anything to do with it, and he grimly shook his head. “I can’t do it,” he muttered, sullenly. “It’s no use to ask me.” “Not even for me? Not even to save Rockspur from being defeated by Highland?” “Not even for anything!” Dick was disappointed and nettled, but he held his anger in check, though he betrayed his disappointment plainly enough. Almost always the village boys were ready to obey his beck and call, and he found it decidedly provoking to have Scott refuse in this case to come back onto the eleven at his request. “You’ll think better of it,” the captain said, not willing to give up defeated. “I’m your friend; I’ve proved it, too.” Dick did not say outright that he had proved it by not going to Don’s father about the ruined suits and destroyed[220] football, but his meaning was plain enough, and Scott cried: “You’re no friend of mine if you think I did that dirty piece of business! That was one of Renwood’s tricks, as you’ll find out some day.” “I’m not saying you did it,” the captain instantly cut in. “I don’t know who did it. I don’t want to think that either you or Renwood would do a thing like that.” “One of us did it, and it wasn’t me,” assented Don. “Well, never mind that now. I want you back on the team, and you are coming back. We can’t get along without you, Scott, old man! You can save us from defeat. We can’t shift all over again, but we can put the men back in their original positions, and we’ll beat the stuffing out of Highland. I’m going to see you again about this, so think it over. Remember, that I am asking this of you.” Then he got hold of Don’s hand, shook it warmly, said something pleasant, and they parted. “I hated to refuse him,” muttered Don, who still felt the effect of Dick’s influence and magnetism, “but I had to do it.” He remained obstinate when Sterndale approached him again on the following day, and there seemed little prospect that he would give in and resume his old position on the eleven. The boys practiced faithfully every day, regardless of[221] weather; but Scott kept away from the field and Bentley was well satisfied. It was Thursday morning at breakfast that Dr. Scott, who was looking over the little country newspaper published at Highland, suddenly lowered the paper and, glancing keenly at Don, observed: “How is this, my son? Didn’t you do anything worthy of note in the game at Highland last Saturday?” The boy nearly dropped the glass of milk he had been lifting to his lips, for he instantly realized that his father had been reading an account of the game. “Why, no—I—that is—not much of anything,” he stammered. “I see the Register does not even mention your name,” smiled the doctor. “It speaks of the plays of a number of men on both sides, but nothing is said of a chap by the name of Scott.” “Does it give the line-up of the two teams?” breathlessly questioned Don, his heart standing still. “No,” was the answer. “It seems to me a very careless piece of reporting, and it’s plain the fellow who did it doesn’t know much about football.” The boy breathed again, but he still shook a little, feeling a clammy perspiration on his face. He had kept up the deception so long that the horror of the seemingly inevitable discovery was wearing on his nerves. “Let me see,” said the doctor, still regarding Don closely; “what position did you fill, my son?” [222]“I was right half-back,” came, rather faintly, from Don’s lips. Then he took a swallow of milk and choked over it. “But it says here that Smith, the right half-back of the Rockspurs, took the ball round Highland’s end for a gain of twelve yards before being tackled and brought to earth by Garrison, Highland’s left half. What does that mean?” “It’s another blunder of the reporter’s,” asserted Don, boldly. “He got twisted somehow. Smith is on the right end of the line.” “It’s too bad there could not have been a good report of the game,” said the doctor. “I hope you fellows will do better next Saturday, for I’m going to see that game if I can possibly get to it. You want to remember that I’ll be watching you, and brace up, my boy. I suppose you want to see the account of the game. There it is.” He passed the paper over, but it was some moments before Don could read a word, although he sat staring at the print, which ran together in a confused mass. At last the boy’s brain cleared, and he slowly perused the report of the game. “That’s sloppy,” he commented, handing the paper back. “That reporter ought to write up one more game of football and then go off somewhere and die. He didn’t get half of it correct.” As soon as possible, he left the table and the house. “Ginger! I thought the jig was up!” he muttered,[223] hastening away. “It will be up next Saturday.” Then he halted, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his eyes fastened on the ground. “It’ll be all up, unless——” There was another pause, and, all at once, as if relieved, he cried: “I’ve got to do it, that’s all! If I do, he may never know I’ve fooled him.” Then he lost no time in finding Sterndale and informing him that he had decided to play on the team in the game against Highland the following Saturday. <hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> <div class="chapter"> [224] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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