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The 
 Crimson Sweater 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2011 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hil 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/crimsonsweaterObarb 
 
The final game between Ferry Hill and Hammond. 
 
The 
 
 Crimson Sweater 
 
 By 
 
 Ralph Henry Barbour 
 
 Author of "Tom, Dick, and Harriet," "Harry's Island," 
 "The Half-Back," etc. 
 
 With Illustrations 
 
 By C. M. Relyea 
 
 New York 
 The Century Co. 
 
Copyright, 1005, 1006, by 
 The Centur? Co. 
 
 Puklidxd October, iqob 
 
 Pnnteu in U S. A. 
 
TO 
 M7 KINDLY CRITICS 
 RUTH AND MOLLY 
 
 t 
 (X) 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 ■HAPTEB 
 
 PAGE 
 
 i The Crimson Sweater's First Appearance 3 
 
 ii Roy Makes an Enemy and a Friend .... 15 
 
 in A Midnight Hazing 28 
 
 rv Roy Changes His Mind 35 
 
 v Chub Eaton Introduces Himself 45 
 
 vi Methuselah Has a Sore Throat 58 
 
 vn Coaches and Players 67 
 
 vm Forrest Loses His Temper and Roy Keeps His 
 
 Promise 87 
 
 rx Red Hair and White Rabbits 98 
 
 x The Cross-Country Race Ill 
 
 xi Harry Funds a Clue 121 
 
 xn A Night ln the Quarry 132 
 
 xm Forming the Hockey Team 143 
 
 xrv The Entertainment and How it Ended . . . 155 
 
 xv A Defeat, a Victory and a Challenge . . . 164 
 
 xvi " Just for the School " 176 
 
 vii 
 
viii CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 xvii The Hockey Championship is Decided . 185 
 
 xvni On Fox Island 200 
 
 xix A Night Alarm 209 
 
 xx Roy Visits Hammond 220 
 
 xxi Ferry Hill Changes Its Leader 230 
 
 xxn The Poaching 244 
 
 xxtti On Inner Bounds 254 
 
 xxiv Sid's Popular Protest— and What Followed 265 
 
 xxv The Boat-Race 279 
 
 xxvi The Game with Hammond 288 
 
 xxvh The Crimson Sweater Disappears .... 300 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 The final game between Ferry Hill and Hammond 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 PACING PAGE 
 
 Mr. Cobb and the search-party looking for Roy . . . 128 
 
 "Quiet fell over Fox Island" 208 
 
 "Roy's bearers waited" 312 
 
THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE CRIMSON SWEATER'S FIRST APPEARANCE 
 
 "TTELLO, Lobster!" 
 
 -LJL The boy in the crimson sweater raised a pair of 
 blue eyes to the speaker's face and a little frown crept 
 into the sun-burned forehead; but there was no answer. 
 
 "Where 'd you get that sweater?" 
 
 The older boy, a tall, broad-shouldered, deep -chested 
 youth of nineteen, with a dark, not altogether pleasant 
 face, paused on his way down the gymnasium steps and 
 put the question sneeringly. Below, on the gravelled 
 path leading to the athletic field, a little group of fellows 
 had turned and were watching expectantly; Horace 
 Burlen had a way of taking conceit out of new boys 
 that was always interesting. To be sure, in the present 
 case the new boy did n't look especially conceited — unless 
 it is conceit to appear for football practice in a dandy 
 crimson sweater which must have cost well up in two 
 figures— but you never could tell, and, anyway, Horace 
 Burlen was the school leader and had a right to do what 
 
 3 
 
4 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 he pleased. Just at present it pleased him to scowl 
 fiercely, for the new boy was displaying a most annoying 
 deliberation. Horace examined the other with awaken- 
 ing interest. He was a fairly tall youth, sixteen years 
 of age, well set up with good chest and shoulders and 
 rather wide hips. Like Horace, the younger boy was 
 in football togs, only his sweater instead of being brown 
 was crimson and in place of the letters "F H" sported 
 by Horace the front of his garment showed where the 
 inscription "H 2nd" had been ripped away. But the 
 difference between the two boys did n 't end there ; 
 Horace Burlen was tall and big and dark; Roy Porter 
 was several inches shorter, not so wide of shoulder nor 
 so deep of chest ; and whereas Horace 's hair was straight 
 and black, Roy's was light, almost sandy, and was in- 
 clined to be curly. Under the hair was a good-looking 
 sun-browned face, with a short, well-built nose, a good 
 mouth and a pair of nice grey-blue eyes which at this 
 moment were regarding Horace calmly. The older boy 
 scowled threateningly. 
 
 ' ' Say, kid, at this school we teach 'em to answer when 
 they 're spoken to ; see ? Where 'd you get that silly red 
 sweater ? ' ' 
 
 "It was given to me," answered Roy coolly. 
 
 ' ' Think you '11 ever grow enough to fill it ? " 
 
 "I guess so." 
 
 "Who gave it to you?" 
 
 "Seems to me they 're a bit inquisitive at this school. 
 But if you must know, my brother gave it to me. ' ' 
 
THE CRIMSON SWEATER'S FIRST APPEARANCE 5 
 
 ' ' Too big for him, was n 't it ? " 
 
 Roy smiled. 
 
 "Not to speak of. He got a better one." 
 
 "Hope he changed the color," said Horace with a 
 sneer. 
 
 "Why, yes, he did, as it happened. His new one is 
 black with a crimson H." 
 
 Horace started and shot a quick glance up and down 
 the form confronting him. 
 
 "Is your brother Porter of the Harvard eleven?" he 
 asked with a trace of unwilling respect in his voice. 
 Roy nodded. 
 
 "I suppose you think you can play the game because 
 he can, eh? What 's your name?" 
 
 "Porter," answered Roy sweetly. 
 
 "Don't get fresh," admonished the other angrily. 
 ' ' What 's your first name ? ' ' 
 
 "I guess it will do if you just call me Porter," was 
 the reply. There was a sudden darkening of the blue 
 eyes and in spite of the fact that the lips still smiled 
 serenely Horace saw the danger signal and respected it. 
 
 "You 're a pretty fresh young kid at present, but 
 you '11 get some of it taken out of you before you 're 
 here long," said the school leader turning away. "And 
 I 'd advise you to take off that red rag; it 's too much 
 like the Hammond color to be popular here." 
 
 "Fresh, am I?" mused Roy, watching the other join 
 the group below and cross the lawn toward the field. 
 "I wonder what he thinks he is? If he ever asb? 
 
6 THE CEIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 me I '11 migMy soon tell him ! Red rag ! I '11 make him 
 take that back some day, see if I don 't. ' ' 
 
 Roy's angry musings were interrupted by the sudden 
 outward swing of the big oak door behind him. A 
 dozen or so of Ferry Hill boys in football attire trooped 
 out in company with Mr. Cobb, an instructor who had 
 charge of the football and baseball coaching. Roy fell 
 in behind the group, crossed the lawn, passed through 
 the gate in the well-trimmed hedge and found himself 
 on the edge of the cinder track. The gridiron had just 
 been freshly marked out for this first practice of the 
 year and the white lines gleamed brightly in the after- 
 noon sunlight. Half a dozen footballs were produced 
 from a canvas bag and were speedily bobbing crazily 
 across the turf or arching up against the blue sky. Roy, 
 however, remained on the side-line and looked about 
 him. 
 
 Beyond the field was a border of trees and an occa- 
 sional telegraph pole marking the road over which he 
 had journeyed the evening before from the Silver Cove 
 station, where he had left the train from New York— 
 and home. That word home sounded unusually pleasant 
 to-day. Not that he was exactly homesick, in spite of 
 the fact that this was his first experience of boarding 
 school life; he would have been rather indignant, I 
 fancy, at the suggestion; but he had made the mistake 
 of reaching Ferry Hill School a day too early, had spent 
 the night in a deserted dormitory and had killed time 
 since then in arranging his possessions in the scanty 
 
THE CRIMSON SWEATER'S FIRST APPEARANCE 7 
 
 cupboard assigned to him and in watching the arrival of 
 his future companions. It had been a dull time and he 
 may, I think, be pardoned if his thoughts turned for 
 an instant a bit wistfully toward home. Brother Lau- 
 rence had given him a good deal of advice — probably 
 very excellent advice — before taking himself away to 
 Cambridge, fall practice and glory, and part of it was 
 this: 
 
 "Keep a stiff upper lip, Roy, mind your own affairs 
 and when you 're down on your luck or up against a 
 bigger man grin just as hard as you can grin. ' ' 
 
 That was the Harvard way, although Roy did n 't 
 know it then. But now he recalled the advice — and 
 grinned. Then he began again the examination of his sur- 
 roundings. Very beautiful surroundings they were, too. 
 To his left, beyond the turn of the track, were the tennis 
 courts all freshly limed. Beyond those the trees began 
 and sloped gently upward and away in a forest of 
 swaying branches. Turning, he saw, below the courts, 
 and divided from them by a stone wall, a good-sized 
 orchard across which the apple and pear trees marched 
 as straightly and evenly as a regiment of soldiers. 
 Below the orchard lay the vegetable garden, filled with 
 the blue-green of late cabbages and the yellower hues 
 of waving corn. Then, facing still further about, until 
 the field was at his back, he could look over the level 
 top of the wide hedge and so down the slope of the 
 campus. To his right were the two white barns and 
 clustering outhouses with the tower of School Hall 
 
8 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 rising beyond them. Further to the left was the red 
 brick, vine-draped "Cottage," residence of the Principal, 
 Doctor Emery, and his family. Then, further away 
 down the sloping turf, stood Burgess Hall, the dormitory 
 and dining room, while here, close by, was the handsome 
 new gymnasium. Beyond the campus the "Grove," a 
 small plantation of beech and oaks, shaded the path 
 which led to the river and the boat house at its margin. 
 A long expanse of the Hudson was in sight from where 
 he stood, its broad, rippled surface aglint in the Sep- 
 tember sunshine. At the far side of the stream, a group 
 of red buildings huddled under giant elms, stood Ham- 
 mond Academy, Ferry Hill's life-long rival. In the 
 far distance loomed the blue summits of the nearer 
 mountains. Yes, it was all very beautiful and pictur- 
 esque, and Roy admitted the fact ungrudgingly; he was 
 very anxious to discover merits and lovable qualities 
 in the place which was to be his home for the better 
 part of the next two years. 
 
 "This way, everybody!" called Mr. Cobb, and Roy 
 turned and joined the group of candidates. There were 
 forty-three students at Ferry Hill that year, and at 
 first glance it seemed that every last one of them had 
 decided to try for the football team. But a second look 
 would have found a handful of juniors whose size or 
 age made them ineligible watching proceedings from 
 the side-line. And there were one or two older boys, 
 too, among the spectators, and Roy wondered whether 
 
THE CEIMSON SWEATER'S FIRST APPEARANCE 9 
 
 they; were crippled or ill ! Surely no healthy boy could 
 be content to watch from the side-line ! 
 
 "Fellows who played in the varsity or second last 
 year," directed Mr. Cobb, "take the other end of the field 
 and practice passing for a while. I '11 be down presently. 
 <Captain Rogers won't be out until half -past four. The 
 rest of you chaps get a couple of balls and come over 
 this way. That 's it. Make a circle and pass the balls 
 around. Stand nearer together than that, you fellows 
 over there. That 's better." 
 
 Eoy found himself between a short, stout youth of 
 apparently fourteen and an older boy whose age might 
 have been anywhere from sixteen to eighteen. He re- 
 minded Roy of a weed which had spent all its time 
 growing upward and had forgotten to fill out at the 
 sides. He wore a faded brown sweater with crossed 
 oars dividing the letters F H. Roy experienced a touch 
 of respect for him as a member of the crew quite out 
 of keeping with the feeling of amusement aroused by 
 his lanky body, unkempt hair and unpleasant beady 
 brown eyes. Roy liked the little chunky youth on his 
 other side better. He was evidently a new hand and 
 was in a continual funk for fear he would drop the 
 ball when Roy passed it to him. For this reason Roy 
 took some pains to put it to him easily and where he 
 could best catch it, a piece of thoughtfulness that more 
 than once brought a shy glance of gratitude from the 
 youngster's big, round eyes. But if Roy gave courtesies 
 
10 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 he received none. The lanky youth seemed to be trying 
 to slam the ball at Roy as hard as he knew how and 
 once Roy caught a gleam of malicious amusement from 
 the squinting eyes. 
 
 "Just you wait a minute, my friend," he muttered. 
 
 Despite the tall boy's best endeavors he was unable 
 to make Roy fumble. No matter where he shot the 
 ball nor how hard he sent it, Roy's hands gripped them- 
 selves about it. After one especially difficult handling 
 of the pigskin Roy looked up to find Mr. Cobb watching 
 him with evident approval. The big fellow who had 
 taken exception to the crimson sweater was not in the 
 squad and Roy concluded that he was one of the last 
 year team. Presently the order came to reverse and 
 the balls began going the other way. Here was Roy's 
 chance for revenge and he didn't let it slip. The 
 first two balls he passed to his tall neighbor quite nicely, 
 but when the third one reached him he caught it in 
 front of him and without turning his body sped it on 
 swift and straight for the tall one's chest. The tall 
 one wasn't expecting it quite so soon and Roy looked 
 properly regretful when the ball went bobbing away 
 into the center of the circle and the shaggy-haired 
 youth went sprawling after it, only to miss it at the 
 first try and have to crawl along on elbows and knees 
 until he had it snuggled under his body. The tall one 
 rewarded Roy with a scowl when he got back to his 
 place, but Roy met the scowl with a look of cherubic 
 innocence, and only Mr. Cobb, watching from outside 
 
THE CEIMSON SWEATER'S FIRST APPEARANCE H 
 
 the circle, smiled as he turned away. After that Roy- 
 kept the tall one guessing, but there were no more 
 fumbles. Presently Mr. Cobb called a halt. 
 
 "That '11 do, fellows. I want to get your names now, 
 so keep your places a moment." 
 
 Out came a note book and pencil and one by one 
 the candidates' names were entered. Roy looked on 
 while he awaited his turn and thought that he was 
 going to like Mr. Cobb. The instructor was rather 
 small, a trifle bald-headed and apparently a bunch of 
 muscles. His scarcity of hair could hardly have been 
 due to advanced age for he didn't look a bit over 
 thirty. In his time he had been a good quarter-back 
 on his college eleven and one of the best shortstops of 
 his day. 
 
 The small youth at Roy's right, after darting several 
 diffident looks in his direction, at length summoned 
 courage to address him. 
 
 "You 're a new boy, aren't you?" he asked. 
 
 ' ' Brand new, ' ' answered Roy smilingly. ' ' How about 
 you?" 
 
 "Oh, I 've been here two years." The knowledge 
 lent a degree of assurance and he went on with less 
 embarrassment. ' ' I was a junior last year and could n 't 
 play. You know, they won't let the juniors play football 
 here. Mighty mean, I think, don 't you ? ' ' 
 
 "Well, I don't know," answered Roy. "I played 
 when I was twelve, but I guess it 's pretty risky for 
 a kid of that age to do it. How old are you?" 
 
12 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 " Fourteen. Do you think I '11 stand any show to 
 get on the team?" 
 
 "Why not! You look pretty solid. Can you run?" 
 
 "Not very fast. Ferris said I wouldn't have any 
 show at all and so I thought I 'd ask you; you seemed 
 to know about football." 
 
 ' ' Did I ? How could you tell ? ' ' asked Roy surprisedly. 
 
 "Oh, by the way you— went at it," answered the 
 other vaguely. 
 
 "Oh, I see. Who 's Ferris ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' S-sh ! ' ' The small youth lowered his voice. ' ' That 's 
 he next to you; Otto Ferris. He 's trying for half' 
 back. He almost made it last year." 
 
 "Is he on the crew?" asked Roy. 
 
 "Yes, Number Three. He 's a particular chum of 
 Burlen 's. ' ' 
 
 "You don't say? And who 's Burlen?" 
 
 The other's features expressed surprise and something 
 very much like pain. 
 
 ' ' Don 't you know who Burlen is ? " he asked incredu- 
 lously. "Why, he 's— " 
 
 But Roy's curiosity had to go unsatisfied for the 
 moment, for Mr. Cobb appeared with his book. 
 
 ' r Well, Sidney, you 're out for the team at last, eh?" 
 
 ' ' Yes, sir ; do you think I can make it, sir ? " 
 
 "Who knows? You '11 have to get rid of some of 
 that fat, though, my boy." Mr. Cobb turned to 
 Roy. 
 
 "Let 's see, I met you last evening, didn't I?" 
 
1 HE CRIMSON SWEATER'S FIRST APPEARANCE 13 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "I thought so; and the name was— er — Brown 
 wasn't it?" 
 
 "Porter, sir." 
 
 "Oh, Porter; I remember now. How old are you?" 
 
 "Sixteen, sir." 
 
 "Played before, haven't you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Where abouts?" 
 
 "In New York, on my grammar school eleven." 
 
 "What position?" 
 
 "Quarter, first; then left half." 
 
 "Which was the best?" 
 
 "Quarter, I think, sir." 
 
 "What class are you in?" 
 
 "Second senior." 
 
 "Thank you; that 's all." 
 
 The coach passed on and Sidney claimed Roy's atten- 
 tion again. 
 
 "Do you think I 'm very fat?" he asked anxiously. 
 
 "I should say you had about ten or twelve pounds 
 that might as well come off," answered Boy. 
 
 "Does drinking vinegar help?" 
 
 "I never tried it," laughed Roy. "But exercise is a 
 heap surer." 
 
 "All right, fellows," called the coach. "Ferris, you 
 take charge of the squad until I come back. Let them 
 fall on the ball a while. I want Gallup and Rogers to 
 come with me." 
 
14 THE CEIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 A sturdily-built youth stepped out of the group and 
 Mr. Cobb looked around a trifle impatiently. 
 
 "Rogers!" 
 
 There was no answer. Roy thought the coach was 
 looking at him, but could n't think why he should. Then 
 he heard Sidney's voice at his elbow. 
 
 ' ' He means you ! He never remembers names. You 'd 
 better go." 
 
 Doubtfully Roy stepped forward. 
 
 ' ' Oh, there you are ! ' ' exclaimed Mr. Cobb. ' ' What 's 
 the trouble with your ears ? Not deaf, are you ? ' ' 
 
 "No, sir," answered Roy meekly. 
 
 "That 's good. You must keep your ears open here 
 and step lively when you 're called. I 'm going to give 
 you two a try on the first squad. Come on." 
 
 And Mr. Cobb strode briskly off dowE. the field. 
 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 ROY MAKES AN ENEMY AND A FRIEND 
 
 A FEW minutes later Roy found himself acting as 
 quarter-back on one of the two squads made up 
 of last season's first and second. The boy in front of 
 him, playing center, was a big youth who had a half 
 hour before insulted his precious sweater and who Roy 
 now discovered to be Horace Burlen. Burlen had n 't 
 shown himself especially delighted at Roy's advent, but 
 so far had refrained from addressing him. For a time 
 the work went well enough. Each squad, since there 
 were not enough players present to make up two full 
 elevens, held nine men, five in the line and four behind 
 it, and the work consisted of snapping the ball back 
 by center and handing it to one of the backs by quarter. 
 No signals were used and the passing was slow, the idea 
 being merely to accustom the players to handling the 
 ball. Roy was instructed in the holding of the pigskin 
 and in passing and the backs in receiving the ball and 
 placing it against the body. Roy showed an aptitude 
 for the work which more than vindicated Mr. Cobb's 
 judgment and for ten minutes or so, during which time 
 Roy's squad traversed the length of the field, there were 
 
 15 
 
16 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 few fumbles and few mistakes. But presently, when 
 Mr. Cobb had taken himself off to the other squad, the 
 ztj of ' ' Ball ! ' ' went up and Roy was on his stomach 
 snuggling the oval in his arms. The backs took their 
 places again and the ball went back to center. This 
 time there was no hitch, and full-back, followed by left 
 and right halves, trotted through the line between guard 
 and tackle. But on the next play the erratic pigskin 
 again eluded Roy's hands, and after that fumbles and 
 the cry of "Ball! Ball!" became so frequent that Mr. 
 €obb's attention was attracted and he came over. 
 
 "What 's the trouble here 1 ? Who 's doing all that 
 fumbling?" he demanded. 
 
 "My fault, sir," answered Roy. 
 
 "What 's the matter?" 
 
 "I can't seem to get my hands on to it, sir. I don't 
 think — I don't think it is coming back very well." 
 
 Horace Burlen turned wrathfully. 
 
 "You 're no good, that 's what 's the trouble with 
 you ! " he exclaimed. " I 'm sending that ball back same 
 as I always do." 
 
 "Well, try it again," said the coach. 
 
 Strange to tell there were no more fumbles as long as 
 Mr. Cobb was by, but almost as soon as his back was 
 turned the trouble began again. Fumbles, perhaps, wen- 
 not so frequent, but almost always there was delay in 
 getting the ball from center to back. Finally Horace 
 Burlen stood up and faced Roy disgustedly. 
 
EOY MAKES AN ENEMY AND A FRIEND 17 
 
 "Say, kid, can't you learn to handle that ball?" he 
 asked. "Haven't you ever seen a football before?" 
 
 Roy strove to keep his temper, which was already at 
 boiling point. 
 
 "I '11 do my part if you '11 do yours," he said. 
 ' ' You 're trying to see how poorly you can pass. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, get out! I played football when you were in 
 the nursery! Maybe if you 'd take that red rag off 
 you 'd be able to use your arms." 
 
 Somebody behind him chuckled and Roy had to shut 
 his lips resolutely to keep back the angry words. 
 Finally, 
 
 "Ball to left half, through left tackle," he called. 
 Horace grunted and stooped again over the pigskin. 
 Again the ball came back, this time trickling slowly 
 along on the turf. The next time it came back high and 
 to the left and was fumbled. Roy said nothing as he 
 recovered it and pushed it back to center, but it was 
 plain that the fellows, whispering amongst themselves, 
 were losing interest in the work. Roy, without turning 
 his head, became aware of the presence of a newcomer 
 behind him. He supposed it was Mr. Cobb and hoped 
 the coach would notice the manner in which Burlen 
 was snapping back. This time the ball was deliberately 
 sent back to Roy as hard as Horace could send it with 
 the result that it bounded from his hands before he 
 could close his fingers about it and went wiggling off 
 across the turf. Roy, arising to go after it, almost ran 
 
 2 
 
18 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 into a tall, good-looking youth of apparently eighteen 
 a youth with clean-cut features and snapping grey eyes. 
 
 "That will do, Horace," said the newcomer dryly. 
 "You can rest awhile. You 're pretty had." 
 
 The center, facing around with a start of mingled 
 surprise and dismay, met the unsmiling eyes of the 
 captain with an attempt at bravado. 
 
 "Hello, Jack," he said. "It 's about time you came. 
 They 've given us the worst apology for a quarter you 
 ever saw. Why, he can 't hold the ball ! ' ' 
 
 "Yes, I noticed it," replied Jack Rogers. "And I 
 noticed that you seemed to have an idea that this prac- 
 tice is just for fun. You 'd better take a couple of 
 turns around the track and go in. Ed! Ed Whit- 
 comb ! Come over here and play center. Fernald, you 
 take Ed 's place on the other squad. ' ' 
 
 The changes were made in a trice. After a muttered 
 protest that the captain paid no heed to and a threat- 
 ening look at Roy, Horace Burlen took himself off. The 
 captain went into the left of the line and practice was 
 taken up again. After that there was no more trouble. 
 Presently Mr. Cobb called a halt and the candidates 
 were put at punting and catching, which, followed by 
 a trot twice around the quarter-mile cinder track, com- 
 pleted the afternoon's work. 
 
 Roy had worked rather hard and, as a result, he 
 found himself pretty well out of breath when the 
 second lap was half over. He had gradually dropped 
 back to last place in the straggling procession and when 
 
ROY MAKES AN ENEMY AND A FRIEND 19 
 
 the end of the run was in sight he was practically alone 
 on the track, almost all of the others having turned in 
 through the gate and made for the gym. Eoy had just 
 finished the turn at an easy jog when he heard cries of 
 distress from the direction of the stables behind him. 
 
 "Spot, drop it! Oh, you bad, wicked cat! John! 
 John! "Where are you, John? Spot! Spot! O-o-oh!" 
 The exclamations ended in a wild, long-drawn wail of 
 feminine anguish. 
 
 "A girl," thought Roy. "Wonder what 's up. Guess 
 I 'd better go see. ' ' 
 
 Turning, he struck off from the track at a run, 
 crossed a triangle of turf and found himself confronted 
 by the wide hedge. But he could see over it, and what 
 he saw was an odd little enclosure formed by one end 
 of the barn and two walls of packing cases and boxes 
 piled one upon another. In the center of the enclosure 
 stood a girl with the bluest of blue eyes, the reddest of 
 red hair and the most despairing of freckled faces. At 
 first glance she seemed to be surrounded by dogs and 
 cats and pigeons; afterwards Roy found that the animals 
 were not so numerous as had first appeared. The girl 
 saw Roy quite as soon as he saw her. 
 
 "Oh, quick, quick!" she commanded, pointing toward 
 the roof of a low shed nearby. "Spot has got one of 
 the babies and he 's killing it ! Can 't you hurry, boy ? ' ' 
 
 Roy looked doubtfully at the broad hedge. Then he 
 retreated a few steps, took a running jump, landing 
 three-quarters way across the top and wriggled himself 
 
20 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 to the ground on the other side in a confusion of circling 
 pigeons. 
 
 ' ' Where 2 " he gasped when he had gathered him- 
 self up. 
 
 "There!" shrieked the girl, still pointing tragically. 
 "Can't you climb up and get it away from him? Can't 
 you do anything, you — you stupid silly?" 
 
 At last Roy saw the reason for her fright. On the 
 edge of the shed roof, lashing his tail in ludicrous 
 ferocity, crouched a half -grown cat, and under his claws 
 lay a tiny young white rabbit. Roy looked hurriedly 
 about for a stick, but nothing of the description lay at 
 hand. Meanwhile the red-haired girl taunted him to 
 action, interspersing wails of despair with pleas for 
 help and sprinkling the whole with uncomplimentary 
 reflections on his courage and celerity. 
 
 "Aren't you going to do anything?" she wailed. 
 "Are you going to stand there all night? Oh, please, 
 please rescue him ! ' ' 
 
 The reflection on Roy 's celerity were n 't at all merited, 
 for scarcely a quarter of a minute had passed since his 
 advent. But if "the baby" was to be rescued there 
 was no time to lose. The cat, apparently not under- 
 standing what all the noise and excitement was about, 
 still held his captive and looked down wonderingly from 
 the edge of the roof. Roy hesitated for just an instant 
 longer. Then he seized the first apparently empty box 
 that came to hand, turned it upside-down at the corner 
 of the shed, and, amidst more despairing shrieks than 
 
ROY MAKES AN ENEMY AND A FRIEND 21 
 
 ever, leaped onto it. Perhaps he was scared by the 
 sudden appearance of Roy's head over the edge of the 
 roof, perhaps by the renewed and more appalling clamor ; 
 at all events the cat abandoned his prey on the instant 
 and took off along the roof. Roy managed to save the 
 rabbit from a bad fall by catching it in one hand just 
 as it rolled over the edge and in another moment was 
 holding it forth, a very badly frightened little mass of 
 white fur and pink eyes, to its distressed mistress. But 
 strange to say the mistress seemed more anguished than 
 ever. What she was saying Roy could n 't for the life 
 of him make out, but it was evidently something uncom- 
 plimentary to him. In another moment the mystery 
 was explained. Following the excited gestures of the 
 red-haired girl, Roy turned just in time to see the box 
 upon which he had stood topple and fall. Whereupon 
 from out of it stalked a highly insulted red and green 
 parrot, quite the largest Roy had ever seen. The bird 
 emerged with ruffled plumage and wrathful eyes, cocked 
 his head on one side and remarked fretfully in a shrill 
 voice : 
 
 ' ' WeU, I never did ! Naughty Poll ! Naughty Poll ! ' ' 
 
 Then he chuckled wickedly and rearranged his feathers 
 with a formidable beak. After that he turned and 
 viewed Roy with a glittering, beady eye, and, 
 
 ' ' Stop your swearing ! Stop your swearing ! Stop 
 your swearing ! " he shrieked at the top of his voice. 
 
 This outburst was so unexpected and excruciating 
 that Roy gave back before it. But as though satisfied 
 
22 THE CRIMSON SWEATJsb, 
 
 with the dismay he had caused the parrot broke out 
 into a shrill burst of laughter and waddled toward the 
 girl, who had now transferred her attention to the 
 rescued rabbit. 
 
 "I— I didn't know he was in the box," stammered 
 Roy. 
 
 "No, I don't suppose you did," answered the girl 
 grudgingly. "Boys are so stupid! You might have 
 killed him! Come here, Methuselah, and tell me all 
 about it. Did the wicked boy frighten you most to 
 death? Did he? Well, he was a wicked thing, so he 
 was. ' ' 
 
 The parrot closed his beak carefully about one of her 
 fingers and was lifted to her arm, where he sat in ruffled 
 dignity and stared at Roy with malevolent gaze. The 
 rescued rabbit lay meanwhile, a palpitating bunch of 
 white, in the girl 's other hand. Presently, having exam- 
 ined him carefully for damages and found none, she 
 stepped to one of the boxes and deposited him on a 
 litter of straw and cabbage leaves. 
 
 "I 've had such horrid luck with the babies," she 
 said confidently, her indignation apparently forgotten. 
 ' ' There were three at first. Then one died of rheumatism 
 — at least, I 'm almost sure it was rheumatism,— and 
 one was killed by a rat and now only poor little Angel 
 is left. I call him Angel," she explained, turning to 
 her audience, "because he is so white. Don't you think 
 it is a very appropriate name ? ' ' 
 
 Roy nodded silently. Like the parrot, he had had 
 
ROY MAKES AN ENEMY AND A FRIEND 23 
 
 his temper a bit ruffled; the girl's remarks had not been 
 especially complimentary. If she guessed his feelings 
 she showed no signs of it. Instead, 
 
 ' ' You 're a new boy, are n 't you ? ' ' she asked. 
 
 "Yes," answered Roy. 
 
 "What 's your name?" 
 
 "Roy Porter." 
 
 "Mine 's Harry— I mean Harriet Emery; they call me 
 Harry. Harriet 's a beast of a name, is n 't it ? " 
 
 Roy hesitated, somewhat, taken back. 
 
 "Oh, you needn't mind being polite," continued the 
 girl. "I hate polite people — I mean the kind that say 
 things they don't mean just to be nice to you. Harriet 
 is a beast of a name; I don't care if I was named for 
 Aunt Harriet Beverly. I hate it, don't you? Oh, I 
 forgot ! You 're one of the polite sort ! ' ' 
 
 "No, I 'm not," answered Roy, laughing. "I don't 
 like Harriet any better than you do. But I like Harry." 
 
 "Do you?" she asked eagerly. "Honest? Hope 
 to die?" 
 
 "Hope to die," echoed Roy gravely. 
 
 "Then you may call me Harry." 
 
 "Thanks. Is Doctor Emery your father?" 
 
 "Yes. Only they don't call him Doctor Emery— the 
 boys, I mean." 
 
 "Don't they? What do they call him?" 
 
 "Emmy," answered Harry with a giggle. "It 's such 
 a funny name for papa! And mamma they call 'Mrs. 
 Em.' " 
 
24 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "And they call you Harry?" said Roy for want of 
 something better to say. Harry's head went up on the 
 instant and her blue eyes flashed. 
 
 "You 'd better believe they don't! That is, not many 
 of them. They call me Miss Harry. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, excuse me," Roy apologized. "Miss Harry." 
 
 Harry hesitated. Then, 
 
 "Those that I like call me Harry," she said. "And 
 you— you rescued the baby. So— you may call me 
 Harry, without the Miss, you know." 
 
 "I '11 try to deserve the honor," replied Roy very 
 gravely. 
 
 Harry observed him suspiciously. 
 
 "There you go being polite and nasty," she said 
 crossly. Then, with a sudden change of manner, she 
 advanced toward him with one very brown and some- 
 what dirty little hand stretched forth and a ludicrous 
 smirk on her face. "I forgot you were a new boy," 
 she said. ' ' I hope your stay with us will be both pleasant 
 and profitable." 
 
 Roy accepted the proffered hand bewilderedly. 
 
 ' ' There, ' ' she said, with a little shake of her shoulders 
 and a quick abandonment of the funny stilted tone and 
 manner, "there, that 's done. Mamma makes me do 
 that, you know. It 's awfully silly, is n 't it ? " 
 
 Methuselah, who, during the conversation, had re- 
 mained perched silently on the girl's shoulder, now 
 decided to take part in the proceedings. 
 
EOY MAKES AN ENEMY AND A FRIEND 25 
 
 "Well, I never did!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Can't 
 you be quiet? Naughty Poll! Stop your swearing! 
 Stop your swearing!" 
 
 This resulted in his banishment, Roy, at Harry's re- 
 quest, returning the borrowed box to its place, and the 
 parrot being placed therein with strict injunctions to 
 remain there. 
 
 "Doesn't he ever get away?" asked Roy. 
 
 "Oh, yes, sometimes. Once he got into the stable and 
 went to sleep on the head of John's bed. John 's the 
 gardener, you know. And when he came in and saw 
 Methuselah sitting there he thought it was an evil spirit 
 and didn't stop running until he reached the cottage. 
 My, he was scared ! ' ' And Harry giggled mischievously 
 at the recollection. 
 
 Then Roy was formally introduced to the numerous 
 residents of the enclosure. Snip, a fox terrier, had 
 already made friends. Lady Grey, a maltese Angora 
 cat, who lay curled up contentedly in one of the lower 
 tier of boxes, received Roy's caresses with well-bred 
 condescension. Joe, one of her kittens, and a brother 
 of the disgraced Spot, showed more interest and clawed 
 Roy's hand in quite a friendly way. In other boxes 
 were a squirrel called "Teety," two white guinea pigs, 
 a family of rabbits, six white mice and a bantam hen 
 who resented Roy's advent with a very sharp beak. 
 And all about fluttered grey pigeons and white pigeons, 
 fan-tails and pouters and many more the names of 
 
26 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 which Roy quickly forgot And while the exhibition 
 was going on Roy observed the exhibitor with not a 
 little interest. 
 
 Harriet — begging her pardon ! Harry — Emery was 
 fourteen years old, fairly tall for her age, not over- 
 burdened with flesh and somewhat of a tomboy. Con- 
 sidering the fact that she had been born and had lived 
 all her short life at a boys' school the latter fact is not 
 unnatural. I might almost say that she had been a trifle 
 spoiled. That, however, would be rather unkind, for 
 it was just that little spice of spoiling that had made 
 Harry so natural and unaffected. The boys called 
 Harry "a good fellow," and to Harry no praise could 
 have been sweeter. As might have been expected, she 
 had grown up with a fondness for boys' sports and 
 interests, and could skate as well if not better than any 
 pupil Ferry Hill had ever known, could play tennis 
 well, could handle a pair of oars knowingly and was n't 
 very much afraid of a swiftly-thrown baseball. Her 
 muscles were hard and illness was something she had 
 long since forgotten about. But in spite of her addic- 
 tion for boys' ways there was still a good deal of the 
 girl about her, and she was capable of a dozen different 
 emotions in as many minutes. 
 
 Roy decided that she was rather pretty. Her hair was 
 luridly red, but many persons would have called it beau- 
 tiful. Her eyes were very blue and had a way of looking 
 at you that was almost disconcerting in its frank direct- 
 ness. Her face was brown with sunburn, but there was 
 
ROY MAKES AN ENEMY AND A FRIEND 27 
 
 color in the cheeks. A short, somewhat pugnacious 
 little nose, not guiltless of freckles, went well with the 
 red-lipped, mischievous mouth beneath. For the rest, 
 Harry was a wholesome, lovable little minx with the 
 kindest heart that ever beat under a mussy white shirt- 
 waist and the quickest temper that ever went with red 
 hair. 
 
 Roy's examination of his new acquaintance was sud- 
 denly interrupted by the subject, who swung around 
 upon him with an expression of great severity. 
 
 "Do you know," she asked, "that the boys are n't 
 allowed in here without permission and that if papa 
 finds it out you '11 be punished?" 
 
 Roy shook his head in bewilderment. 
 
 "And," continued Harry impressively, "that John 
 is coming along the lane, and that if he sees you here 
 he '11 have to report you, and — " 
 
 "What shall I do?" asked Roy, looking about for an 
 avenue of escape. 
 
 "Why," said Harry, laughing enjoyably at his dis- 
 comfiture, "just stay where you are. I 'm the one who 
 gives permission ! ' ' 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 A MIDNIGHT HAZING 
 
 AFTER the lights were out that night Roy lay for 
 - quite a while in his bed in the Senior Dormitory 
 reviewing the day. He was tired as a result of the 
 football practice and he had a lame tendon in his left 
 leg which he believed he had sustained in his flying 
 leap onto the hedge when going to the relief of Angel, 
 and which bothered him a little now that he had stopped 
 using it. But his weariness and soreness had n't kept 
 him from eating an enormous dinner in the Dining Hall 
 down stairs, any more than it was going to keep him 
 from going to sleep in a few minutes. 
 
 During dinner he had begun to feel at home. He 
 had found himself at Mr. Cobb's table, which later on 
 would be weeded out to make room for the football 
 players, and had sat next to Captain Rogers, who had 
 spoken to him several times quite affably, but not about 
 football. The other fellows, too, had shown a disposition 
 to accept him as one of them, if we omit Horace Burlen 
 and Otto Ferris, and by the time Roy had scraped the 
 last morsel of pudding from his dish he had commenced 
 to think that life at Ferry Hill might turn out to be 
 
 28 
 
A MIDNIGHT HAZING 29 
 
 "both pleasant and profitable," as Harry bad phrased 
 it. After dinner he had spent the better part of an 
 hour in the study room on the first floor composing a 
 letter home. That finished, he had wandered down to 
 the river and had been mildly rebuked by Mr. Buckman, 
 an instructor, for going out of bounds after eight o 'clock. 
 There had been prayers at nine in the two dormitories 
 and after that, in the midst of shouts and laughter and 
 general "rough house," he had undressed, washed, 
 donned his pajamas and jumped into the narrow white 
 enamelled bed to which he had been assigned. 
 
 To-morrow lessons would begin and he wondered how 
 he was going to fare. He had entered on a certificate 
 from his grammar school and had been put into the 
 Second Senior Class. If he could keep up with that 
 he would be ready for college in two years. Roy's father 
 pretended to think him backward because he would not 
 enter until he was eighteen, and delighted in telling him 
 of boys who had gone to college at sixteen. But Roy's 
 mother always came to his defence. There was no sense, 
 she declared warmly, in boys going to college before 
 they were old enough to understand what it meant and 
 to derive benefit from the life. And Roy's father would 
 shake his head dubiously and mutter that he had never 
 expected a son of his to be a dullard. 
 
 Greek and English were what Roy was afraid of. 
 Latin and mathematics held no terrors for him. As for 
 the other studies, he believed he could worry along with 
 them all right. His mother had hinted hopefully of a 
 
30 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 scholarship, but Roy knew his capabilities better than 
 she did and looked for no such honors. 
 
 Meanwhile the dormitory, full of whispers and re- 
 pressed laughter for the first few minutes of darkness, 
 had become silent save for a snore here and there. Roy's 
 thoughts wandered back to the football field and to 
 Horace Burlen, who was lying somewhere near in the 
 dark, and presently his eyelids fell together and he was 
 asleep. 
 
 How long he slept he never knew, but when he awoke 
 suddenly to find hands gently shaking him by the 
 shoulders it seemed that it must be morning. But the 
 dormitory was still in darkness and the breathing of 
 the sleepers still sounded. 
 
 "Get up and don't make any noise," commanded a 
 voice at his ear. Sleepily, he strove to get his thoughts 
 together. For a moment nothing was very clear to him. 
 Then the command was repeated a trifle impatiently and 
 Roy began to understand. 
 
 ' ' What for ? " he asked, temporizing. 
 
 "Never you mind. Just you do what we tell you, and 
 mind you make no fuss about it. There are a dozen of 
 us here and we won't stand any nonsense." 
 
 Roy had n 't given any thought to hazing, but now he 
 concluded that, to use his own inelegant expression, he 
 "was up against it." Of course, if it was the custom 
 to haze new boys there was no use making a fuss about 
 it, no use in playing baby. The only thing that bothered 
 him was that the speaker's voice sounded unpleasantly 
 
A MIDNIGHT HAZING 31 
 
 like Horace Burlen's and there was no telling to what 
 lengths that youth's dislike might lead him. However, 
 Ms companions, whoever they were, would probably see 
 fair play. So Roy, with a sigh, tumbled softly out of 
 6ed. He could just see indistinct forms about him and 
 hear their breathing. 
 
 "Hold still," said the voice, and Roy, obeying, felt a 
 bandage being pressed against his eyes and secured be- 
 hind his head. Then, with a hand grasping each arm, 
 he was led silently across the floor. Down two flights 
 of stairs he was conducted, through the lower hall and 
 then the chill night air struck his face. More steps, 
 this time the granite flight in front of the hall, and his 
 bare feet were treading uncomfortably on the gravel. 
 So far there had been no sounds from his captors. Now, 
 however, they began to whisper amongst themselves and, 
 although he couldn't hear what was being said, he 
 gathered that they were undecided as to where to take 
 him. The procession halted and all save the two who 
 stood guard beside him drew away. The night air began 
 to feel decidedly chill and he realized that cotton pajamas 
 are n't the warmest things to wear for a nocturnal jaunt 
 in late September. Presently the others returned and 
 they started on again. In a moment the path began to 
 descend and Roy remembered with a sinking heart that 
 he had trod that same path earlier in the evening and 
 that at the end of it lay the river ! 
 
 By this time his teeth were chattering and he was 
 quite out of sympathy with the adventure. For a 
 
32 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 moment he considered escape. But if, as the leader of 
 the expedition had stated, there were a dozen fellows 
 in the party, he would be recaptured as sure as fate. 
 Unconsciously he held back. 
 
 "None of that," said the voice threateningly, and he 
 was pulled forward again. For a few steps he tried 
 digging his heels in the ground, but it hurt and did 
 no good anyhow. So he went on without further re- 
 sistance. In a minute the procession stopped. Then he 
 heard the keel of a boat grate lightly on the pebbles. 
 
 "Step up," was the command. Roy obeyed and felt 
 the planking of the float under his bare feet. Then, 
 
 "Get into the boat," said the voice. Roy did so very 
 cautiously and found a seat. Oars were dipped into 
 the water and the boat moved softly away from the 
 landing. 
 
 ' ' Can you swim ? ' ' asked the voice, and this time Roy 
 was certain that it was Horace Burlen's. For an in- 
 stant he wondered what would happen if he said no. 
 Probably they would devise some punishment quite as 
 uncomfortable as a ducking in the lake. The latter 
 wasn't very terrifying, and, at all events, the water 
 could n 't be much colder than the air was ! So, 
 
 "Yes," he answered, and heard a chuckle. 
 
 ' ' Good, you '11 have a chance to prove it ! " 
 
 For what seemed several minutes the boat was paddled 
 onward. By this time, thought Roy, they must be a 
 long way from shore, and he suddenly wondered, with 
 a little sinking at his heart, whether the current was 
 
A MIDNIGHT HAZING 33 
 
 very strong thereabouts and how, when he was in the 
 water, he was to tell in which direction the land lay. 
 Then the oars had ceased creaking in the row-locks and 
 the boat was rocking very gently in the water. 
 
 "Stand up," said the voice. Hands guided him as 
 he obeyed and steadied him. 
 
 "When I count three you will jump into the water 
 and swim for land," continued the leader. 
 
 "You 've got to take this thing off my eyes, though," 
 protested Roy. 
 
 "That may not be," answered the voice sternly, and 
 Roy caught a giggle from behind him which was quickly 
 suppressed. 
 
 "Then I 'm hanged if I '11 do it," he said doggedly. 
 
 "Better to jump than be thrown," was the ominous 
 reply. 
 
 Roy considered. 
 
 "Which way do I swim?" he asked. "Where 's the 
 landing?" 
 
 "That you will discover for yourself. We may tell 
 you no more." 
 
 "Don't see that you 've told me much of anything," 
 muttered Roy wrathfully. "How do you fellows know 
 that there isn't a big old rock here? Want me to bust 
 my head open?" 
 
 "We are in clear water," was the answer. "And"— 
 and now the formal phraseology was abandoned— " if 
 you don't hurry up and get ready we '11 plaguey soon 
 heave you in head over heels. ' ' 
 
34 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "Oh, go to thunder, you old bully!" growled Roy. 
 "Go ahead and do your counting. I 'd rather be ip the 
 river than here with you." 
 
 "Take him out farther," said the voice angrily. But 
 the order was n 't obeyed. Instead there was a whispered 
 discussion and finally the voice said : 
 
 "All right. Now then, all ready, kid! One! . . . 
 Two! . . . Three!" 
 
 The grasp on Roy's arms was relaxed, he raised them 
 above his head and sprang outward. But just as he 
 was clearing the boat a hand shot forward and grasped 
 his ankle just long enough to spoil his dive. Then he had 
 struck the water flat on his stomach and, with the 
 breath gone from his body, felt it close over his head. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 ROY CHANGES HIS MIND 
 
 FOR an instant his arms thrashed wildly. Then he 
 was standing, gasping and sputtering, with the 
 bandage torn away and the ripples breaking against 
 his thighs! From the bank, only a few feet away, came 
 roars of laughter, diminishing as his captors, having 
 drawn the boat up onto the little pebbly beach, stumbled 
 up the path toward the school. And Roy, shivering and 
 chattering, stood there in a scant three feet of icy water 
 and impotently shook his fist in the darkness ! 
 
 At first, as he scrambled with his bare feet over the 
 sharp pebbles to the shore, he could not understand 
 what had happened. Then he realized that all the 
 rowing had been in circles, or possibly back and forth 
 along the shore. For some reason this made him madder 
 than if they had really made him dive into deep water 
 beyond his depth. They had made a perfect fool of him ! 
 And all the way back up the hill and across the campus 
 he vowed vengeance— when his chattering teeth would 
 let him ! 
 
 A few minutes later, divested of his wet pajamas, he 
 was under the covers again, striving to get some warmth 
 
36 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 back into his chilled body. "When he had tip-toed 
 noiselessly into the dormitory whispers had greeted him 
 and unseen persons had asked softly whether he had 
 found the water warm, how the walking was and how 
 he liked diving. But Roy had made no answer and soon 
 the voices had been stilled. Sleep was long in coming 
 to him and when it did it brought such unpleasant 
 dreams that he found little rest. 
 
 At breakfast, when the announcements were read by 
 Mr. Buckman, Roy found himself one of four boys sum- 
 moned to call on Dr. Emery at the office in School Hall 
 after the meal was over. Looking up he encountered 
 the eyes of Horace Burlen fixed upon him threateningly. 
 Roy smiled to himself. So they were afraid that he 
 would tell on them, were they ? Well, they 'd see ! 
 
 When Roy's turn to enter the office came, after a few 
 minutes of waiting in the outer room in company with 
 the school secretary, he found himself a little bit nervous. 
 Perhaps the Principal had already learned of last night's 
 mischief and held him to blame in the matter. 
 
 But when, five minutes or so later, Roy came out again 
 he looked quite contented. In the outer office he en- 
 countered Mr. Buckman, who nodded to him, paused 
 as though about to speak, apparently thought better of it 
 and passed on into the Principal's room. Roy hurried over 
 to the Senior Dormitory, armed himself with books, pad 
 and pencils and managed to reach his first class just 
 as the doors were being closed. Lessons went well 
 enough that first day, and when, at four o'clock, Roy 
 
EOY CHANGES HIS MIND 
 
 trotted onto the gridiron for afternoon practice he 
 had n't a worry in the world. Perhaps that is one reason 
 why he did such good work at quarter on the second 
 squad that Jack Rogers patted him once on the shoulder 
 and told him to "keep it up, Porter, " while Mr. Cobb paid 
 him the compliment of almost remembering his name ! 
 
 ' ' Good work, Proctor ! ' ' said the coach. 
 
 There were several absentees that afternoon, notably 
 Horace Burlen and Otto Ferris, and there was much 
 discussion amongst the fellows as to the reason. Before 
 practice was over the report had got around that the 
 absent ones had been "placed on inner bounds." Roy 
 did n't know just what that meant, but it sounded pretty 
 bad, and he was almost sorry for the culprits. When, 
 after practice was over, Roy did his two laps with the 
 others, he looked across the hedge as he passed the 
 stables. The doves were circling about in the late sun- 
 shine and the wicked Spot was sunning himself on the 
 edge of the shed roof, but the girl with the red hair 
 was not in sight. 
 
 At supper Roy found a decided change in the attitude 
 of the fellows toward him. Instead of the friendly, 
 half curious glances of the night before, the looks he 
 received were cold and contemptuous. For the most 
 part, however, the fellows avoided noticing him and all 
 during the meal only Jack Rogers and Mr. Cobb ad- 
 dressed him, the former to inquire where he had played 
 football before coming to Ferry Hill and the latter to 
 offer him a second helping of cold meat. Later Roy 
 
38 THE CEIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 accidentally overheard a conversation not intended for 
 his ears. He was in the study room, whither he had 
 taken his books. The window beside him was open and 
 under it, on the granite steps outside, was a group of 
 the younger boys. 
 
 "Emmy called them to the office at noon," one boy 
 was saying, "and raised an awful row with them. Said 
 hazing was forbidden, and they knew it, and that he 
 had a good mind to send them all home. He tried to 
 get them to tell who started it, but they would n't. So 
 he put them all on inner bounds for a month. ' ' 
 
 ' ' How 'd he know who was in it ? " asked another boy. 
 
 ' ' Why, the new chap squealed, of course ! ' ' was the 
 contemptuous answer. "Horace Burlen says so. Says 
 he does n 't know how he guessed the other fellows, but 
 supposes he recognized him by his voice. A mighty dirty 
 trick, I call it." 
 
 "That 's the way with those public school fellows," 
 said a third speaker. ' ' They have n 't any principles. ' ' 
 
 "It 's going to just about bust up the eleven," said 
 the first boy. "Why, there 's Burlen and Ferris and 
 Gus Pryor and Billy Warren all football men!" 
 
 "Mighty little difference Otto Ferris 's absence will 
 make, though." 
 
 "Oh, he 'd have made the team this year, all right." 
 
 "Well, a month is n't very long. They '11 get back 
 in time to play the big games. ' ' 
 
 "S 'posing they do, silly! How about practice" If 
 Hammond beats us this year it will be that Porter 
 fellow's fault." 
 
ROY CHANGES HIS MIND 39 
 
 "I don't believe he told on them," said a low voice 
 that Roy recognized as Sidney Welch's. "He— he 
 does n 't look like that sort ! ' ' 
 
 "Doesn't, eh? Then who did tell? Think they 
 peached on themselves?" was the scathing reply. 
 "You 'd better not let Horace hear you talking like 
 that, Sid!" 
 
 Roy stole away to a distant table with burning cheeks 
 and clenched hands. 
 
 When bedtime came things were even worse. All 
 the time he was undressing he was aware that he was 
 the subject of much of the whispered discussion around 
 him and the hostile glances that met him made silence 
 almost impossible. But silent he was, doing his best 
 to seem unaware of what the others were thinking and 
 saying. He passed down the dormitory to the wash- 
 room with head held high and as unconcerned a look 
 as he could manage, but he was heartily thankful when 
 Mr. Cobb put his head out of the door of his room at 
 the end of the dormitory, announced "Bed, fellows," 
 and switched off the electric lights. Roy was n 't very 
 happy while he lay awake there in the darkness waiting 
 for sleep to come to him. He had made a sorry begin- 
 ning of school life, he reflected bitterly. To be sure, 
 he might deny that he had told on Burlen and his com- 
 panions, but what good would it do when every fellow 
 believed as they did? No, the only way was to brave 
 it out and in time win back the fellows' respect. But 
 how he hated Horace Burlen ! Some day, how or when 
 he did not know, he would get even with Burlen ! Mean- 
 
40 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 while sleep came to him after a while and he fell into 
 troubled dreams. 
 
 The next day his cup of bitterness was filled yet fuller. 
 Harry cut him ! He met her on the way across the 
 campus at noon. She was immaculately tidy in a blue 
 skirt and a fresh white shirt-waist and her red hair 
 fell in a neat braid at her back. She carried a bundle 
 of books under her arm and Snip, the fox terrier, ran 
 beside her. Roy nodded with a friendly smile, but his 
 only reward was an unseeing glance from the blue eyes. 
 The color flamed into Roy's face and he hurried on with 
 bent head. I think Harry regretted her action the next 
 instant, for when he had passed she turned and looked 
 after him with a little wistful frown on her face. 
 
 On the football field life was n 't much pleasanter than 
 in hall. Roy had already worked himself into the posi- 
 tion of first substitute quarter-back, and Bacon, the last 
 year's quarter, was looking anxious and buckling down 
 to work in a way that showed he was not over-confident 
 of holding his place. But when the men before and 
 behind you had rather make you look ridiculous than 
 play the game you are in a hard way. And that was 
 Roy's fix. Whitcomb, who was playing center in Bur- 
 len's absence, was inclined to treat Roy rather decently, 
 but there were others in the squad who never let slip 
 an opportunity to worry him. The way his signals were 
 misunderstood was extraordinary. Not that it mattered 
 so much these days, since practice was in its most primi- 
 tive stage, but after three afternoons of such treatment 
 
ROY CHANGES HIS MIND 41 
 
 Roy was ready to give up the fight. After practice on 
 Saturday he waited for Jack Rogers outside the gym- 
 nasium and ranged himself alongside the older boy as 
 he turned toward the dormitory. Jack shot a quick 
 glance at him and nodded. 
 
 "I thought I 'd better tell you," began Roy, ''that 
 I 've decided to give up football." 
 
 "Think so?" asked the captain dryly. 
 
 "Yes," replied Roy, looking a little bit surprised. 
 There was nothing further from the other and Roy 
 strode on at his side, trying to match his long stride and 
 somewhat embarrassedly striving to think of what to 
 say next. 
 
 "You see," he said finally, "there 's no use in my 
 trying to play quarter while the fellows are down 
 on me. It 's just a waste of time. I — I don't seem to 
 be able to get things right." 
 
 What he meant was that the others were doing their 
 best to get things wrong, but he did n't want to seem to 
 be complaining of them to Rogers. The latter turned 
 and observed Roy thoughtfully. 
 
 "That your only reason?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, let 's stop here a minute if you 've got time." 
 The two seated themselves on a wooden bench under the 
 trees a few yards from the entrance to the dormitory. 
 "You 're new here," continued Jack, "and there are 
 some things you don't know. One of the things is this: 
 we 've got to win from Hammond this Fall if we have 
 
42 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 to work every minute between now and the day of the 
 game. They beat us last year and they did n't do it 
 very squarely. That is, they played a great big fellow 
 named Richardson at right guard who had no business 
 on their team. We protested him, but it did no 
 good. He was a student of the academy at the 
 time, and although we knew he was there just to play 
 football, we could n't do anything beyond making the 
 protest. As it turned out we were right, for Richardson 
 left Hammond a week after the game, and this year 
 he 's playing on a college team. He was a big fellow, 
 twenty years old, weighed two hundred pounds and 
 simply played all around our men. He used up two 
 of them before the game was over. He played mighty 
 dirty ball, too. Our captain last year was Johnny 
 King — he 's playing with Cornell this year — and he was 
 plucky clean through. The whole school was in favor 
 of refusing to play Hammond, and Cobb was with us. 
 But King said he 'd play them if they had the whole 
 Yale varsity to pick from. When we went out for the sec- 
 ond half with the score eleven to nothing against us he said 
 to me: 'Jack, you '11 be captain next year, and I want 
 you to remember to-day's game. Get a team together 
 that will lick Hammond. Work for it all the Fall. 
 Never mind what other teams do to you ; keep Hammond 
 in mind every minute. Lose every other game on the 
 schedule if you have to, but beat Hammond, Jack ! I '11 
 do all I can to get coaches for you, and I '11 come down 
 myself for a day or two if I can possibly manage it. 
 
EOY CHANGES SIS MIND 13 
 
 "What do you say?' I said 'All right, Johnnie,' and 
 we shook hands on it. Hammond scored again in that 
 half, and after it was over we had to carry Johnnie 
 back to the gym. Well?" 
 
 He stopped and looked inquiringly at Roy. 
 
 ' ' I guess I '11 go ahead and play, ' ' answered Roy. 
 
 "That 's better. You 're one of us now, and that 
 means that you 've got to work yourself blue in the face 
 if necessary to make up for what Hammond did to 
 us last Fall. I can't promise you that you '11 get into 
 the game, although I don't see why you shouldn't, but 
 even if you don't, even if you stay on the second all sea- 
 son you '11 be doing just as much toward winning the 
 game as any of us — if you '11 do your best and a little 
 more. And it mustn't make any difference to you how 
 the fellows treat you or what they say. You 're there 
 to play football and run your team. Of course, what 
 takes place between you and the others is none of my 
 business and I shan't step in to help you, not once; but 
 just as soon as I find that they are risking the success 
 of the eleven you can count on me to back you up. I 
 won't stand any nonsense from them, and they know 
 it; or if they don't know it now they mighty soon will. 
 They say you gave away the fellows who hazed you the 
 other night. I don't know whether you did or didn't, 
 and I don't want you to tell me. I don't care. You 
 can play football, and that 's enough for me. I 
 wouldn't care this year if you had stolen the cupola 
 of School Hall. I have nothing to do with what you 
 
44 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 are off the football field. If you '11 do your honest best 
 there I '11 stick to you as long as you live. Will you?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Roy. 
 
 ' ' Good ! Shake hands ! Now let 's go on. ' ' 
 
 "About that hazing affair, though," said Roy as 
 they left the seat. "I 'd like to tell you—" 
 
 "I don't want to be told," answered Jack curtly. 
 "If you told on Burlen and the others maybe you had 
 reason, and if you 're a decent sort of a chap they '11 
 get over it in time. If you didn't you 've got nothing 
 to worry about. If a chap plays fair and square fellows 
 pretty soon know it. See you at supper. So long." 
 
 Jack turned down the path toward the Cottage and 
 Roy ran up the steps of Burgess Hall with a lighter 
 heart than he had had for several days. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 CHUB EATON INTRODUCES HIMSELF 
 
 ROY had stayed to speak to Mr. Buckman after the 
 geometry class had been dismissed, and so, when 
 he reached the entrance of the hall on his way out, he 
 found the broad granite steps well lined with boys. 
 Nearly a week had passed since the hazing episode and 
 the beginning of the present ostracism, and during that 
 period Roy had become, if not used to it, at least in a 
 measure inured. The smaller boys— the Juniors — were 
 the worst, and they, Roy felt certain, were being con- 
 stantly egged on by Horace Burlen and his chums, of 
 whom Otto Ferris was apparently the closest. Horace 
 himself refrained from active animosity. When he met 
 Roy he pretended to consider the latter beneath notice 
 and did no more than sneer as he turned his head away. 
 But Otto never allowed an opportunity to be mean to 
 escape him. And to-day, an opportunity presenting 
 itself, he seized upon it. 
 
 Roy, looking straight ahead, passed down the steps, 
 trying hard to forget that well nigh every eye was fixed 
 upon him. He had reached the last step but one and 
 the ordeal was almost over when Otto saw his chance. 
 The next instant Roy had measured his length on the 
 
 45 
 
46 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 gravel path below and his books and papers lay scattered 
 about him. He scrambled to his feet with blazing cheeks 
 and eyes and strode toward Otto. The latter, too, got 
 to his feet, but showed no overmastering desire to meet 
 the other. Instead he retreated a step and began to look 
 anxious. 
 
 "You tripped me up," charged Roy angrily. 
 
 "Who tripped you up?" asked Otto. "You fell over 
 my foot. You ought to look where you 're going." 
 
 Some of the older boys, their sympathies aroused by 
 Roy's fall, moved between the two. The youngsters gave 
 vocal support to Otto until commanded to "cut it out." 
 Roy attempted to push by one of the boys, but was 
 restrained. 
 
 "Run along, Porter," counselled the peace-maker. 
 "It was a shabby trick, but you won't do any good by 
 scrapping." 
 
 "Supposing you keep out of it," suggested Roy an- 
 grily. 
 
 "Now don't you get fresh," answered the other 
 warmly. "You can't scrap here, so run along as I told 
 you. I dare say you only got what was coming to you. ' ' 
 
 "He deserved it, the sneak!" cried Otto, who, divided 
 from the enemy by strong defences, had recovered his 
 bravery. Roy heard and threw discretion to the winds. 
 He ducked under the arm of the boy in front of him 
 and had almost reached Otto when he was caught and 
 dragged back. Otto, standing his ground because he 
 
CHUB EATON INTRODUCES HIMSELF 47 
 
 aould not retreat, looked vastly relieved. Roy struggled 
 in the grasp of his captors. 
 
 ' ' You let me go ! " he cried. "It 's none of your 
 affair. Why don't you let him look after himself, you 
 bullies?" 
 
 "That '11 do for you, freshie," responded one of the 
 older boys named Fernald. "Don't you call names or 
 you '11 get in trouble." 
 
 ' • You 'd better do as he says, ' ' counselled a quiet voice 
 at Roy 's side. ' ' There would n 't be any satisfaction in 
 licking Ferris, anyway ; he 's just a coward. Come along 
 and pick up your books." 
 
 There was something quietly compelling in the voice, 
 and Roy, ceasing to struggle, looked about panting into 
 the round, good-humored face of a boy of about his 
 own age. 
 
 "Come on," said the boy softly. And Roy went. 
 
 Together they rescued the scattered books and papers, 
 while on the steps discussion broke out stormily; Otto 
 was being "called down" by the older boys and volubly 
 defended by the youngsters. 
 
 When the books were once more under his arms Roy 
 thanked his new friend and, without a glance toward 
 the group on the steps, turned toward the dormitory. 
 When he had gone a few steps he became aware of the 
 fact that the round-faced boy was beside him and looked 
 about in surprise. 
 
 "I 'm going your way," said the other smilingly. 
 
48 THE CEIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 "Going to get my sweater on and go out in the canoe 
 awhile. Do you paddle?" 
 
 "No, I never tried it," answered Roy, rubbing the 
 blood from his knuckles where they had been scraped on 
 the gravel and shooting a puzzled glance at the other. 
 
 "Well, never too late to learn," responded his com- 
 panion cheerfully. "Come along down and take a 
 lesson. It 's a dandy day for a paddle." 
 
 "Thanks, but I 've got to study a bit." 
 
 ' ' Oh, leave that until to-night. No practice, is there ?" 
 
 "No, most of the fellows went to Maitland with the 
 first eleven." 
 
 "Maitland will beat us, probably. We always lose 
 the first two or three games. Why did n't they take 
 you along?" 
 
 "Did n't need me, I guess. Bacon is the regular 
 quarter, you know." 
 
 "Yes, but I don't see why they need to play him 
 all through the first game. Well, here we are. Get a 
 sweater or something on and meet me down here." 
 
 They had paused on the landing outside the Junior 
 Dormitory and Roy hesitated. Then, 
 
 "You live here, do you?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, I have a corner bed by the window, and last 
 year, when they wanted to put me upstairs, I kicked. 
 So they let me stay; told me I could be useful keeping 
 an eye on the kids. You '11 come, eh ? " 
 
 "Well, I— I guess so. It 's good of you to ask me." 
 
CHUB EATON INTRODUCES HIMSELF 49 
 
 "Not a bit. I hate to go alone; that 's all." 
 
 He turned smilingly into the dormitory and Roy went 
 on upstairs, got rid of his books and scrambled into 
 his red sweater. It was n 't necessary to pass School Hall 
 on the way down to the river, and Roy was glad of it. 
 He felt that in losing his temper and slanging the older 
 fellows on the steps he had also lost ground. Instead 
 of making friends he had possibly made one or two new 
 enemies. Then the realization that the boy beside him 
 was showing himself more of a friend than any other 
 fellow in school, with the possible exception of Jack 
 Rogers, brought comfort, and, in a sudden flush of 
 gratitude, he turned and blurted: 
 
 ' ' It was mighty nice of you to take my part and I 'm 
 awfully much obliged." 
 
 ' ' Shucks, that was n 't anything ! I 'm always for the 
 under dog, anyhow — if you don't mind being called a 
 dog." 
 
 ' ' No, ' ' answered Roy. Then he added a trifle bitterly, 
 ' ' I guess some of them call me worse than that. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, they '11 get over it," was the cheerful reply. 
 "Just you pay no attention to 'em, mind your own 
 affairs and look as though you didn't give a rap." 
 
 "That 's what Laurence said," replied Roy thought- 
 fully. 
 
 "Sensible chap, Laurence," said the other smilingly. 
 "Who might he be?" 
 
 "My brother. He 's in Harvard." 
 
50 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 Oh, yes, I remember some one said your brother was 
 'Larry' Porter, the Harvard football man. I guess 
 that 's how you happen to put up such a dandy game 
 yourself, eh?" 
 
 "I don't think I 've done very well," answered Roy. 
 "But— it hasn't been all my fault." 
 
 "Nonsense! You 've played like an old stager; every 
 fellow says that." 
 
 "Really?" asked Roy eagerly. 
 
 "Of course! I 've heard lots of the fellows say that 
 Bacon will have to do better than he ever has done to 
 keep his place. And I know what you mean about its 
 not being all your fault. But I guess the chaps on your 
 squad will behave themselves after the dressing down 
 Jack gave them the other day." 
 
 "Were you there?" 
 
 "No, I don't very often watch practice. I don't care 
 much for football, I 'm afraid. Baseball 's my game. 
 No, I was n 't there, but Sid Welch was telling me about 
 it. Sid 's a very communicative kid. ' ' 
 
 "He 's trying to make the team," said Roy, smiling. 
 "He asked me one day if drinking vinegar would make 
 him thinner." 
 
 "He 's a funny little chump," laughed the other. 
 "Not a bad sort, either. He has the bed next to mine, 
 and he and I are pretty good chums. By the way, 
 you did n 't tell me what it was your brother said. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, why, he said once that if I wanted to get on I 
 must keep a stiff upper lip and mind my own affairs. 
 
CHUB EATON INTRODUCES HIMSELF 51 
 
 And— and he said 'when you 're down on your luck or 
 up against a bigger fellow grin as hard as you can 
 grin.' " 
 
 ' ' Good for him ! ' ' cried the other. ' ' I 'd like to meet 
 him. That 's what I say, too. No use in looking glum 
 because you 're put out at the plate. Just smile and 
 keep your mouth shut, and likely as not you '11 make 
 good the next time. Besides, if the other chap sees you 
 looking worried it makes him feel bigger and better. 
 Yes, that 's good advice, all right. By the way, I know 
 your name, but I guess you don 't know mine ; it 's Chub 
 Eaton." 
 
 ' ' Are you a Senior ? ' ' 
 
 "Same as you, Second Senior. Of course, I wasn't 
 christened Chub ; my real name 's Tom ; but the fellows 
 began calling me Chub the first year I was here because 
 I was kind of fat then, and I did n't mind. So it stuck. 
 Well, here 's the canoe. Just give me a hand, will you ? 
 We '11 put her over the end of the float." 
 
 The boat house was deserted, but out in mid-stream 
 was a pair-oar and a rowboat, the latter well filled. Roy 
 helped in the launching and soon they were afloat. 
 
 "It 's an awful handsome canoe, is n't it?" asked 
 Roy. 
 
 "Pretty fair. I thought the color would fetch you; 
 it 's just a match for your sweater. Got the paddle? 
 Well, try your hand at it. Just stick it in and push it 
 back. You '11 get the hang after a bit. We '11 get out 
 around the island so as to catch the breeze. I hate 
 calm water." 
 
52 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 It was a glorious afternoon. September was drawing 
 to a close and there was already a taste of October iK 
 the fresh breeze that raffled the water as soon as they 
 had swung the crimson craft around the lower end of 
 Fox Island. Toward the latter the owner of the craft 
 waved his paddle. 
 
 "That 's where we have fun April recess," he said. 
 "'If you know what 's good you '11 stay here instead of 
 going home. We camp out there for almost a week and 
 have more fun than you can shake a stick at. Hammond 
 usually comes over and tries to swipe our boats, and two 
 years ago we had a regular battle with them. Take it 
 easier, or you '11 get sore muscles. That 's better." 
 
 Roy obeyed directions and soon discovered that pad- 
 dling if done the right way is good fun. Before the 
 Autumn was gone he had attained to quite a degree of 
 proficiency and was never happier than when out in 
 the canoe. But to-day his muscles, in spite of training, 
 soon began to ache, and he was glad when the boy at 
 the stern suggested that they let the craft drift for 
 a while. Presently, Roy having turned around very 
 cautiously, they were taking their ease in the bottom 
 of the canoe, the water lap-lapping against the smooth 
 crimson sides, the sunlight slanting across the glinting 
 ripples and the cool down-river breeze making the shelter 
 of the boat quite grateful. They talked of all sorts of 
 things, as boys will at first meeting, and as they talked 
 Roy had his first good chance to look his newly-found 
 friend over. 
 
CHUB EATON INTRODUCES HIMSELF 53 
 
 Chub Eaton was sixteen, although he looked fully 
 a year older. He was somewhat thick-set, but not so 
 much so that he was either slow or awkward. He was 
 undeniably good-looking, with a good-humored face, 
 from which a pair of bright, alert brown eyes sparkled. 
 His hair was brown, too, a brown that just escaped 
 being red, but which did not in the least remind Roy 
 of Harry 's vivid tresses. Chub looked to be in the fittest 
 physical condition and the coat of tan that covered his 
 face and hands made Roy seem almost pale in com- 
 parison. Chub had an easy, self-assured way of doing 
 things that Roy could n't help admiring, and was a 
 born leader. These same qualities were possessed by 
 Roy to a lesser extent, and that, as the friendship grew 
 and ripened between the two, they never had a falling- 
 out worthy of the name, proves that each must 
 have had a well-developed sense of fairness and gener- 
 osity. As I have said, their conversation touched on all 
 sorts of subjects, and finally it got around to Horace 
 Burlen. 
 
 "Horace has the whole school under his thumb," 
 explained Chub. "You see, in the first place he is 
 Emmy's nephew, and the fellows have an idea that that 
 makes a difference with Emmy. I don't believe it does, 
 for Emmy's mighty fair; and besides, I 've seen him 
 wade into Horace good and hard. But he 's school 
 leader, all right. The Juniors do just about whatever 
 he tells 'em to and are scared to death for fear he wilL 
 eat 'em up. It 's awfully funny, the way he bosses 
 
54 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 things. I don't believe there are half a dozen fellows 
 in school who would n 't jump into the river if Horace 
 told them to. And the worst of it is, you know, he is n 't 
 the best fellow in the world to be leader." 
 
 "How about you?" asked Roy. "You 're not one of 
 his slaves, are you?" 
 
 "Me? Bless you, no! Horace and I had our little 
 scrap two years ago and since then he has given me up 
 for lost. Same way with Jack Rogers. Jack 's the 
 only chap that can make Horace stand around. Jack 
 could have taken the lead himself if he 'd wanted to, 
 but the only thing he thinks of is football. Horace 
 hates him like poison, but he makes believe he likes him. 
 You see, Horace was up for captain this year and would 
 have got it, too, if Johnny King had n 't made a lot of 
 the team promise last Fall to vote for Jack. It wasn't 
 exactly fair, I guess, but Johnny knew that Horace 
 would never do for football captain. So that 's the 
 reason Horace has it in for him." 
 
 ' ' Well, he will never get me to lick his boots for him, ' ' 
 said Roy decisively. 
 
 Chub looked at him smilingly a moment. Then, 
 
 "No, I don't believe he will. But you '11 have a hard 
 row to hoe for a while, for Horace can make it mighty 
 unpleasant for a chap if he wants to." 
 
 "He 's done it already," answered Roy. 
 
 "Oh, that 's nothing," was the cheerful reply. 
 "Wait till he gets to going. He can be mighty nasty 
 when he tries. And he can be fairly decent, too. He 
 
CHUB EATON INTRODUCES HIMSELF 55 
 
 is n 't a coward like Otto Ferris, you see ; he 's got a lot 
 of good stuff in him, only it does n 't very often get out. ' ' 
 
 "He 's a Second Senior, is n 't he ? " 
 
 "Yes, he 's been here six years already, too. He isn't 
 much on study, and Emmy gets ripping mad with him 
 sometimes. Two years ago he didn't pass and Emmy 
 told him he 'd keep him in the Second Middle for six 
 years if he didn't do better work. So Horace buckled 
 down that time and moved up. Well, say, we paddle 
 back. You stay where you are if you 're tired; I can 
 make it against this little old tide all right." 
 
 But Roy declared he was n't tired and took up his 
 paddle again. As they neared the school landing the 
 rowboat came drifting down from the end of the island, 
 the half dozen lads inside of it shouting and laughing 
 loudly. Suddenly Roy started to his feet. 
 
 ' ' Sit down ! ' ' cried Chub sharply. 
 
 Roy sat down, not so much on account of the com 
 mand as because he had started the canoe to rocking, 
 and it was a choice between doing that and falling into 
 the river. 
 
 ' ' Their boat 's upset ! " he cried back. 
 
 " So I see, ' ' answered Chub. ' ' But it is n 't necessary 
 to upset this one, too. Besides, they can all swim like 
 fishes." 
 
 Nevertheless he bent to his paddle and, with Roy 
 making ineffectual efforts to help him, fairly shot the 
 craft over the water. But long before they had neared 
 the overturned boat it became evident that their aid 
 
56 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 was not required, for the boys in the water, laughing 
 over their mishap, were swimming toward the beach 
 and pushing the capsized boat before them. Chub 
 headed the canoe toward the landing. 
 
 "You see," he explained, "no fellow is allowed to 
 get into a boat here until he can swim, and so, barring 
 a swift current, there isn't much danger. That 's Sid 
 in front. He 's a regular fish in the water and it 's 
 even money that he upset the thing on purpose. He 'd 
 better not let Emmy know about it, though. By the 
 way, how about you? Can you swim? I forgot to 
 ask you." 
 
 "Yes, I can swim pretty fair," answered Roy. 
 
 "All right. I took it for granted you could. You 
 look like a chap that can do things. Do you play base- 
 ball?" 
 
 "No; that is, I 've never played on a team. Of 
 course, I can catch a ball if it 's coming my way." 
 
 "Good! Why not come out for the nine in the 
 spring ? Will you ? ' ' 
 
 "I don't believe there 'd be much use in it," said Roy. 
 "I know so little about the game." 
 
 "That 's all right. You could learn. Half the fel- 
 lows who try have never played before. And I know 
 you can start quick and run like a streak. I saw you 
 make that touchdown day before yesterday. You 'd 
 better try. ' ' 
 
 "Well," answered Roy, as they lifted the canoe from 
 the water and bore it into the boat house, "maybe J 
 
CHUB EATON INTEODUCES HIMSELF 57 
 
 will. Only I don't think the captain would be very 
 glad to see me." 
 
 "Don't you worry about the captain," laughed Chub. 
 "He 's too glad to get material to be fussy." 
 
 "Who is captain?" asked Roy. 
 
 "I am," said Chub. "That 's how I know so much 
 about him!" 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 METHUSELAH HAS A SORE THROAT 
 
 FOOTBALL practice was hard and steady the next 
 week, for Maitland had trounced Ferry Hill 17 
 to 0, and as Maitland was only a high school, albeit a 
 rather large one, the disgrace rankled. Jack Rogers 
 was n't the sort of chap to wear his heart on his sleeve, 
 and so far as his countenance went none would have 
 guessed him to be badly discouraged. But he was, and 
 Roy, for one, knew it. And I think Jack knew that he 
 knew it, for once in a lull of the signal practice he 
 looked up to find Roy's eyes on him sympathetically, 
 and he smiled back with a dubious shake of his head 
 that spoke volumes. Things were n 't going very well, 
 and that was a fact. The loss of Horace Burlen during 
 that first month of practice meant a good deal, for 
 Horace was a steady center and an experienced one. To 
 a lesser extent the absence of Pryor and Warren, 
 Horace's friends in exile, retarded the development of 
 the team. By the end of the second week of practice a 
 provisional eleven had been formed, for Mr. Cobb be- 
 lieved in getting the men together as soon as possible, 
 having learned from experience that team work is not 
 
 58 
 
METHUSELAH HAS A SOKE THROAT 59 
 
 a thing that can be instilled in a mere week or two of 
 practice. Whitcomb was playing center on the first 
 squad in Horace's absence. Roy was at quarter on the 
 second, with a slow-moving young giant named Forrest 
 in front of him. But Forrest was good-natured as well 
 as slow, and in consequence he and Roy got on very 
 well, although they never exchanged unnecessary re- 
 marks. The back field had learned that Jack Rogers 
 would not stand any nonsense, and if they had any de- 
 sire to make things uncomfortable for the quarter-back 
 they did n 't indulge it on the football field. The second 
 stood up very well in those days before the first, in 
 spite of the fact that sometimes there were n 't enough 
 candidates to fill the places of injured players. With 
 only forty-odd fellows to draw from it was remarkable 
 that Ferry Hill turned out the teams that it did. 
 
 Meanwhile life was growing easier for Roy. Even 
 the younger boys had begun to tire of showing their 
 contempt, while the fact that Chub Eaton had "taken 
 up" the new boy went a long way with the school in 
 general. Chub was not popular in the closest sense of 
 the word ; he was far too indifferent for that ; but every 
 fellow who knew him at all liked him — with the possible 
 exception of Horace — and his position of baseball cap- 
 tain made him a person of importance. Consequently, 
 when the school observed that Chub had selected Roy 
 for a friend it marvelled for a few days and then began 
 to wonder whether there might not be, after all, extenu- 
 ating circumstances in the new boy's favor. And 
 
60 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 besides this Roy's work on the gridiron had been from 
 the first of the sort to command respect no matter how 
 unwilling. And it was about this time that another 
 friend was restored to him. 
 
 Roy had come across Harry but once or twice since 
 she had passed him in the campus, and each time he had 
 been very careful to avoid her. But one morning he 
 ran plump into her in the corridor of School Hall, so 
 plump, in fact, that he knocked the book she was carry- 
 ing from her hand. Of course there was nothing to do 
 but stoop and rescue it from the floor, and when that 
 was done it was too late to escape. As he handed the 
 book back to her he looked defiantly into the blue eyes 
 and said, "Good morning, Miss Harriet." Strange to 
 say, he was not immediately annihilated. Instead the 
 blue eyes smiled at him with a most friendly gleam, and, 
 
 "Good morning," said Harry. Then, "Only I 
 oughtn't to answer you for calling me 'Miss Harriet'; 
 you know I hate Harriet." 
 
 "Excuse me, I meant Miss Harry," answered Roy a 
 trifle stiffly. It was hard to forget that cut direct. 
 
 ' ' That 's better, ' ' she said. ' ' You— you have n 't 
 been down to inquire after the health of the baby since 
 you rescued him." 
 
 "No, but I hope he 's all right?" 
 
 "Yes, but Methuselah is awfully sick." 
 
 "He 's the parrot, is n't he?" asked Roy. "What 'S 
 wrong with the old sinner ? ' ' 
 
 "He 's got a dreadful sore throat," was the reply. 
 
METHUSELAH HAS A SORE THROAT 61 
 
 "I 've tied it up with a cloth soaked in turpentine half 
 a dozen times, but he just won't let it be." 
 
 1 ' Are you sure it 's sore throat ? ' ' asked Roy gravely. 
 
 ''Yes, his voice is almost gone. Why, he can scarcely 
 talk above a whisper ! ' ' 
 
 Roy thought to himself that that was n 't such a catas- 
 trophe as Harry intimated, but he was careful not to 
 suggest such a thing to her. Instead he looked properly 
 regretful. 
 
 "Don't you want to see him?" asked Harry, in the 
 manner of one conferring an unusual favor. Roy de- 
 clared that he did and Harry led the way toward the 
 barn, her red hair radiant in the morning sunlight. On 
 the way they passed two of the boys, who observed them 
 with open-eyed surprise. Harry's favor was not easy 
 to win and, being won, something to prize, since she 
 stood near the throne and was popularly believed to 
 be able to command favors for her friends. 
 
 Methuselah certainly did look sick. He was perched 
 on the edge of his soap box domicile, viewing the world 
 with pessimistic eyes, when Harry conducted the visitor 
 into the enclosure and sent the pigeons whirling into 
 air. Harry went to him and stroked his head with her 
 finger. 
 
 "Poor old Thuselah," she murmured. "Did he have 
 a sore throat? Well, it was a nasty, mean shame. But 
 he 's a naughty boy for scratching off the bandage 
 Harry put on. What have you done with it? You 
 haven't—" she looked about the box and the ground 
 
62 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 and then viewed the bird sternly — "you haven't eaten 
 it?" 
 
 Methuselah cocked his eyes at her in a world-wearied 
 way that seemed to say, "Well, what if I have? I 
 might as well die one way as another." But Roy dis- 
 covered the bedraggled length of linen a little way off 
 und restored it to Harry. 
 
 "I 'm so glad ! ' ' said the girl with a sigh of relief. 
 ' ' I did n 't know but he might have, you know. Why, 
 once he actually ate a whole ounce of turnip seeds ! ' ' 
 
 "Hurt him?" asked Roy interestedly. 
 
 "N-no, I don't believe so, but I was awfully afraid it 
 would. John, the gardener, said he 'd have appendicitis. 
 But then, John was mad because he needed the seeds. ' ' 
 
 Methuselah had closed his eyes and now looked as 
 though resolved to die at once and get it over with. But 
 at that moment Snip trotted out from the barn, where 
 he had been hunting for rats, and hailed Roy as a long- 
 lost friend. Perhaps the incident saved the bird's life. 
 At least it caused him to alter his mind about dying 
 at once, for he blinked his eyes open, watched the per- 
 formance for a moment and then broke out in a hoarse 
 croak with: 
 
 "Stop your swearing! Stop your swearing! Stop 
 your swearing ! Stop your swearing ! ' ' 
 
 It was such a pathetic apology for a voice that Roy 
 had to laugh even at the risk of wounding Harry's 
 feelings. But Harry, too, found it amusing and joined 
 her laugh with his. Whereupon Methuselah mocked 
 
METHUSELAH HAS A SORE THROAT 63 
 
 them sarcastically in tones that suggested the indelicacy 
 of laughing at a dying friend. 
 
 "I think/' said Harry, "he 'd like you to scratch his 
 head." 
 
 Roy looked doubtfully at the bird and the bird looked 
 suspiciously at Roy, but when the latter had summoned 
 up sufficient courage to allow of the experiment Methu- 
 selah closed his eyes and bent his head in evident 
 appreciation and enjoyment. 
 
 "T don't believe you 're nearly so sick as you 're mak- 
 ing out, ' ' said Roy. ' ' I believe you 're an old bluffer. ' ' 
 
 And the bird actually chuckled! 
 
 Harry doused the bandage with turpentine again and 
 once more tied it around Methuselah's neck. 
 
 "Now don't you dare scratch it off again," she com- 
 manded severely, shaking her finger at him. 
 
 "Well, I never—" began the bird. But weariness 
 overcame him in the middle of the sentence and he 
 closed his beady eyes again and nodded sleepily. 
 
 ' ' I don't believe he slept very well last night, ' ' confided 
 Harry in a whisper. 
 
 ' ' Maybe he was cold, ' ' Roy suggested. 
 
 "I 've thought of that. I don't usually move them 
 indoors until much later," said Harry thoughtfully, 
 "but the weather is so cold this Fall that I think I '11 
 put them in to-day. Maybe he 's been sleeping in a 
 draft. Mamma says that will almost always give you 
 a sore throat." 
 
 They walked back to the cottage together and on the 
 
64 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 way Harry was unusually quiet. Finally, when Roy 
 had pleaded a recitation, she unburdened her mind and 
 conscience. 
 
 "I— I 'm sorry about the other day," she said sud- 
 denly. 
 
 Roy, who had turned away, looked around in surprise. 
 
 ' ' I mean when I did n 't speak to you one morning, ' ' 
 explained Harry bravely. Her cheeks were furiously 
 red and Roy found himself sharing her embarrassment. 
 
 "Oh, that 's all right," he muttered. 
 
 "No, it is n't all right," contradicted Harry. "It 
 was a low-down thing to do and I was sorry right away. 
 Only you didn't look and so — so I — I didn't call you. 
 I— I wish you had looked. It was all Horace's fault. 
 He said — said — " 
 
 "Yes, I guess I know what he said," interrupted 
 Roy. "But supposing what he said is so?" 
 
 "I wouldn't care— much," was the answer. "But 
 I know it isn't so! Is it?" 
 
 Roy dropped his eyes and hesitated. Then, 
 
 "No," he muttered. "It isn't so, Harry." 
 
 "I knew it!" she cried triumphantly. "I told him 
 I knew it afterwards ! And he said girls were n 't proper 
 persons to judge of such things, and I don't see what 
 that 's got to do with my knowing— what I know, do 
 you?" 
 
 Roy had to acknowledge that he didn't. 
 
 "And you 're not cross with me, are you?" she de- 
 manded anxiously. 
 
 "Not a bit," he said. 
 
METHUSELAH HAS A SORE THROAT 65 
 
 "That's nice. I don't like folks I like to not like— 
 Oh, dear me ! I 'm all balled up ! Only I must n 't say 
 'balled up.' I meant that I was — confused. Anyway, 
 I 'm going to tell all the boys that it is n't so, that you 
 didn't squeal— I mean tell — on Horace and the others! 
 And I think it was a nasty trick to play on you ! Why, 
 you might have caught your death of cold ! ' ' 
 
 "Or a sore throat, like Methuselah," said Roy, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 "Or you might have been drowned. Once there was 
 a boy drowned here, a long, long time ago, when I was 
 just a kid. It was very sad. But you were n't drowned, 
 were you? And so there 's no use in supposing, is 
 there? But I 'm going to tell the boys that—" 
 
 "I 'd rather you did n't, please, Harry," broke in 
 Roy. 
 
 Harry, who was becoming quite enthusiastic and ex- 
 cited, opened her eyes very wide. 
 
 ' ' Not tell ? " she cried. ' ' Why not ? " 
 
 "Well," answered Roy hesitatingly, "I— I 'd rather 
 you did n 't. " 
 
 "No reason!" said Harry scornfully. 
 
 "If they think I 'd do such a thing," muttered Roy, 
 "they can just keep on thinking so. I guess I can 
 stand it." 
 
 Harry looked puzzled for a moment; she was trying 
 to get at his point of view ; then her face lighted. 
 
 ' ' Splendid ! ' ' she cried. ' ' You 're going to be a martyr 
 and be misunderstood like — like somebody in a book I was 
 reading! And some day, long after you 're gone — " 
 
66 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 Harry looked vaguely about as though searching for 
 the place Roy was to go to — "folks will discover that 
 you 're innocent and they '11 be very, very sorry and 
 erect a white marble shaft to your cherished memory ! ' ' 
 She ended much out of breath, but still enthusiastic, 
 to find Roy laughing at her. 
 
 "I guess I 'm not hankering for any martyr business, 
 Harry. It is n 't that exactly ; I don 't know just what 
 it is. But if you won't say anything about it I '11 be 
 awfully much obliged." 
 
 "Well, then, I won't," promised Harry regretfully. 
 ' ' Only I do wish you were going to be a martyr ! ' ' 
 
 "I shall be if I don't hurry," answered Roy. "I 
 have math with Mr. Buckman in about half a minute." 
 
 ' ' Pooh ! No one 's afraid of Buck ! ' ' said Harry 
 scornfully. ' ' Cobby 's the one to look out for ; he 's 
 awfully strict." Roy was already making for School 
 Hall. "You '11 come and see Methuselah again soon, 
 won't you?" 
 
 "Yes," called Roy. 
 
 "And you '11 play tennis with me some day, too?" 
 
 "I don't play very well." 
 
 "Never mind," answered Harry, "I '11 teach you. 
 Good bye J" 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 COACHES AND PLAYERS 
 
 OCTOBER went its way, a period of bright, crisp, 
 golden weather filled with hard work for the foot- 
 ball players. There were defeats and victories both in 
 that early season, but on the whole the team showed up 
 fairly well. Burlen and Warren and Pryor returned to 
 practice at the end of their probation and, although each 
 was more or less stale, their presence in accustomed 
 positions heartened the team. Otto Ferris, too, returned, 
 but his advent was not portentous, since the best he could 
 do was to make the second as a substitute back. Bacon 
 still held his place at quarter, although in two games 
 he had been kept out of the play, his position being filled 
 by Roy. The latter had done excellent work, but he had 
 not had the experience gained by Bacon, and this, 
 together with the fact that he and Horace did not work 
 smoothly together, made it pretty certain that Bacon 
 would go into the game with Hammond. Roy was not 
 greatly disappointed, for he had scarcely dared hope 
 to make the first team that Fall. Next year Bacon 
 would be gone from school, and then, barring accidents, 
 the place would be his. Meanwhile, ever mindful of his 
 promise to Jack Rogers, Roy worked like a Trojan on 
 the second and ran that team in such a way that a score 
 
 67 
 
68 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 against the first at least every other day of practice 
 became something to expect. Had Roy been able to work 
 with Horace as he did with Forrest, Bacon's position 
 would not have been so secure. Roy was like a streak of 
 lightning when he once got away for a run, and, like a 
 streak of lightning, was mighty hard to catch. At this 
 he quite outplayed Bacon. The latter seldom managed 
 to make his quarter-back runs tell, but he knew his men 
 from long experience and used them like a general. 
 
 Chub Eaton, inspired by his friendship for Roy, 
 became a regular attendant at practice and even travelled 
 on more than one occasion to a neighboring town with 
 the team. Chub, however, did n't approve of Roy's 
 presence on the second. 
 
 "It 's all poppycock," he declared warmly. "You 
 can play all around Bacon and I don't understand why 
 Cobb and Jack don't see it. You 're too easy-going, Roy. 
 You ought to make a kick ; tell 'em you want what 's 
 coming to you ; make 'em give you a fair try-out on the 
 first. I tell you, my young friend, you don't gain 
 anything in this world by being over-modest. Get out 
 and flap your wings and crow a few times till they take 
 notice of you ! ' ' 
 
 At all of which Roy smiled calmly. 
 
 The two had become inseparable. Whenever it was 
 possible they were together. In the evening they sat side 
 by side in the study room and afterwards Roy spent his 
 time on the edge of Chub's bed in the Junior Dormitory 
 until the bell rang. There were many stolen hours in 
 
COACHES AND PLAYERS 69 
 
 the canoe and always, rain or shine, Sunday afternoon 
 found them on the river, floating down with the stream 
 or paddling about the shorefe engaged in wonderful 
 explorations. 
 
 Roy had recovered from his first nervousness regarding 
 studies and was getting on fairly well. He was never 
 likely to astonish any of the instructors with his bril- 
 liancy, but what he once learned he remembered and 
 he was conscientious where studies were concerned. 
 His mother mentioned the scholarship less frequently 
 nowadays in her letters and his father asked sarcastic- 
 ally whether they taught anything besides football at 
 Ferry Hill, but was secretly very proud of his son's 
 success in that line. 
 
 So November came in with a week of chill, wet days, 
 days when outdoor practice meant handling a slippery 
 ball and rolling about in puddles of water, but which sent 
 them in to supper with outrageous appetites. 
 
 Green Academy came and saw and conquered, Pottsville 
 High School was sent home beaten, Cedar Cove School 
 was defeated by a single point — Jack himself kicked 
 the goal that did it— and lo, the schedule was almost 
 at an end, with only the big game of the season, that 
 with Hammond, looming up portentously ten days dis- 
 tant! 
 
 The whole school was football mad. Every afternoon 
 of practice saw boys and instructors on the field either 
 playing or watching ; only severe illness kept a Ferry Hill 
 student away from the field those days. Every after- 
 
70 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 noon some graduate or other appeared in a faded brown 
 sweater and after watching practice awhile suddenly 
 darted into the fracas and laid down the law. And 
 there were long and earnest consultations afterwards 
 between the grad and Jack and Mr. Cobb, and fellows 
 who were not too certain of their places trembled 
 in their muddy shoes. And there were changes, too, in 
 the line-up, and more than one pair of muddy shoes 
 either went to the side-line or scuffled about with the 
 second. But only one of the changes became permanent ; 
 for Mir. Cobb had selected well. Roy never forgot the 
 day when Johnny King made his appearance. 
 
 It was just a week to a day before the Hammond game. 
 Roy was one of the first on the field that afternoon, but 
 Jack and Mr. Cobb were ahead of him, and with them 
 was a big, broad-shouldered youth in his shirt sleeves. 
 Roy groaned in sympathy with the first team, knowing 
 from experience that they would have an unpleasant 
 time of it. The grad had the look of a chap who knew 
 foot-ball, knew what he wanted and was bound to have it. 
 Then the players assembled, went through a few minutes 
 of catching and punting and signal line-up, and finally 
 faced each other in two eager, determined lines. Mr. 
 Cobb blew his whistle and the first came through the 
 second for a yard outside of left tackle. By this time 
 Roy had learned the identity of the graduate, and when 
 he could he examined him with interest, remembering 
 what Jack Rogers had told of the last year's captain. 
 For awhile King had little to say; he merely followed 
 the game as it went back and forth in the middle of the 
 
COACHES AND PLAYEES 71 
 
 field. Then came a try around the second 's left end and 
 Roy, running in, brought the first's left half-back to 
 earth. The tackle was a hard one and the half-back 
 lost the ball and sprang to his feet to find Eoy edging 
 toward the first's goal with it under his arm. It was 
 the second's first down then, and Eoy sent full-back 
 crashing against the opposing left-guard for a yard and 
 a half. That began an advance that the first was unable 
 to stay. Roy was everywhere, and time and again, when 
 the whistle had blown, he was found at the bottom of the 
 heap still trying to pull the runner ahead. But a fumble 
 by the second's left-tackle, who had been drawn back 
 for a plunge, changed the tide and the ball went back to 
 the first almost under her goal posts. A halt was called, 
 Johnny King conferred a moment with Mr. Cobb and 
 Roy was summoned to the first, Bacon slipping across to 
 the other line. But Roy could have told King then and 
 there that the change would n't pay, for he knew Horace 
 Burlen. And it did n't. King frowned and puzzled 
 during three plays. Then his brow lighted. 
 
 "Change those centers," he commanded. 
 
 Forrest, amazed and embarrassed by the unexpected 
 honor, changed places with Horace. 
 
 "Somebody tell him the key number for the signals," 
 said King. ' ' Forrest, let 's see you wake up ; you 're 
 slower than you were last year. Now get in there and 
 do something!" 
 
 And Forrest smiled good-naturedly and bent over the 
 (Ball. 
 
 Things went better at once, and, Forrest and Roy 
 
72 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 working together like well fitted parts of a machine, the 
 ball went down the field on straight plays and over the 
 line for the first score. But Forrest had to work, for 
 Horace, smarting under the indignity of a return to the 
 second, fought over every inch of the ground. The ball 
 was taken from the first and given to Bacon. And then 
 there was a different story to tell. Bacon piled his men 
 through center, Horace getting the jump on Forrest 
 every time and crashing through in spite of the efforts 
 of the secondary defense. King shook his head and 
 frowned. Then he called Jack Rogers out of the line 
 and talked to him for a minute, while the players repaired 
 broken laces and had their heated faces sponged off. 
 Roy, making the rounds of the men, cheering and entreat- 
 ing, caught by accident a portion of the conversation 
 between the two. 
 
 "That 's where you 've made your mistake," King 
 was saying sorrowfully. "You 've failed to see the 
 possibilities in Forrest. Slow? Sure he is; slow as an 
 ice wagon ! But you could have knocked a lot of that 
 out of him. He 's too good-natured ; I know the sort ; but 
 mark my words, Jack, if you can get him mad he '11 play 
 like a whirlwind ! Oh, it 's too late now ; Bacon and 
 Burlen are your best pair. Only— well, there 's no use 
 regretting. You 've picked a pretty good team, old man, 
 and if you can ginger them up. a bit more, get more fight 
 into them next Saturday, you '11 stand to win. Re- 
 member this, Jack; a fresh center that knows the game, 
 even if he is slow, is better than a tuckered one. Give 
 
COACHES AND PLAYERS 73 
 
 Forrest a chance in the second half, if you can ; and put 
 Porter in with him. They 're a good pair. Too bad 
 Porter can't work better with Burlen; he 's a streak, 
 that kid! Well—" 
 
 Roy moved out of hearing and presently he and 
 Forrest were back on the second and they were hammer- 
 ing their way down the field again. The first fifteen- 
 minute half ended with the ball in possession of the 
 second on the first's "twenty-yard line. The players 
 trotted to the side-line and crept under their blankets 
 and sweaters, King and Rogers and Cobb talking and 
 gesticulating a little way off. Roy found himself next 
 to Forrest. The center, rubbing thoughtfully at a 
 strained finger, heaved a sigh. 
 
 "Sorry I disappointed Johnny," he said. "But, 
 shucks ! Why, I could n 't stand up ten minutes against 
 that Hammond center! I know what I 'm good for, 
 Porter ; I don 't try to deceive myself into thinking I 'm 
 a great player; only — well, I 'm sorry I could n't do 
 better for Johnny King." 
 
 "You '11 do a heap better next Saturday," answered 
 Roy. 
 
 "Pshaw! They won't let me into it!" 
 
 "You wait and see," said Roy. "And if you go in 
 I guess I will. And if we do get into it, Forrest, let 's 
 show them what we can do, will you?" 
 
 Forrest turned and observed the other's earnest coun- 
 tenance smilingly. 
 
 "I '11 do the best I know how," he said good-nat- 
 
74 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 uredly, "but I guess they '11 do better to leave me out." 
 
 ' ' Oh, you be hanged ! ' ' grunted Roy. ' ' You '11 fight or 
 I '11 punch you ! ' ' 
 
 "Oh, I guess I '11 get my fill of punches," laughed 
 Forrest. "They say that Hammond center is a corker 
 at that game ! ' ' 
 
 "I believe you 're scared of him," taunted Roy. 
 
 But Forrest only shook his big head slowly. 
 
 "Oh, I guess not," he answered. "Come on; time 's 
 up." 
 
 The first scored again soon after play was resumed, 
 Jack Rogers getting through outside left-tackle for a 
 twelve-yard plunge across the line. Then the ball went 
 to the second and, with the injunction to confine his 
 plays to straight plunges at the line, Roy took up the 
 fight. But the first were playing their very best to-day ; 
 perhaps the presence of the old captain had a good deal 
 to do with it ; at all events, the second 's gains were few 
 and far between and several times it lost the ball only to 
 have it returned by order of the coaches. They were 
 trying out the first's defense and although twice Roy 
 stood inside of the first's ten-yard line, the practice 
 ended without a score for the second. 
 
 "I thought you 'd made the first that time," said 
 Chub as he and Roy walked back to the campus to- 
 gether later. "You would have, too, if Horace had n't 
 passed like an idiot." 
 
 ' ' I knew he would, ' ' said Roy. ' ' There was n 't much 
 use trying to do anything with him in front of me. If 
 
COACHES AND PLAYEES 75 
 
 only Forrest would get some snap into his playing I 
 Great Scott, he 's a regular tortoise ! ' ' 
 
 "Well, there 's a week yet," said Chub hopefully. 
 "There 's no telling what may happen in a week." 
 
 "There won't anything happen as far as I am con- 
 cerned," answered the other a trifle despondently. 
 
 Nor did there. "When practice was over on Thurs- 
 day Roy stood with the second and answered the cheer 
 given them by the first, and afterwards he and Forrest 
 walked over to the gymnasium together trying not to 
 feel blue. 
 
 "Well, that 's over with for this year," grunted 
 Forrest. "Tomorrow we '11 be gentlemen and strut 
 around in some decent clothes. ' ' He looked thoughtfully 
 at his torn and faded brown jersey. ' ' I guess this is the 
 last time I '11 wear you, old chap, ' ' he said softly. 
 
 But Forrest was mistaken, for the next afternoon he 
 and Roy and four other members of the second were out 
 on the gridiron again walking through plays and learn- 
 ing the new signals of the first. Jack Rogers was n't go- 
 ing to lose the morrow's game on account of lack of 
 players. There was a solid hour and a quarter of it, 
 and when Roy went to bed at half-past nine, a half 
 hour earlier than usual, formations and signals were 
 still buzzing through his brain. 
 
 The gridiron, freshly marked, glistened under bright 
 sunlight. November could not have been kinder in the 
 matter of weather. There had been no hard freeze since 
 the rains and the field was as springy under foot as in 
 
76 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 September. Over on the far side a big cherry and black 
 flag fluttered briskly in the breeze and beneath it, over- 
 flowing from the small stand onto the yellowing turf, 
 were Hammond's supporters. Opposite were the Ferry 
 Hill hordes under their brown and white banner and 
 with them a sprinkling of townsfolk from Silver Cove. 
 Here were Doctor Emery, Mrs. Emery and Harry, the 
 latter armed with a truculent brown and wmite banner; 
 nearby was Mr. Buckman acting as squire to a group of 
 ladies from the town. Beyond was Roy, one of a half- 
 dozen blanketed forms; still further along, squatting 
 close to the side-line, was Chub Eaton, and from where 
 he sat down to the farther thirty-yard line boys with 
 brown and white flags and tin horns were scattered. 
 And between the opposing ranks were two dozen per- 
 sons upon whom all eyes were fixed. Eleven of them 
 wore the brown jerseys and brown and white striped 
 stockings of Ferry Hill School. Eleven others wore the 
 cherry-colored jerseys and cherry and black stockings 
 of Hammond Academy. Two more were in ordinary 
 attire save that sweaters had taken the places of coats. 
 These latter were the officials, both college men, the 
 umpire showing in his sweater the light red of Cornell, 
 and the referee, by the same means, proving allegiance to 
 Columbia. The two teams had been facing each other 
 for fifteen minutes, during which time the ball had 
 hovered continuously in mid-field. And now for the 
 fourth time it had changed hands and Bacon was crying 
 his signals. From the Ferry Hill supporters came a 
 
COACHES AND PLAYERS 77 
 
 rattling oheer; "Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, 
 rah, rah! Ferry Hill! Ferry Hill! Ferry Hill!" 
 
 And from across the field of battle swept back, mocking 
 and defiant, Hammond's parody "Rah, rah, rah! Rah, 
 rah, rah ! Rah rah, rah ! Very 111 ! Very 111 ! Very 111!" 
 
 Then cheers were forgotten, for Kirby, Ferry Hill's 
 full-back, was tearing a gash in the red line outside of 
 right-guard. He was almost free of the enemy when 
 Pool, the opposing quarter, dragged him down. But 
 twelve yards is something to gladden the heart when for 
 a quarter of an hour half-yard gains have been the rule. 
 Ferry Hill forgot to cheer ; she just yelled, each boy for 
 himself, and it was more than a minute before Chub, 
 leading, could get them together. This time Ham- 
 mond forgot to mock and instead sent up a long, lusty 
 slogan that did her credit : 
 
 "Rah, rah, rah! Who are we? H-A-M-M-O-N-D ! 
 Hoorah, Hoorah ! Hammond Academy ! Rah, rah, rah ! ' ' 
 
 Another break in the cherry-hued line and Ferry Hill 
 was down on the opponent's thirty-yard line Jack Rog- 
 ers holding the ball at arm's-length as he lay on the turf 
 with half the Hammond team upon him. Then came 
 two unsuccessful attempts to get through the center, 
 followed by a double-pass that barely gained the neces- 
 sary five yards. Chub was busy now and so were all 
 the others on that side of the gridiron. Even Harry 
 joined her shrill voice, the while she waved her flag 
 valiantly. Again the Brown charged into the enemy's 
 line, but this time her attack was broken into fragments 
 
78 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 and Whitcomb was borne back for a loss of six yards. A 
 tandem on right-tackle failed to regain more than a 
 yard of the lost ground and Pryor, left half-back, fell 
 back for the kick. It was a poor attempt, the ball 
 shooting almost straight into air. When it came down 
 the Hammond right-tackle found it, fought his way 
 over two white streaks and was finally pulled to earth on 
 the forty-yard line. Then the tide of battle turned with 
 a vengeance. Back over the field went Hammond, using 
 her heavy backs in a tackle-tandem formation with 
 telling effect. The gains were short but frequent. The 
 wings caught the worst of the hammering, for at center 
 Hammond found it impossible to gain, although Jones, 
 her much-heralded center-rush, was proving himeslf a 
 good match for Horace Burlen. Jack Rogers, at left- 
 tackle, was a hard proposition, but Fernald, beside him 
 at left guard, was weak, and not a few of the gains were 
 on that side. On the other side Hadden at tackle was 
 playing high, and although Gallup was doing his best 
 to break things up, that wing gave badly before Ham- 
 mond's fierce onslaught. The backs saved the day time 
 and again, bringing down the runner when almost clear 
 of the line. Hammond tried no tricks, but pinned her 
 faith to straight football, relying upon an exceptionally 
 heavy and fast set of backs. Down to Ferry Hill's 
 twenty-five yards swept the line of battle, slowly, ir- 
 revocably. There, Bacon shrieking his entreaties and 
 Jack heartening the men with slaps on backs and 
 
COACHES AND PLAYERS 79 
 
 shoulders, the brown-clad line held against the enemy 
 and received the ball on downs. 
 
 Maybe Ferry Hill did n 't leap and shout ! Down the 
 side-line raced Chub and his companions, waving flags 
 and awakening the echoes with discordant, frenzied 
 tootings on their horns. And Mr. Cobb, quietly chewing 
 a grass-blade, smiled once and heaved a sigh of relief. 
 
 The Brown 's first attempt netted scarcely a yard. Her 
 second, a quarter-back run, came to an inglorious end, 
 Bacon being nailed well back of the line. Then, with six 
 yards to gain on the third down, Pryor once more fell 
 back for a kick. This time he got the ball off well and 
 the opponents went racing back up the field. Hammond 's 
 quarter gathered it in, reeled off some ten yards and was 
 brought down by Warren. Once again the advance 
 began, but now there were fewer gains through the left 
 of the brown line ; Fernald had found his pace and he 
 and Jack Rogers were working together superbly. The 
 other side was still vulnerable, however, and soon, before 
 the fifty-five-yard line had been passed, the Ferry Hill 
 supporters saw with dismay that Hammond was aiming 
 her attack, and not without success, at the center of her 
 opponent's line. Horace Burlen was weakening, and 
 although Fernald and Gallup, on either side, were aiding 
 him all in their power, Hammond's tandem plunged 
 through his position again and again for small gains. 
 Bacon's voice, hoarse and strained, coaxed and com- 
 manded, but down to the forty yards went the cherry 
 
80 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 and black, and from there to the thirty-five, and from 
 there, but by shorter gains now, to the thirty. 
 
 ' ' Hold 'em ! Hold 'em ! Hold 'em ! ' ' was the cry from 
 the wavers of the brown and white banners. But it was 
 far easier said than done. Once more within sight of a 
 score, Hammond was desperately determined to reach 
 that last white line. To the twenty-five yards she crept, 
 and then she was almost to the twenty. A long plunge 
 through center and the fifteen was close at hand. And 
 then, while the wearied and battered defense crawled to 
 their feet, a whistle shrilled sharply and the half was 
 over ! And Jack Rogers as he limped across the trampled 
 turf to the bench thanked his star for the timely in- 
 tervention. 
 
 The players disappeared through the gate to the 
 gymnasium, followed by Mr. Cobb and a handful of 
 graduates. On the other side of the gridiron the Ham- 
 mond warriors, wrapped in their red blankets, sat in a 
 long row and were administered to by rubbers and 
 lectured by coaches. On the Ferry Hill side the boys 
 were singing the school song and interspersing it with 
 cheers and blasts of tin horns. Chub sought out Roy. 
 
 "Everybody says you '11 go in this half," he whis- 
 pered. ' ' If you do, sock it to 'em ! ' ' 
 
 "I won't get in unless Forrest does," answered Roy. 
 
 "Well, he 's sure to, is n't he? Why, Horace is al- 
 most done up already ! ' ' 
 
 "Maybe, but ten minutes of rest brings a fellow 
 
COACHES AND PLAYEES 81 
 
 around in great shape, and I would n't be surprised if 
 he lasted the game out." 
 
 ' ' Last nothing ! Look at the way Hammond was plow- 
 ing through him ! Say, that 's a great tandem of theirs. 
 is n't it?" 
 
 "Pretty good." 
 
 ' ' Pretty good ! I should think so ! " 
 
 ' ' It would n 't be so much against a team that got 
 started quicker. Our line 's too plaguey slow and half 
 of them are playing away up in the air. Look at 
 Hadden ! Rogers ought to make him get down on his 
 knees. Hello, here they come." 
 
 "Can we keep them from scoring, do you think?" 
 asked one of the substitutes anxiously as the brown- 
 stockinged players trotted back through the gate. 
 
 "Yes, I guess so," Roy answered. "But I don't 
 believe we can score ourselves." 
 
 "Well, a tie is better than being beaten," said the 
 first youth hopefully. 
 
 "No it is n't," said Chub. "It 's the meanest kind 
 of an ending. You 've done nothing and the other 
 fellow's done nothing and you 're no better off than you 
 were when you started. We played eleven innings with 
 Hammond year before last and quit six to six. My, but 
 we were mad ! And tired ! I 'd rather they 'd licked us. ' ' 
 
 "Hope I get a show," muttered the other wistfully. 
 He was a substitute end and only his lack of weight had 
 kept him off the team. 
 
82 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "There 's Cobb laying it down to 'em," whispered 
 Chub. ' ' Watch his finger ; you 'd think he was in class, 
 eh? Any new men going in? Yes there 's — No, it 
 is n't, either. Blessed if every man is n't going back! 
 Oh, hang ! 
 
 "Some of them won't be there long, I guess," said 
 Roy. 
 
 "Well, I must go back and get some noise. The lazy 
 chumps don't half cheer. Hope you get on, old chap. 
 So long!" 
 
 Presently the Ferry Hill cheer was ringing across 
 the field, and Chub, his coat thrown aside, was out on 
 the side-line leading as only he could. Over the fading 
 white lines the two teams arranged themselves. From 
 the Hammond side came a last burst of noise. Spectators 
 scurried back to points of vantage. The referee raised 
 his hand. 
 
 "Ready, Ferry Hill?" 
 
 Jack answered ' ' Ready ! ' ' 
 
 "Ready, Hammond?" 
 
 "All right," called the Cherry's right-end and captain. 
 
 The whistle sounded and the game was on again. 
 
 The greater part of the second half was almost a 
 repetition of the first. Both teams were playing straight 
 foot-ball and it would be difficult to say which was the 
 more aggressive. For a time, the ball was in Ferry 
 Hill's territory, and then for another ten minutes, in 
 Hammond's. There were many nerve-racking moments, 
 but each side, whenever its goal seemed in danger, was 
 
COACHES AND PLAYERS 83 
 
 lucky enough to get the ball on downs and, by a long 
 punt, send it out to the middle of the field. 
 
 Jack Rogers kicked off to Hammond's left half-back 
 who made fifteen yards behind good interference and 
 landed the ball on his own thirty-five yards. Back 
 went the right-tackle, the tandem swept forward and 
 broke into fragments against the Brown's left wing. No 
 gain. Once more it sprang at the line and this time 
 went through between Gallup and Hadden for two 
 yards. Third down and three to go. A fake kick gave 
 the ball to the right half and that youth reeled off four 
 yards before he was downed. The next attack, at the 
 center, netted a yard and a half; the next, at the same 
 place, two yards ; the rest of the distance was gained 
 outside of left tackle. So it went for awhile and once 
 more the ball was in Ferry Hill territory. 
 
 Hammond was plugging steadily now at center and 
 right side, Burlen, Gallup and Hadden all receiving 
 more attention than they coveted. At last a long gain 
 through Hadden left that youth crumpled up on the turf. 
 The whistle blew and a big sub, tearing off his sweater, 
 raced onto the field. Hadden was up in a minute, only 
 to discover that his way led toward the side-line. The 
 sub, Walker, was a trifle harder proposition for Ham- 
 mond, and for awhile that side of the line showed up 
 well, but by the time the tide had swept down to the 
 thirty-five-yard line Hammond was once more gaining 
 almost as she liked through right-tackle and guard. 
 There were no gains longer than four yards, and such 
 
84 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 were infrequent owing to the good work of the backs, 
 but almost every attack meant an advance, and not once 
 did Hammond fail of her distance in three downs. But 
 on the thirty-yard line Ferry Hill called a halt. The 
 play was directly in the middle of the field and the 
 goal-posts loomed up terribly near. Hammond's first 
 try faiied, for Bacon guessed the point of attack and 
 Ferry Hill threw her whole force behind Burlen. Foiled 
 there, Hammond tried right-tackle again, shoved Walker 
 aside and went through for a scant two yards. It was 
 third down, and over on the side-line Roy measured the 
 distance from cross-bar to back-field and watched for a 
 place-kick. But Hammond, true to her plan of battle, 
 made no attempt at a kick but sent her tandem plunging 
 desperately at the line. It was a mistake, as events 
 proved, to point the tandem at Jack Rogers, for although 
 the attack gained something by being unexpected, it 
 failed to win the required distance. Jack gave before it, 
 to be sure, and spent a minute on the ground after the 
 whistle had blown, but when the referee had measured 
 the distance with the chain it was found that Hammond 
 had failed of her distance by six inches ! 
 
 Bedlam let loose on the Ferry Hill side as Bacon ran 
 in from his position almost under the goal-posts, clapped 
 his hands and cried his signals. Pryor fell back to the 
 fifteen-yard line, there was a breathless moment of sus- 
 pense, and then the ball went arching up the field, turn- 
 ing lazily over and over in its flight. 
 
 Hammond captured it on her forty yards but was 
 
COACHES AND PLAYERS 85 
 
 downed, by the Ferry Hill left-end. Then it began all 
 over again, that heart-breaking, nerve-racking advance. 
 And this time the gains were longer. At center Ham- 
 mond went through for a yard, two yards, even three. 
 Once a penalty cost Hammond five yards, but the dis- 
 tance was regained by a terrific rush through Gallup, 
 that youth being put for the moment entirely out of the 
 play. Later, down near Ferry Hill's forty-five-yard 
 line, a fumble by Pool, the plucky, hard-playing Ham- 
 mond quarter, cost his side ten yards more. And al- 
 though Pool himself managed to recover the ball it went 
 to the opponent on downs. 
 
 I think that fumble was in a measure a turning point 
 in the game. Hammond never played quite as aggres- 
 sively afterwards. She had gained a whole lot of ground 
 at a cost of much strength, only to be turned back 
 thrice. It began to look as though Fate was against 
 her. And a minute later it seemed that Fate had de- 
 cided to favor her opponent. For when Pryor kicked on 
 first down the breeze suddenly stiffened and took the 
 ball over the head of Pool. The latter turned and found 
 it on the bound near the ten yards, but by that time 
 the Ferry Hill ends were upon him and he was glad to 
 call it down on his fifteen yards. The sight of the two 
 teams lined up there almost under Hammond's goal 
 brought joy to the hearts of the friends of the Brown, 
 and the cheering took on a new tone, that of hope. But 
 the ball was still in the enemy's hands and once more 
 the advance began. They hammered hard at Burlen and 
 
86 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 gained their distance. They swooped down on "Walker 
 and trampled over him. They thrust Gallup aside and 
 went marching through until the secondary defense piled 
 them up in a heap. But it was slower going now, there 
 was more time between plays, and knowing ones 
 amongst the watchers predicted a scoreless game. And 
 there was scarcely twelve minutes left. 
 
 Roy, his blanket trailing from his shoulders as he 
 moved crouching along the border of the field, prayed 
 for a fumble, anything to give his side the ball there 
 within striking distance of the Hammond goal. But 
 Hammond was n't fumbling to any extent that day; 
 wearied and disappointed as they were, her players clung 
 to the ball like grim death. On her twenty-five yards 
 she made a gain of three yards through center and when 
 the pile of writhing bodies had been untangled Horace 
 Burlen still lay upon the sod. Roy turned quickly tow- 
 ard Forrest. That youth was watching calmly and 
 chewing a blade of grass. Failing to catch his eye, Roy 
 looked for Mr. Cobb. Already he was heading toward 
 them. The substitute end tied and untied the arms of 
 the brown jersey thrown over his back with nervous 
 fingers. But the coach never looked in his direction. 
 
 "Forrest!" he called. And Forrest slowly climbed 
 to his feet. 
 
 "Porter!" And Roy was up like a flash, had tossed 
 aside his blanket and was awaiting orders. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 FORKEST LOSES HIS TEMPER AND ROY KEEPS HIS 
 PROMISE 
 
 THE coach led Roy and Forrest to the field and 
 gave them his orders. 
 
 "Get in there, you two," he said briskly, "and show 
 what you can do. There 's small hope of scoring 
 against Hammond, but if the chance comes work their 
 ends for all there is in it. What you 've got to do — got 
 to do, mind ! — is to keep them away from your goal-line. 
 Forrest, if you ever moved quick in your life do it 
 now. You 've simply got to get the jump on Jones. 
 He 's a good man, but recollect that he 's been playing 
 pretty nearly an hour and is dead tired. He '11 play 
 foul, too, I guess; Burlen's face is pretty well colored 
 up. But don't you dare to slug back at him; under- 
 stand?" 
 
 Forrest nodded smilingly. 
 
 "And as for you, Porter, just you play the best game 
 you know how. Keep the fellows ' courage up ; that 's 
 half of it. I 'm taking Rogers out — he 's not fit to 
 stand up any longer — and you '11 act as captain. 
 I guess you '11 know what to do on defense, and if 
 you get the ball remember the ends. Try it yourself 
 on that formation for tandem on guard; and give 
 
 87 
 
88 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 Whitcomb a chance, for I think you can get through 
 between tackle and end. Don't be afraid to take risks; 
 if you get the ball risk anything ! Go ahead now ! ' ' 
 
 Roy and Porter trotted toward the group of play- 
 ers. As they approached Burlen and Rogers were 
 coming unwillingly off, the former looking pretty well 
 punished and the latter limping badly. Jack Rogers 
 turned from his course to speak to them. 
 
 "Good boy, Forrest!" he panted. "We Ve got to 
 stop them and you can do it. Porter, remember your 
 promise !" 
 
 Roy nodded and sprinted into the group. 
 
 "All right now!" he cried cheerfully. "Get into 
 it everybody and stop this. You fellows in the line 
 have got to play lower. Get down there, Walker, 
 you 're up in the clouds. Charge into 'em now ! Stop 
 it right here ! You can do it. Look at 'em ! They 're 
 beaten right now ! ' ' 
 
 "Only we don't know it," growled a big guard, wip- 
 ing the perspiration from his face onto the sleeve of 
 his red jersey. Roy grinned across at him. 
 
 "You will know it pretty soon, my friend," he an- 
 swered. "All right now, fellows! Every man into it!" 
 
 Then he retreated up the field and watched. 
 
 Hammond had replaced her left-tackle and left 
 half with fresh men, and, when the whistle blew, went at 
 the work again as though she meant business. A 
 straight plunge by the new left half gained a yard 
 through Gallup. Then the tandem formed again and 
 
FORREST LOSES TEMPER, ROY KEEPS PROMISE 89 
 
 again the hammering began. Presently Roy saw that 
 Forrest had been picked out for attention and was get- 
 ting a lot of it. Two gains through him in quick 
 succession brought the ball back to the thirty yards. 
 Roy raced up to the line, pulled Forrest about by the 
 shoulder and shook a fist in the face of that amazed 
 young giant. 
 
 "Forrest, if you let 'em through here again I '11 
 lick you till you can 't stand up ! " shouted Roy, his 
 blue eyes blazing. "You coward! Get in there and 
 do something ! Put that man out. Get the jump on 'em ! 
 He 's half dead now!" 
 
 Forrest forgot to smile. 
 
 "All right," he growled. 
 
 After the next attack at center Roy again ran up. 
 Forrest turned with a bleeding nose and a new light in 
 his eyes. 
 
 "You don't need to scold," he said quietly. "He 
 just handed me this. ' ' 
 
 "What are you going to do?" asked Roy scathingly. 
 
 "Do?" grunted Forrest, mad clear through. "I 'm 
 going to put him out of commission." 
 
 ' ' No slugging, remember ! ' ' 
 
 "I won't slug; I '11 just play ball!" 
 
 And he did. There were no more games through 
 center while play lasted. Time and again Jones, the big 
 Hammond center, was literally lifted off his feet by For- 
 rest's savage onslaught; twice the pass was practically 
 spoiled. Forrest was angry, and being angry forgot 
 
90 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 both his good-nature and his slowness. Hammond soon 
 transferred her attention to the wings again and found 
 a fairly vulnerable spot where Jack Rogers had given 
 place to a substitute. But there was no chance for her 
 to score and she knew it. Now she was only killing 
 time, determined to keep the ball in her possession and 
 guard her goal until the whistle blew. And she would 
 have done it, too, had not Forrest lost his temper. That 
 blow on the nose hurt and he set out to make life as 
 unpleasant as possible for his adversary. He did n't 
 slug once, but he pushed and hauled and upset Jones 
 until that gentleman was thoroughly exasperated. 
 Over and over he appealed to the officials to watch 
 Forrest. 
 
 "He 's interfering with the ball," he declared. 
 
 But the officials could n't see it that way. And fi- 
 nally, when the ball had been worked back to the center 
 of the field and the word had gone around that there 
 was only five minutes of time left, Forrest spoiled a 
 snap-back, the ball trickled from Pool's hands and For- 
 rest plunged through and fell upon it. 
 
 Roy raced in, crying signals as he came. Time was 
 called while the Hammond center and the Hammond 
 captain made vain appeals to have the ball returned 
 to them, claiming interference with the snapper-back. 
 But, as before, they were denied and the two teams 
 lined up again, this time with the ball in Forrest's 
 hands. 
 
 "7-6-43-89!" called Roy, and Whitcomb, with 
 
FORREST LOSES TEMPER, ROY KEEPS PROMISE 91 
 
 the pigskin snuggled in his elbow, was racing around 
 left end. All of eight yards gained, and the crowd 
 on the side-line went wild with delight ! Flags waved 
 and horns shrieked, and over it all, or so Roy thought, 
 could be heard the shrill voice of Harry! 
 
 It was a time for risks, the coach had said. And Roy 
 took them. Over and over he attempted hazardous 
 plays that ought not to have succeeded, but that did, 
 partly, perhaps, because of their very improbability ! 
 Twice more Whitcomb was sent outside of left end ; 
 once Pryor got through for four yards between right 
 tackle and guard; and once Kirby, full-back, hurdled 
 Jones for a good gain. It made joy in the Ferry Hill 
 camp and the wavers of the brown and white banners 
 had visions of a score. But they were not considering 
 the fact that the timer's watch proclaimed but two min- 
 utes left and that that official was walking out toward 
 the teams proclaiming the fact. 
 
 Two minutes was not time enough for Ferry Hill 
 to rush the ball from the forty yards down to the goal 
 line for a score, even when the backs were getting two, 
 three and even four yards at a plunge. But even those 
 who up until the last moment had hoped that the 
 Brown by merit or fluke would win out could not but 
 feel almost satisfied at the ending of the game. For 
 now Ferry Hill was outplaying Hammond man for 
 man, in spite of the fact that what superiority there 
 was in age and weight was with the rival team. Both 
 elevens were tired, but Ferry Hill was the least so, 
 
92 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 and to her admirers it seemed that her warriors fought 
 harder, more determinedly every moment. Chub, 
 watching anxiously between vocal efforts, came to this 
 conclusion and turned to Sidney Welch, who, having 
 failed to make the team, was patriotically doing his 
 best to cheer it on to victory. 
 
 "Sid," said Chub, "if we had another quarter of 
 an hour to play we 'd lick 'em sure as fishing ! Why, 
 we 're playing better every minute ! And look at Roy 
 Porter ! The chump is just getting warmed up ! Did 
 you ever see a team run any finer than that, eh? And 
 look at the way he gets around himself, will you ? Why, 
 he 's all over the shop and into everything ! He re- 
 minds me of Snip out in the barn. I saw Snip kill 
 a rat, bite the cow's leg, chase a fly and scratch his 
 «ar all inside of ten seconds one day. And Roy's just 
 like him. And, just between you and me, Sid, the fel- 
 lows are working better for him than they did for 
 Bacon, but maybe it 's because they 're finding their 
 pace. If only Whitcomb could get away around the 
 end! The whistle will blow, I '11 bet a cookey, just 
 when we 're on the edge of a score! Why does n't 
 Roy try a quarter-back run, I wonder? Look at Jack 
 Rogers ; he 's over there on the ground, see ? I '11 
 bet he does n't know whether he 's on his head or his 
 feet, and I don't believe he could tell you his name 
 this minute if you asked him. Fact is, my boy, I feel 
 rather better myself for talking every minute ; it sort 
 of keeps my heart out of my mouth. And as for you, 
 
FORREST LOSES TEMPER, ROY KEEPS PROMISE 93 
 
 Sid, that button will be off in just about two more 
 turns. Here, let 's give 'em a cheer." 
 
 Chub leaped to his feet and in a moment the slogan 
 was thundering across the field to where eleven brown- 
 clad figures were forming once more against the foe. 
 And it did them good, that cheer; it proclaimed con- 
 fidence and affection, and it heartened them so that 
 when the dust of battle had blown aside the man with 
 the ball lay across the thirty-yard line ! 
 
 It was maddening. Only thirty yards to go, only six 
 trampled white lines to cross, and not time enough to 
 do it, unless — Roy called for time to tie a lace and 
 while he bent over his shoe he thought hard. Ever 
 since he had taken charge of the team he had been 
 studying the disposition of the enemy's force. He had 
 one more trump to play, a quarter-back run. He had 
 kept it for the last because he did not want to appear 
 to be seeking personal glory. For that reason he had 
 given every one of the backs, as well as the two tackles, 
 a chance. But while they had made good gains they 
 had failed to get clear for a run. And now he was 
 surely entitled to a try himself. Not that he was very 
 hopeful of succeeding where the others had failed, for 
 Pool, the rival quarter, was a veritable wonder and 
 time and again had called the play in time to allow 
 the back-field to spoil the run. But time was almost 
 up — there could scarcely be more than a minute and 
 a half remaining — and it was now or never. 
 
 The ball was on Hammond's twenty-eight yards and 
 
94 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 well over to the left of the gridiron. Pool had halved 
 the distance to his goal and was standing there on his 
 toes, somewhat over toward the right, watching like a 
 lynx. The whistle blew and Roy called his signals. 
 Right tackle fell back of the line and left half and 
 full formed behind him in tandem. The attack was 
 straight at center, and with Forrest heaving and shov- 
 ing and half and full pushing from behind tackle went 
 through for two yards. Again the same formation and 
 the same point of attack. But this time Hammond's 
 backs were there and the gain was less than a yard. 
 It was third down and a trifle over two to go. Once 
 more the signals and the tandem. But as the backs, 
 led by right tackle, plunged forward, Roy, with the 
 ball hidden at his side, dodged behind them and sped 
 along the line toward the right. For a moment the 
 ruse went undiscovered, but before he had reached his 
 opening between tackle and end Pool had seen him and 
 had started to head him off. Then, as luck would have 
 it, Roy's own right end got in his way and Roy was 
 forced to run behind him. That settled the fate of 
 the attempt at a touchdown. Pool was close up to him 
 now. Roy ran across the field in an attempt to shake 
 him off but to no purpose. Pie had not gained a foot, 
 and he knew it. There was no use in heading toward 
 the side of the field any longer; he must try to capture 
 the necessary two yards. So, swinging quickly, he 
 headed in, got one of the yards, made a brave at- 
 tempt to dodge the wily Pool and came to earth. 
 
FORREST LOSES TEMPER, ROY KEEPS PROMISE 95 
 
 ''Hammond's ball; first down!" called the referee. 
 
 Roy trotted back up the field, trying his best not to 
 show his disappointment. Hammond was not going to 
 take any risks there in front of her goal and so her 
 quarter fell back for a punt. Pryor ran back to cover 
 the left of the field. Roy heard the signals called and 
 then saw the Ferry Hill forwards plunge through in 
 an endeavor to block the kick. Then the ball was arch- 
 ing up against the darkening sky. For a moment it 
 was impossible to judge of the direction. Then Roy 
 was running to the right and back up the field. It 
 was a splendid punt and must have covered all of fifty 
 yards, for when it settled into Roy's arms he was near 
 his own thirty-five-yard line. 
 
 For once the tuckered Hammond ends were slow in 
 getting down and for a moment Roy had an open field. 
 With Pryor leading he dashed straight up the middle 
 of the gridiron. At least he would put the ball back in 
 Hammond territory. Ten yards, and then Pryor met 
 the first of the enemy. Roy swerved and dodged the 
 second. Then the foe was thick in front of him. The 
 Ferry Hill players turned and raced beside him, form- 
 ing hasty interference, and for a while he sped on un- 
 molested to the wild shrieks of the watchers. Then 
 the Hammond left half broke through and dove at him. 
 Somehow, in what way he could never have told, he 
 escaped that tackle, but it had forced him toward the 
 side of the field. The fifty-five-yard line was behind 
 him now. Back of him pounded the feet of friend and 
 
96 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 foe alike ; ahead of him were the Hammond right half 
 and quarter, the former almost at hand. Roy edged a 
 bit into the field, for the side-line was coming danger- 
 ously near. Then he feinted, felt the half-back's clutch 
 on his knee, wrenched himself loose and went stag- 
 gering, spinning on. He had recovered in another five 
 yards and was running swiftly again. He had little 
 fear of being caught from behind, for he believed him- 
 self a match for any runner on the Hammond eleven, 
 but in front of him was Pool, coming up warily with 
 eager outstretched hands, striving to drive him out of 
 bounds. Roy cast an anxious glance toward the goal- 
 line and his heart leaped. Already he was passing the 
 thirty or twenty-five-yard line and the final white 
 streak looked encouragingly near. Then he shifted the 
 ball to his right arm and turned acutely toward the 
 middle of the field. Pool was directly in his path now 
 as Roy, fighting for breath, sped on straight for the 
 goal. For one brief instant of time the quarter's eyes 
 burned into his. Then the decisive moment had come, 
 and Roy, taking a deep breath, gathered himself. For- 
 ward shot the enemy in a splendid diving tackle, 
 clutching fingers outspread. But the fingers grasped 
 empty air, for as he left the ground, Roy, the ball 
 clutched tightly against his breast, leaped upward and 
 forward, clearing him by a foot! 
 
 From there to the goal-line was only a romp, al- 
 though he had to fight hard for breath and although 
 the defeated right half-back was close behind him all 
 
FORREST LOSES TEMPER, ROY KEEPS PROMISE 97 
 
 the way. Straight between the posts he staggered, 
 placed the ball on the turf and rolled over on his 
 back beside it. Somewhere they were cheering madly 
 and nearer at hand people were shouting. Then, re- 
 covering from his momentary giddiness, Roy opened 
 his eyes, shut them again because someone was slap- 
 ping a great cold, wet sponge over his face and then 
 sat up. Someone gave him a hand and he got on to 
 his feet, swayed a little dizzily and then found himself 
 in the grip of what at first seemed a bear and after- 
 wards turned out to be Jack Rogers. 
 
 "You remembered your promise, Porter," Jack was 
 saying softly, "and I '11 not forget mine. You 're 
 a trump ! ' ' 
 
 Pryor failed miserably at the try for goal, but who 
 cared? Surely not Jack Rogers, leading the cheer for 
 his defeated rivals; nor Roy, dodging his fellows as he 
 tried to steal away to the gymnasium; nor Harry, wav- 
 ing her brown and white flag and shrieking lustily; 
 least of all the throng of fellows who, with banners 
 flying and tin horns sounding, danced madly around 
 the field in the November twilight. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 RED HAIR AND WHITE RABBITS 
 
 A FELLOW can't make a touchdown in the last thirty 
 seconds of play, and so win the game for his school, 
 without affecting his position. No matter what he was 
 before, after that he 's a hero and a saint and a public 
 benefactor all rolled into one. Roy's case was no ex- 
 ception. He woke up Saturday morning a rather un^ 
 important and quite unpopular person. He climbed 
 out of bed Sunday morning to find that, metaphor- 
 ically, the world was his ! As soon as the bell had 
 rung the difference was apparent. There was no more 
 dressing in silence, no more waiting till the others were 
 through for a chance at the wash-room. It was "Morn- 
 ing, Porter! How are you feeling after it?" "Hello, 
 Mr. Quarter-back! How 'd you sleep?" Here, 
 Stearns, get out of here and give Porter a show; he 's 
 been waiting hours!" And in the midst of it Chub 
 came tumbling upstairs half dressed to sit on Roy's 
 bed and delay matters so that they barely scraped into 
 dining hall between the closing doors. 
 
 Well, you and I are n't going to begrudge him the 
 satisfaction the changed conditions brought him. Life 
 
 98 
 
RED HAIR AND WHITE RABBITS 99 
 
 has been using him rather badly for six weeks or so 
 and he surely deserved some compensation. The only 
 fly in the ointment was the thought that, after all, the 
 sudden popularity was his only as a clever quarter- 
 back, that, for the rest, he was still, to the fellows, the 
 tale-bearer. But in this he was not altogether correct, 
 for the majority of boys argued that any chap who 
 could display the qualities that Roy had shown on the 
 football field must of necessity be all right, and that 
 if he had told on Horace and Otto and the others he 
 must have had some good reason for it. But Roy 
 could n't know this, and so he was rather unresponsive 
 through it all and held himself aloof from all save 
 Chub and Jack Rogers and Tom Forrest. He was po- 
 lite enough, but if any of his admirers hoped at that 
 time to make friends with him they were doomed to 
 disappointment. But there was still another that Roy 
 admitted to a certain degree of friendship, and that 
 other was Sidney Welch. Sid became a most devoted 
 admirer, followed Roy about like an amiable puppy 
 and was content to sit and watch him in awed admira- 
 tion as long as Roy would let him. Sid, whose over- 
 whelming ambition was to make the first eleven and 
 aid in defeating Hammond, had hero worship in its 
 most virulent form. After two or three days of Sid's 
 attention Roy got so that he would dodge out of sight 
 when he saw the youngster coming. 
 
 It required some bravery on Sid's part to show 
 open admiration for Roy, for Horace still ruled the 
 
100 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 school, and the juniors especially, with an iron hand, 
 and Sid was, as he well knew, courting dire punish- 
 ment. But it was a time of open revolt against Hor- 
 ace's supremacy and Sid, with many others, escaped 
 chastisement. Horace hated Roy worse than ever, 
 hated Tom Forrest because that youth had succeeded 
 where he had failed, and, now that he had nothing to 
 gain by seeming friendliness toward the football cap- 
 tain, even threw down the gauntlet to Jack Rogers, who, 
 happy as a clam over the outcome of the game and 
 over the receipt of a letter from Johnny King, paid 
 no attention to Horace. Otto Ferris, disgruntled over 
 his failure to make even the second team save as a 
 substitute, shared Horace's sentiments with enthusiasm 
 and aided that youth to the best of his ability in his 
 efforts to discount Roy's triumph. But it was a hard 
 task that they had set themselves, for Roy had won 
 gratitude as well as admiration. Ever since the pre- 
 vious autumn when Hammond had triumphed un- 
 fairly over the Ferry Hill eleven the school had looked 
 forward almost breathlessly to revenge. And now it 
 was in no mood to withhold adulation from the one who 
 had secured it for them. And so, ere a week had 
 passed, the revolt had grown to well-defined propor- 
 tions. 
 
 The nucleus of the anti-Burlen camp was comprised 
 of Roy, Chub, Rogers, Forrest and Sid, for at the end 
 of three or four days Sid had thrown off the yoke. 
 To this handful of revolters came others as the days 
 
RED HAIR AND WHITE RABBITS 101 
 
 passed; Bacon, the quarter-back, who had been aimost 
 the first to wring Roy's hand and congratulate him, 
 Whitcomb, Fernald and Post, of the eleven, and a few 
 others. There were no open hostilities between the op- 
 posing camps, but before the Christmas vacation ar- 
 rived the school was sharply divided and every fellow 
 there had been forced to take sides with either Horace 
 or Roy, for in some manner Roy had come to be con- 
 sidered the leader of the opposing force. But before 
 this other things had happened which had a bearing 
 on the matter. 
 
 About a week after the Hammond game Dr. Emery 
 arose one morning after breakfast, at which time it 
 was customary for him to make announcements, and 
 said that he wished to correct an erroneous impression 
 which had prevailed for some time. 
 
 "At the commencing of school this Fall," said the 
 Doctor, absent-mindedly polishing his glasses with a 
 napkin, "there occurred an unpleasant incident. One 
 of the new boys was taken from his bed in the Senior 
 Dormitory by a number of the older boys and given 
 a bath in the river. As hazing has always been pro- 
 hibited at Ferry Hill the guilty ones were promptly 
 punished. It has only been within the last day or so 
 that I have learned of an unfortunate thing in connec- 
 tion with the matter. It seems that the student who 
 was hazed was suspected of having given information 
 leading to the discovery of the culprits. As a result, 
 I am informed, this student has until very recently— - 
 
102 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 in fact until the game with Hammond Academy — been 
 held in disgrace by his fellows. I am not going to dis- 
 cuss here the justice or injustice of the attitude as- 
 sumed by you ; my purpose is to remove the stigma of 
 deceit from an innocent boy. This boy, when sum- 
 moned before me the morning following the incident, 
 declared that he believed he knew the leader of the 
 escapade, having recognized his voice. The identity of 
 the others he did not know. When asked for the name 
 of the leader he declined to give it. And, in accordance 
 with our custom, he was not pressed." 
 
 A suppressed hum of applause swept over the din- 
 ing hall. Roy stared fixedly at a salt-cellar. 
 
 "Fortunately," continued Doctor Emery, "the in- 
 structor in charge of the Junior Dormitory, Mr. Buck- 
 man, happened, to be awake when the party returned 
 and so identified most, if not quite all, of its members. 
 He reported the matter to me, as he was required to 
 do, and I meted out such punishment as the offense 
 merited. Naturally, had I known before that the stu- 
 dent was being made to suffer I would have made this 
 explanation at once. As it was, and as I have said, 
 I learned of it only yesterday, and then not from one 
 of the school, from whom, it would seem, information 
 of such a nature should come, but from one whom, it 
 appears, has the welfare of the school closer at heart 
 than most of you, my daughter." 
 
 "Bully for Harry!" cried Chub quite audibly. 
 And the sentiment met with instant applause that 
 
RED HAIR AND WHITE RABBITS 
 
 grew in volume until the instructors commanded 
 silence. 
 
 "I believe," went on Doctor Emery, with a slight 
 smile, "that since the game with Hammond Academy 
 the student in question has become re-established in the 
 respect and — ah — affection of the school." (The ap- 
 plause threatened again to drown the speaker.) "And 
 so it seems scarcely necessary for me now to bespeak 
 for him a reversal of opinion. " ("No, sir!" This from 
 the irrepressible Chub.) "You will, I am sure, each 
 one of you, wish to make such amends as possible for 
 your former treatment of him. He, I trust, holds no 
 resentment. Indeed such a sentiment would not be- 
 come him, for, while his refusal to try to put him- 
 self right with his fellows shows a certain commend- 
 able pride, yet it was hardly fair under the circum- 
 stances. That is all, I think, on that subject. I wish 
 to see the following at my office after breakfast." 
 
 Then came the names of half a dozen fellows, 
 which none, barring, possibly, the fellows themselves, 
 heard. For each table — and there were five of them — 
 was eagerly discussing the news; and it was wonderful 
 how many there were who had "known all along that 
 Porter was n 't that sort ! ' ' 
 
 But the public vindication, while it disabused the 
 minds of a few who still doubted, and explained what 
 had happened to those who had already ceased to blame 
 Roy in the matter, did not bring about any apparent 
 difference in the school's treatment of him. He al- 
 
104 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 ready stood first in school opinion and all the vindica- 
 tion in the world could n't have placed him any higher. 
 He had won the game from Hammond; that was suffi- 
 cient for most fellows. 
 
 In view of Doctor Emery's disclosure you have al- 
 ready found me guilty of having neglected to enumer- 
 ate with Roy's adherents one of the staunchest and 
 most important. For it was no little thing to have 
 Harry on your side, even if she was only a fourteen- 
 year-old girl; and that has been proved already and 
 will be again before the story is at an end. But it 
 was unfortunate that Harry's good offices should have 
 led to an estrangement between her and Roy. 
 
 It all came about in quite the most unforeseen man- 
 ner. Roy had promised to play tennis with her the 
 afternoon of Doctor Emery's announcement. They 
 had had quite a few contests already and Harry had 
 proved herself more than a match for Roy. To-day 
 they met outside the cottage, Harry bringing her own 
 racquet and one for Roy, since tennis had scarcely been 
 included in his education and he possessed no racquet 
 of his own. Unfortunately Roy started the conversa- 
 tion by accusing Harry of having broken her promise. 
 That was an awful accusation to bring against her, 
 since she had an almost quixotic regard for the given 
 word. Stung, she made no effort to set herself right, 
 only declared sullenly that she had done no such thing. 
 Roy had not greatly cared, but her curt denials aroused 
 his impatience. 
 
EED HAIE AND WHITE EABBITS 105 
 
 "But, Harry," he protested, "you must have! He 
 said so ! " 
 
 "I did n't! I did n't! I did n't!" 
 
 "But, Harry, that 's nonsense, you know." 
 
 "I did n't break my promise," she answered an- 
 grily. 
 
 "Well, then I 'd just like to know how he found 
 out. Of course I don't care much if you did tell him, 
 only — " 
 
 "You Ve just as good as said I 've told a lie!" 
 cried Harry, turning suddenly with reddening cheeks." 
 
 "I have n't, Harry." 
 
 "You have, too! So! And you — you 're very im- 
 polite!" 
 
 "Oh, pshaw, there 's no use in getting mad about it. 
 I only said—" 
 
 "I '11 get mad if I want to," said Harry hotly. 
 "And I guess I can keep a promise as well as you can. 
 You 're just stuck-up because you made that old touch- 
 down ! ' ' 
 
 "I 'm not!" 
 
 "You are!" 
 
 "My, what a temper! Just what you 'd expect of 
 a girl with red hair! "Why, I would n't—" 
 
 But he stopped there, for Harry's face went sud- 
 denly white with rage and she gasped as though he 
 had struck her. 
 
 "Now look here, Harry," he began contritely. But 
 Harry had found her tongue and he got no farther. 
 
106 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 ' ' Oh, you coward ! ' ' she cried, trembling. ' ' You — 
 you beast! I know my hair 's red, and I don't care 
 if it is ! And, anyway, I 'd rather have it red than 
 just no color at all, like — like a fish!" 
 
 "Harry, I did n't mean — " 
 
 "Don't you speak to me again, ever and ever! I 
 don't want to see you! I hate you, hate you, hate 
 you, Roy Porter, and I '11 never speak to you again 
 as long as I live ! ' ' 
 
 "Oh, if you want to be nasty about it," muttered 
 Roy. 
 
 But Harry had turned and was running swiftly 
 along the path, trying her best to keep back the angry 
 tears that threatened every moment to disgrace her. 
 Roy watched her go, whistled softly, and then followed 
 slowly after. 
 
 ' ' What a little spit-fire ! " he muttered with a laugh 
 that was half angry and half regretful. "I don't see 
 what I said, anyhow, except that her hair was red. 
 And it is, as red as fire ! If she wants to stay mad 
 she may for all I care." 
 
 And then, two days later, there occurred an incident 
 which still further widened the breach between them. 
 
 Mr. Buckman opened his desk in Room B in School 
 Hall and stared in amazement. It was the first recita- 
 tion and the class in geometry watched interestedly. 
 The instructor held forth a white rabbit in each hand. 
 
 "Who put these in here?" he demanded sternly. 
 
 There was no answer. The class was smiling broadly, 
 
RED HAIR AND WHITE RABBITS 107 
 
 but Mr. Buckman's expression prohibited the laughter 
 they longed to indulge in. 
 
 f 'It was a very funny joke/' continued Mr. Buck- 
 man scathingly, "only, unfortunately, one of the rab- 
 bits has been stupid enough to die and so is unable to 
 appreciate it. The other one appears to be on the point 
 of dying. I presume that they belong to Miss Harriet. 
 [ fancy she will appreciate the joke heartily. I hope to 
 be able to discover the perpetrator of the delicate jest, 
 in which case he will undoubtedly get all the applause 
 he desires. " 
 
 Mr. Buckman bore the rabbits out of the room and 
 the class, much soberer, looked questioningly about 
 and whispered inquiries. But everyone professed igno- 
 rance on the subject. 
 
 "Ought to have his head punched, whoever he is," 
 growled Chub to Roy. And the latter heartily agreed. 
 
 When the class was dismissed Harry was waiting, 
 with a white face and blazing eyes, in the corridor. 
 She made for Roy instantly. 
 
 "They 're both dead," she cried, "and I hope 
 you 're satisfied. Of all nasty, mean things to do, Roy 
 Porter, that 's the very meanest ! I should think you 'd 
 be ashamed of yourself! I should think you 'd be 
 ashamed to look at me!" 
 
 "I don't know anything about it," protested Roy 
 earnestly. "I 'm awfully sorry, Harry, honest!" 
 
 "Do you think I believe that?" demanded Harry, 
 brushing aside the tears that would leak out in spite 
 
108 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 of her. "You did it to get even with me, I know 
 you did! I don't care what you do to me, but it was 
 cowardly to kill my poor rabbits ! ' ' 
 
 "Harry, I give you my word — I" 
 
 ' ' I don 't want your word ! I would n 't believe you, 
 Roy Porter ! You 're a mean, contemptible thing ! ' ' 
 
 "Oh, very well," said Roy angrily, walking away. 
 ' ' You can think whatever you like ; I don 't care ! ' ' 
 
 But he did care, nevertheless. 
 
 After dinner he spent a few minutes in the office, 
 but his straightforward denial convinced Doctor Emery 
 of his innocence. The affair remained a mystery, al- 
 though Chub professed to have no doubts in the matter. 
 
 "Nobody but Horace would think of such a thing," 
 he asserted. "And if Harry had any sense she 'd 
 know it." 
 
 But Harry was apparently firmly convinced of Roy's 
 guilt and all he received from that young lady during 
 the next week was black looks. 
 
 Meanwhile an event of much interest to the school 
 was approaching and the incident of the white rabbits 
 was soon forgotten by it. Every year, on the afternoon 
 of Thanksgiving Day, was held the Cross Country Run. 
 There was a cup for the individual winner and a cup 
 for the class five of whose entries finished first. Ferry 
 Hill had developed cross country running into some- 
 thing of a science. The annual event always awakened 
 much interest and the rivalry between the four classes 
 was intense. 
 
EED HAIR AND WHITE RABBITS 109 
 
 There were no handicaps, all entries starting to- 
 gether from the steps of the gymnasium, taking off 
 north-east for three miles to the village of Carroll, 
 from there to a neighboring settlement called Find- 
 layburg and so home by the road to the gymnasium, 
 a total distance of six miles. At Carroll and Findlay- 
 burg they were registered by the instructors. In def- 
 erence to the cross country event Thanksgiving dinner 
 was postponed until evening. It was customary for 
 the football players to remain in training for the run, 
 and this year they had all done so with the exception 
 of Forrest, Gallup and Burlen, whose weights kept 
 them out of the contest. No one was prohibited from 
 entering and even the youngest boy in school was down 
 for the start. One year the junior cla,ss had captured 
 the cup and ever since then succeeding junior classes 
 had striven mightily. 
 
 As always there were favorites, and this year Chub, 
 Roy and a Middle Class boy named Townsend were 
 considered to have the best chances. Roy himself 
 was doubtful of his prowess, for, while he could 
 sprint and even do a quarter of a mile in good time, 
 he had never tried long-distance running. But 
 Chub gave him a lot of good advice, assured him that 
 he stood a good chance to win and ended up with: 
 "Anyhow, it 's the best training in the world and will 
 do you a whole lot of good even if you don't get the 
 cup." So for a week preceding the day of the con- 
 test the countryside was sprinkled with boys panting 
 
110 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 up the hills, loping through the woods and trotting dog- 
 gedly aloDg the frosty road. And at two o'clock on 
 Thanksgiving Day afternoon thirty-four boys awaited the 
 word in front of the gymnasium. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE CROSS-COUNTRY RACE 
 
 THERE were boys of all ages between twelve and 
 eighteen in the group which awaited the word 
 from Horace Burlen. And there were all kinds and de- 
 scriptions of costumes. It was a frosty nippy day, 
 cloudy and with occasional gusts of wind, but neverthe- 
 less several of the runners wore cotton running trunks 
 and short stockings, and the expanse of bare leg be- 
 tween hose and trunk required lots of rubbing and 
 slapping to keep the blood in circulation. Others were 
 warmly attired in knickerbockers and sweaters. Roy 
 had taken Chub's advice in the matter of apparel, and 
 wore short trousers, woolen stockings, his crimson 
 sweater and a pair of spiked running shoes. Chub 
 was similarly dressed, as was Jack Rogers and a num- 
 ber of others. The Juniors had evolved a wonderful 
 plan whereby certain of their runners were to save 
 themselves until the final turn toward home and were 
 then to pitch in and beat everything in sight, and 
 they were gathered in a group plotting excitedly in 
 whispers. Sid Welch was asking every fellow who 
 
 ill 
 
112 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 would pay attention to him whether he thought he 
 could last through the race. Sid had worn off eight 
 pounds during the football season, but had already be- 
 gun, greatly to his despair, to put them back again. 
 Chub told him that if he 'd run the last part of the 
 race backwards he might finish— some day. And Jack 
 assured him that they would see that dinner was kept 
 warm for him. 
 
 "I 'm going to keep with you fellows," said Sid, "if 
 you don't mind." And he glanced devotedly toward 
 Roy. 
 
 "You honor us," answered Chub with a low bow. 
 "Just keep right alongside Roy and if he tries to run 
 away from you make him take your hand. What do 
 you weigh now, Sid?" 
 
 "Find out," answered Sid impolitely. 
 
 Whereupon Chub tried to catch him and Sid led him 
 a wild chase through the crowd, finally seeking pro- 
 tection behind Roy. Roy, however, refused to be 
 drawn into the affair and Sid was duly made to apol- 
 ogize for his cheek. By that time Horace was giving 
 instructions again. 
 
 "The course is the same as last year," he announced. 
 "At Carroll you must give your names to Mr. Cobb, 
 who will be on the porch of the Windsor House 
 and at Findlayburg you must give them to Mr. 
 Buckman at the corner store. The finish will be at 
 the gate here. No fellow whose name does n't show 
 on both Mr. Cobb's and Mr. Buckman 's list will stand 
 any show, so you want to be sure you get checked. All 
 
THE CEOSS-COUNTRY RACE 113 
 
 ready now, fellows. Get back of the gravel there, 
 Townsend and Young. Are you ready? Go!" 
 
 The throng moved forward at a trot, pushed and 
 scrambled through the gate and went across the field. 
 At the farther side was the first obstacle, a high rail 
 fence, and Sid had his first mishap there at the outset. 
 He reached the top of the fence beautifully and then 
 deliberately fell over on the other side into a mass of 
 brush and wayside weeds. Chub paused to pull him 
 out and put him on his feet again and Roy waited for 
 them. As a consequence, when they had crossed the 
 road, surmounted a stone wall and had begun to 
 breast the long slope of meadow on the other side the 
 three were well toward the rear of the crowd. By the 
 time the hill-top was reached the field of runners was 
 well spread out and not a few of the younger boys were 
 already losing interest in the affair. Jack Rogers was 
 well toward the front now and Chub suggested to Roy 
 that they close up with him. So there was a little 
 sprint along the ridge of the hill and they soon found 
 themselves alongside Jack and with barely a half-dozen 
 runners ahead of them. But the sprint had played 
 havoc with Sid's wind and he was puffing like a young 
 porpoise. 
 
 "Slow work so far," called Jack. 
 
 "Why don't you set the pace awhile?" asked Chub. 
 
 "I '11 take it through the woods," Jack answered, "if 
 you '11 take it from there to the village." 
 
 "All right. Say, Sid, you 'd better drop our ac- 
 quaintance now. You 've done beautifully and I 
 
114 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 would n't be surprised if you came in pretty near 
 first — counting backward. But you don't want to 
 overdo it at the start, you know." 
 
 Sid shot a doubting and suspicious glance at him, 
 shook his head and puffed on. 
 
 Now that he had got his second wind, Roy found 
 it exhilarating, this trotting up and down the slopes 
 in the cold November afternoon. There was a fine glow 
 in his face, the gusts of cold wind that met him now 
 and then felt good as they ruffled his hair and the half- 
 frozen turf offered firm hold to his spikes. He would 
 have liked to speed ahead and try conclusions with 
 the Middle Class boy who was in the lead, for he was 
 not in the least tired and felt now as though he could 
 run for weeks. But they had covered only a scant 
 mile and three-quarters, according to Chub, and that 
 meant plenty of hard work ahead. Down a hillside 
 sprinkled with rocks and low bushes they went, forded 
 a sandy stream, scrambled over a tumbledown wall and 
 entered the woods. Here Jack, with a sprint, took the 
 lead and made fast going. For the first hundred 
 yards it was difficult work, but after that they found 
 themselves on a grass-grown road which wound and 
 twisted about over stumps and fallen logs. Many a 
 youth took a cropper hereabouts, and among them was 
 Sid. "When Roy saw him last he was sitting on a 
 rotted tree which had proved his Waterloo sadly watch- 
 ing the procession go by. And a procession it was by 
 
THE CROSS-COUNTRY RACE 115 
 
 this time, for the runners were strung out in single 
 file for a quarter of a mile. 
 
 Roy and Chub were running fourth and fifth as they 
 left the woods and found themselves on the edge of a 
 wheat field with the church tower of Carroll a half 
 a mile away. Jack dropped back and Chub took his 
 place at the head of the line. It seemed to Roy that 
 Chub let up on the pace a little, but it may have been 
 only that it was easier going here along the edge of 
 the field. At all events, Roy was glad of it, for the 
 work was beginning to tell on him. And he was still 
 gladder when Chub, at the corner of the field, leaped 
 the wall and went trotting down a lane and from there 
 into a country road. In another minute or two they 
 were jogging along the village street and Roy could 
 see Mr. Cobb, paper and pencil in hand, on the steps 
 of the old brown hotel near at hand. Quite a little 
 group had formed about him and the runners swept 
 along to a chorus of criticisms, laughter and applause. 
 As they passed Mr. Cobb, they cried their names and 
 were answered ; 
 
 "Eaton!" 
 
 "Eaton!" And the instructor cheeked the name on 
 the list he held. 
 
 "Pryor!" 
 
 "Pryor!" 
 
 "Townsend!" 
 
 "Townsend!" 
 
116 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "Rogers!" 
 
 "Rogers!" 
 
 "Porter!" 
 
 "Porter!" 
 
 "How are we making it?" sang out Jack as. he 
 passed. 
 
 ' ' A minute and a fraction behind the record ! ' ' was 
 the reply. 
 
 "Hit it up, Chub!" shouted Jack. 
 
 "Go to the dickens!" answered Chub. "Who wants 
 the lead?" 
 
 "I '11 take it," Pryor replied. 
 
 "All right." And Chub dropped back to Roy. 
 
 "Minute and a fraction — be hanged!" he gasped. 
 "I '11 bet — we 're right on — time! How you coming?" 
 » "Getting tuckered," answered Roy. "How much 
 farther?" 
 
 "Not quite — three miles. Ouch! Stepped on — fool 
 stone!" 
 
 "Better save your wind, you two," advised Jack. 
 
 "Wish I had some to save," thought Roy. 
 
 Then there occurred the first division in the ranks. 
 Pryor left the road and scrambled over into a field. 
 Jack, Chub and Roy followed, but Townsend kept to 
 the road and others as they came up followed him. 
 
 "What 's the matter— with the road?" asked Roy. 
 
 "Longer," Chub answered briefly. 
 
 They jogged up a steep hill, turning to the right at 
 the top and then went down at a brisker pace, Roy 
 
THE CROSS-COUNTRY RACE 117 
 
 wishing his sweater was n't quite so heavy. All the 
 spring had gone from his feet now and the exhilaration 
 was forgotten. It was just hard work. The downward 
 slope lasted for quite a way and Roy judged that 
 Pryor was letting himself out in the hope of reaching 
 the road again before the others who had kept to it 
 arrived. There was a bad bit of brush to struggle 
 through, and then came the wall and the road. As 
 they climbed over they looked backward, but only a 
 farmer's wagon was in sight. 
 
 ''Beat 'em!" gasped Chub. 
 
 On the road they slowed down considerably and Roy 
 gave silent thanks. He knew now that he would never 
 be able to keep up with Chub and the others, but he 
 was determined to stick it out as long as he could. 
 Presently a little group of buildings came into sight 
 ahead; a store, a blacksmith shop, a tumble-down shed 
 and three houses. Mr. Buckman was awaiting them in 
 front of the store, supported by the storekeeper and a 
 handful of loungers. 
 
 ' ' Are we ahead ? ' ' shouted Pryor as they came up. 
 
 "Yes, and ahead of the record," was the answer. 
 
 "All right, Pryor. All right, Rogers, Eaton and 
 Porter." 
 
 Then they were past, trotting along a frosty, rutted 
 country road. 
 
 "Anyone want the lead?" grunted Pryor. 
 
 "How about you, Roy?" asked Jack. 
 
 But Roy shook his head dumbly and Chub moved 
 
118 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 up to the head of the group. The wind had increased 
 and was blowing icily out of the northeast, but it was 
 almost behind them and so helped them along. Pryor 
 nodded towards a dead beech tree beside the road. Jack 
 nodded back. 
 
 "Two miles more," he said. 
 
 "Road or hill?" asked Chub, looking around a 
 moment. 
 
 "Don't care," answered Pryor. 
 
 "Hill," said Jack. 
 
 At a turn of the road Chub left it to the right and 
 the others followed. 
 
 "Is this — shorter?" asked Roy. 
 
 "About — even thing, I think," answered Pryor. 
 
 "A whole minute shorter," said Jack. 
 
 Roy sighed for the road as he dragged his feet up 
 a little hill and saw before him a rough bit of country 
 in which rocks and stunted bushes sprang everywhere. 
 For the next quarter of a mile they were always either 
 going up hill or going down; level ground was not on 
 the map thereabouts. Jack took the lead again pres- 
 ently and Chub fell back to where Roy was heroically 
 striving to keep his place. At last Roy stumbled over 
 a root, went head over heels into a clump of bushes, 
 and sat up with the last bit of breath knocked out 
 of him. Chub had stopped, grinning. Roy shook his 
 head and waved his hand for the other to go on. 
 
 "Hurt?" asked Chub anxiously. 
 
 Roy shook his head, found a little breath and gasped : 
 
THE CROSS-COUNTEY RACE 119 
 
 "I 'm— all right. Go ahead. I '11— follow— pres- 
 ently." 
 
 Chub glanced hesitatingly from Roy to the others. 
 Then he nodded and went on. At a little distance he 
 turned, waved a hand to the right and shouted something 
 about the road. Roy nodded indifferently and then 
 fell back onto the turf and did n't care a rap what hap- 
 pened. It was blissful just to lie there, stretch his 
 aching legs and get his breath back. Anyone who 
 wanted that dinkey pewter mug could have it, as far 
 as he cared. Only— well, he did wish he could have 
 finished ! Then it occurred to him that he could, that 
 if he went on he might even finish well up on the list. 
 He judged that five minutes had passed since the others 
 had left him. He already felt better and had regained 
 his wind remarkably. Well, he 'd just go on and have 
 a try; maybe he could help win the mug for the Sec- 
 ond Seniors. So he climbed to his feet and set off in 
 the direction taken by Chub. 
 
 But a minute or so later he concluded that he had 
 lost the way, for now the wind instead of being behind 
 him was coming against his left cheek. Of course the 
 wind might have swung around, but it was much more 
 probable that he had unconsciously borne to the left. 
 The best thing to do, he thought, was to get back to 
 the road, which was somewhere in the direction he was 
 going. So he pushed on, his trot becoming a walk as 
 the bushes grew thicker and thicker about him. Ten 
 minutes, fifteen minutes passed and he had found no 
 
I 
 
 120 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 road. Up and down little hills he went, across open 
 stretches and through tangles of leafless bushes. He 
 kept the wind against his left cheek and went on. It 
 was getting toward twilight and was still cloudy and 
 cold. His legs began to feel stiff and his feet would 
 drag in spite of him. A half an hour must have 
 passed — he had left his watch at school and so could 
 only guess — and he was still travelling over wind-swept 
 upland. He began to feel a bit uncomfortable ; the 
 prospect of spending the night up there was n't en- 
 ticing. Observing a little bush-crowned hill that looked 
 higher than any he had yet found, he made his way 
 to it. From the top he could perhaps see the road, 
 or, failing that, discover where the river lay. 
 
 So he climbed up the rise, his feet slipping over loose 
 gravel. At the top he paused and looked about him. 
 There was no road to be seen, but behind him were 
 a few twinkling lights, perhaps a mile away, and — 
 yes, surely, that was the river over there, that ribbon 
 of steely-gray ! He would get to the river, he decided, 
 at its nearest point and then follow along the bank 
 until he found the school, if he did not stumble across 
 a road or a house or something before that. So he got 
 the direction firmly fixed in his mind, broke through 
 the bushes in front of him, gave a cry of terror, grasped 
 ineffectually at the branches and went plunging, crash- 
 ing downward to lie in a silent, motionless heap thirty 
 feet below. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 HAEEY FINDS A CLUE 
 
 WHEN Chub left Roy lying gasping for breath in 
 the bushes and took up the race again he was a good 
 hundred yards behind Jack and Pryor, who were just 
 dropping from sight beyond the brow of one of the 
 little hills. 
 
 "Keep over that way— get back to the road," he 
 turned and shouted. He saw Roy nod wearily. Then 
 he set out in earnest to make up lost ground. That 
 was the hardest bit of the whole run for Chub and it 
 took him the better part of a mile to make up that 
 hundred yards. Jack and Pryor did their level best 
 to maintain their advantage. But when they were back 
 on the road once more Chub was running even with 
 them. Pryor tried to slip aside and make him take 
 the lead and set the pace, but Chub was too wary. It 
 could scarcely be called running now, for with less 
 than a mile to go it became a question with each one 
 of them whether they could stay on their feet long 
 enough to finish and their pace was a slow jog that was 
 little like the springy gait with which they had started 
 out. 
 
 There was no breath wasted now in talk. They cast 
 quick looks at each other, searching for signs of weak- 
 
 121 
 
122 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 ness and discouragement. It was every man for him- 
 self, Pryor struggling along with drooping head for 
 the glory of the Middle Class, Jack resolved to win the 
 honor for the First Seniors, and Chub equally deter- 
 mined to gain it for the Second Seniors. A quarter of a 
 mile from the school, just as they turned into the Sil- 
 ver Cove road, Pryor 's time came. He faltered once, 
 stumbled, and Chub turning aside to avoid him, slowed 
 down to a walk, his breath coming in agonized gasps. 
 Chub and Jack went on without a turn of the head, 
 side by side, their eyes glued doggedly on the red-tiled 
 tower of the gymnasium visible now above the tree-tops 
 a few hundred yards away. Then the road turned a 
 bit and a group of waiting boys marked the corner of 
 the school grounds. 
 
 Chub looked at Jack and the latter shook his head 
 with a wry twisted smile. But when Chub threw his 
 head back and strove to draw away from him Jack 
 responded gallantly and refused to own himself beaten. 
 So they had it nip and tuck down to the corner, pound- 
 ing the hard road like cart horses and yet making but 
 slow work of it, while the audience shouted them on, 
 scattering away from the rail fence that they might 
 have plenty of room. And they needed it. Twice Chub 
 strove to throw his leg across the topmost bar and 
 twice he failed. Jack, with set teeth, got over on the 
 second attempt, and when Chub came tumbling after 
 him he had a good six yards of lead. Ahead, at the gate 
 across the field, stood Doctor and Mrs Emery and Harry. 
 
 "Hurry! Hurry!" cried the latter, dancing ex- 
 
HARRY FINDS A CLUE 123 
 
 citedly about. ' ' Oh, it 's Jack Rogers and Chub Eaton ! 
 Hurry, Jack! Hurry, Chub! Oh, can't you run 
 faster?" 
 
 "Which do you want to win, my dear?" asked her 
 mother smilingly. Harry answered breathlessly with- 
 out turning. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know! Both!" 
 
 Meanwhile across the gridiron Chub and Jack, accom- 
 panied by applauding friends and partisans, were fight- 
 ing it out gamely. Chub had almost made up the dis- 
 tance between him and Jack when the track was 
 reached. Across the cinders they staggered, the gate 
 and finish but a few yards away. Then fortune, thus 
 far quite impartial, turned her face to Chub. Jack 
 stumbled on the wooden rim of the track and, while he 
 saved himself from falling, gave Chub his chance, and 
 in another second the latter youth was through the gate 
 and lying with tossing arms on the lawn. Jack finished 
 a scant yard behind him and keeled over in his turn. 
 
 Horace Burlen set down the times on the list he held 
 and others sprang to the aid of the exhausted runners. 
 Then all eyes turned again toward the corner of the field, 
 for someone was struggling over the fence there. Down 
 he jumped and came trotting across, apparently much 
 fresher than Chub and Jack. It was Townsend, of the 
 Middle Class. "When he was half way across the field 
 a fourth runner appeared, made several attempts to 
 surmount the bars, leaned against them a moment, and 
 found his breath and then came over. 
 
 "It 's Pryor," said Horace. "That 's two for the 
 
124 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 Middlers, and one each for the First and Second 
 Seniors." . 
 
 "What was Chub Eaton's time?" asked Forrest as 
 Townsend finished. 
 
 . "Four and three-eighths minutes better than the rec- 
 ord made four years ago by Gooch," answered Horace. 
 
 "Weil, I 'm glad Roy Porter did n't win," said 
 Harry vindictively. Chub rolled over on his elbows. 
 
 "He went down and out — two miles back," said Chub. 
 He looked across at Jack, who was sitting up and breath- 
 ing like a steam-engine. "Sorry I beat you, Jack. I 
 would n't have if you had n't stumbled." 
 
 Jack nodded with a smile. 
 
 "Glad you won, old man," he said. "It was a tough 
 old run, and you can bet I 'm glad it 's over. Phew ! 
 but I 'm tuckered." 
 
 ' ' Same here. That last mile was the dickens. There 's 
 someone else coming — two, three of them ! One of 'em 's 
 fallen off the fence. Gee ! I thought I 'd never get 
 over that thing!" He got up, followed by Jack, and 
 passed through the gate. "Hello, Townsend! How was 
 the road?" 
 
 "Rutty as anything and mighty hard running. I got 
 a stitch in my side about a mile back and had to let up 
 for a while. Passed Pryor moseying along down near 
 the corner. Who 's that coming?" 
 
 ' ' Porter, by Jove ! ' ' cried Chub. 
 
 "Porter nothing!" said Horace. "That 's Warrem 
 And the next two are Glidden and Chase. That makes 
 
HAEEY FINDS A CLUE 125 
 
 First and Second Seniors and Middlers tied for first 
 so far. Chase is a Junior, is n't he?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Townsend. 
 
 Chase, a youngster of thirteen, made a plucky race 
 across the field and beat Glidden of the Second Senior 
 Class by three yards. Then for a while no more fin- 
 ished. Chub and Jack and the others disappeared into 
 the gymnasium, and Doctor and Mrs. Emery returned 
 to the Cottage. Harry, however, still remained. It was 
 getting dim now, and when, after five or six minutes 
 had passed, more runners reached the fence it was im- 
 possible to identify them. But when they drew near a 
 shout went up. Two of them were First Seniors, one 
 was a Middler and one a Junior. The First Seniors 
 needed but one more runner now to give them the cup. 
 And a few minutes later he came in the person of Bacon 
 and received the biggest sort of a welcome. From then 
 on until almost dinner time the others straggled in to 
 find the finish deserted and to crawl weariedly up the 
 gymnasium steps. Harry had taken her departure when 
 Bacon had finished, returning to the Cottage through the 
 gathering twilight, looking, unless her face belied her, 
 rather disappointed, and telling herself over and over 
 that she was awfully glad Roy Porter had n't won. 
 
 Dinner that evening was a jolly meal. Every fellow 
 was frantically hungry for his turkey and sweet pota- 
 toes and mince pie and the appropriate "trimmings." 
 The First Seniors drank their sweet cider out of the 
 mug they had captured, passing it from one to another 
 
126 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 like a loving cup. Perhaps there was no one there who 
 had a bigger appetite or more to tell in the way of 
 adventures than Sidney Welch, and he talked & steady 
 streak until Chub told him he 'd choke himself. 
 
 It was not until dinner was well-nigh over that Roy's 
 absence was noted by any save Chub. But when, at 
 half-past nine, he had not returned, the matter was re- 
 ported to Doctor Emery and the telephone became busy. 
 But neither Carroll nor Silver Cove knew anything of 
 the missing boy. The Principal waited until eleven 
 o'clock, and then a searching party was made up. Mr. 
 Cobb and Mr. Buckman took charge and with four of 
 the older boys and Chub, who was taken along to show 
 where Roy had last been seen, left the Cottage at a little 
 after eleven. They carried two lanterns and Jack Rog- 
 ers had slipped a revolver into his pocket which, he 
 said, could be heard where a shout could n't. But he 
 said nothing to the instructors about it, since firearms 
 were forbidden and Jack feared confiscation. Mr. Emery 
 saw them off from the Cottage porch and instructed Mr. 
 Cobb to telephone him from Carroll or Silver Cove if 
 he had a chance. It was as dark as pitch as they made 
 their way across the field and found the road, and the 
 wavering light from a couple of lanterns seemed only 
 to accentuate the gloom. Once away from the school 
 they began to call at intervals but got no response. Chub 
 and Jack had some difficulty in finding the place where 
 they had returned to the road from the uplands, but 
 at last they discovered it and the party took off up the 
 
HARRY FINDS A CLUE 127 
 
 hill. It was soon after that that Mr. Buekman stopped 
 and asked: 
 
 "How many are there in this party, anyhow?" 
 
 "Should be seven of us," answered Mr. Cobb. 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because, unless I 'm much mistaken, I counted 
 eight a minute ago. Who 's that over there, the last 
 one?" 
 
 "Warren, sir." 
 
 "No, I don't mean you. Who 's next to you?" 
 
 There was a moment's silence. Then, 
 
 "Blest if I know, sir," answered Warren in puzzled 
 tones. 
 
 "It 's me," said an apologetic voice. 
 
 "Who 's me?" asked Mr. Cobb moving toward the 
 speaker. 
 
 "Harry," was the answer. 
 
 ' ' Harry ! Harry Emery ? ' ' exclaimed Mr. Cobb, f or- 
 g^tting his politeness. 
 
 •'Yes, I — I thought I 'd come along." 
 
 "Well, if that is n't the greatest! Did the Doctor 
 say you could come?" 
 
 "I — I did n't ask him," answered Harry. "Please 
 don't send me back, Mr. Cobb. I won't be in the way 
 a bit and I can walk miles ! ' ' 
 
 "Send you back! Why, I can't send you back now — 
 that is — not alone. I suppose you '11 have to come, but 
 supposing your mother finds you 're missing?" 
 
 "Oh, she won't," answered Harry cheerfully. "She 
 
128 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 thinks I 'm in bed and asleep. And I was — that is, I 
 was in bed." 
 
 "Well, come along then, but see that you stick close 
 to us," grumbled Mr. Cobb. "We don't want to loose 
 any more persons to-night!" 
 
 So Harry trudged along at the tail of the party, keep- 
 ing close to Jack Rogers and Chub and starting nerv- 
 ously when she heard strange noises in the bushes along 
 the way. 
 
 It was slow going and when they were well up on the 
 hills the night wind stung hands and faces. It was 
 well upon midnight when Chub announced that they 
 should have reached the place where he had left Roy. 
 But a locality looks very different at night by the light 
 of a wavering lantern than it does in the daytime, and 
 when they had cast about for a while, calling and shout- 
 ing, Chub was forced to acknowledge that he was n't 
 certain of the place. 
 
 "It ought to be about here," he said anxiously, "but 
 somehow this does n't look like it. It does n't seem to 
 me it was quite so hilly; and there were n't any trees 
 about that I remember." 
 
 After a quarter of an hour more of unsuccessful 
 search Mr. Cobb and Mr. Buekman held a consultation 
 and decided that the best thing to do, unless they wanted 
 to get lost themselves, was to stay where they were and 
 wait for dawn. So they found a sheltered spot in the 
 lee of a big rock and made themselves as comfortable 
 as they could. Warren suggested a fire and a half -hour 
 
Mr. Cobb and the seareh-party looking for Roy. 
 
HARRY FINDS A CLUE 129 
 
 was spent in finding fuel within the radius of lantern- 
 light. Finally, however, the flames were leaping and 
 the sparks flying and the party regained some of their 
 ebbing spirits. 
 
 "If he sees the light he will look it up," said Mr. 
 Buckman. "That was a good idea of yours, Warren." 
 
 "What I 'm afraid of," said Mr. Cobb, "is that he 
 has met with an accident of some sort. Seems to me that 
 if he had the use of his limbs he would have reached 
 the school before this, or at least have communicated 
 with us. Well, we '11 have to make the best of things 
 until the light comes. Better take a nap, fellows, if 
 you can." 
 
 But they were in no mood for napping. The leaping 
 flames lent their tinge of romance to a situation al- 
 ready sufficiently out of the common to be exciting and 
 the boys wanted to live every moment of it. The un- 
 certainty as to Roy's fate added a qualm of uneasiness, 
 but when once Warren had got well into his story of 
 the Wyoming outlaws who lived in a cave and robbed 
 trains and stage coaches, even Chub forgot the purpose 
 of the expedition for whole minutes at a time. I think 
 Harry unconsciously dozed several times, although she 
 always denied it indignantly. Now and then one of the 
 party would mend the fire and then crawl back to the 
 protection of the ledge and the waving bushes. Mr. 
 Cobb followed Warren with some stories of Cornwall 
 wreckers which he had read, and after that every mem- 
 ber of the party save Harry, who happened to be very 
 
130 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 quiet about that time, contributed some tale of dark 
 deeds. Presently Jack made the discovery that it 
 was possible to see the branches of the wind-whipped 
 bushes behind them. Chub climbed to the summit of 
 the ledge and announced that there was light away down 
 on the horizon toward the east. Then followed an hour 
 of waiting during which the world gradually turned 
 from black to gray. The fire died out for lack of fuel 
 and the boys snuggled into the collars of their sweaters, 
 for it seemed to grow more chill each moment. Then, 
 when objects a few yards away could be distinguished, 
 Mr. Cobb suggested that they "break camp." So they 
 spread out in a line and took up the search again, call- 
 ing as they went. The light grew quickly and in the 
 east the sky took on a tinge of rose. Mr. Cobb stopped 
 once and picked something from the ground. 
 
 "Must be slate quarries about here," he said. 
 "There 's a lot of broken pieces here and loose gravel. 
 Yes, here 's a hole," he went on, walking forward, "but 
 they only went down a few feet. I wonder if there are 
 more of them?" 
 
 Suddenly there was a cry from the other end of the 
 line. 
 
 ' ' Mr. Cobb, come see what I 've found ! ' ' 
 
 It was Harry's voice and Mr. Cobb made his way 
 to her where she stood at the edge of a thicket of leaf- 
 less brambles. 
 
 "What is it, Harry?" he asked. 
 
 For answer she held up a tiny bit of crimson yarn. 
 
HAEEY FINDS A CLUE 131 
 
 "What do you make of this?" asked the instructor, 
 looking at it in a puzzled way. 
 
 "I think it came from his sweater!" declared Harry 
 triumphantly. "It was on that branch there." 
 
 "Good for you, Harry!" cried Chub, who had joined 
 them ahead of the others. "Roy had his red sweater 
 on and it 's money to muffins that thread was pulled 
 out as he went by." 
 
 "He did n't go by, though," said Harry. "He went 
 through. Don't you see how the bushes are trampled 
 down? Come on!" 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 A NIGHT IN THE QUARRY 
 
 WHEN ROY regained consciousness and opened his 
 eyes he found himself in pitch darkness. His head 
 felt strangely dizzy and for a moment he lay still 
 and strove to recall what had happened to him. Then 
 he remembered and with a sudden fear at his heart 
 moved cautiously. But although every bone in his body 
 felt bruised he was able to climb to his feet. The effort 
 however, left him so weak and dizzy that he reached 
 out for support, found a branch and clung to it while 
 a minute or two passed. And in clinging to it he 
 became aware of the fact that his left hand hurt him 
 a good deal. Presently, when he could stand without 
 holding on, he felt of the aching member and found 
 it swollen and sore to the touch. The trouble seemed 
 to be at the wrist and he wondered whether in falling 
 he had landed on it and broken it. But it did n't 
 feel broken, for he could bend it and even wriggle his 
 fingers, although it pained horribly to do it. Probably 
 it was only a sprain or a dislocation ; that could keep. 
 Meanwhile he would like very much to know where he 
 was. 
 
 132 
 
A NIGHT IN THE QUARRY 
 
 When he had fallen he had caught a glimpse of a 
 dark pit, the sides of which were hidden here and there 
 by bushes. It had been the briefest sort of a glimpse, 
 for he had stepped over the edge and, without a second 's 
 warning, had plunged downward into twilight darkness. 
 He remembered clutching at a branch which came away 
 in his hand, and he remembered crashing through a 
 bush which had broken but not stopped his fall. Of 
 what happened after that he could remember nothing. 
 
 Now he stepped cautiously forward, feeling in front 
 of him with hands and feet. The ground was loose and 
 uneven. Three short steps brought his hands in contact 
 with a smooth expanse of stone. His fingers could find 
 no place to clutch, even though he managed to fit the 
 toe of one shoe into a niche a foot or so above the 
 ground. He moved to the right through the darkness. 
 But the wall of stone continued. Now and then it be- 
 came uneven and his hands scraped over rough edges, 
 but it offered no chance of escape. On and on he went. 
 He knew that he must be describing something of a 
 circle, since he was in a pit of some sort, but it seemed 
 that he was edging straight away from where he had 
 fallen. At last he found bushes and for a moment he 
 had hope. But, although he wormed his way upward 
 through them for the space of a few feet, at last he 
 brought up against a perpendicular wall of rock and 
 he was forced to retreat. He became conscious of a 
 dim feeling of fright and strove to fight it down. His 
 hands were moist and the perspiration stood on his fore- 
 
134 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 head in little cold drops. He stopped and leaned against 
 the wall behind him. As he did so he became aware 
 of hundreds of little noises about him and a cold shiver 
 travelled down his back. Then, 
 
 "Pshaw!" he muttered. "There 's nothing here but 
 birds and such things. Even snakes don't come out 
 after dark. I guess I 'm settled for the night and I 
 might as well make the best of it. I dare say I 've 
 already been around this old hole half a dozen times. 
 No, I have n't, though, for I 've only found those 
 bushes back there once. I '11 go on, I guess; maybe 
 there 's a regular macadamized road out of here." 
 
 He moved on, whistling softly to keep from feeling 
 discouraged. But his left wrist and hand pained fright- 
 fully, and presently he stopped and tried to find a po- 
 sition for it that would ease the ache. Finally he found 
 his handkerchief, tied it about his neck and placed the 
 injured arm through the improvised sling. It helped a 
 little. After that he continued his search, but rather 
 half-heartedly. He longed for light and fell to wonder- 
 ing what time it was. Presumably he had fallen in 
 there about half-past four or maybe five. But there 
 was no knowing how long he had lain unconscious. It 
 might be eight o'clock or it might be well toward morn- 
 ing ! He wished he knew ! 
 
 Above his head, how far he could only guess, the 
 night wind was whipping the bare bushes. Now and 
 then a gust came down and made him shiver, but on 
 the whole it was not uncomfortable down there as long 
 
A NIGHT IN THE QUAREY 13& 
 
 as he was moving about. But he could n't keep that 
 up much longer, for his head was aching, his legs were 
 stiff and lame and every movement sent little thrills 
 of pain down his arm from elbow to fingers. He was 
 glad now of his thick sweater and wished his legs were 
 as warm as the upper part of his body. 
 
 For a while he sat on a litle rock near the wall along 
 which he had been travelling. Then he began to feel 
 drowsy. That was fine, he thought; if he could only 
 go to sleep he could forget his discomforts, and per- 
 haps when he awoke it would be morning. So he felt 
 about on the broken stone and moist gravel that formed 
 the floor of his prison half fearsomely, afraid of en- 
 countering uncanny things in the dark. But his hands 
 found only soil and rock and scant vegetation and he 
 laid himself down gingerly out of respect to his ach- 
 ing body and closed his eyes. But for a while the dis- 
 comforts of his couch made themselves too apparent to 
 allow of slumber. Queer, stealthy little noises sounded 
 about him and he imagined all sorts of things creeping 
 toward him through the darkness. Once or twice he 
 kicked his feet and cried "Scat!" loudly. Then he 
 laughed at himself for his nervousness and strove not 
 to think of the sounds. He wondered who had won the 
 race and whether they had missed him at school; 
 whether Chub had caught up with Jack and Pryor; 
 what Chub was thinking about his disappearance. Then 
 be started out of his drowsiness. Surely he had heard 
 his name called ! He sat up and listened intently. Then 
 
136 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 he called at the top of his voice half a dozen times. But 
 he heard nothing more, and presently he lay down again 
 with a sigh, eased the position of his throbbing arm 
 and went quietly to sleep. 
 
 And the very next moment, as it seemed to Roy, he 
 heard his name called again, quite loudly and distinctly 
 this time, and opened his eyes, blinking, to find his 
 prison filled with the grey, misty light of morning and 
 to hear voices above him. Then came his name again, 
 in the unmistakable tones of Mr. Cobb, and he had time 
 to marvel smilingly that the football coach had really 
 got his name right for once before he sat up and an- 
 swered loudly. Then came sounds of crashing branches 
 and Roy jumped dizzily to his feet. 
 
 "Look out!" he shouted. "There 's a hole here. 
 Look where you 're going, Mr. Cobb ! ' ' 
 
 Then Mr. Cobb was kneeling above at the edge of the 
 quarry looking down upon him anxiously and Harry 's 
 face appeared behind his shoulder, a rather white, 
 frightened countenance in the pale light. 
 
 "Hurt, Porter?" asked Mr. Cobb. 
 
 "No, sir, just shaken up a bit." 
 
 ' ' Well, thank Heaven ! Can you climb out anywhere ? ' ' 
 Mr. Cobb's eyes travelled dubiously about the pit. 
 
 "I don't believe so," answered Roy. "I tried to find 
 a place last night." He turned and looked about him. 
 
 And his face went white at what he saw. 
 
 In shape the quarry was a rough oval, its walls so 
 steep that at first glance escape even in daylight seemed 
 
A NIGHT IN THE QUARRY 137 
 
 impossible. In many places the top of the wall over- 
 hung the bottom. Now and then a clump of grass or 
 weeds showed against the dark and discolored face of the 
 rock, and in a few places good-sized bushes had grown 
 out. But all this Roy saw later. At present he was stand- 
 ing with his back to the bank, staring in fascinated dread 
 at the center of the quarry. From the walls, all around, 
 the ground sloped downward toward the center and 
 only a few feet away from him was the margin of a 
 pool some thirty feet in diameter. There was no slime on 
 the top, no weeds about its edge and in the dim light 
 of early morning the water looked black and ugly. Roy 
 stepped nearer and looked down into its depths. Far 
 below him jutting edges of rock loomed up but the 
 bottom was not in sight. Shuddering, he retreated. 
 Had he fallen a little farther away from the bank, or 
 had he rolled over after falling, they would not have 
 found him so easily. He muttered a little prayer of 
 thanks to the Providence which had watched over him 
 during the night and had guided his stumbling foot- 
 steps in safety. Then his head felt dizzy and he sat 
 down suddenly on the bank of broken and crumbled 
 slate and went off into a faint. 
 
 When he came to, Mr. Cobb was dabbing his face 
 with a wet handkerchief and Jack Rogers and Chub 
 were slapping his hands and arms. Perhaps it was the 
 latter method which brought him around, for a dis- 
 located wrist does n't take kindly to blows! He yanked 
 his injured hand away with a cry of pain and Mr. Cobb 
 removed the sopping handkerchief. 
 
138 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "All right now, eh?" he asked kindly. "Hello, 
 what 's wrong there?" He took the boy's hand and 
 examined it, his fingers probing skilfully. "How 'd 
 you do that? Fall on it?" 
 
 "I don't know," answered Roy. "It is n't busted, 
 is it?" 
 
 "No, dislocated. Feel that bone sticking up there? 
 We '11 have to fix that right now, I guess. Hurts, 
 does n't it? Give me a couple of handkerchiefs, you 
 chaps." Chub and Jack produced theirs and Mr. Cobb 
 took a long leather wallet from his coat pocket and 
 emptied it of its contents. "Just hold your hand out 
 straight," he directed. Then, with one hand above the 
 wrist and the other about the fingers he pulled steadily 
 until the wrist slipped back into place. Roy winced 
 a little, but after the lump had disappeared his whole 
 arm felt easier. Mr. Cobb laid the leather wallet about 
 the wrist and bound it tightly with the handkerchiefs. 
 
 "That '11 do until we get back," he said. "Put it 
 back in that sling of yours and keep it there, Porter. 
 Now we '11 see if we can get you out of here. Do you 
 think you can walk?" 
 
 For answer Roy climbed to his feet. 
 
 "All right, only remember that you 've had a pretty 
 good shaking up and have n't had anything to eat since 
 yesterday noon, and don't try to do too much. We '11 
 see if we can't boost you up over here." 
 
 He led the way to the other side of the pool and Roy 
 saw that a rough path zigzagged down the face of the 
 
A NIGHT IN THE QUAEEY 139 
 
 bank there. So steep it was, however, that they had to 
 help each other here and there, and it seemed a long time 
 before Mr. Buckman and the others, awaiting them at 
 the top, were able to reach down and pull them over 
 the edge of the rock. Roy subsided breathless on the 
 grass and looked about him. The sun was just topping 
 the rising hill beyond and the world looked very sweet 
 to him at that moment. 
 
 "That 's where you went over," said Mr. Buckman, 
 pointing across the pit. "AVe followed you up to the edge. 
 You must have struck against that bush there and bro- 
 ken your fall; the branches are all broken, I noticed^ 
 a good thing you did, too, I guess." 
 
 "I remember falling into some branches," said Boy. 
 "That 's the last thing I do remember; when I woke up 
 it was pitch dark." 
 
 "What 's that?" asked Mr. Cobb. "Lose conscious- 
 ness, did you? Did you hit your head? Here, let 's 
 have a good look at you, my boy." And, presently, "I 
 should think you did ! Does n 't that hurt when I press 
 it?" 
 
 "A little," answered Roy. 
 
 "Hum! Guess you 've got a pretty tough skull. 
 Look at this place, Eaton. Must have come down on a 
 small stone, I should say. Well, that '11 wait until we 
 get home. I wonder if we can carry him between us ? 
 Maybe one of you chaps had better run back and tell 
 them to send the phaeton." 
 
 But Roy protested that he could walk every inch of 
 
140 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 the way and finally Mr. Cobb consented to let him try it, 
 and the return journey began. Chub walked beside 
 Roy, anxiously solicitous. Most of the party were 
 frankly sleepy and worn out now that the excitement 
 was over. Harry appeared to have lost interest in the 
 whole affair. Not once, so far as Roy knew, did she 
 even so much as glance in his direction. 
 
 "What 's Harry doing here?" he whispered to Chub. 
 And Chub recounted the happenings of the night ; how 
 Harry had joined the party unknown to them, how 
 they had built a fire and waited for light and finally 
 how Harry had discovered the bit of yarn torn from 
 his sweater. 
 
 "It was fairly easy after that," said Chub. "We 
 could see here and there where you had broken through 
 the bushes, and once or twice we found your footprints. 
 We knew they were yours on account of the spikes. If 
 it had n't been for Harry I guess you 'd have been 
 waiting yet. Though maybe you could have got up 
 that bank alone." 
 
 Roy trudged on in silence for a while. Then, 
 
 "Who won?" he demanded eagerly. Chub grinned. 
 
 "I won the individual cup and First Seniors got the 
 class cup," he said. "Jack and I had it nip and tuck 
 all the way to the gate, and if he had n't stumbled over 
 the track he 'd have beat me." 
 
 "I 'm glad you got it," said Roy. "I was afraid 
 you would n't catch up with them, after staying so long 
 with me." 
 
A NIGHT IN THE QUARRY 141 
 
 "I was a blamed idiot to leave you," answered Chub 
 savagely. "I did n't deserve to win anything. Why, 
 you came mighty near killing yourself ! ' ' 
 
 "Yes, I guess I did," said Roy thoughtfully. "But 
 it was n't your fault, you silly ass. I got all mixed 
 up and could n't tell where I was. And then, the 
 first thing I knew I — I was n't anywhere!" 
 
 "Tell me about it," said Chub. 
 
 But just then Mr. Cobb told Eoy he had better not 
 tire himself by talking and so Chub had to wait to 
 hear his chum's adventures. An hour later Roy was 
 fast asleep in his bed. They had served him with some 
 milk-toast, scanty fare for a boy who had missed two 
 meals, and he had promptly turned over and gone to 
 sleep. In the middle of the forenoon the Silver Cove 
 doctor appeared, re-dressed his wrist, put something on 
 his head and left a tumblerful of some sort of nasty- 
 tasting medicine. And the next day Roy was up and 
 about again apparently as good as new save for his 
 injured arm. This was carried in a sling for over a 
 week, but he did n't mind that much. 
 
 The second morning after his rescue he went over 
 to the Cottage and asked for Harry. Presently she 
 came down to the parlor where he was awaiting her in 
 front of the soft coal fire and he tried to remember the 
 formal speech of gratitude he had fashioned. But it 
 had gone completely from him. So he just held out 
 his hand and said he was jolly much obliged to her 
 for what she had done. 
 
142 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "Everybody says that if you had n't seen that bit 
 of red yarn I 'd have been there yet," he declared, 
 
 Harry shook his hand formally, said she had n't 
 done anything, that she was very glad he had had 
 such a fortunate escape and asked politely after his 
 injury. 
 
 "Oh, the arm 's all right now," said Roy. 
 
 After that conversation languished until Mrs. Emery 
 came down and made Roy tell her all about it. And 
 during the narrative Harry disappeared. It was quite 
 evident that she had n't forgiven him, thought Roy, as 
 he took his departure. He did n't look back as he 
 went down the drive and so failed to see somebody with 
 red hair peering down from between the curtains of 
 an upstairs window. 
 
CHAPTEE XIII 
 
 FORMING THE HOCKEY TEAM 
 
 "Candidates wanted for the Hockey team. All those who have 
 played or would like to play please attend a meeting in the 
 Gym at 4 p. m. on Friday. 
 
 "J. S. Kogers, 
 "T. H. Eaton, 
 "Koy Porter. " 
 
 THIS notice appeared on the board in School Hall 
 the last day of November, and when, four days 
 later, the meeting was called to order by Jack Rogers, 
 there were some twenty-five fellows adorning the wooden 
 benches in the locker room. A handful of the number 
 had come for want of anything better to do, for it 
 was a dismal, wet afternoon offering little encourage- 
 ment to those whose tastes turned toward out-of-door 
 pursuits. For once the line separating the "Burlenites" 
 and the "Porterites" was not closely drawn, for there 
 were not a few of the former present, their desire for 
 a chance to play hockey overcoming their allegiance to 
 Horace. Needless to say, however, neither Horace nor 
 Otto was on hand. 
 
 "Somebody turn that switch," began Jack, "and 
 give us some light. That 's better. This meeting has 
 been called by a few of us who want to get up a 
 
 143 
 
U4 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 hockey team. I don't know much about hockey myself 
 and so I '11 let Porter do the talking. He started the 
 thing, anyhow, and he ought to have the fun of speech- 
 ifying to you. But I 'd like to say that, as you all know, 
 Hammond has been playing hockey for five or six years 
 and has challenged us almost every year to play her. 
 If Hammond has a team we ought to have one too. And 
 if we have one maybe we can lick her at hockey just 
 as we have at football." (Deafening applause.) 
 "There 's no reason why we should n't. Here, Roy, 
 you tell them the rest." 
 
 Roy got up rather embarrassedly and faced the meet- 
 ing. 
 
 "Well, all I 've got to say is that hockey is a dandy 
 game and we ought to have a team — if only to lick 
 Hammond. (Renewed applause.) It is n't a difficult 
 game to learn if a fellow can skate half decently and 
 it does n't require much of an outlay. We 've talked 
 to Mr. Cobb and he has secured permission for the 
 formation of a team. And he knows something about 
 the game himself and will help us all he can. Our 
 idea was to build a rink along the river about where 
 the old ferry landing is. Doctor Emery says we can 
 use what lumber there is in the landing and shed to 
 build the rink with. And I think there '11 be more 
 than we need. Then we 'd get a pump and pump 
 water in from the river." 
 
 "Why not play on the river?" asked a boy. 
 
 "Well, that was the idea in the first place," an- 
 
FOEMING THE HOCKEY TEAM 145 
 
 swered Roy, "but Mr. Cobb thought we 'd better have 
 a regular rink. It 's hard to play without boundaries 
 because your puck gets away from you and you have 
 to chase it all around the shop. Then, too, Mr. Cobb 
 says that half the time the ice would be too rough or 
 too much broken up to allow of playing on it. We 've 
 figured it up and think the outside cost of the whole 
 thing, rink, pump, goals and sticks won't be much over 
 eighty dollars." 
 
 "How you going to raise it?" asked one of the au- 
 dience. 
 
 "That 's what we 've got to decide on," said Roy. 
 "I suppose we could n't get nearly that much by sub- 
 scription ? ' ' 
 
 Several shook their heads, and, 
 
 "I don't believe we could," said Chub. "But we 
 might get half of it. If every fellow gave a dollar — " 
 
 "Seems to me," said the boy who had raised the 
 question, "that the fellows who make the team ought 
 to do the subscribing." 
 
 "I don't think so," said Jack. "If we made the 
 football and baseball teams pay all their expenses I 
 guess we would n't have them very long. It ought to 
 be worth a dollar to every fellow here to have a good 
 hockey team." 
 
 "That 's so," assented Chub. 
 
 "Well," went on Roy, "I wanted to hear what you 'd 
 say about it, but I did n't think we could get the money 
 that way, not all of it, I mean. So I thought of an- 
 
146 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 other scheme. Why could n't we get up an entertain- 
 ment of some kind and charge admission. How would 
 that do?" 
 
 "Great!" 
 
 "Swell!" 
 
 "Fine and dandy!" 
 
 "Chub can sing 'The Old Ark's A-movin'!" 
 
 "Cole can do his card stunts!" 
 
 "Cut it out, fellows," said Jack. "Let 's get the 
 matter settled; it 's getting late." 
 
 So they got down to business again and Jack, Chub 
 and Koy were formed into an Entertainment Committee. 
 After that Roy took the floor again. 
 
 "How many of you fellows will come out for prac- 
 tice?" he asked. Practically every hand went up. 
 "How many have played hockey?" Twelve hands. 
 "All right. We '11 divide into two teams, first and 
 second, and as fast as the fellows on the second show 
 that they can play well they '11 get onto the first. 
 We probably won't be able to begin work on the ice 
 until after Christmas Recess. But as soon as we can 
 get some money we '11 send for goals and sticks and 
 pucks. Then we '11 put one of the goals up here on the 
 floor and practice shooting. Later we '11 have another 
 meeting, after practice has begun, and elect a captain 
 and a manager. And as soon as we get the manager 
 we '11 send a challenge to Hammond. Now you fel- 
 lows give your names to Chub Eaton before you go 
 out, and watch for notices on the board in School Hall." 
 
FORMING THE HOCKEY TEAM 147 
 
 That was the beginning of the Ferry Hill School 
 Hockey Association, which still nourishes and has to its 
 credit several notable victories. It was Roy's idea from 
 the first. He had played hockey a good deal and had 
 seen many of the college and school games, and he had 
 been surprised to learn that Ferry Hill had never had 
 a team. It was easy to enlist Chub in the project of 
 forming a club, and not very difficult to interest Jack. 
 Mr. Cobb had been quite enthusiastic but doubtful of 
 success. 
 
 "They 've tried to form a hockey team two or three 
 times," he said, "and never did it. But I don't want 
 to discourage you chaps. I '11 get permission from the 
 Doctor, so you go right ahead. Try to get the whole 
 school interested in it; that 's the only way to do." 
 
 By the middle of December the old ferry house and 
 landing had been demolished and the planks had been 
 built into a three-foot barrier or fence enclosing a space 
 sixty feet wide by one hundred and twenty feet long. 
 All that remained was to flood the enclosed ground with 
 water to the depth of four or five inches and allow it 
 to freeze. A hand suction pump had been ordered from 
 a dealer at Silver Cove, but there was delay and in 
 the end it did not reach the school until two days 
 before vacation. However, as December proved unusu- 
 ally mild, there was no harm done. Meanwhile the 
 goals, pucks and sticks had arrived and practice at shoot- 
 ing and stick-handling was held five afternoons a week 
 in the gymnasium. At the second meeting of the can- 
 
148 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 didates the Entertainment Committee was able to report 
 a plan for the entertainment. There was to be a min- 
 strel show followed by a series of tableaux in the gym- 
 nasium the night before the beginning of Christmas 
 Recess. 
 
 "Now," said Jack, who was explaining, "you chaps 
 will have to get busy and interest every fellow you know 
 in the affair. We want a good big crowd for the min- 
 strels; we ought to have at least two dozen fellows. 
 There will be another meeting here to-morrow night 
 and I want each of you to bring me the names of fellows 
 who are willing to take part. And you must let me 
 know what they can do, whether they can sing or recite 
 or do sleight-of-hand tricks, you know. And now I want 
 to propose that we make Harry Emery an associate 
 member of the Club. You see, we realized that we 
 would n't be able to do much in the way of costuming 
 without her help, so we laid the matter before her. And 
 she went right into it; suggested the tableaux feature 
 and offered to take part herself. (Laughter from the 
 audience.) So I think she ought to be taken in." 
 
 "We ought to make Mr. Cobb and Mr. Buckman as- 
 sociate members, too," suggested Chub. 
 
 So Harry and the two instructors were duly admitted, 
 and the meeting went into the plans for the entertain- 
 ment. Sid, one of the most enthusiastic members 
 present, reminded everyone that he could play the banjo, 
 and Jack promised to let him do his worst. Roy was 
 elected temporary captain and manager and Jack tem- 
 porary treasurer. Then an assessment of fifty cents 
 
FORMING THE HOCKEY TEAM 149 
 
 each was levied and Jack spent the best part of three 
 days collecting the sums. He, Koy, Chub and two others 
 had gone down into their pockets and advanced the 
 money for the goals, sticks and pucks, and with Christ- 
 mas Recess drawing near they were anxious to get some 
 of it back. The rink was to be paid for in January 
 and the pump on its arrival. It was going to be neces- 
 sary to collect something over sixty dollars from the 
 entertainment, and the committee was getting anxious. 
 There was little time for rehearsal, and, with Horace 
 and Otto doing all in their power to throw cold water 
 on the scheme, Roy and his friends had plenty to worry 
 them. 
 
 But Harry proved a brick. She went into it to the 
 present exclusion of all else and made things hum. She 
 talked it up everywhere she went with the result that 
 the affair was extensively advertised before it was well 
 on foot. Harry attended a girls' academy at Silver 
 Cove, and she was n't satisfied until every pupil there 
 had faithfully promised to attend the entertainment. 
 She also persuaded Mr. Buckman to take part, some- 
 thing that Jack and the others had failed at. Mr. Cobb 
 had already consented to sing and do a monologue. 
 Then Harry devised costumes and found them, levying 
 on the wardrobes of most of her friends and acquaint- 
 ances. And in spite of the fact that she and Chub 
 and Jack and Roy met at least twice a day she still 
 maintained her air of polite indifference toward the 
 latter. 
 
 When the morning of the day of the entertainment 
 
150 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 arrived affairs seemed in the wildest chaos and even 
 Harry lost her head for awhile. Some of the promised 
 participators had backed down at the last moment, the 
 principal soloist had a bad cold, the stage was still 
 unbuilt, several of the costumes were yet wanting and 
 Harris and Kirby, down for a duet and dance, were n't 
 on speaking terms ! And just as though all that was n't 
 enough to drive the committee distracted, Chub had 
 appeared at breakfast with a long face and announced 
 that he had forgotten to mail the poster to Hammond 
 Academy. In support of the assertion he produced it, 
 stamped and addressed. It had been lying in his pocket 
 for three days. As Hammond with its seventy-odd stu- 
 dents had been counted on to send quite a delegation, 
 this was a hard blow. But Jack, with the cheerfulness 
 of desperation, obtained permission to deliver the poster 
 by messenger and sent Sid Welch across the river with 
 it at nine o'clock. 
 
 That was certainly a day of troubles. Luckily there 
 were few recitations for anyone. Jack and Chub spent 
 most of the morning directing and aiding in the erection 
 of the stage at the end of the gymnasium. The stage 
 was a sectional affair which, when not in use, was stored 
 in the furnace room. Unfortunately one section seemed 
 to be missing, and putting the thing together was, as 
 Chub said, like joining one of those geographical puzzles. 
 
 "You know the things, Jack; they 're cut up with 
 a scroll-saw into all sorts of wiggly pieces, and Florida 
 insists on getting next to New Hampshire and Illinois 
 
FORMING THE HOCKEY TEAM 151 
 
 won't fit anywhere except between South Carolina and 
 Georgia. ' ' 
 
 "There must be a piece of this missing," answered 
 Jack. "I 'm going to have another look." 
 
 And presently he came back staggering under what 
 looked like a length of board walk. 
 
 "Funny you fellows could n't find this," he said 
 disgustedly as he swung one end around against the 
 wall and brought down six pairs of dumb-bells. "It 
 was right in plain sight; they were using it for a 
 carpenter's bench." 
 
 "It is funny," growled Warren. "Wonder they 
 did n 't make an ice-chest or a sewing-machine out of it ! " 
 
 After that it was plain sailing until they came to 
 the curtain. It was a beautiful thing, that curtain, four- 
 teen feet wide and twelve feet long and bearing a pic- 
 ture of Niagara Falls in blue, green, purple and pink 
 surrounded by a wreath of crimson cabbages — only they 
 were supposed to be roses. Despite its beauty, work 
 up and down it would not. Half way up it began 
 to range itself in artistic folds, apparently forgetting 
 all about the wooden roller at the bottom. Once it 
 came down unexpectedly on Chub's head, and Chub 
 danced around and shook his fist at it and declared 
 that he 'd cut holes in it for two cents. No one offered 
 to put up the two cents and so the curtain was saved. 
 In the end Jack manufactured a new pulley-block and 
 after that the foolish thing worked charmingly every 
 other time. 
 
152 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "All we '11 have to do," said Warren disgustedly, 
 "will be to niake believe pull it up before we really 
 mean to." 
 
 "Kind of disconcerting to the fellows on the stage," 
 commented Jack, but I guess that 's what we '11 have 
 to do." 
 
 The drop curtain, showing a lovely sylvan glade in 
 unwholesome shades of green, went up without trouble 
 at the back of the stage, but the pieces at the sides, 
 very frayed trees with impossible foliage, refused to 
 stand up. 
 
 "We '11 have to make props," said Chub. "I don't 
 blame the old things for wanting to lie down; it makes 
 me tired just to look at them." 
 
 But when, finally, the stage was set and the boys 
 stood off at a respectful distance and examined it it 
 really looked very well. Chub admired the effect of 
 distance and wondered where the path led to. Warren 
 said he 'd like to meet the man who had chiseled out 
 the statue under the trees and another fellow wanted 
 to go bird-egging. Then they arranged the chairs and 
 benches in rows. They had gathered chairs of all de- 
 scriptions from all over the school and the effect was 
 finely democratic. Doctor Emery's leather arm chair 
 hobnobbed socially with a plain pine chair from the 
 dining hall and Mr. Buckman's favorite hour-glass chair 
 appeared to be trying to make an impression on Har- 
 ry's rattan rocker, the latter looking very dressy witb 
 its pink silk head-rest. 
 
FORMING THE HOCKEY TEAM 153 
 
 They went to dinner feeling rather more encouraged 
 and found that Sid had returned with good tidings. 
 Hammond had learned of the entertainment several 
 days before and had been waiting eagerly for an invita- 
 tion to attend. And every fellow was coming, declared 
 Sid. Roy, who had taken a flying trip to the town 
 for red and blue cheesecloth, reported excellent progress 
 on the last of the costumes. And Post, who could n't 
 eat any dinner because he had been filling himself up 
 all day with cough syrup and licorice lozenges, thought 
 he might be able to sing, after all. The last rehearsal 
 was at three o'clock, and after it was over Jack shook 
 his head dismally. 
 
 "I never saw such a bum show in my life," he de- 
 clared gloomily. "And talk about singing! Say, I 
 wonder if we can bribe Post to stay away to-night?" 
 
 "Why, I thought everything went beautifully!" de- 
 clared Harry. "You wait until tonight; they '11 do 
 a lot better." 
 
 "The chorus work was all right," said Chub. "And 
 the tableaux were simply swell. I do wish, though, 
 that Bacon would n't look as though he was going to 
 die every minute ! ' ' 
 
 "But those jokes!" groaned Jack. 
 
 "Oh, never mind; I 've heard lots worse ones," an- 
 swered Roy cheerfully. 
 
 "Not outside of a Sunday newspaper supplement, 
 I '11 bet," said Jack. "That one about Mr. Cobb and 
 Miss Webb, and falling in love with her the first time 
 
154 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 he 'spider' is the limit. I heard that when I was three 
 years old ! ' ' 
 
 "That 's all right; folks like 'em old at a minstrel 
 show," answered Chub. "Old wine to drink, old books 
 to read, old jokes to — " 
 
 "To ery over," prompted Jack. "All right. No use 
 in cutting up rough now. We '11 have to make the best 
 of a bad show. Just so long as Harris and Kirby 
 don't start to using their fists on each other during 
 their turn I suppose I can't kick." 
 
 "Well, let 's go to supper," said Roy. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE ENTERTAINMENT AND HOW IT ENDED 
 
 Entertainment for the Benefit of the Ferry Hill School Hockey- 
 Association in the Gymnasium, Wednesday Evening, December 
 22d. 
 
 programme 
 
 Part I. 
 
 Overture : ' ' Uncle Sammy, " Orchestra. 
 
 FOE ONE NIGHT ONLY! 
 
 The World-Famous Aggregation of Senegambian Entertainers 
 known as the Darktown Minstrels, just returned from their 
 Triumphant Tour of Europe, Asia, Africa and New Jersey, 
 where they delighted Eoyalty and barely escaped with their 
 Lives ! 
 
 ONE NIGHT ONLY!! EEAD THE NAMES!! 
 
 Interlocutor Mr. Eogers 
 
 Bones Messrs. Post and Harris 
 
 Tambourines Messrs. Eaton and Whitcomb 
 
 Disturb ers-of-the-Peace Messrs. Cobb, Buckman, 
 
 Thurlow, Forrest, Gallup, Kirby, Warren, Pryor, 
 Bacon, Stone, Harris, Shattuck, Patten and Welch. 
 Solos (the audience permitting) by Messrs. Cobb, Post, Thur- 
 low and Forrest. 
 Duets (at any cost) by Messrs. Buckman and Cobb, Harris 
 and Kirby. 
 
 Monologues by Mr. Cobb 
 
 Imitations by Mr. Eaton 
 
 To be followed by the First Appearance in this part of the 
 Country of Professor Carlos Cole, Prince of Prestidigitators, in 
 
 155 
 
156 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 Astounding Card Tricks, Marvellous Feats of Sleight-of-Hand 
 and Appalling Wonders of White and Black Magic never before 
 seen on any stage and not likely to be again! (The Manage- 
 ment earnestly requests Members of the Audience not to loan 
 the Professor either money or hats. The Management will not 
 be Responsible for the Return of such Articles.) 
 
 The Whole to Terminate in a Beautiful and Fantastic Revelry 
 of Song and Mirth entitled: 
 
 "Christmas Eve on the Plantation!" 
 
 INTERMISSION. 
 
 Part II. 
 
 Overture : ' ' Medley of College Airs " Orchestra 
 
 COLLEGE TABLEAUX. 
 
 1. Yale Mr. Bacon 
 
 2. Harvard Mr. Porter 
 
 3. Princeton Mr. Eaton 
 
 4. Cornell Mr. Warren 
 
 5. Columbia Mr. Gallup 
 
 6. Dartmouth Mr. Forrest 
 
 7. Vassar Miss Emery 
 
 ENSEMBLE. 
 
 Song: "The School on the Hill." 
 The Audience will please join in the singing. 
 
 Stage Manager Mr. Rogers 
 
 Assistant Stage Manager Mr. Eaton 
 
 Property Man Mr. Porter 
 
 Electrician Mr. Pryor 
 
 Prompter Mr. Thayer 
 
 Wardrobe Lady Miss Emery. 
 
 Automobiles and launches may be ordered for 10:45. There 'a 
 no harm in ordering. 
 
 The audience is earnestly requested not to throw garden truck 
 
THE ENTERTAINMENT 157 
 
 or hennery produce. Bricks may be obtained from the Gentle- 
 manly Ushers. 
 
 Attendants will report promptly to the Management any inat- 
 tention on the part of the Audience. 
 
 Persons unable to resist weeping at the jokes will please step 
 outside. Eain checks may be had at the door. 
 
 A MERRY CHRISTMAS! 
 
 The public acted very considerately that evening. 
 Whether the report had got around that Ferry Hill 
 needed sixty dollars for her hockey team I can't say, 
 but it 's a fact that when the curtain went up — only 
 twenty minutes late ! — there were exactly one hundred 
 and twenty-eight persons in the gymnasium who had 
 paid for admission, and as the price was fifty cents 
 apiece the one hundred and twenty-eight persons meant 
 just sixty-four dollars in the cigar box on the table 
 by the door! Hammond turned out in force, almost 
 sixty of her boys attending; Miss Cutler's School for 
 Young Ladies was well represented by twenty-two of 
 Harry's schoolmates under the protection of Miss Le- 
 titia Cutler herself; the village contributed generously; 
 while as for Ferry Hill, every youth not holding an 
 official position of some sort — and there were few that 
 did n't — was on hand, even Horace and Otto being 
 unable to resist the promises of the programme, while 
 the culinary and dormitory force, as well as John, the 
 gardener and general factotum, were huddled about 
 the door. Down in the second row sat Doctor and Mrs. 
 Emery and some friends from the village. Walker 
 
158 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 and Fernald made most presentable ushers, and, as their 
 duties consisted principally of supplying programmes 
 and answering questions, they did finely. 
 
 I 'm not going to attempt a description of the first 
 part of that entertainment. In the first place it was 
 beyond description, far too stupendous and awe-inspir- 
 ing for my pen to do justice to. From the time the 
 curtain rose — as correctly as though it had never mis- 
 behaved!— revealing the World Famous Aggregation 
 of Senegambian Entertainers until— well, until it fell 
 hurriedly two hours later, everything went beautifully. 
 Of course there were little misadventures, but such are 
 expected and only add to the hilarity of an amateur 
 show. When Chub's tambourine flew whirling out of 
 his hand and fell into Mrs. Emery's lap it seemed an 
 excellent joke. When Warren fell over a chair and 
 landed on all fours in front of the descending curtain, 
 everybody applauded uproariously. When, in the plan- 
 tation sketch, the roof of the log cabin fell in because 
 Post had thoughtlessly leaned against the door-frame, 
 and Sid, in the role of Aunt Dinah, floundered terri- 
 fiedly out through the window with a spirited rending 
 of feminine garments, the audience rocked in merriment. 
 
 The orchestra, a Silver Cove combination of piano, 
 flute and violin, did wonderfully considering the fact 
 that it had attended but one rehearsal. The solos, es- 
 pecially Mr. Cobb's and Tom Forrest's, were cordially 
 received. Harris and Kirby buried the hatchet tem- 
 porarily and got through "Shine, Silv'ry Star" most 
 
THE ENTERTAINMENT 159 
 
 brilliantly and had to give an encore. Mr Cobb and Mr. 
 Buckman did a ludicrous negro song which brought the 
 house down, though not in the same way as Post had. 
 The chorus work was good and the jokes took just as 
 well as though they had been all fresh and new. Some 
 few of them were. When Post asked Rogers if he knew 
 what the principal article of diet was at the school 
 across the river, and when he was finally prevailed on to 
 dispel the interlocutor's ignorance and replied "Ham- 
 mond eggs," the visitors from Hammond shrieked their 
 appreciation. When Harris explained that Ferry Hill 
 was the brightest school in the country because the stu- 
 dents had their wits sharpened by Emery, the Doctor 
 chuckled most appreciatively. Even the punning joke 
 to which Jack Rogers had taken exception and which 
 related the matrimonial adventures of Mr. Cobb and a 
 fictitious Miss Webb went well. 
 
 Chub's imitations were distinctly clever, that of Mr. 
 Buckman coaching the crew throwing the Ferry Hill 
 portion of the assemblage, at least, into convulsions. Sid 
 ''did his worst," according to promise, and made a hit 
 more by his earnest desire to please than by any musical 
 results obtained from his banjo. Mr. Cobb's monologues 
 were screamingly funny and he had hard work getting 
 away from the audience. Professor Carlos Cole, better 
 known as Charlie Cole of the Middle Class, did n't quite 
 make good all the promises of the programme, but ex- 
 ecuted some clever tricks of palming and even managed, 
 with some difficulty, to extract one of Harry's pigeons 
 
160 THE CEIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 out of an empty bottle — with the aid of a voluminous 
 handkerchief which fluttered suspiciously when pro- 
 duced. The sketch entitled "Christmas Eve on the Plan- 
 tation" went better than anyone dared hope, princi- 
 pally, perhaps, for the reason that about everybody for- 
 got his lines and did what and how he pleased. The 
 first half came to a triumphant end with the entire 
 company of entertainers filling the little stage and 
 vigorously proclaiming that they were "going to live, 
 anyhow, until they died." 
 
 During the intermission black-faced youths emerged 
 from the dressing-room under the balcony and visited 
 friends in the audience and the orchestra performed 
 its "Medley of College Airs." The programme's 
 announcement of College Tableaux had whetted the au- 
 dience's curiosity, and when the hall darkened, the bell 
 tinkled and the curtain— still on its good behaviour — 
 rolled noiselessly up, there was a general craning for- 
 ward of heads. 
 
 The painted back drop had given way to a curtain 
 of white cloth. In front of it stood a large oblong 
 frame of wood covered with gilt paper. Behind the 
 latter, like a picture in its frame, stood Bacon on a 
 little white-draped dais impersonating a Yale oarsman. 
 His costume was a blue sleeveless jersey with a white 
 Y stitched on it, white trunks, turned-down socks and 
 rowing shoes. In his right hand he supported an oar 
 with a blue blade. A gas pipe had been run around 
 the inner side of the frame and the dozens of little jets 
 
 * 
 
THE ENTERTAINMENT 161 
 
 threw a brilliant light on the motionless figure. The 
 applause was instant and hearty. Bacon kept the pose 
 for a minute while the orchestra played "Boola," and 
 then the curtain fell again. Presently it went up to 
 reveal Roy in his crimson sweater, moleskin trousers, 
 crimson stockings and tan shoes. A white H adorned 
 the front of the sweater and under his arm was a 
 football. Again the applause, quite as hearty as before, 
 while the strains of "Up the Street" came from the 
 orchestra. 
 
 Chub, who came next, represented a Princeton base- 
 ball player, striped stockings on his sturdy legs, gray 
 shirt over his black jersey, a gray cap set rakishly over 
 his smiling face and a mask and ball under his arm. 
 The applause seemed to be more a tribute to Chub, the 
 captain of the Ferry Hill Nine, than to the picture he 
 made or the college he represented. After the music 
 of "Old Nassau" had ceased the curtain fell once more. 
 Then followed Warren as a Cornell oarsman, Gallup 
 as a Columbia tennis player and Tom Forrest, with a 
 sixteen-pound hammer behind him, poised for a throw. 
 Forrest wore Dartmouth's colors and made an unmis- 
 takable hit. 
 
 But the audience was agog for the next picture. 
 Harry had devised the tableaux and had insisted upon 
 being allowed to appear as Vassar. And although to 
 Jack and Chub and Roy a girl's college had seemed out 
 of place on the programme, yet they were too grateful 
 to Harry for her assistance to think of refusing her.. 
 
162 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 And when the curtain rolled up for the last time they 
 were all very glad they had n't. For Harry was the 
 success of the evening. 
 
 She was standing two-thirds-face to the audience, a 
 black mortar-board cap on her head, a flowing black 
 gown reaching to her feet and a book under her arm. 
 The pose was grace itself. But the crowning glory of the 
 picture was Harry's hair. She had coiled it at the back 
 of her little head, thereby adding several years to her 
 apparent age, and the intense light of the sizzing gas- 
 jets made it glow and shimmer like red gold. A very 
 bright, happy and demure-looking Vassar student she 
 made, and a pretty one, too. Roy, watching from the 
 wings, could hardly believe that the smiling, grown-up 
 young lady in front of him was the red-haired little 
 minx who had "sassed" him so sharply in the stable 
 yard that first day of their acquaintance! 
 
 The applause grew and grew ; at the back of the hall 
 John, the gardener, had forgotten his awe of the sur- 
 roundings and was "hurrahing" loudly, egged on by 
 the admiring women servants. And then suddenly the 
 applause gave place to cries of alarm. Persons in the 
 front row sprang to their feet. Those behind them 
 pushed back their chairs and, without knowing the 
 cause, became imbued with the panic of those in front. 
 Someone cried "Fire!" and instantly the place was in 
 an uproar. 
 
 But those in the wings had seen as quickly as those 
 in the audience, and it was Roy who dashed across the 
 stage, picked Harry bodily from the dais, laid her down 
 
THE ENTERTAINMENT 
 
 and crushed the flames out of her black gown with his 
 hands before scarcely any of the others had recovered 
 from their momentary panic. Harry, white-faced but 
 silent through it all, was helped unharmed to her feet 
 and the curtain came down with a rush. It had been 
 "a narrow squeak," as Chub excitedly termed it, but, 
 save for a fright, Harry was none the worse for the 
 happening. But the same could not be said for her 
 black gown. It had fluttered against one of the gas- 
 jets, caught fire and had been burned away for a space 
 of several feet up one side. Doctor and Mrs. Emery 
 joined Roy, Mr. Cobb and Jack as they conducted Harry 
 to the dressing-room and they were both embarrassingly 
 profuse in their praise of Roy's presence of mind. The 
 Doctor insisted on shaking hands and it was then that 
 the discovery was made that while the rescued had es- 
 caped injury the rescuer had not. Both of Roy's hands 
 were pretty badly scorched, although Roy tried to con- 
 vince them that they were n't. Mr. Cobb sent for oil 
 and bandages and Harry, in order to reassure the au- 
 dience, was led before the curtain, where she received 
 applause more hearty than ever. The incident had ef- 
 fectually ended the evening's performance and the sing- 
 ing of the school song was omitted. When Harry came 
 back to the dressing-room, still pale and rather sober, 
 she walked over to Roy who was seated awaiting the 
 "first aid to the injured," and, to his surprise, leaned 
 impulsively over and kissed his cheek. 
 
 "Please, Roy," she whispered, "thank you very, 
 very much ! And — and I 'm sorry I was so low-down 
 mean '" 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 A DEFEAT, A VICTORY AND A CHALLENGE 
 
 IT 's a peculiar fact that no matter how glad a 
 chap may be to get home he 's equally delighted to 
 get back to school. At least, that 's the way with 
 most fellows, and it was the way with Roy. Vacation 
 seemed over almost before it had begun, and then, one 
 bright, snowy January morning when the new year was 
 but a few days old, he woke up to find himself snuggled 
 under the yellow comforter that adorned his bed in 
 the Senior Dormitory. And before he could gather 
 courage to slip even one foot out into the cold there 
 was a rush on the stairs and Chub, all blue pajamas 
 and grins, was on him like a small tornado, had thrown 
 the coverings in all directions and had dragged him 
 out on to the unsympathetic floor. Jack bore down 
 to see justice done and Tom Forrest, holding a bath 
 towel about him, paused on his way back from the 
 wash-room to watch and give encouragement. Roy and 
 Chub had it out on the next bed and Chub eventually 
 begged for mercy from beneath a feather pillow. And 
 subsequently they dashed down-stairs together and 
 
 164 
 
A DEFEAT, A VICTORY AND A CHALLENGE 165 
 
 reached the dining room just on the nick of time, feel' 
 ing like hungry colts. 
 
 Yes, it was mighty good to be back again, even 
 though mid-winter exams were due in a few days. Roy 
 had missed Chub and Jack and the others, and even his 
 brother's breathless narrative of the Yale-Harvard 
 game from the point of view of a Crimson right-tackle 
 who had become next year's captain had n't seemed 
 half so wonderful as it would have a year before. 
 Chub's badly-spelled letter regarding the outlook for the 
 Ferry Hill Hockey Team had been much more inter- 
 esting. 
 
 The rink was flooded that afternoon, a round two 
 dozen boys working with a will at the pump which 
 drew water from the river and ran it through an iron 
 pipe into the enclosure. It was a cold day — the ther- 
 mometer read eight degrees above at four o'clock— and 
 although the river was frozen only along the banks and 
 out near Fox Island, there was no doubt but that they 
 would have a nice sheet of ice for the morrow's prac- 
 tice. Chub borrowed a thermometer from the kitchen 
 window — without telling anyone about it— and hung 
 it outside his own casement. Sid solemnly affirmed 
 that Chub was leaning out of the window reading the 
 thermometer by moonlight every time he woke up. And 
 as Chub observed scathingly that Sid was never known 
 to wake up from the time he went to sleep until he was 
 pulled on to the floor in the morning, Sid's statement 
 doubtless held some truth. 
 
166 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 Chub was at Roy's bedside the next morning long 
 before the rising bell had rung. As he had no business 
 there at that time, he moved and spoke very cautiously. 
 
 "It 's four below, Roy ! " he whispered. 
 
 "Huh?" asked Roy sleepily. 
 
 ' It 's four below zero, you lazy chump ! ' ' 
 
 'Who? What?" 
 
 ' ' The thermometer ! What did you think I was talk- 
 ing about?" 
 
 "Thought you might mean the dormitory," answered 
 Roy, now thoroughly awake, drawing the bed clothes 
 closer about him and shivering. 
 
 "Pshaw, you 're not cold! Come on; get up." 
 
 "Bell rung?" 
 
 "No, but it will in a minute." 
 
 "Then you 'd better sneak out of here before Cobb 
 sees you. There 's Ferris got his eye on you now." 
 
 "If he tells on me I '11 break his neck," answered 
 Chub from between chattering teeth. "What time is 
 practice ? ' ' 
 
 "Four o'clock." 
 
 "All right. Guess I '11 sneak back. I 'm going to 
 play cover-point, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, I guess so — as long as you last." 
 
 Then he dived under the clothes for protection. 
 
 That afternoon the hockey team got down to real 
 business. It was rather confused business, to be sure, 
 for many of the two dozen candidates had never played 
 the game before and some few of them were none too 
 
A DEFEAT, A VICTORY AND A CHALLENGE 167 
 
 sure on their feet, or, rather, skates. But Mr. Cobb 
 was on hand, and Roy explained and instructed too, and 
 soon some order grew out of chaos. 
 
 After that every week day afternoon saw the candi- 
 dates at work on the rink, save once or twice when 
 thaws softened the ice. Hockey took hold of the school 
 with a vim, and those who were not entitled to use the 
 rink secured sticks and pucks and went at it on the river. 
 At the end of two weeks of practice a first and a sec- 
 ond team had been chosen and games between them 
 occurred daily. Three candidates dropped out; the 
 others, not of first choice, were retained as substitutes 
 and always got into the games for a short while at 
 least. Meanwhile Roy's temporary captaincy had been 
 made permanent by unanimous vote, Jack had been 
 elected manager and Chub treasurer. A challenge was 
 drawn up and delivered to Hammond Academy, was 
 accepted and three games were arranged to settle the 
 ice hockey supremacy. The first was scheduled for 
 January 20th, and although a thaw had set in the 
 evening before and made the skating surface far from 
 perfect, the contest came off at three o'clock on the 
 date set. 
 
 The team which started the game for Ferry Hill 
 was made up of Rogers, right end, Warren, right cen- 
 ter, Kirby, left center, Porter, left end, Eaton, cover- 
 point, Bacon, point, Hadden, goal. But almost all of 
 the substitutes had their chances before the game was 
 over. Roy, Warren and Chub played finely, and Had- 
 
168 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 den, considering the fact that he had never before 
 played goal in a hockey game, did excellent work and 
 stopped some difficult shots. But Hammond's players 
 were all experienced and the result was not long in 
 doubt. Ferry Hill really deserved commendation for 
 keeping Hammond's score down to eight and for getting 
 two goals herself, the latter in the last period of play. 
 There were many faults to correct and that game served 
 an excellent purpose if it did no more than show up 
 the weak places on the Ferry Hill team. The stick- 
 work was still pretty ragged, the forwards let their 
 over-eagerness get them into many an off-side play, 
 fchey failed to follow up as they should have and Bacon, 
 at point, continually allowed himself to be drawn out 
 of his position. But every fellow had played hard and 
 the faults were all such as could be largely remedied in 
 subsequent practice. 
 
 A few days later a challenge to play a game with 
 Prentice Military Academy on the latter 's rink came 
 by telephone and Jack accepted. The team, attended by 
 fully two-thirds of the school, journeyed down to Pren- 
 tice the following Saturday afternoon and won its first 
 game by a score of 6 to 4. This sounds better than it 
 really was, for Prentice could n't boast of a very strong 
 team. However, the result of the game encouraged 
 Ferry Hill, and the fellows went to work again on 
 Monday afternoon with redoubled vigor. Jack Rogers, 
 who had not been playing as well as he was capable 
 of, found himself about this time and developed rapidly 
 
A DEFEAT, A VICTORY AND A CHALLENGE 169 
 
 Into a hard, fast forward, passing brilliantly and mak- 
 ing an excellent team-mate for Warren, who, next to 
 Roy, was the best member of the team. By the time 
 the second Hammond game arrived many of the more 
 glaring faults had been eliminated. Bacon had fallen 
 back to substitute, his place at point having been won 
 by Gallup. 
 
 Ferry Hill crossed to Hammond that afternoon for 
 the second game of the series resolved to even things 
 up by winning one contest at least of the three. And, 
 in spite of the fact that she was on unfamiliar ice, 
 and that the cheers of Ferry Hill's handful of sup- 
 porters were quite drowned out by the throng of Ham- 
 mondites, she succeeded. The first half ended with the 
 score 3 to 1 in favor of the Cherry and Black, after 
 Ferry Hill had played on the defensive almost every 
 minute of the time. But in the last period Ferry Hill 
 took a brace, got the puck away from her opponent 
 a few minutes after play began and scored her second 
 goal. She followed this less than two minutes later with 
 a third, so tying the score. After that play was fast 
 and furious. Ferry Hill forced it hard. The next 
 try-at-goal was by Hammond, and although it looked 
 as though the puck entered the cage and bounded out 
 the goal was not allowed. Hammond had a good deal 
 to say about that and play came to a standstill for 
 several minutes. But the referee, a gentleman of their 
 own choosing, held to his decision. But even had that 
 goal been awarded to Hammond the game would still 
 
170 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 have gone to Ferry Hill, for Jack Rogers and Warren, 
 playing together like veterans, took the puck down the 
 rink when play was resumed and shot a goal that 
 could n't be questioned. That goal was Jack's second. 
 Hammond made it interesting for the Brown and White 
 after that, making try after try, but Hadden stopped 
 everything that reached him. With only a very few 
 minutes to play Kirby stole the rubber from a Ham- 
 mond forward, passed it to Roy across the rink and 
 followed up in time to receive it back again near the 
 center. He lost it for an instant, recovered it, shot it 
 against the boards ahead of Roy, who found it as it 
 carromed away, checked the Hammond point and gave 
 Roy a clean chance at the cage. Roy took the chance 
 and lifted the puck past goal's knees. There was no 
 more scoring and 5 to 3 were the final figures. Ferry 
 Hill went home very well pleased with herself, and no 
 one received more praise than Hadden, whose steady, 
 brilliant work at the goal had contributed more than 
 anything else to the victory. 
 
 The final game of the series was not due until tw* 
 weeks later and during those two weeks Ferry Hil* 
 worked like Trojans. But before that final contest 
 was decided Ferry Hill and Hammond had again met 
 on the ice and tried conclusions, and although there 
 was no hockey in this contest it was quite as exciting 
 while it lasted. It came about in this way. 
 
 Hammond's right end and captain was a big yellow- 
 
A DEFEAT, A VICTORY AND A CHALLENGE 171 
 
 haired giant named Schonberg, a brilliant player and 
 a wonderful skater, if the tales one heard of him were 
 true. Possibly the fact that in the recent game Boy, 
 who opposed him, had outplayed him, wounded his van- 
 ity. At all events Horace Burlen approached Jack 
 Rogers one morning a few days after the game with an 
 open letter in his hand and a frown on his brow. 
 
 "Look at this thing from Hammond, will you, Jack," 
 he said. "They 've challenged us to a skating race on 
 the river. Any time and any distance we like, they 
 say; hang their cheek!" 
 
 Jack stopped and read the letter. 
 
 "Well, I guess they 've got us there," he said. "I 
 don't know of any fellow who would stand the ghost 
 of a chance against that chap Schonberg." 
 
 "Well, I hate to refuse," replied Horace import- 
 antly. ' ' It seems to me we ought to accept the challenge 
 even if we get beaten." 
 
 "I suppose we ought," said Jack, "but you '11 find 
 it pretty hard to find a fellow willing to try conclusions 
 with Schonberg." 
 
 "I 'd try it myself," said Horace carelessly, "but 
 I 'm terribly out of practice ; have n 't been on the 
 ice more than two or three times this winter." 
 
 ' ' You be blowed ! ' ' answered Jack impolitely. ' ' Why 
 Schonberg would leave you standing! Me, too, for that 
 matter. I '11 talk the thing over with Boy Porter." 
 
 "Think he would stand any show?" asked Horace. 
 
172 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "Roy? I don't know. He 's a pretty good skater 
 on the rink, but I don't know what he can do at any 
 distance." 
 
 "Well, if he likes to try, he may," said Horace mag- 
 nanimously. 
 
 "I '11 tell him so," replied Jack dryly. "You 
 need n't send any answer for a day or so, and mean- 
 while we '11 see what can be done. It seems too bad 
 not to even try; I 'd hate to have Hammond think 
 we were afraid of her or that we were n't willing to 
 risk a defeat. Yes, I '11 speak to Roy and see what 
 he suggests." 
 
 "Well, of course you understand," said Horace, 
 "that the matter is in my charge. If you can find 
 anyone, all right; only you'd better let me know about 
 it before you call the thing decided ; I might not approve 
 of the fellow." 
 
 "Oh, that 's all right. Maybe, after all, you 'd bet- 
 ter find a chap yourself. I 'm rather busy just now 
 with exams — " 
 
 "No, you go ahead," interrupted Horace quickly. 
 "What I was trying to get at was — well, you under- 
 stand, Jack ; Porter does n 't like me, you know, and 
 I don't know what he might do; you spoke of consult- 
 ing him, you know." 
 
 "Well, if we find any fellow he '11 probably be one 
 of the hockey men, and as Roy 's the captain it seems 
 to me — " 
 
 "Oh, all right. You see what we can do." 
 
A DEFEAT, A VICTORY AND A CHALLENGE 173 
 
 Half an hour later Jack was talking it over with Roy. 
 
 "I don't know what you can do at racing," he said, 
 "but if you think you 'd make any sort of a showing 
 I think you 'd ought to try. But you can do as you like. ' ' 
 
 ' ' I would n 't stand any chance with that Dutchman, ' ' 
 answered Roy, "but if you can't find anyone else I '11 
 race him. I don't mind being beaten." 
 
 So the matter stood for the rest of the day, in fact 
 until the next forenoon. Then Roy was paying a call 
 on the menagerie between examinations at the invitation 
 of Harry, who had lately become the proud possessor 
 of a litter of three Angora kittens. Roy's advice was 
 wanted in the delicate matter of deciding which one 
 of the three was to be kept and which two were to be 
 given away to friends at Miss Cutler's. That moment- 
 ous question decided and the attractive points of the 
 three little bunches of fur having been set forth by 
 Harry, Roy made the rounds of the "cages," as he 
 called the various boxes and receptacles which held the 
 pets. Methuselah had long ago recovered the full use 
 of his voice and was willing to prove the fact on any 
 occasion. He had become quite attached to Roy and 
 would sit on the edge of his box with eyes closed in 
 seraphic bliss as long as Roy would scratch his head. 
 To-day he talked incessantly from the time they entered 
 the "winter quarters," which was an old harness room 
 in a corner of the smallest stable, until they left to 
 walk back over the ice-crusted boards to School Hall. 
 It was during that walk that Roy chanced to tell of 
 
174 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 Hammond's challenge. Harry was intensely patriotic 
 and the situation worried her for several minutes. 
 
 "There is n't a boy here that can skate," she said 
 scornfully. "They 're all duffers. Unless — " she shot 
 a glance at Roy — "unless you can?" 
 
 "Not much," answered her companion. "I can work 
 around a rink all right enough, but I never skated in 
 a race in my life." 
 
 "Then we '11 be beaten," said Harry dolefully. 
 "And I hate that iceberg boy!" 
 
 "Schonberg," corrected Roy laughingly. 
 
 "Well, some kind of an old berg. I wish — " Harry 
 paused and walked for a minute in silence. Then she 
 turned with sparkling eyes. "I know!" she cried. 
 
 "What do you know?" 
 
 "There 's just one— person here that would stand 
 any chance with Iceberg." 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 "It is n't a he," answered Harry mysteriously. 
 
 "Not a he? Then who— what— ?" 
 
 "It 's me, stupid!" 
 
 "You? But—" 
 
 "Now don't you go and make a lot of objections," 
 cried Harry. "I know I 'm not a boy, but I belong 
 to the school — and I can skate ; you ask any of the boys ; 
 ask Chub or Jack — or Horace. So it 's all settled. 
 All you 've got to do is to write and tell Hammond 
 that we '11 race her any afternoon that the ice will bear. 
 But you need n't say it 's me, you know. See? Tell 
 
A DEFEAT, A VICTORY AND A CHALLENGE 175 
 
 them we have n't decided yet — No, that would n't be 
 the truth, would it, for we have decided; at least, I 
 have. Just tell them that — that we '11 race them, and 
 don't say anything about who." 
 
 "That 's great," laughed Roy, "and if Jack— and 
 Horace— are willing, I am. And I hope you '11 beat 
 him, Harry. How far do you want to race? They 
 said any distance." 
 
 "Then we '11 decide that when the time comes," 
 answered Harry. "Maybe a mile, maybe a quarter; 
 we '11 see how the ice is, and the wind and all that. 
 And you 'd better arrange it for a week from today, 
 and I '11 just practice up all I can. That 's all settled 
 then, is n't it?" 
 
 "It certainly sounds so," laughed Roy. "And," he 
 added as the clock in School Hall tower rang eleven, 
 "I wish you 'd settle my Latin exam as easily!" 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 "just for the school!" 
 
 THERE was a stiff, biting wind blowing straight 
 down the river, nipping the fingers and toes of the 
 crowd about the landing and whirling away the smoke 
 from the chimney of the boat-house. Overhead the 
 winter sky was leaden and sullen clouds were driving 
 southward. Underfoot the ice rang hard as steel, and, 
 save for a space in mid-river, was as smooth as a 
 mirror. It was well on toward four o'clock and al- 
 ready the shadows along the banks hinted of coming 
 night. Hammond and Ferry Hill were hobnobbing 
 about the boat-house stove or out on the ice in front 
 of the landing. The terms of the race had been ar- 
 ranged and the big, yellow-haired Schonberg was idly 
 cutting figures in and out of the group to keep him- 
 self warm. The race was to be a half-mile long, start- 
 ing here at the Ferry Hill landing, crossing straight 
 as a strip of weak ice would permit to a point on the 
 Hammond side of the river and returning again to the 
 landing, finishing at a mark indicated by an empty 
 nail keg and a broken soap box set some twenty yards 
 
 176 
 
"JUST FOR THE SCHOOL!" 177 
 
 from shore. All that remained of the preliminaries 
 was for Ferry Hill to produce her entry. Mr. Cobb, 
 who was to act as starter, timer, judge and everything 
 else of an official sort, looked at his watch and an- 
 nounced that it was time to start. Schonberg stopped 
 his capers, removed his sweater and skated to the mark, 
 looking about with pardonable curiosity for a sight of 
 his adversary. Horace and Harry emerged from the 
 throng and joined him. 
 
 "This is Mr. Schonberg, Harry," said Horace. 
 "Schonberg, my cousin, Miss Emery." 
 
 Harry bowed gravely in her best society manner and 
 Schonberg made a futile grab at his knit cap. 
 
 "Happy to meet you," he muttered. Then, possibly 
 for want of something better to say, he turned to Horace 
 and asked: 
 
 "When are you chaps going to be ready?" 
 
 "We 're ready now," answered Horace soberly. 
 Schonberg looked about him. The crowd had sur- 
 rounded the mark by this time and Mr. Cobb had his 
 watch in hand. 
 
 "Where 's your man, Burlen?" asked Custis, Ham- 
 mond's senior class president. 
 
 "Right here," answered Horace, indicating Harry. 
 ' ' Miss Emery is our man. ' ' 
 
 Hammond howled with laughter. Harry's cheeks 
 reddened and her eyes flashed. 
 
 "You 're joking, are n't you?" asked Custis. 
 
 "Not at all," replied Horace impatiently. 
 
178 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 "But, I say, Burlen, that 's poppycock, you knowi 
 We did n't challenge a girl's school!" 
 
 "That 's all right," said Burlen. "We said we 'd 
 race you, and we will. Miss Emery is Doctor Emery's 
 daughter and she belongs to the school just as much 
 as any of us. If you 're afraid to race her — " 
 
 "Don't be a fool! Of course we 're not afraid, but 
 — but it 's such nonsense ! ' ' 
 
 "Course it is," broke in Schonberg. "I did n't come 
 over here to race a girl!" 
 
 "Then you should n't have agreed to our terms," 
 answered Jack, joining the discussion. "We told you 
 plainly in our letter that we would race you if you 'd 
 allow us to name our entry any time before the race. 
 We 've decided and there she is. If you have any idea, 
 Schonberg, that you 've got an easy thing — well, just 
 try it. Miss Emery 's our best skater, and she 's so 
 good that we 're not ashamed to acknowledge it. And 
 as we knew that Schonberg was an A-l skater we thought 
 our best would n't be any too good." 
 
 "Oh, all right," said Custis, with a shrug of his 
 shoulders, "if you insist I guess we 're willing." 
 
 "I 'm not," said Schonberg. "I won't race a girl." 
 
 And Schonberg held out for many minutes and had 
 to be argued with, and coaxed by, half the Hammond 
 contingent. But finally he yielded, though with ill 
 grace, and took his place at the mark. 
 
 "All right," he said. "I 'm ready." 
 
 Harry took her place a yard away, the throng pushed 
 
"JUST FOK THE SCHOOL!" 179 
 
 back and Mr. Cobb drew out his starting pistol. Those 
 of the boys who were on skates, and most of them were, 
 prepared to follow the contestants. 
 
 Harry wore a brown sweater and a short gray skirt. 
 Her skating boots were securely fastened to a pair of 
 long-bladed racing skates. Her head was bare and the 
 wind blew her red tresses about her face as she awaited 
 the signal. There was a little spot of intense color in 
 each cheek and her blue eyes flashed venomously when 
 Schonberg turned to glance at her half contemptuously. 
 If she had needed any incentive to do her level best 
 within the next few minutes Schonberg 's pronuncia- 
 tion of the word "girl" had supplied it. Harry was 
 insulted and indignant, and Roy, watching her from 
 a little distance, guessed something of her feelings and 
 took hope. No one really expected Harry to win. That 
 a fourteen-year-old girl should beat a seventeen-year- 
 old boy was out of the question. Schonberg, too, was 
 known to be as good a skater as Hammond had had for 
 many years. But every fellow had implicit faith in 
 Harry and knew that she would give the Hammond 
 skater as hard a race as he had ever had. Mr. Cobb 
 raised his pistol. 
 
 ' ' On your mark ! Get ready ! Set ! ' ' 
 
 Then the pistol spoke sharply on the winter air and 
 the two contestants, the brown sweater and the red jer- 
 sey, shot ahead in a mad scramble. The throng followed 
 and for a moment the ring of steel on the hard ice was 
 the only sound. Then the racers, having found their 
 
180 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 paces, settled down to work. They were side by side, 
 a bare three yards dividing them. Just behind them 
 skated the foremost of the spectators, Roy and Warren 
 and Jack leading. If Schonberg had entertained any 
 idea of having the race to himself he was disillusioned 
 during the first fifty yards. Once he threw a glance 
 at the girl. After that he settled down to work and 
 wasted no time. He skated wonderfully well and even 
 the throng of Ferry Hill boys behind could not but 
 envy him his speed and grace. Body well over, legs 
 gliding back and forth from the hips, head up and arms 
 kept rather close in, Schonberg fairly flew over the ice. 
 
 And beside him sped Harry. 
 
 Harry was not the accomplished skater that her rival 
 was. She was graceful and she had speed, but she 
 showed far more effort than did the Hammond boy, her 
 strides being shorter and her little brown-clad arms 
 swinging back and forth like bits of machinery. Half 
 way across it became necessary to hold well to the right 
 to avoid the patch of weak ice, but Harry was the last 
 to leave the straight course and Schonberg had to either 
 spurt ahead of her and bear up-river or fall behind. 
 He chose the latter alternative, eased his pace a moment, 
 shot behind her and made for the lowest point of safe 
 ice. For a moment longer Harry clung to her straight 
 course. Then she swung up-stream a trifle and fol- 
 lowed him a yard behind, seemingly paying but little 
 heed to the streaks of snow-ice ahead. 
 
 Schonberg rounded the danger point and made straight 
 for the farther bank where the limb of a black birch 
 
"JUST FOE THE SCHOOL?" 181 
 
 had been placed a few yards from shore to serve as a 
 turning mark. Harry had lost ground during the last 
 few moments, in spite of the fact that she had held 
 closer to the direct course between shore and shore, and 
 was now fully twenty feet behind. Few of the audience 
 went beyond mid-stream, but stopped there and 
 watched the racers reach the farther mark, swing 
 around inside of it and turn back across the river. 
 Prom where Roy and Jack stood it looked as though 
 Harry had made up a little of her lost ground, but 
 it was hard to tell at that distance. 
 
 "He will simply skate away from her coming back," 
 said Jack. 
 
 "She 's making a dandy race, though," Roy re- 
 sponded. "I did n't think she 'd do as well as she has, 
 did you?" 
 
 "Yes, but I 've seen Harry skate before this. Gee! 
 Just look at the way that Dutchman is coming ! ' ' 
 
 Already Schonberg was half way across to them, head- 
 ing for where they stood at the up-stream end of the 
 snow-ice. Behind him, how far behind it was difficult 
 to determine, came Harry, a brown and gray spot in the 
 deepening twilight. Jack and Roy turned and followed 
 the others slowly back toward the finish. When next 
 they looked around Schonberg was almost up to them 
 and Harry — 
 
 "Where the dickens is she?" cried Roy. 
 
 "There," answered Jack, pointing. "What 's she up 
 to? She can't be going to try that weak ice!" 
 
 But plainly she was. Not one foot from the direct 
 
182 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 line between turning point and finish did Harry swerve. 
 Schonberg was well up-stream from her, but no nearer 
 the finish, for he had gone out of his way to avoid the 
 weak ice. Roy shouted a warning and Jack waved 
 wildly, but Harry, if she saw, paid no heed. Straight 
 onward she came, her skates fairly twinkling over the 
 ice, her little body swaying from side to side. Then, 
 before any of the watchers could even turn back to 
 head her off, she was skimming over the white streaks 
 of soft snow-ice. 
 
 Roy and Jack and one or two others sped down-stream 
 toward her. Roy strove to remember what it was best 
 to do when folks went through the ice and wondered 
 where there was a rope or a plank. Once his heart 
 stood still for an instant, for Harry had stumbled and 
 nearly fallen. But she found her pace again almost 
 instantly and came on, skirting a black pool of open 
 water. She was gaining on Schonberg at every ring of 
 her skates, and that youth, who had now discovered her 
 tactics, was making for the finish with all his might, 
 Before Roy or Jack had reached the margin of the dan- 
 gerous stretch Harry had left it behind her and waa 
 once more on hard ice. As she swept past at a little 
 distance she glanced up and smiled triumphantly. 
 
 "Go on, Harry!" they cried in unison, and turned 
 and sped after her. 
 
 She had gained many yards over Schonberg and as 
 their converging paths brought them nearer and nearer 
 together this gain became apparent. Roy and Jack 
 
"JUST FOR THE SCHOOL!" 183 
 
 skated as hard as they could go, and, being untired, 
 were close up behind Harry when the finish line was 
 a bare fifty feet away. Almost beside them came Schon- 
 berg, his head down and every muscle tense with his 
 efforts to reach the line ahead of his adversary. But 
 he was a good six yards to the bad. Hammond and 
 Ferry Hill filled the twilight with their clamor and 
 the wooded bank threw back the frantic cries of "Come 
 on, Schon!" "Go it, Harry!" "Skate! Skate!" 
 
 And skate they did, the cherry-red jersey and the 
 (brown sweater. Schonberg made a last despairing effort 
 when twenty feet from the line and fairly ate up the ice, 
 but even as he did so Harry brought her feet together, 
 pulled herself erect and slid over the finish three yards 
 ahead, beating her adversary, as Chub said, "in a 
 walk!" 
 
 The throngs surrounded the racers, and Harry, 
 flushed of face, panting and laughing, was applauded 
 and congratulated until the din was deafening. Then 
 Schonberg pushed his way through the ranks of her 
 admirers, his red face smiling stiffly. He held out his 
 hand to Harry and removed his red cap. 
 
 ' ' You 're a bully skater, Miss Emery, ' ' he said. ' ' But 
 I guess you would n't have won if you had n't taken 
 a short cut." 
 
 "No, I would n't," answered Harry with the mag- 
 nanimity of the conqueror. "You 'd have beaten me 
 easily. ' ' 
 
 Schonberg 's smile became more amiable. 
 
184 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "Anyway, I can beat any of the fellows here," he 
 said, recovering some degree of self-sufficiency. And 
 no one contradicted him. "You took big risks when 
 you came across that rotten ice," he went on. "I 
 would n't have tried that for a thousand dollars!" 
 
 "You would n't?" asked Harry, opening her blue 
 eyes very wide. "Why, I 'd do it any day— and just 
 for the School!" 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE HOCKEY CHAMPIONSHIP IS DECIDED 
 
 ROY had passed his examinations without flunking 
 in a thing, and while that may not sound like much 
 of an achievement to you who doubtless are accustomed 
 to winning all sorts of honors, it pleased him hugely. 
 They had proved pretty stiff, those exams, and he had 
 trembled in his shoes considerably when the day for 
 the announcement of results had come. But it was all 
 right. To be sure, 68 in English was n't anything to 
 brag about, but he was happier over that than the 92 
 in Latin, which was his highest mark. 
 
 Jack received one of the six scholarships, which car- 
 ried with it beside the honor sufficient money to cancel 
 the year's tuition fee. Chub, too, was happy. He was 
 happy because he had failed only in Mathematics where 
 he had feared to fail all along the line. 
 
 I don't know whether Roy's mother was pleased; pos- 
 sibly not ; possibly she had not entirely relinquished her 
 hopes of a scholarship for him. But Roy's father, if 
 his letter was to be believed, was in the seventh heaven 
 of bliss. Roy scowled a good deal over that letter, for 
 
 185 
 
186 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 it sounded a bit sarcastic here and there ! Mentally 
 he resolved to do a whole lot better and get higher 
 marks in June. 
 
 "I just wish Dad had that exam to buck against," 
 he muttered. "I '11 bet he 'd make a mighty mean show- 
 ing ! Maybe then he would n 't write such letters ! ' ' 
 
 The letter, though, had accomplished just what Mr. 
 Porter had intended it should; it had made Roy dis- 
 satisfied with his showing and resolved to do better the 
 next time. And, in case I fail to record the fact in 
 its proper place, be it known here and now that he did 
 do better, considerably better, so well, in fact, .hat his 
 mother's waning hopes of scholarship honors flourished 
 anew. 
 
 Those examinations left Horace Burlen in a peck of 
 trouble. He had failed in two studies and was conse- 
 quently ineligible for crew work until he had made 
 them up. And as Horace was Crew captain and Num- 
 ber Three in the boat, the whole school became interested 
 in his predicament. To his honor be it said, however, 
 that he buckled down at once to make them up, and 
 Mr. Buckman, who was the rowing coach and adviser, 
 helped him to what extent the rules allowed. Crew 
 practice began usually in the first week of March, leav- 
 ing less than a month for Horace to square himself in 
 the two studies. Those who did n't like him smiled 
 wickedly and ' ' guessed there 'd be a new captain chosen 
 next month." Horace's friends and adherents, con- 
 sisting nowadays of about a third of the students, de- 
 
THE HOCKEY CHAMPIONSHIP IS DECIDED 187 
 
 clarecl that lie would n't have any trouble and advised 
 the scoffers to ''just watch him!" 
 
 Meanwhile there was the ice hockey supremacy to be 
 determined. Ferry Hill had scored another victory, 
 this time over the Whittier Collegiate Institute team, 
 twelve goals to nine, and had practised diligently and 
 enthusiastically every possible moment. And so when, 
 on a bright, cold Saturday afternoon, Hammond 
 crossed the river for the third and deciding contest, 
 Ferry Hill was in high feather and was looking for a 
 victory. 
 
 Pride goeth before a fall. 
 
 Ferry Hill's team was made up as in the first game 
 of the series save that Gallup was at point in place 
 of Bacon, who had fallen back to the second team. 
 The ice was hard and smooth, the barriers were lined 
 with spectators, the cheers of Hammond and Ferry 
 Hill arose alternately into the still, frosty air. Harry 
 watched breathlessly with Spot in her arms and Mr. 
 Cobb tossed a puck into the center of the rink and 
 skated back. 
 
 "Ready, Hammond?" 
 
 "Ready, Ferry Hill?" 
 
 Then the whistle piped merrily, Warren secured the 
 puck and passed it back to Kirby and the game was on. 
 Skates rang against the ice as the brown-clad forwards 
 spread out across the rink and raced for the opponent's 
 goal. Kirby passed to Roy, Roy passed across to War- 
 ren, Warren overskated, Rogers doubled back and res- 
 
188 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 cued the disk, passing it across to Roy again, Ham- 
 mond's right-end charged, Roy slipped past him against 
 the barrier and got the puck once more, eluded the 
 cover-point and passed to Warren, Warren worked the 
 puck to within ten feet of the net and, with half the 
 team hitting and hacking at his stick, shot the first 
 goal. Ferry Hill, 1; Hammond, 0. 
 
 But Hammond broke up the attack very nicely the 
 next time, secured the puck and charged down the rink 
 like a troop of cavalry. Gallup was decoyed to the left, 
 Hadden was caught napping and the whistle blew. 
 Ferry Hill, 1 ; Hammond, 1. Hadden remorsefully 
 kicked the snowy disk of rubber out from the net and 
 smote it wrathfully with his stick. 
 
 "My fault, Roy," he said. 
 
 "That 's all right," answered the captain. "Gallup, 
 you were out of place that time. Remember that you 
 take the puck and not the man. All together now, 
 fellows, get after them ! ' ' 
 
 Hammond secured the puck at the face and for sev- 
 eral minutes the battle raged hotly, now here, now there. 
 Hadden stopped two tries neatly, Chub stole the disk 
 from a Hammond forward and took it down the rink, 
 skating like a cyclone — if cyclones may be said to skate 
 —only to miss his try at goal by a bare two inches. 
 Twice play was stopped for off-side work and once 
 Warren was cautioned by Mr. Cobb against roughness. 
 Then, when the Hammond Point had lifted the puck 
 far down the rink, Gallup was slow in returning it 
 
 
THE HOCKEY CHAMPIONSHIP IS DECIDED 189 
 
 and the speedy Schonberg was down on him like a flash, 
 had stolen the puck from under his nose and, charging 
 past Chub, who had come to the rescue, had shot it 
 between Hadden's feet for the third goal. 
 
 After that Fortune favored Hammond while the half 
 lasted. Her players worked like one man instead of 
 seven and when the whistle blew the score looked fright- 
 fully one-sided ; Hammond, 5 ; Ferry Hill, 1. 
 
 "I guess they 're too much for us," panted Jack 
 as he struggled into his sweater. Roy nodded soberly. 
 
 "I never saw better team-work," he muttered. 
 "Well, it 's all in a lifetime." 
 
 "Well, look at the experience they 've had," said 
 Kirby. "I 11 bet that next year we '11—" 
 
 Roy turned on him sharply. 
 
 "That '11 do for you," he answered. "Never mind 
 next year, think of the next half. Time enough for 
 next year when we 're beaten. I dare say they will 
 beat us, but if you think, Kirby, that I 'm going to 
 be satisfied with any such score as they 've piled up 
 on us now you 're mightily mistaken. What we want 
 to do is to get the jump on those chaps and everlast- 
 ingly push them around the shop ! ' ' 
 
 Mr. Cobb, who had come up in time to hear the 
 remark, smiled approval. 
 
 "That 's right," he said. "You forwards must get 
 together better and you must take chances. There 's 
 not much use waiting to get in front of their goal 
 before shooting because they 've got a fine defense and 
 
190 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 a dandy point. Force the playing, shoot whenever 
 there 's the ghost of a chance and check harder. You 
 must be careful about the way you treat those fellows 
 along the boards, Warren; I would n't have been far 
 wrong if I 'd laid you off for a couple of minutes that 
 time. ' ' 
 
 "I guess you did n't see what he was doing to me," 
 said Warren. 
 
 "No, I did n't. But you know mighty well that we 
 don't stand for slugging here, no matter what the other 
 chap does." 
 
 "That 's all right," muttered Warren, ''but if any 
 chap thinks he can slash my shins all the time and not 
 get hurt he 's a good bit mistaken." 
 
 "Well, don't you try it on when I 'm coaching or 
 refereeing, " warned Mr. Cobb coldly. "If you do — 
 look out!" 
 
 Warren made no reply. 
 
 The substitutes and members of the second team had 
 taken possession of the rink and Bacon was guarding 
 goal against the assaults of half a dozen swooping, 
 charging players. At the far end Hammond was 
 perched along the barrier, laughing and fooling, al- 
 ready practically certain of victory. Roy, watching, set 
 his jaws together and resolved that if Hammond added 
 to her present score it would be only after the hardest 
 playing she had ever done ! 
 
 "You 're not going to let them win, are you, Roy?" 
 
 Roy turned to find Harry beside him with Spot 
 
THE HOCKEY CHAMPIONSHIP IS DECIDED 191 
 
 wriggling and twisting in her arms. Roy petted him 
 and had his cheek licked before he replied. Then, 
 
 "I 'm afraid we can't keep them from beating us, 
 Harry," he answered, "but we 're going to make a lot 
 better showing in this half than we did in the last." 
 
 "Does your wrist hurt?" asked Harry, glancing .so- 
 licitously at the silk bandage about it. Roy shook his 
 head. 
 
 "No, but it is n't right strong yet and Mr. Cobb 
 thought I 'd better wear this rather than run any 
 danger of putting it out of place again. How 's Methu- 
 selah ? ' ' 
 
 "Fine and dandy," answered Harry cheerfully. 
 ' ' You must come and see him ; I think he gets rather 
 dull sometimes. I 've got some more white mice. That 
 makes sixteen. I wish I knew what to do with them. 
 Dad says I '11 have to kill them, but I just could n't 
 do it." 
 
 ' ' Why not turn them loose ? ' ' asked Roy. 
 
 Harry giggled. 
 
 "I tried that and some of them came back and went 
 up to John's room and he found one in his boot in the 
 morning. He was terribly mad about it. John 's very 
 short tempered, you know." 
 
 "He must be," laughed Roy. 
 
 "Yes. And then yesterday he found two in the grain- 
 chest and told Dad. I don't think it was nice of him 
 to tell, do you? And Dad says I '11 have to kill them." 
 
 "I tell you what," said Roy. "You keep them until 
 
THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 warm weather and we '11 take them off somewhere and 
 let them loose. I don't believe they 'd ever get back 
 again. ' ' 
 
 "But they might die!" 
 
 "I don't believe so. Anyway, they 'd have a fight- 
 ing chance, and if you kill them they won 't have. See ? ' ' 
 
 "John said I ought to buy an owl," said Harry 
 disgustedly," and feed them to him. As though I 
 would!" 
 
 "John 's a brute," said Roy. "How about the 
 squabs 1 ' ' 
 
 "Oh, they 're coming fast! There are twelve al- 
 ready. I — I wish they would n't hatch. I hate to 
 have them killed." 
 
 "Mighty fine eating, squabs," said Roy teasingly. 
 Harry shot an indignant glance at him. 
 
 "Any person who 'd eat a squab," she cried, "de- 
 serves to be— to be—" 
 
 But Roy did n't learn what such a person deserved, 
 for at that moment Mr. Cobb summoned the teams out 
 again. Roy peeled off his crimson sweater, looked to 
 his skate straps and called to Jack. When the latter 
 had skated up Roy talked to him earnestly for a moment. 
 
 "All ready, Porter?" cried Warren. 
 
 ' ' About six or eight feet from the corner of the goal, ' ' 
 finished Roy. "And bang it in without waiting for 
 anything. Understand ? ' ' 
 
 Jack nodded and the two skated to their places. War- 
 ren and the opposing left-center laid their sticks on 
 
THE HOCKEY CHAMPIONSHIP IS DECIDED 193 
 
 either side of the puck and the whistle sounded. There 
 was an instant of shoving and pushing and then the 
 puck shot back to the Hammond side. Over to the 
 boards it went, the Hammond forwards strung out and 
 dug their skates into the ice and the puck came down 
 to the Ferry Hill goal, flying back and forth from one 
 forward to another like a shuttle. Chub checked the 
 Hammond right-center and the two went to the ice 
 together, a confused mass of legs and arms and sticks. 
 Gallup slashed wildly at Schonberg's stick, Hadden 
 crouched between the iron posts and the puck went 
 flying over his shoulder into the snow outside. The 
 whistle piped and the disk was dug out of its refuge 
 and returned to the ice just in front of the Ferry Hill 
 goal. Chub and Gallup fell back to protect Hadden, 
 and Roy and Schonberg faced off. There was a moment 
 of wild hacking of stick against stick, then the puck 
 slid through Roy's skates, and Schonberg, reaching 
 around him, made a quick slash that sent it rolling 
 into the corner of the goal. Hammond, 6 ; Ferry Hill, 
 1. Hadden vented his disgust by smashing his stick 
 and had to have a new one. Back to the center of 
 the ice went the puck, while the Hammond supporter* 
 cheered and laughed. 
 
 Again Hammond got possession of the disk at th* 
 face and again the cherry jerseys sped down the rink. 
 Then smash ! went Roy into Schonberg and the puck 
 was his and he was dribbling it along the boards. A 
 Hammond forward charged him, but Roy passed the 
 
194 THE CEIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 puck inside, passed outside himself and recovered it 
 beyond. From the other side of the rink came Jack's 
 voice. 
 
 "All right, Roy!" 
 
 Past cover-point went Roy, and then, just as point 
 flew out toward him, he shot the puck at an angle against 
 the boards just back of goal. He went down the next 
 moment before the savage bodychecking of point, but 
 he did n't mind, for the puck, carroming against the 
 barrier, had shot out at the other side of goal where 
 Jack was awaiting it and was now reposing coyly in 
 the farthermost corner of the netting. Ferry Hill went 
 wild with joy. Six to two sounded far more encourag- 
 ing than had six to one. Hockey sticks waved in air 
 as the players skated back to their places. 
 
 "That 's the stuff, fellows!" called Roy. "Good 
 shot, Jack! Now let 's have another one!" 
 
 But there were no more goals for a while, although 
 the game went fast and furious. Gallup received a 
 cut over the left eye that sent him out of the game and 
 Bacon took his place. Then the Hammond left-center 
 was put off for two minutes for tripping and Ferry 
 Hill thought she had found her chance to score again. 
 But Hammond's remaining six played so well that 
 Ferrjr Hill was held off until the penalized player 
 returned to the game. Along the boards the watchers 
 were kicking their shoes to bring warmth to their feet. 
 The sun had dropped behind the wooded hills across 
 the river and the rink was in shadow. 
 
THE HOCKEY CHAMPIONSHIP IS DECIDED 195 
 
 Presently Perry Hill had the puck in the middle of 
 the ice and her forwards flew to their places. Down 
 the rink they charged, the disk flying from Kirby to 
 Warren, from Warren to Jack Rogers and ultimately 
 from the latter 's stick past goal's knees into the net. 
 Hammond, 6; Ferry Hill, 3. 
 
 There were eight minutes more to play. Ferry Hill 
 seemed to have found her pace at last; perhaps the 
 last two goals had encouraged her. At all events she 
 played as she had never played all season. Roy was 
 a streak of greased lightning, Jack was a tornado, War- 
 ren and Kirby shot about as though they had wings 
 on their shoes instead of mere steel runners, Chub was 
 a bull-dog and a fierce and speedy one, Bacon seemed 
 to have eyes in the back of his head and Hadden was 
 invulnerable. Ferry Hill was forcing the playing now 
 and for minutes at a time she appeared to have things 
 all her own way. Only the Hammond goal-tend saved 
 the day for the Cherry and Black. Time and again 
 he was the only defense left and time and again he 
 turned seeming success into failure for the swooping 
 enemy. Then came another carrom back of goal, again 
 Jack was on the spot and once more the Ferry Hill 
 sticks danced in air. Hammond, 6 ; Ferry Hill, 4 ! 
 
 Hammond was beginning to show herself tuckered. 
 Her right-center was plainly played out and gave his 
 place to a new man. Even Schonberg exhibited signs 
 of failing strength and no longer played with the dash 
 and brilliancy with which he had begun the contest. 
 
196 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 And as the enemy weakened Ferry Hill strengthened. 
 Schonberg went to the ice and his stick flew out of his 
 hand while Roy flew on with the puck slipping along 
 in front of him. Kirby sent cover-point out of the 
 play, the disk slid along the snowy ice to Warren and 
 he lifted it at goal. Goal-tender stopped it with his 
 knee, slashed it aside and crouched at the corner of the 
 net. Roy turned on his heel, found the puck as it flew 
 by and rushed back to goal. The whole Hammond team 
 was about him and sticks banged and whizzed. It was 
 a bedlam of cries and whacks and the grind of steel 
 on ice. Science was forgotten for the moment; Ham- 
 mond was fighting tooth and nail to drive back the 
 invader. Once the puck was wrested from Ferry Hill 
 and shot back up the ice to the middle of the rink, 
 but Chub was awaiting it and brought it back, speeding 
 along like an express train. He passed to Kirby in 
 time to fool a Hammond forward, dodged, received the 
 puck again and charged down on goal, dispersing the 
 foe by the sheer impetus. Sticks flew about his feet 
 and point threw himself at him. Then came a quick 
 side pass to Roy, the sharp sound of stick against puck 
 and the ring of the iron post as the hard rubber disk 
 struck it and glanced in. Five to six, and Ferry Hill 
 coming all the time ! How the brown-decked boys along 
 the sides yelled ! Mr. Cobb consulted the time-keeper. 
 
 "Two minutes left!" he called. 
 
 "Time enough to win in!" shouted Roy. 
 
 "Sure!" answered Jack triumphantly. With sticks 
 
THE HOCKEY CHAMPIONSHIP IS DECIDED 197 
 
 gyrating they sped back to their positions. But Ham- 
 mond was in no hurry now and the time-keeper kept 
 his eyes carefully on his stop-watch until finally the 
 whistle shrilled again. Then back to the fray went 
 the brown jerseys and over the ice sped the Ferry Hill 
 skates. A rush down the rink and again the Hammond 
 goal was in danger. A quick swoop of Warren's stick 
 and the puck was winging straight for the goal. But 
 a gloved hand met it and tossed it aside. Roy swung 
 circling back and passed across to Jack. Another shot, 
 this time wide of the net. Schonberg and Jack fought 
 it out in the corner and Jack rapped the disk out to 
 Warren. The Hammond cover-point checked his stick 
 and secured the disk, shooting it down the rink. A 
 Hammond forward got it but was off-side. Warren 
 joined him and they faced near the center. A quick 
 pass to Jack and the forwards turned and dug their 
 blades into the ice. Down they came, charging and 
 passing, past cover-point, past point, and then — 
 
 Out shot goal and away to the left rolled the puck. 
 Roy, turning after it, shot a quick glance at the time- 
 keeper. Then he was fighting with a Hammond man 
 for possession of the elusive black disk, their bodies 
 crashing against the boards and their sticks flying hither 
 and thither. But Warren came to the rescue, poked 
 the puck out from under the Hammondite's skate and 
 passed it across to Kirby in front of goal. Another 
 try and another stop by the Cherry's goal-tend. And 
 so it went and so went the precious seconds. And 
 
198 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 then, suddenly, with the puck within a yard of goal 
 once more and Roy's stick raised for a shot, the whistle 
 rang out ! 
 
 ' ' Time 's up ! " announced Mr. Cobb. 
 
 Roy turned fiercely. 
 
 ' ' It can 't be up ! " he cried, skating toward the referee. 
 
 "It is, though," was the answer. 
 
 "That 's perfect nonsense!'' said Roy hotly. "You 
 said there was two minutes left just a minute ago!" 
 
 "That '11 do, Porter," said Mr. Cobb coldly. 
 
 Roy dropped his eyes, swallowed something hard in 
 his throat and examined a cut on his hand. Then, 
 
 "Beg pardon, sir," he said. "This way, fellows! 
 A cheer for Hammond — and make it good!" 
 
 Well, it was n't very good. But then you can 
 scarcely blame them when another second would perhaps 
 have tied the score. But they cheered, and Hammond 
 answered it; and the hockey season had ended with a 
 defeat for Ferry Hill. Schonberg skated over to Roy 
 and held out his hand. 
 
 "You had us on the run, Porter," he said. "If 
 we 'd played five minutes longer you 'd have won. 
 You 've got a slick team, all right ! How about next 
 year? You 're going to keep the team up, are n't you?" 
 
 "Sure," answered Roy. "And we 're going to lick 
 the stuffing out of you!" 
 
 The rival captain laughed good-naturedly. 
 
 ' ' That 's right. We 've had a dandy time playing you 
 chaps and we '11 be ready again next year. Good-bye." 
 
THE HOCKEY CHAMPIONSHIP IS DECIDED 199 
 
 "Good-bye," answered Roy as graciously as he could. 
 "Glad you fellows came over." 
 
 He turned and found Jack beside Mm. 
 
 "Say, Jack," lie asked, "what 's the longest period 
 of time you can think of?" 
 
 "I don't know," answered Jack soberly. "What 's 
 the answer?" 
 
 "One year," was the glum reply. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 ON POX ISLAND 
 
 SPRING came suddenly that year. They woke up 
 one morning to find the river flowing warmly blue 
 and free of ice, the walks running with crystal water 
 and the bricks steaming in the fervid sunshine. Winter 
 had disappeared over night and Spring had come to 
 its own again. With the awakening of the new season 
 came the awakening of new interests. The crew can- 
 didates, who for weeks past had been toiling inglori- 
 ously at the rowing machines in the basement of the 
 gymnasium, went trooping down the path to the river 
 and launched their shells. The baseball candidates who 
 had been throwing and batting in the cage and sliding 
 to bases over the hard floor trotted out to the field in 
 search of a dry spot whereon to hold their first outdoor 
 practice. With the former went Horace Burlen, free 
 at last, in spite of his enemies' croakings, of all condi- 
 tions, and Hadden and Gallup and Whitcomb and Otto 
 Ferris and others. With the baseball candidates went 
 
 200 
 
ON FOX ISLAND 201 
 
 Chub, Roy, Bacon, Kirby, Post and many more. And 
 — oh, yes — Sid Welch! Sid had entertained hopes of 
 making the second crew, but such hopes had been sadly 
 shattered. And as Sid had to be trying for something 
 to be content he naturally went in for the only first- 
 class sport left. 
 
 "I think," he confided to Chub, "I think I 'd like 
 to play shortstop." 
 
 "Just as you say, Sid," Chub answered gravely. 
 "All you '11 have to do will be to beat Bacon out for 
 the position. You 're sure you would n't rather pitch? 
 Post and Kirby, you know, are n't so much of a much- 
 ness but what you could beat 'em with a little practice." 
 
 "Well, anyhow, I don't see why I could n't be a 
 fielder," answered Sid good-naturedly. "You '11 give 
 me a show, won't you, Chub?" 
 
 ' ' Course I will, Sid, ' ' answered Chub heartily. ' ' You 
 come along out and we '11 see what you can do. First 
 of all, though, we '11 take a little of that fat off you." 
 
 "I 've been trying to get rid of it," Sid replied 
 earnestly and sadly, "but it does n't seem to do any 
 good. I have n't eaten any bread or potato or pud- 
 din' for days and days!" 
 
 "Never mind the bread and potato, Sid," said Chub 
 with a laugh. "I know a better way." 
 
 "What?" asked the other interestedly. 
 
 "Chasing flies, my boy!" was the answer. 
 
 March was kind to them. It gave them a clear two 
 weeks of fair weather at the end. To be sure, the wir> 1 
 
202 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 howled dismally sometimes and it was often cold enough 
 to make fingers stiff, but it allowed them to stay out 
 of doors and that was the main thing. April, however, 
 started in meanly. Ten days of drizzle and wet fields 
 affected even Chub's temper. But everything, even a 
 spell of rainy weather, must come to an end some time, 
 and the second week of April brought back sunny skies 
 and mild days. And after that affairs went briskly 
 on the diamond. 
 
 Roy had kept his promise to his chum, a promise 
 made on the occasion of their first meeting and re-made 
 several times since. For Chub had got it into his head 
 that Roy had the making of a baseball player and never 
 allowed him to forget for a moment all winter long 
 that he had agreed to try for the team. 
 
 "You ought to make a good baseman," Chub said 
 once, looking over his friend with the eye of a con- 
 noisseur. "Maybe third — or even first. You 've got 
 height and a good long reach; and you 're quick and 
 heady. Patten 's the only fellow I know of who 's after 
 first base. He was substitute last year. He 's not bad, 
 but he 's not an expert by a long shot. Just you come 
 out, old man, and see what you can do." 
 
 And Roy promised for the twentieth time. 
 
 Training table was started the middle of April, with 
 Mr. Cobb in command. By that time the candidates 
 had been weeded out until there were but fourteen left. 
 The "culls," as Chub called them, went toward the 
 making up of the second team. There was practice 
 
ON FOX ISLAND 203 
 
 every afternoon save Sunday, usually ending with a 
 short game with the second nine, the latter strengthened 
 hy the presence of Mr. Cobb, who played first base or 
 pitched as occasion required. Roy bought a rule-book 
 early in the season and studied it diligently, following 
 it up later with an invaluable blue-covered pamphlet 
 which told him exactly how to play every position on 
 the team. In the end, however, he discovered that the 
 best way to learn baseball is to play it. 
 
 Chub started him at left-field and kept him there 
 until he had learned to judge a ball, catch it and field 
 it home. It was hard work, but Roy liked it. Some- 
 times, however, he doubted whether he would ever vindi- 
 cate Chub's belief in him. There seemed an awful lot 
 to learn and he envied the ready thought displayed 
 by the fellows who had been playing the game for 
 several years. I think that Chub would have strained 
 a point to keep Roy with him as long as it did not en- 
 danger the success of the team, for by this time the two 
 were well-nigh inseparable. But it very soon became 
 evident that no favoritism was necessary; Roy deserved 
 a place on the nine by virtue of his ability. By the 
 middle of April he was having a try at first and two 
 weeks later he had succeeded to the position vice Patten 
 removed to the outfield. 
 
 It did n't take him long to accustom himself to the 
 place and its requirements. As Chub had said, he had 
 height and reach, was quick and steady and clear- 
 headed. Of course there was talk; disgruntled fellow? 
 
204 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 who had failed at making the team sneered at Chub's 
 favoritism, and Horace found time from his rowing 
 duties to try and stir up discord amongst the baseball 
 men. But Patten, who had more cause than anyone 
 else t"» feel dissatisfied, had nothing to say. He had 
 sense enough to realize that Chub had given the posi- 
 tion to the best man, and enough of the right sort of 
 spirit to be satisfied, so long as it was for the good of 
 the team and the school. Patten went out to right- 
 field, stifled his disappointment and "played ball." 
 
 Chub must have been right. Unless he "has it in 
 him" no boy can learn to play baseball well in three 
 months, as Roy did. Perhaps, though, Mr. Cobb's coach- 
 ing deserves more credit than I am giving it. He cer- 
 tainly worked hard with Roy. And so did Chub. And 
 the other members of the nine, amongst whom Roy was 
 highly popular, helped, perhaps unconsciously, to give 
 him self-confidence in the early days of his novitiate. 
 So, it seems, the Fates worked together to fashion him 
 into a baseball player much to the regret of Mr. Buck- 
 man who had entertained hopes of securing him for 
 the second four. But although Roy liked the water 
 well enough and was never more contented than when 
 out with Chub in the crimson canoe, he was more at home 
 on the turf. Perhaps the first or second four lost a good 
 oar when Roy chose baseball instead of rowing; be that 
 as it may, it is certain the nine found a good first 
 baseman. 
 
 April recess began on the twenty-second and lasted 
 
ON FOX ISLAND 205 
 
 nine days, from Friday afternoon to the second Mon- 
 day morning, although, as the fellows were required to 
 be back at School by Sunday noon, eight days come 
 nearer to the mark than nine. Crew and baseball candi- 
 dates were supposed to remain at Ferry Hill during 
 this recess and most of them did so. Roy was undecided 
 whether to stay or go home. Chub begged him to 
 remain, putting it to him first on the score of duty to 
 the nine and then citing the camping-out on Fox Island 
 as an inducement. Roy's mother decided the mat- 
 ter for him eventually by writing that she was going 
 South for six weeks. She suggested that Roy join her at 
 a South Carolina winter resort, but Roy had no desire 
 for a week of hotel existence and so threw in his lot 
 with Chub, Gallup, Bacon, Post, Kirby and the others. 
 Jack Rogers went home and so did Sid, who had been 
 working hard on the second nine and showing quite 
 a little promise. Doctor and Mrs. Emery took a week's 
 vacation, but Harry was left behind — greatly to her 
 delight — because her holidays did not come until later. 
 Mr. Cobb, too, disappeared from the scene and the 
 charge of the school was left in Mr. Buckman's hands. 
 Saturday was the first day of the recess and Roy 
 and Chub spent the morning on the river. They 
 paddled down stream for a mile or more in the canoe 
 and fished, but with scant success. In the afternoon 
 came baseball practice which ended with a six-inning 
 game with a Silver Cove team. Sunday was rather 
 dull for it rained torrents. Chub, Roy, Gallup and 
 
206 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 Post donned rubber coats or old sweaters in the after- 
 noon and took a long tramp inland. But Monday morn- 
 ing dawned bright and fresh and as soon as breakfast 
 was over the fellows, under Mr. Buckman's direction, 
 began the overhauling of the camping outfit. The four 
 big tents were pulled from their quarters in the boat 
 house, spread out on the landing and gone over for 
 holes or weak places. Then lost pegs were replaced, 
 new guy-ropes supplied and a broken ridge-pole was 
 mended. Dinner was rather a hurried meal that day, 
 for every fellow — and there were twenty-odd left at 
 school — was eager to get into camp. At three o'clock 
 the tents and outfits were loaded into row boats and 
 transferred to the island. All af ternooii' Ifeoats went 
 back and forth on errands; baking powde? had been 
 forgotten, Gallup wanted his camera, someone had left 
 one of the hatchets on the landing, cook had neglected 
 to grind the coffee before packing it, four more blank- 
 ets were needed, Mr. Buckman wanted a roll of adhesive 
 plaster and a bottle of arnica. Meanwhile the tents 
 were erected, the old cook-stove was set up and fuel 
 gathered. At five o'clock, Kirby, under Mr. Buckman's 
 tuition, began the preparation of the first meal. Roy 
 and Chub and half a dozen others built the camp fire 
 in the open space between the tents, piling up the brush 
 and slanting the dead limbs above it until the whole 
 looked like an Indian wigwam. Then came supper; 
 bacon, potatoes, tea, milk and "spider cake," the latter 
 an indigestible but delightful concoction of thin flour 
 
ON FOX ISLAND 207 
 
 batter poured into the frying pan and cooked until 
 nice and soggy. 
 
 After supper the camp-fire was lighted, the fellows 
 spread themselves out on the ground about it and the 
 camp went into executive session. Chub was elected 
 Little Chief — Mr. Buckman was Big Chief — and Roy 
 became Medicine Man. Then four Chiefs of Tribe were 
 elected and the honors fell to Roy, Horace Burlen, 
 Kirby and Pryor. These, in turn, selected their war- 
 riors and were assigned to tents— or tepees, as they 
 preferred to call them. Roy 'ctLose Chub, Gallup, Bacon 
 and Post; Burlen selected Ferris, Hadden, Whitcomb 
 and Walker; Kirby and Pryor made up their house- 
 holds of what material was left, each having five instead 
 of six companions as there were twenty-two boys in the 
 party. Mr. Buckman cast his lot with Burlen 's Utes. 
 Roy's tribe was christened Seminole, Kirby 's Ojibway 
 and Pryor ruled despotically over the Navajos. Mr. 
 Buckman explained the camp rules. There were n't 
 many of them, but they were strict. The Chiefs of 
 Tribes could grant permission to leave the island but 
 were required to report the names of those leaving to 
 the Big Chief. Every tribe must delegate one of its 
 warriors each day to be fisherman; fishermen must fish 
 not less than two hours and turn their catch over to 
 the Little Chief. Every warrior or Chief must strip 
 his bed before breakfast and hang his blankets in the 
 sun. Each tribe must select a member to be cook and 
 take his turn at preparing the meals; also an assistant 
 
208 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 whose duty it was to help and wash up the utensils. 
 Prompt attendance at meals was imperative. Offenses 
 would be judged by a council composed of the Big and 
 Little Chiefs, the Medicine Man and the four Tribal 
 Chiefs and punishment would be meted out by them. 
 In the absence of the Big Chief the Little Chief took 
 command; in the absence of both authority was vested 
 in the Medicine Man. 
 
 At nine o'clock the fellows sought their quarters and 
 made their beds, for which purpose plenty of pine and 
 hemlock boughs had been cut and piled in the clearing. 
 Each tent was supplied with a lantern which swung 
 from the ridge-pole. A rustic bench held a half-dozen 
 tin wash-basins and a looking-glass was hung from a 
 tree nearby. By half-past nine preparations for the 
 night were complete and the boys gathered again about 
 the dying fire and, kneeling, recited the Lord's Prayer. 
 Then good-nights were said and the Tribes separated. 
 For some time the sound of laughter was heard. Then 
 quiet fell over Fox Island and a big moon, coming up 
 over the tree tops, threw the four tents into dazzling 
 whiteness and paled the glow of the dying embers where 
 the camp fire had been. 
 
''Quiet fell over Fox Island" 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 A NIGHT ALARM 
 
 FOX ISLAND lay about two hundred yards off shore 
 and perhaps thrice that distance up-stream from 
 the landing. It contained between an acre and a half 
 and two acres, was beautifully wooded, stood well above 
 flood tide and was surrounded on two sides by beaches 
 of clean white sand. Doctor Emery had purchased the 
 island some years before, primarily to keep away un- 
 desirable neighbors, and had soon discovered that it 
 was a distinct addition to the school's attractions. The 
 spring camping-out soon became one of the most popular 
 features of the year. 
 
 The next morning Chub and Bacon did the honors of 
 the island, conducting Roy from end to end and pointing 
 out the historical spots. He saw Victory Cove, so named 
 because it was the scene of the first struggle between 
 Hammond and Perry Hill for the possession of the 
 latter 's boats, a struggle in which the campers came 
 out victorious. ("The next year," explained Chub, 
 "they got the best of us and swiped four boats and we 
 had to go over and get them back. But that did n't 
 
 209 
 
210 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 change the name of the cove.") He saw Outer Beach, 
 Gull Point, Hood's Hill, named in honor of a former 
 school leader and Little Chief, The Grapes, a bunch of 
 eight small rocks just off the westerly corner, 
 Treasure Island and Far Island, two low, bush- 
 covered islets of rock and sand lying up-stream from 
 the farther end of the island and divided from it by 
 a few feet of water through which it was possible to 
 wade when the river is not very high, Kound Harbor, 
 Turtle Point, Turtle Cove, Round Head, Inner Beach, 
 Mount Emery, a very tiny mountain indeed, and School 
 Point. That completed the circuit of the island. But 
 it took them well over an hour because they took it 
 very slowly and neglected nothing. They took off shoes 
 and stockings and waded to Treasure and Far Islands, 
 they scrambled up Mount Emery, hunted for turtles 
 in Turtle Cove— without even seeing one — and tried 
 broad-jumping on the Inner Beach. It was ten o'clock 
 when they got back to camp and found most of the 
 fellows preparing for a bath. They followed suit and 
 presently were splashing and diving in the water off 
 Inner Beach. It was pretty cold at first, but they soon 
 got used to it. Afterwards they laid in the sun on the 
 white sand until Thurlow thumped on a dish pan with 
 a big spoon and summoned them to dinner. Bathing 
 suits were kept on until it was time to return to the 
 main land for afternoon practice. The island was prac- 
 tically deserted then, for but few of the campers were 
 neither baseball nor crew men. 
 
A NIGHT ALARM 211 
 
 "Who 's going to stay here?" asked Chub before 
 he pushed off the boat. Four boys answered. 
 
 "Well, you fellows keep a watch for Hammond. 
 They '11 be paddling over here pretty soon, probably 
 to-day or to-morrow, to see where we 're keeping the 
 boats. If they come around don't let them see you, 
 but watch what they do." 
 
 The quartette promised eagerly to keep a sharp look- 
 out and Chub and Eoy dipped their oars and rowed 
 across to the landing. 
 
 When they returned at five o'clock the two four- 
 oared crews were just coming back up-stream to the 
 boat-house, looking as though they had been through 
 a hard afternoon's work. Behind them came Mr. Buck- 
 man in his scull, his small brown megaphone hanging 
 from his neck. Across the darkening water they could 
 just make out the three Hammond boats floating down- 
 stream toward their quarters. 
 
 "Who '11 win this year?" asked Roy, as they took 
 up the rowing again. 
 
 "Hammond, I guess," answered Chub. "They usu- 
 ally do. They did last year. You see they 've got 
 almost a hundred fellows to pick from, while we have 
 never had over fifty. That makes a difference." 
 
 "Two years ago, though." said Bacon, "they say our 
 crew was thirty seconds faster than theirs. And we 
 were light, too. I don't believe the size of the school 
 has much to do with it." 
 
 "Well, it stands to reason that the school that has 
 
212 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 the most fellows must have the better material," said 
 Chub. "Look at the way it is in baseball." 
 
 "That may be," said Bacon, "but a whole lot depends 
 on the spirit of the fellows and the coaching." 
 
 "Course it does, but no matter what the spirit is, 
 or how good the coaching may be, four poor oarsmen 
 can't beat four good ones. That 's common sense." 
 
 "Well, but a good coach like Buckman— " began 
 Bacon. 
 
 "Is Burlen a good rower?" interrupted Roy. 
 
 "Great," answered Chub. 
 
 "Dandy," said Bacon. 
 
 "Best we 've got," supplemented Post. 
 
 "But I don't believe he makes a good captain," said 
 Gallup. "Whitcomb told me the other day that he 
 gets mad as anything when Buckman calls him down." 
 
 "It 's like him, ' ' said Bacon. ' ' He never could stand 
 being told anything. Jack 's the only fellow that could 
 ever make him do anything he did n't want to." 
 
 "They say Hammond's four this year is the best 
 they 've ever had," said Roy. 
 
 "They always say that," answered Chub sceptically. 
 
 "The first of the season," amended Gallup. "Later 
 they begin to howl about the fellows going stale, break- 
 ing their ankles or spraining their wrists. Gee, you 'd 
 think to hear them talk a week before the race that 
 they did n't have a man in the boat who was n't a 
 corpse or a cripple for life!" 
 
A NIGHT ALAEM 213 
 
 "That 's so," laughed Bacon, "but you don't want 
 to forget that year before last Williams did the same 
 thing. He gave it out that two of our men had malaria 
 and would n't be able to row. They did n't have ma- 
 laria but they could n't row much when the time came, 
 so he did n't tell a very big lie." 
 
 "That sort of thing makes me tired," said Roy dis- 
 gustedly. "What 's the use in trying to make the 
 other fellow think you 're dying. He does n't believe 
 it, anyway; and even if he does it is n't fair playing." 
 
 "That 's so," said Chub heartily. "It 's babyish." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know about that," said Post. "It 'a 
 part of the game, and—" 
 
 "No, it is n't," interrupted Roy. "It has nothing 
 to do with the game. And it 's just plain, every-day 
 dishonesty ! ' ' 
 
 "I don't see how you make that out," objected Post. 
 "Now, supposing — " 
 
 But the discussion of ethics was interrupted by the 
 grating of the boat's keel on the sand. Gallup jumped 
 out into six inches of water and pulled the boat up on 
 the beach and the rest scrambled out. 
 
 Nothing had been seen of Hammond's spies and so 
 they went to bed without posting guards that night. 
 
 "I don't see," observed Roy as he was undressing, 
 "why we don't tie the boats up if we 're afraid of 
 having Hammond swipe them." 
 
 "Well, it would n't be fair, I guess," Chub answered. 
 
214 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "You see we 've always left them on the beach. If we 
 tied 'em Hammond would n't have any show to get 
 them." 
 
 "You talk as though you wanted her to get them," 1 
 said Roy in puzzled tones. 
 
 "We do; that is, we want her to try and get them. 
 If we take to tying them to trees and things Hammond 
 will stop coming over and we '11 miss more 'n half the 
 fun of the camping. See?" 
 
 ' ' You bet ! ' ' grunted Post. 
 
 "What 's to keep her from coming over to-night, 
 then, ' ' pursued Roy, ' ' and taking the whole bunch while 
 we 're asleep." 
 
 "Because she does n't know where they are, silly!" 
 replied Chub. "You don't expect those fellows are 
 going to row across here and then go hunting all about 
 the island in the dark, do you? They always come 
 spying around in the day-time first and see where the 
 boats are hauled up." 
 
 "It won't be dark to-night," said Roy. "There 's 
 a dandy big moon." 
 
 ' ' That 's so, but Hammond never has tried it without 
 looking about first and I guess she won't this year." 
 
 "I wish I was a Hammondite for about three or four 
 hours," said Roy grimly. "I 'd open your eyes for 
 you!" 
 
 Whereupon he was quickly tried for a traitor and 
 sentenced to be walloped with a belt. The walloping 
 process occupied the succeeding ten minutes and when 
 
A NIGHT ALAEM 
 
 concluded— not altogether successfully — left the tent 
 looking as though a cyclone had visited it. But Chub's 
 prediction proved correct. The boats were there in the 
 morning, all five of them. 
 
 ''Those Hammond fellows are a set of chumps," 
 grunted Roy. "Why don't they send you a note and 
 tell you when they 're coming? They might as well 
 do that as send fellows over in a boat to rubber around. ' ' 
 
 "Get out! How are we going to know when they 're 
 coming 1 ?" asked Chub. "Suppose we see them peek- 
 ing about to-day; maybe they won't come for three or 
 four nights." 
 
 "Then how do they know you won't move the boats 
 in the meantime?" 
 
 "Why — why we never do!" 
 
 "Oh, I guess I don't know the rules of the game," 
 sighed Roy. "Sounds as though you were all woozy." 
 
 It was raining that morning when they arose, but 
 the rain could n't quench their enjoyment. A shelter 
 tent was put up and they all crowded under it for break- 
 fast. Afterwards the Utes challenged the Seminoles 
 to a game of ring-toss under the trees. Roy was assist- 
 ant cook that day and so he and Post — Post being chef — 
 were out of it. The Utes won and were much set up 
 about it, issuing challenges indiscriminatingly at din- 
 ner. The four fishermen came in just before the meal 
 with a big catch, and Post, who knew less about cook- 
 ing fish than anything else— and that 's saying a good 
 deal— was in despair. After dinner he and Roy took 
 
216 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 them to the water and cleaned them, but neither thought 
 to remove the scales. The fish were served for supper 
 and there was a popular demand for the speedy lynch- 
 ing of Mr. Post. 
 
 "I thought we ought to do something else to them," 
 he explained in extenuation, ' ' but I could n 't think what 
 it was!" 
 
 "You want to watch out pretty sharp," said Horace 
 Burl en with deep sarcasm, "or they '11 employ you to 
 cook at the Waldorf." 
 
 "Fish a la Post," murmured Chub. "Half portion 
 two dollars and a quarter." 
 
 "They 'd have to pay me more than that before I 'd 
 order any," responded Gallup. 
 
 "Post and Porter ought to take singing lessons," 
 said Thurlow. 
 
 "Why?" asked Hadden unsuspectingly. 
 
 "So they won't forget the scales next time," an- 
 swered Thurlow proudly. He was the recipient of four 
 slices of bread and a portion of a cup of water, all 
 unsolicited and unexpected. Mr. Buckman mildly ob- 
 jected, but appeared to think the punishment deserved. 
 
 It had stopped drizzling during the afternoon and 
 practice had been held on a very wet diamond. Chub 
 had sustained a wrenched ankle by slipping while run- 
 ning bases and was inclined to be down on his luck. 
 Roy tried to cheer him up, but had scant success. Chub 
 was convinced this evening that the nine was no good 
 and that certain defeat at the hands of Hammond stared 
 
A NIGHT ALARM 217 
 
 them in the face. Like most normally cheerful persons,. 
 Chub was the gloomiest of the gloomy when he decided 
 to be. At camp-fire Thurlow brought out his banjo 
 and got them all to singing. That seemed to raise 
 Chub's spirits some; it did him good, he declared, to 
 howl. Later it started in drizzling again and the camp- 
 ers went to bed early, tying the tent flaps securely ere 
 they retired. 
 
 It was black night when Roy awoke. He could n't 
 even see the canvas overhead. He wondered what had 
 awakened him and listened to the deep breathing about 
 him for a moment. Perhaps Post had talked in his 
 sleep ; he often did. Roy turned over again and closed 
 his eyes. Then he opened them quickly. From some- 
 where came a sound as though a boat was being drawn 
 across the pebbles of a beach. He listened intently, 
 tut heard nothing more. He had imagined it, he told 
 himself sleepily. But he was n't satisfied. After a 
 moment he heard it again, that grating noise. He 
 reached toward Post about to awaken him, thought 
 better of it and scrambled noiselessly out of bed. After 
 all it was hardly probable that Hammond had visited 
 them without giving the usual notice; it would n't be 
 playing fair and Chub would be frightfully pained 
 and grieved! Roy smiled to himself as he tried to find 
 the cords which lashed the tent flap close. There was 
 no use in waking the whole crowd up unless there was 
 some reason for it. He would just look around a bit 
 first — if he could ever get out of the fool tent! Then 
 
218 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 the last cord gave way and he slipped out into the 
 darkness. 
 
 The camp-fire was long since out and the shower had 
 drowned even the embers. It was no longer raining, but 
 the ground was wet underfoot and the grass and low 
 growth threw drops against his bare ankles. It was not 
 quite so black outside here as it had been in the tent, 
 and in the east a rift in the clouds hinted of the moon, but 
 it was too dark to see much of anything. Roy felt his 
 way across the clearing, stumbled over a peg as he crept 
 past the Ute quarters and shook a shower of raindrops 
 from a young pine as he went sprawling into the under- 
 brush. It was very damp there on the ground and pine 
 needles and grass and twigs were plastered to his body, 
 but he lay still a moment and listened. Surely, if there 
 was anyone round they could n't have failed to hear him 
 crash into the bushes ! All was still for an instant ; then 
 there was a subdued splash as though someone had un- 
 intentionally plunged his foot into water. Roy cautiously 
 lifted his head. Now came a whisper ; another answered 
 from a distance; an oar creaked in its lock. 
 
 Only a fringe of pines and underbrush divided Roy 
 from the Inner Beach which was here some thirty feet 
 wide. As noiselessly as possible he stood up and stared 
 into the darkness ahead. It seemed that he could dis- 
 tinguish forms moving about, but he decided that an 
 excited imagination was to blame. Cautiously he pressed 
 through the bushes, which being wet gave little sound as 
 their branches whipped back. Then he was on the edge 
 
A NIGHT ALARM 219 
 
 of the pebbles. And as he raised his bare foot to step 
 forward again the moon broke forth from the broken 
 clouds and he stopped short, stifling the cry that sprang 
 to his lips. In the sudden flood of dim light the edge of 
 the stream seemed fairly alive with boats, while right in 
 front of him, so near that another step would have 
 reached him, a dark figure was kneeling in his path. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 EOY VISITS HAMMOND 
 
 ROY'S first impulse was to summon assistance, to 
 rouse the camp ; his next, to avoid detection. For 
 the beach was empty of boats ; every one of the five, the 
 four steel rowboats and Chub's canoe, had been lifted 
 into the water and manned by the marauders, and by 
 the time the fellows reached the scene they would be far 
 out into the river. All this Roy sensed in far shorter 
 time than it has taken to tell it. Scarcely a moment had 
 passed since the moonlight had revealed the stooping 
 figure in front of him. Roy still stood poised for that 
 forward step. The form at his feet resolved itself into 
 a boy with a woolen sweater and a cloth cap. He had laid 
 a piece of paper on the beach and was piling pebbles 
 upon it. Had he glanced up quickly he could not have 
 failed to see Roy, even though the latter stood in partial 
 shadow. Roy held his breath and waited. In the boats 
 the dark forms of the invaders were motionless, startled 
 doubtless by the sudden advent of the moonlight. Then 
 the boy at Roy 's feet straightened himself up with a little 
 
 220 
 
ROY VISITS HAMMOND 221 
 
 laugh, and, without glancing back, crept down the beach 
 toward the boats. And as suddenly as it had come the 
 moon went, and once more the darkness enveloped every- 
 thing. Eoy took a deep breath and, with pulses leaping, 
 crept silently after the other. The moon had played into 
 his hands. 
 
 He kept to the right, heading toward the last of the 
 boats as he remembered its location. The Hammond boy 
 had gone straight down the beach and Roy had no desire 
 to overtake him. In a moment his feet were in the water, 
 splashing softly. Vague forms came and went in the 
 darkness and his hands groped toward them. It is prob- 
 able, however, that he would have waded straight into 
 the middle of the stream had not a low voice hailed him. 
 
 ' ' Here you are, Jim, get in here ! ' ' 
 
 Roy turned toward the voice, stumbled over a sunken 
 stone and collided with the side of a rowboat. 
 
 ' ' Don 't make so much noise, you plunger ! ' ' said the 
 voice. ' ' Give me your hand. ' ' 
 
 Roy gave it and was promptly hauled over the side of 
 the boat. Someone pulled him down upon a seat. 
 
 ' ' All right ! ' ' whispered the voice. 
 
 ' ' All right, fellows ! ' ' called someone in the next boat 
 softly. And there came the sound of creaking rowlocks. 
 
 "Got your oar?" whispered the fellow who shared 
 Roy's seat. Roy felt around and found it and began to 
 row. 
 
 "Look out, you fellows !" called a voice from the dark- 
 ness beside them, and they ceased rowing while another 
 boat crossed ahead of them. 
 
THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 "More to the right," commanded a boy behind Roy 
 and Roy pulled hard on his oar. Presently a little breeze 
 came into their faces and Roy guessed that they were 
 rounding the lower end of the island. Very silently they 
 went. After a little Roy turned his head and saw a light 
 here and there on the farther shore. He judged that they 
 were by this time about half way across. The fellows 
 about him began to converse in whispers, gradually for- 
 getting caution as they left the island farther and farther 
 behind. 
 
 "Won't they be a surprised lot of chumps in the 
 morning!" asked someone with a laugh. 
 
 "They sure will," answered another Hammondite. 
 "They Tl be 'very ill' for a long while." 
 
 "I never thought we 'd do it," said the boy who was 
 working an oar next to Roy. ' ' I don 't see yet why they 
 did n't hear us." 
 
 "They were n't expecting us," said another. "I tell 
 you that was a foxy idea of Jim 's, to find out where they 
 kept the boats from the other shore, now was n't it?" 
 
 "Who went over, Jim?" asked Roy's companion. 
 Roy's heart sank, but luckily someone behind answered 
 for him. 
 
 "He went over himself, he and Smith. Rowed over 
 a mile up-river, left the boat, came down across the fields. 
 They watched for an hour and saw the Ferry Hill fel- 
 lows come back from school and haul the boats out. Oh, 
 it was an all-right scheme !" 
 
 Roy looked at the sky, hoping mightily that the moon 
 would n't come out until they had reached the other 
 
ROY VISITS HAMMOND 223 
 
 shore. There was still a lighter patch up there, but the 
 moon seemed pretty well extinguished for the time being. 
 [f only they would n't insist on his talking! 
 
 ' ' Do we have to give the boats back right away, Jim ? ' ' 
 asked a voice from the bow. Roy hesitated, hoping that 
 as before someone would answer for him. But no one 
 did. So he plucked up his courage. 
 
 "Guess so," he replied, rather huskily. 
 
 "Say, you 've got a peach of a cold, have n't you?" 
 asked his neighbor. "Did you get wet?" 
 
 "Sopping," growled Eoy. 
 
 "Too bad. You come up to my room when we get back 
 and I '11 give you a dose of medicine. I 've got some 
 dandy stuff ! Nasty 's no name for it, but it '11 do you 
 good." 
 
 "Thanks," muttered Roy. 
 
 Meanwhile the others were discussing the yielding of 
 the prizes of war. 
 
 "They '11 probably be around in the morning for 
 them, ' ' said one boy. ' ' I vote we all go down to the land- 
 ing and receive them." 
 
 ' ' Sure ; we always do, ' ' said another. 
 
 "Much you know about it," said a third. "You 
 were n't here two years ago, and we did n't get them 
 last year." 
 
 "Well, I guess I 've heard about it, have n't I?" was 
 the indignant response. 
 
 "Easy at the oars, fellows," a voice in the bow cau- 
 tioned. "We 're almost in." 
 
 "Where the deuce are we?" asked another voice. 
 
224 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 "Here 's the landing over here!" The information 
 came from some distance down stream and Roy and the 
 other rower headed that way. Then their bow bumped 
 into one of the other boats, and presently, after several 
 moments of confused rowing and backing, they were 
 alongside the float. Roy dropped his oar and sprang out. 
 
 "Say, someone strike a light!" suggested a voice. 
 ' ' I 11 see if I can find the boat-house lantern. ' ' 
 
 An exclamation of pain and a crash told the rest that 
 he had gone in search of it; and at the same moment 
 Roy's companion shoved the boat they were in up on 
 shore and rushed toward the platform, leaving Roy alone 
 with the boat, while the attention of the others was cen- 
 tered upon the effort to get a light. 
 
 "I 've got a match, " called a boy, and Roy dove wildly 
 into the darkness just as a tiny point of light flared up. 
 Where he was going he did n 't know ; but luckily the 
 branches of a tree whipped his face and he groped his 
 way into a damp thicket and subsided panting upon the 
 ground. He had gone some twenty yards. Back on the 
 landing they were lighting the big square lantern that 
 hung on the front of the boat-house and the radiance 
 from it allowed Roy to watch what was going on. As 
 nearly as he could judge there had been fully a dozen 
 boys in the party and now they were securing their own 
 boats and the Ferry Hill crafts along the edge of the 
 float. 
 
 "I think we ought to put them in the boat-house or 
 somewhere," he heard one of the crowd say. "Suppos- 
 
ROY VISITS HAMMOND 225 
 
 ing they find out that we Ve swiped them and come over 
 here before we 're up." 
 
 ' ' Oh get out ! ' ' someone answered. ' ' They won 't know 
 anything about it until half-past six or seven. We '11 be 
 down here by that time." 
 
 "Where does this lantern belong?" asked a voice. 
 
 "Any old place. Leave it here." 
 
 "Let 's take it along to find the path with." 
 
 "Yes, and have Crowley or Murdock see it and get 
 on to the whole thing! I guess not! Blow it out and 
 leave it by the boat-house " 
 
 Then came darkness again and the sound of feet draw- 
 ing near Roy's place of concealment. On they came, 
 trooping up the path, laughing and talking softly. Roy 
 crawled gingerly back into the bushes. The first of the 
 crowd passed within arm 's reach, or so it sounded. Then 
 came others, stumbling and muttering. Presently, 
 
 ' ' Is that you, Jim ! ' ' asked one of the passers. 
 
 "That 's me," answered a clear voice. 
 
 "Coming up to the room for that medicine?" 
 
 "What medicine?" 
 
 "For your cold." 
 
 "Say, you want to get to sleep, my boy. I have n't 
 got any cold." 
 
 ' ' You said you had, you idiot ! It does n 't sound so 
 now, though." 
 
 ' ' I said I had a cold ? When did I say so ? " demanded 
 Jim. 
 
 "Why, in the boat, coming back. I said — " 
 
226 THE CEIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 Then they passed out of hearing and Roy smiled all 
 to himself there in the darkness. Finally the last of the 
 footfalls ceased sounding on the path and Roy stretched 
 his cramped limbs and eased his position. It would n't 
 do to return to the landing yet, though ; he must allow 
 them at least an hour to get to bed and asleep. To be 
 sure, the dormitories were not, he believed, in view of the 
 landing, but it would n't do to take chances. So he made 
 himself as comfortable as he could and waited. He was 
 shivering now and his teeth chattered every time he 
 opened his mouth to yawn. He wondered what time it 
 might be; perhaps one o'clock, perhaps four. At any 
 rate, he must wait an hour longer and he must n't go to 
 sleep while he waited. 
 
 That was the hardest part of it, to keep awake. It 
 seemed to him that he had never been sleepier in his life. 
 The minutes passed while he strove to keep his eyes 
 open. Time and again he caught himself drowsing and 
 threw off the temptation just in time. But the minutes 
 went by, as they must even when a chap is sitting in a 
 thicket in a suit of damp clothes, and minutes make 
 hours. After a while he assured himself that the hour had 
 passed, yet resolutely held his place for a while longer 
 to be on the safe side. Finally, shivering and cramped, 
 he crawled out and picked his way back to the landing. If 
 only he had matches ! he thought ruefully. And the next 
 moment his bare foot trod on something and stooping he 
 picked up what he wanted ! It felt like a good one, but 
 
 
ROY VISITS HAMMOND 227 
 
 he decided to find the lantern before he tested it. He 
 did n't have to search long for the lantern, for he fell 
 over it almost the next step he took. Finding a sheltered 
 place, he opened the lantern and tried the match. It 
 lighted, flickered uncertainly a moment and then burned 
 steadily. He held it to the wick, closed the door and rais- 
 ing the light looked about him. 
 
 There were seven rowboats and Chub's canoe made 
 fast to the end of the float. It was a little difficult to tell 
 which were Ferry Hill and which Hammond craft, but 
 Roy did n't let that trouble him. For the next ten 
 minutes he was so busy that he forgot his coldness. Once 
 the moon came out for a moment or two, but for the most 
 part it was so dark that the lantern's rays seemed very 
 feeble. Finally, however, the last knot was tied and Roy, 
 blowing out the lantern, slid into one of the Ferry Hill 
 boats and slipped oars into oarlocks. Then, slowly, he 
 headed away in the darkness, and one by one went each 
 of the seven other boats, the canoe dipping along in the 
 rear- For, thought Roy with a chuckle, "what 's sauce 
 for the goose is sauce for the gander." 
 
 I 'm not going to dwell on the next hour. Fortunately 
 there was no wind, and the slight tide was in his favor. 
 There were one or two lights on the opposite shore, but 
 as Roy did n't know where they were they did n't help 
 much, and it was more by good-luck than good manage- 
 ment that he reached it at all. 
 
 When the boat did grate on the shore he leaped out 
 
228 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 with painter in hand and made fast to a rock. Then he 
 returned to the boat and waited as patiently as he could 
 for dawn. But he did n't have to do that, as it proved. 
 He had been nodding there only half an hour perhaps 
 when the moon, which all the night had been trying 
 its best to elude the clouds, positively leaped into view 
 with an effect so startling that Roy almost fell out of the 
 boat. The moon was floating across a little pond of pur- 
 ple-gray sky, the banks of which were piles of fluffy white 
 clouds like snow. But he did n't waste much time in 
 admiring the scene. Swiftly he looked about him. He 
 would have yelled with joy if he had n't been so tired and 
 ileepy, for there, not a dozen yards away along the bank 
 was the boat-house. 
 
 At first he decided to pull the boats out where they 
 were and return to the island without them. Then he 
 determined to see the thing through if it took all the rest 
 of the night. So he pushed off and headed up-stream. 
 By keeping well in toward shore he was soon in the lee 
 of the island where no breeze could reach him. After 
 that, it was simple work. The moon stayed out long 
 enough to guide him to shore and then retired again. 
 A few minutes' work on the beach sufficed to bring all the 
 boats out of the water. He worked quietly, for he had no 
 wish to explain the night's happenings then; he wanted 
 only to tumble into bed and go to sleep. Softly he felt 
 his way through the brush — it was too dark to find the 
 path — crossed the clearing and at length found his tent 
 
ROY VISITS HAMMOND 229 
 
 and crept quietly into bed. The next thing he knew the 
 canvas overhead was a moving pattern of sunlight and 
 shadow and Chub was pulling him out of bed by one 
 foot. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 PERRY HILL CHANGES ITS LEADER 
 
 THE presence of the strange boats on the Inner Beach 
 was not discovered until just before breakfast. Roy 
 had said nothing to anyone of the night's adventures. 
 Otto Ferris was noisily hammering a spoon on a new 
 dish-pan when Kirby burst excitedly on to the scene. 
 
 ' ' Mr. Buckman, there are three new boats on the beach, 
 sir!" 
 
 " New boats?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, rowboats." 
 
 "Where did they come from? Whose are they?" 
 asked the instructor, bewilderedly. 
 
 "I don't know, sir. They 're not ours." 
 
 "Someone must have come in the night/' said Horace. 
 "Maybe campers." 
 
 "Well, after breakfast we '11 have a look around," 
 said Mr. Buckman. 
 
 As soon as grace had been said Roy spoke up. 
 
 "Those boats belong to Hammond, Mr. Buckman,''* 
 he said. 
 
 "To Hammond? How do you know, Porter? What 
 are they doing here?" 
 
 230 
 
FERRY HILL CHANGES ITS LEADER 231 
 
 "I brought them, sir." 
 
 A howl of laughter arose. Mr. Buckman smiled geni- 
 ally. 
 
 "I suppose there 's a joke somewhere," he said. "Get 
 rid of it, Porter." 
 
 "Well, yes, there is a joke, sir," answered Roy quietly. 
 "And I guess it 's on Hammond." 
 
 Something in his tone silenced the laughter and from 
 one end of the trestle table to the other the fellows forgot 
 the sizzling ham and eggs before them and looked eagerly 
 at Roy. 
 
 "You 've been up to something!" cried Chub. 
 
 "I Ve been up half the night," answered Roy. 
 
 Excited yells and exclamations followed this announce- 
 ment. Fellows jumped from their places and crowded 
 about him. 
 
 "Out with it!" they cried. "What 's up? Where 
 did you find the boats? When was it?" 
 
 And so Roy began at the beginning, hugely enjoying 
 the amazement the story created. Time and again he was 
 interrupted by excited questions ; thrice Chub literally 
 fell on his neck and hugged him until torn away by eager 
 members of the audience. And when the story was fin- 
 ished they dragged Roy from the bench and sat upon 
 him and pummelled him joyfully. He was more than 
 satisfied with the sensation he had created; he was even 
 glad for the sake of his aching ribs that it had n't been 
 any greater. And then he was dragged off to the beach 
 and made to go through the narrative all over again,, 
 
232 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 pointing out where he stood and where "Jim" stood, Mr. 
 Buckman following as interestedly as any. And in the 
 middle of it they found the note under the stones. 
 
 " Found ! " (it ran) " Five boats. Owner may have same 
 by applying to Hammond Academy and describing prop- 
 erty." 
 
 "Cheeky dubs!" growled Post. 
 
 Chub, who during the last few minutes had been look- 
 ing grave and sorrowful, broke in aggrievedly. 
 
 "It was mighty mean of you to keep the whole thing 
 to yourself, though," he said. "You might have let me 
 in on it." 
 
 Eoy had to explain the impossibility of doing so, but 
 Chub was disconsolate until, an hour or so later, a boat 
 was seen leaving the Hammond landing. Then the entire 
 camp went to the end of the island and watched in silent 
 enjoyment the approach of the Hammond boat. It held 
 four fellows, and it did n 't head straight for the island ; 
 evidently they were n't quite certain what had become 
 of their boats. They passed the end of the island, each 
 fellow apparently trying to look unconcerned, waved to 
 the group on the point and kept on toward the other 
 shore. But when the Inner Beach was in sight and the 
 boats revealed to view they stopped rowing, talked a 
 minute among themselves and then turned and rowed 
 slowly toward the beach. The campers walked digni. 
 fiedly around to meet them. 
 
 It was a sheepish-looking quartette that beached their 
 boat and advanced toward the group. The leader was 
 
FERRY HILL CHANGES ITS LEADER 233 
 
 Sehonberg. Beside him was a tall, good-looking fellow 
 whom Roy rightfully guessed to be "Jim." Sehonberg 
 spoke first. 
 
 "Hello, you fellows," he said sadly. "You 're mighty 
 smart, are n't you?" 
 
 "So-so," answered Horace amiably. 
 
 "I s'pose we can have our boats?" asked Sehonberg. 
 
 "Help yourself," answered Horace with a grin. 
 
 Sehonberg saw the grin, strove to look unconscious 
 and finally grinned back. That broke the ice. Ferry 
 Hill howled its enjoyment and the three ambassadors 
 joined in, though with less spontaneity. 
 
 "Come on up, you fellows," said Chub. "Let 's 
 chin." 
 
 So they came up and sat down at the edge of the 
 bushes. 
 
 "It 's one on us," said Sehonberg, "is n't it, Jim?" 
 
 Jim laughed, plucked a blade of grass, stuck it in the 
 corner of his mouth and said he guessed it was. 
 
 "What I 'd like to know, though," he added puz- 
 zledly, "is how the dickens you did it." 
 
 "Ask this fellow," suggested Chub, nodding toward 
 Roy. 
 
 The ambassadors looked inquiringly at Roy. Roy ex- 
 plained. The ambassadors opened their eyes, looked 
 blankly incredulous and finally convinced. 
 
 ' ' Well, I '11 be blowed ! ' ' muttered Jim. ' ' That 's what 
 Joyce meant when he asked about my cold ! ' ' 
 
 "What do you think of that?" exclaimed Sehonberg. 
 
234 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 The other two shook their heads, plainly at a loss for 
 words to adequately express just what they did think. 
 Then there were a lot of questions, which Roy answered 
 cheerfully, and finally Schonberg got up. 
 
 ' ' Well, you did us to a turn, ' ' he said frankly. ' ' As for 
 you, Porter, you — " he hesitated; then— "you ought to 
 come to Hammond ! " he finished, evidently bestowing 
 the highest praise he could think of. 
 
 "Thanks," answered Roy with a laugh, "but I was 
 there last night and found it mighty cold." 
 
 "If we 'd known it was you," said Jim, "we might 
 have made it warmer for you." 
 
 "That 's just what I thought, and so I took particular 
 pains not to tell anyone." 
 
 Ferry Hill assisted Hammond to launch her three 
 boats. Hammond expressed her thanks. Each bade the 
 other good-bye. Hammond rowed away. Then the 
 formal politeness of the parting was suddenly marred 
 by one of the ambassadors who had thus far scarcely 
 spoken. He was a thin, scrawny youth and wore glasses. 
 When the boats were a little way off shore and headed 
 toward home he looked defiantly across at the group on 
 the beach and shook his fist. 
 
 ' ' Just you wait until next year, you fresh kids ! " he 
 shouted. Schonberg told him to dry up and Jim splashed 
 him with water, but he of the spectacles would not be 
 stilled. "We '11 show you next time," he added venom- 
 ously. Ferry Hill laughed; all save Post. Post blew a 
 kiss. 
 
FERRY HILL CHANGES ITS LEADER 235 
 
 "All right, dearest!" lie called back. 
 
 "Dearest" replied at some length, but his utterance? 
 were marred by Jim who promptly pulled him backward 
 into the bottom of the boat. So Hammond, acknowledg- 
 ing defeat, took her departure, trailing her recovered 
 war-craft dejectedly behind. 
 
 Ferry Hill was in raptures all day long; and a week 
 later when school had begun once more and the camp 
 was only a memory, Roy found himself a hero indeed. 
 The returning students listened to the tale with wildest 
 delight and Horace Burlen's supremacy was a thing of 
 the past. Only the veriest handful of loyal subjects 
 remained about his fallen throne. Ferry Hill acknow- 
 ledged a new leader, and his name was Roy Porter. 
 
 Horace accepted his overthrow with apparent good 
 grace, but that he was far from reconciled subsequent 
 events proved. Roy took his honors coolly and modestly. 
 A youth less well-balanced might have been badly spoiled. 
 The younger boys followed Roy about and hung breath- 
 less on his lightest word. Quarrels and arguments were 
 laid before him for adjustment and there were always 
 one or more worshiping subjects at hand eager to run his 
 errands. But Roy did his own errands and refused to be 
 spoiled by the adulation of his friends. Horace's over- 
 throw, however, pleased him well. He had never for- 
 gotten or forgiven that youth's insult to his crimson 
 sweater, and revenge was sweet. 
 
 Meanwhile April passed into May and May ran swiftly 
 toward June. Hammond came over and played the first 
 
236 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 of a series of three games on the diamond and won deci- 
 sively hy twelve runs to five. Neither Post nor Kirby 
 proved effective in the pitcher's box and the playing of 
 the other members of the team was listless and slow. 
 Ferry Hill made as many errors as runs and secured 
 only four hits off of Rollins, the opposing pitcher ; who, 
 by the way, proved to be the "Jim" of Roy's midnight 
 adventure. Chub was in despair. Mr. Cobb rated the 
 players soundly after the game and threatened all sorts 
 of dire punishments if they did n't do better. Roy had 
 one error to his credit, but aside from that had played 
 a fairly good game. The second Hammond game was 
 two weeks away and in the meanwhile every effort was 
 made to better the team. Practice became stiffer, and 
 stiffer substitutes were tried in almost every position. 
 Up to the last week of May there had been little to choose 
 between Post and Kirby, but in the game with Highland 
 Academy on the twenty-eighth of the month, Post 
 showed such excellent form that it was decided to save 
 him for the next Hammond contest. 
 
 Affairs on the river were meanwhile promising far 
 better. The first Four was rowing finely, Whitcomb at 
 stroke, Hadden at 2, Burlen at 3 and Gallup at bow 
 Otto Ferris had failed to get out of the second boat, 
 where, with Fernald, Walker and Pearse he was daily 
 making the first row its hardest to win out in the Prac- 
 tice races. 
 
 On the track things were in poor shape. Hammond 
 would not compete with Ferry Hill in track and field 
 
FERRY HILL CHANGES ITS LEADER 237 
 
 games and so there was but little incentive for the latter 
 school. Still, a handful of boys went in for running, 
 hurdling, pole-vaulting, jumping and shot-putting in 
 preparation for the preparatory school meet. 
 
 Those boys who neither rowed, played baseball nor 
 performed on the track — and there were n't many such 
 — essayed golf or went fishing on the river or along one 
 or the other of the two nearby streams. The streams 
 were the more popular, though, for they afforded excel- 
 lent sport with rod and fly, Wissick Creek especially 
 yielding fine trout, principally for the reason that it ran 
 for several miles through private estates and had been 
 carefully preserved for many years. The best pools 
 were posted and once in a great while a case of poach- 
 ing came up before the Principal, but as poaching was 
 held to be a dire offence, punishable with expulsion, the 
 fellows as a general thing contented themselves with such 
 portions of the stream as were open to the public. Of 
 course, fishing on Sunday was strictly prohibited, bux 
 sometimes a boy would wander away from school for a 
 Sunday afternoon walk with a fly-book in his pocket 
 and an unjoin ted rod reposing under his clothes and 
 making him quite stiff-kneed in one leg. Such things 
 will happen in the best regulated schools just as long as 
 trout will rise to a fly and boys' nature remains un- 
 changed. 
 
 Roy and Chub and Bacon and the others making up 
 the first nine had no time, however, in those days, for 
 fishing, either legal or illegal. TLey were busy, very 
 
238 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 busy. And the nearer the second Hammond game ap- 
 proached, the busier they were. Mr. Cobb worked them 
 right up to the eve of that important contest. If they 
 lost it would not be for lack of hard practice. 
 
 All Ferry Hill crossed the river in a blazing June sun, 
 brown and white banners flying, to watch and cheer. 
 Even the crew men postponed rowing until after the 
 game. It was a hard-fought battle from first to last, in 
 which the honors went to the pitchers. Hammond 
 started with her second choice twirler, he giving place 
 in the seventh inning to Jim Rollins. Ferry Hill used 
 Post all through and he did n't fail her. Neither side 
 scored until the fifth, and then Ferry Hill got a man 
 to second on an error, and scored him by making the 
 first hit of the game, a two-bagger that placed Chub on 
 second, where he stayed, while Roy flied out to center-field 
 and brought the inning to a close. In the sixth an error 
 by Bacon, at short, started things going for Hammond. 
 Her first man up stole second. Her next batsman sac- 
 rificed and sent him to third from where he scored on a 
 long fly to the outfield which Patten could n't handle 
 fast enough. Then nothing more happened until the 
 eighth, when Bacon was hit by Rollins, stole second, 
 went to third on a sacrifice and scored on a passed ball. 
 Hammond failed to solve Post's curves in their half of 
 that inning, Ferry Hill had no better luck in the first 
 of the ninth and Hammond, in the last half of the 
 ninth, placed a man on first and then went out 
 in one, two, three order. 
 
FERRY HILL CHANGES ITS LEADER 239 
 
 Ferry Hill had won, but she had won on errors largely, 
 and the outlook for the deciding game, when Rollins 
 would pitch all through, was far from bright. But at 
 least Ferry Hill had rendered that third game neces- 
 sary, and that was something to be thankful for. And 
 the fact that she had played with vim and snap and had 
 made but two errors was encouraging. Ferry Hill went 
 home with banners still flying and her cheers echoing 
 back from shore to shore. And Roy, because he had ac- 
 cepted every chance and had played a faultless game 
 at first-base, found himself more of a hero than ever. 
 
 More practice followed, interspersed with minor con- 
 tests with neighboring schools. Ferry Hill seemed to 
 have found her pace, for she disposed of three visiting 
 nines in short order, and on the Saturday following the 
 Hammond victory traveled down-river and won from 
 Prentice Military Academy by the overwhelming score 
 of 16 to 2. Chub's spirits had risen since the last Ham- 
 mond game and it was his old self that tumbled upstairs 
 from the Junior Dormitory the next morning before 
 rising bell and snuggled into Roy's cot. 
 
 "Get over, you log," he whispered, "and give me 
 some room." 
 
 ' ' Room ! You 've got the whole bed now ! If Cobb 
 sees you — " 
 
 ' ' Let him ; who cares ? Say, Roy, let 's go fishing to- 
 day. I feel just like it." 
 
 "And get found out and put on inner bounds? No; 
 thanks!" 
 
240 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "AA 7 e won't get found out, Roy, my boy. We '11 just 
 go for a walk this afternoon and take a couple of rods 
 with us. 
 
 "I '11 borrow one for you. I Ve got flies to burn. 
 We '11 go to a place I know, a dandy hole ; regular whales 
 there ! What do you say ? ' ' 
 
 "I say you 're a silly chump to risk it." 
 
 ' ' Tommy rot ! Come along ! ' ' 
 
 "I '11 go along, but I won't fish." 
 
 "What a good little boy!" 
 
 "That 's all right, Chub, but I don't want to go on 
 bounds just when the Hammond game is coming along. 
 It 's only a week, you know. You take my advice and be 
 good." 
 
 "I can't be good — to-day. I feel too kittenish," 
 added Chub with a gurgle of laughter. "There goes the 
 bell. Will you come?" 
 
 "Yes, but won't fish." 
 
 ' ' Oh, pshaw ! Yes, you will. I '11 borrow a rod for 
 you anyhow." 
 
 And Chub slipped out of bed and scampered down- 
 stairs again. 
 
 At three o'clock two boys sauntered idly away from 
 school in the direction of the river. One of them held 
 himself rather stiffly and his side pocket bulged more 
 than usual. But there was no one to notice these trivial 
 things. Once on the river bank they doubled back and 
 struck inland toward the Silver Cove road, Chub leading 
 the way. 
 
FERRY HILL CHANGES ITS LEADER 241 
 
 "Gee!" he said, "I '11 be glad when I can take these 
 poles out ! They 're mighty uncomfortable. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Did you bring two ? ' ' asked Roy. 
 
 ' ' Sure ! When you see the way those trout bite you '11 
 want to take a hand yourself. I borrowed Tom's. Otto 
 Ferris had to come nosing around and saw it, but he 
 won 't tell. If he does I '11 make him wish he had n 't ! " 
 
 "He might tell Horace," said Roy uneasily. "If 
 Horace thought he could get me into trouble he 'd do it 
 mighty quick." 
 
 "Oh, he 's a back-number," answered Chub gaily. 
 ' ' This way, over the fence and across the pasture ; it 's 
 only about a quarter of a mile from here. ' ' 
 
 Soon they were treading their way along the bank of 
 a fairly wide brook, pushing through the alders and 
 young willows. After a while Chub stopped and jointed 
 his pole. 
 
 "You 're going to fish, are n't you?" he asked. 
 
 Roy shook his head. 
 
 "No, especially since there 's a chance that Ferris 
 will tell Horace. I don't want to get hung up for the 
 Hammond game. You go ahead, if you 've got to, and 
 I '11 watch." 
 
 "All right, if you won't. What 's that?" 
 
 He started and turned, peering intently through the 
 bushes. 
 
 "Thought I heard someone," he muttered. 
 
 "Hope it was n't Cobb or Buckman," said Roy fer- 
 vently. 
 
242 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "Oh, they don't spy," answered Chub, selecting a 
 grey fly from a pocket of the book that had swelled his 
 pocket. "Well, here goes for that nice black place over 
 there where the little eddy is." 
 
 The line flashed in the air and fell softly into the 
 shadowed water. After that Chub seemed to forget 
 Roy's presence entirely. Roy leaned back with hands 
 clasped behind his head and watched ; that is, he watched 
 for a while ; then his eyelids closed and with the babble 
 of the stream and the drowsy hum of insects for a lul- 
 laby he went to sleep. 
 
 When he awoke the shadows had lengthened percept- 
 ibly and Chub was not in sight. From the cramped con- 
 dition of his neck and arm he judged that he had slept 
 hard and long. He got to his feet and called softly. 
 There was no answer. Evidently Chub had wandered 
 further along stream. Roy waited a while, then, as it 
 was fast approaching supper-time, he started home. As 
 he reached the fence back of the athletic field Chub 
 jumped into the road a few rods above and hurried 
 toward him. 
 
 ' ' You 're a great one, ' ' called Roy. ' ' I waited almost 
 half an hour for you to come back there." 
 
 "I 'm awfully sorry," said Chub. "You see I 
 could n't get even a nibble there and so I thought I 'd 
 go on up-stream. You were having a lovely sleep and I 
 hated to wake you. I tried two or three pools and found 
 nothing doing. Did n't get even a bite all afternoon. 
 
FERKY HILL CHANGES ITS LEADER 243 
 
 And when I got back you were gone. "What did you do 
 with Tom's pole?" 
 
 ' ' Tom 's pole ? ' ' echoed Roy blankly. 
 
 "Yes, did you leave it there? I could n't see it." 
 
 ' ' Why, it was n 't there ! At least, I don 't think it 
 was. Are you sure you did n't take it with you?" 
 
 ' ' Sure ; I only had my own. That 's funny. It 's too 
 late to go back now. I '11 go up in the morning and see 
 if I can find it. If I can't I '11 have to buy him another 
 one." 
 
 "I '11 do the buying," answered Roy. "You borrowed 
 the old thing for me." 
 
 "Nonsense; it 's my funeral. You said you did n't 
 want it, and I insisted on getting it for you. Well, 
 maybe I '11 find it. Come on, we '11 have to hurry a bit. ' ' 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE POACHING 
 
 WHEN Otto Ferris had happened into the Senior Dor- 
 mitory in time to see Tom Forrest hand his fishing- 
 rod to Chub he had thought nothing of it. And 
 when, having found the book he was after, he re- 
 turned to the Campus and ran into Horace he men- 
 tioned the incident as a mere bit of unimportant 
 news; on a drowsy Sunday afternoon nothing is too 
 slight to serve as conversation. Horace settled himself 
 with his back to a big elm tree and thought it over. 
 
 If Doctor Emery should learn of the fact that Chub 
 and Roy had gone fishing he would promptly punish 
 them. But the punishment would be something not 
 worth considering. But if, by chance, the two boys were 
 detected fishing on private property, say on old Farmer 
 Mercer's territory, they would suffer badly; they might 
 even be expelled. Horace did n't want anything as bad 
 as that to happen to Chub, for he only half disliked 
 that youth, but he could n 't think of anything that would 
 please him more than to see Roy Porter leave school in 
 
 244 
 
THE POACHING 245 
 
 disgrace. In that case he could, he believed, very quickly 
 regain his former leadership. 
 
 In a few minutes he had thought out a scheme which 
 might work, and which, if it did work, would probably 
 bring about the results desired. It was risky, but Hor- 
 ace was n't a coward, whatever his other faults were. 
 He looked about. Otto was deep in his book under the 
 next tree. Horace smiled to himself and called across to 
 him. Otto listened to the scheme with avidity and 
 promptly pledged assistance. 
 
 "What you 've got to do," directed Horace, "is to 
 get the sweater. He keeps it in the top tray of his trunk ; 
 I saw it there a couple of days ago when he opened it." 
 
 "But supposing it 's locked?" 
 
 "I don't believe it 's locked," answered Horace. 
 "Anyhow, you go up and see. I '11 wait here." 
 
 "Well, but— but why don't you do it?" blurted Otto. 
 
 "Now don't you begin to ask questions," replied 
 Horace severely. "You do as you 're told. If you don't 
 you may have trouble keeping your place in the second 
 boat." 
 
 "That 's all right," whined Otto, "but you more than 
 half promised to get me into the first, and you have n't 
 done it." 
 
 ' ' I said I would if I could, ' ' answered the other coolly. 
 "If you could row as well as Whitcomb I 'd give you 
 his place, but I 'm not going to risk losing the race 
 just to please you. Run along now." 
 
 Otto went, but was soon back again. 
 
246 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "I can't do it," he said. "Tom Forrest 's up there 
 asleep on his bed." 
 
 "Lazy chump," muttered Horace crossly. "Wait; 
 I '11 come along." 
 
 There was no doubt of the fact that Tom was sleeping. 
 His snoring reached them outside the door. Horace and 
 Otto tiptoed in and the former considered the situation. 
 Then, motioning Otto toward Roy's trunk which stood 
 beside the head of his cot, he placed himself so as to 
 watch Forrest and cut off that youth 's view of the trunk. 
 Otto crept to the trunk. It was unlocked and the crim- 
 son sweater lay in the top of the till. Down came the 
 lid again noiselessly and Otto retreated to the door, the 
 sweater stuffed under his coat. Horace crept after him. 
 
 "All right so far," murmured Horace as they went 
 softly downstairs. "Now we '11 take a walk. Can't 
 you stuff that thing away better than that? You look 
 like an alderman. Here, I '11 show you." 
 
 He folded it flatly and laid it against Otto's chest, 
 buttoning his coat over it. 
 
 ' ' That 's better. Now we '11 cross the field and take a 
 nice quiet walk. And if anyone ever asks you where we 
 went you remember to say that we walked down the Sil- 
 ver Cove road as far as the branch and came back again. 
 We went very slow, remember, and were gone about an 
 hour." 
 
 But once on the road, instead of following it toward 
 the village they crossed it and made up through the 
 woods. When they reached the creek they turned up 
 
THE POACHING 247 
 
 it and went stealthily, keeping a sharp lookout .for 
 Chub and Roy. As it was, in spite of their caution, they 
 very nearly walked on to them at the deep pool, and had 
 they not fallen instantly to the ground would have been 
 detected. Afraid to move away lest the rustling of the 
 branches prompt the others to investigate, they had 
 to lay there for fully a quarter of an hour while Chub 
 whipped the pool and Roy went off to sleep. Then they 
 saw Chub wind in his line, glance at Roy and move 
 toward them. Luckily for them, however, Chub took it 
 into his head to try the opposite side and so crossed over 
 on the stones and passed them by. They waited until he 
 had slowly taken himself down-stream. Then Horace 
 sat up and saw the idle pole lying on the ground almost 
 at Roy's feet. It was Otto who finally, after much per- 
 suasion and threatening, crept over and secured it with- 
 out arousing the sleeper. Then, making a little detour, 
 they went on up the creek. 
 
 Five minutes brought them to the edge of Farmer 
 Mercer's property and in view of a placard threatening 
 dire punishment to trespassers. Horace now donned the 
 crimson sweater, threw his coat to Otto and jointed up 
 the pole. 
 
 ' ' Wish I had a line and fly, ' ' he muttered. « ' They '11 
 think he was a cra^y sort of fisherman, I guess." 
 
 Leaving Otto at the wall, he clambered over and stole 
 on. A couple of hundred yards further on there was a 
 place where the meadow came down to the stream and 
 where there were neither bushes nor trees to screen it. 
 
248 THE CEIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 It was in full view of Farmer Mercer's big white house 
 which lay perhaps an eighth of a mile away across the 
 meadow. Here Horace, a readily-distinguished crimson 
 spot against the green of the farther trees, halted and 
 went through the motions of casting his line. But all 
 the time, you may be sure, he kept one eye on the white 
 house. He had landed just one mythical trout and was 
 preparing to cast again when his eye caught a dark fig- 
 ure stealing along the porch toward the meadow gate. 
 Out flew the non-existent line. Through the gate hurried 
 Farmer Mercer. Then, as though catching sight of the 
 latter for the first time, Horace became apparently panic- 
 stricken. He dropped his pole, picked it up again, 
 looked this way and that for escape, made as though 
 tossing a trout back into the stream, and finally, when 
 the farmer was less than two hundred yards away, 
 dropped his pole again and plunged into the bushes. 
 
 "Hi!" shouted the pursuer. "Hi! Come back, you 
 rascal ! ' ' 
 
 But Horace refused the invitation. Instead he made 
 for the spot where Otto was awaiting him, running, how- 
 ever, so slowly that the farmer had him in sight 
 for fully a minute as he threaded his way through the 
 trees along the creek. The farmer's cries con- 
 tinued and the farmer still pursued, trying his 
 best to head off the fugitive. But he was running a los- 
 ing race, for when Horace picked up Otto they ran in 
 earnest and all the farmer had for his trouble was a dis- 
 
THE POACHING 24& 
 
 carded fishing pole minus line or hook and a vivid mem- 
 ory of a crimson sweater. 
 
 The two boys made a short cut for the school, but, as 
 luck would have it, when they reached the dormitory 
 the troublesome Tom Forrest was wide awake. So Hor- 
 ace, who had stowed the sweater under his own coat 
 this time, had to cmuggle it under his pillow and await 
 Tom's departure. But Tom apparently had no present 
 intention of leaving. And a few minutes later Chub and 
 Roy clattered in. When they saw Horace and Otto they 
 deferred telling Tom about his pole, and Chub laid him- 
 self down, very stiffly because of his own pole, on Roy's 
 bed. Conversation languished. Horace mentioned the 
 fact that he and Otto had been for a walk and Chub 
 replied that they too had taken a stroll. Both sides 
 waited for the others to leave. Suddenly the supper beil 
 rang. Horace went to the wash-room and Otto followed. 
 Chub slipped off downstairs and Roy told Tom about 
 the pole. Tom good-naturedly told him to let the old 
 thing go. Then Roy, by the merest chance, noticed that 
 his trunk was unlocked, turned the key, slipped it into 
 his pocket and followed Tom down to supper. A moment 
 after when Horace went to return the sweater to its 
 place he found that he was too late. After a second of 
 indecision he opened his own trunk and hid the garment 
 down at the bottom of it. Then he locked the trunk 
 securely and, with Otto at his heels, followed the others. 
 
 It was at half-past nine the next morning that Roy 
 
250 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 was summoned to the Principal's office. A rather stout, 
 hard-featured man of middle-age whom Roy had never 
 seen before to his knowledge, sat beside the Doctor 's desk. 
 
 ' ' Porter, ' ' said the Doctor, ' ' does this belong to you ? ' ' 
 
 He took a fishing-rod from the desk and held it out. 
 Roy looked at it and shook his head. 
 
 "No, sir," he answered. 
 
 "Do you know whose it is?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Do you own a fishing-rod?" 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Where were you yesterday afternoon at — " The 
 Doctor looked inquiringly at the stranger. 
 
 "Four o'clock," prompted the latter gruffly, viewing 
 Roy with unfriendly gaze. Roy hesitated and his heart 
 sank. Then, 
 
 "I was asleep, sir," he answered. 
 
 "Ah!" The Principal paused and tapped softly on 
 the polished surface of the desk. Then, "In the dor- 
 mitory, you mean? ' he asked. 
 
 "No, sir, I was n't in the dormitory." 
 
 "Not in the dormitory? But you just said you were 
 asleep ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, sir, 1 was." 
 
 "Whereabouts, then?" 
 
 "By Wissick Creek, at what the fellows call the Deep 
 Hole." 
 
 The stranger snorted triumphantly. 
 
THE POACHING 251 
 
 "Why did you go there to sleep?" asked Doctor 
 Emery. 
 
 "Why, sir, I — I was out walking and — and I laid 
 down and got sleepy. So I just went to sleep." 
 
 He knew that it sounded awfully silly and unconvinc- 
 ing. Evidently the Doctor thought so too, for he smiled 
 gently and regretfully. 
 
 "Don't you think that 's rather a strange tale to tell, 
 Porter?" 
 
 "It 's the truth, sir." 
 
 "It 's a tarnation lie, that 's what it is," said the 
 stranger vindictively. Eoy turned hotly. 
 
 "It is n't a lie," he cried. "And I don't know what 
 business it is of yours, anyhow ! ' ' 
 
 "Well, I rather guess it 's my business — " began the 
 other. But Doctor Emery held up a hand. 
 
 "Leave him to me, if you please, Mr. Mercer," he 
 said quietly. "Porter, this gentleman tells me that he 
 discovered a boy, presumably one of my boys, fishing at 
 the bottom of his meadow at about four o'clock yester- 
 day afternoon. The boy saw him coming and ran away, 
 leaving this pole behind him. The boy wore — " 
 
 ' ' Ask him what he wore, ' ' interrupted Farmer Mercer. 
 
 "Just what I have on now," answered Roy. "And 
 this cap," he added, holding it forth. 
 
 "Yes, you had a cap all right," said the farmer. 
 "But I don't suppose you happened to have on a red 
 sweater, eh? A dark red one.?" 
 
252 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "No, I did n't, sir," replied Roy. 
 
 "You have such a sweater, I understand, however," 
 said the Doctor. 
 
 "Yes, sir, I have a crimson sweater." 
 
 ' ' That 's what it was, crimson, ' ' said the farmer. 
 
 "But I did n't wear it yesterday. I have n't had it 
 on since camp." 
 
 ' ' Have you loaned it to any one recently ? ' ' asked the 
 Doctor. 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Where is it kept?" 
 
 "In my trunk." 
 
 "Could any one borrow it without your knowing of 
 it?" 
 
 "Why, I suppose so, sir; that is, if my trunk was un- 
 locked." 
 
 "Do you keep it unlocked?" 
 
 "No, sir, not very often." 
 
 "Then you think it would have been impossible for 
 anyone to have taken it without your knowledge?" 
 
 "I think it would, sir." 
 
 "Do you know of anyone else in school who has a red 
 sweater ? ' ' 
 
 "No, sir. Gallup has a red and white striped one." 
 
 "There was n't no stripes on the one I saw," said 
 Farmer Mercer decidedly. 
 
 "Porter," said the Doctor after a moment's silence. 
 "I 'm sorry that I can't bring myself to believe your 
 story. Is there anyone who can substantiate it? Were 
 you alone yesterday afternoon?" 
 
THE POACHING 253 
 
 "X 'm sorry, sir, that you won't believe me. I was n't 
 :>n this man's land yesterday, and I don't think I ever 
 was. Anyhow, I never fished on it. I 've never fished 
 since I came here." 
 
 ' ' I hope you are telling the truth, ' ' answered the Doc- 
 tor gently. "But circumstantial evidence is sadly 
 against you. There is no one who can prove that you 
 were at the Deep Hole at four o'clock?" 
 
 "No, sir, no one knows that I was there at that time.'* 
 Chub, he reflected, had left him at least a quarter of an 
 hour before and so could n't have been sure of his where- 
 abouts at four o'clock. 
 
 "Hm! That 's unfortunate," said the Doctor. He 
 turned to Farmer Mercer. ' ' I don 't think I need trouble 
 you to remain, sir. I regret deeply that this has occurred 
 and assure you that punishment will be justly meted out 
 to the culprit." 
 
 The farmer arose. 
 
 "It 's got to be stopped, Doctor," he said. "As for 
 the culprit you 've got him right here. That 's the boy 
 without a doubt. Put him in his red sweater and I '11 
 tell you mighty quick. Just about his height he was, 
 and kinder slimmish like. Well, you know you own busi- 
 ness best. Good morning, Doctor." 
 
 And the farmer passed out with a final ugly look at 
 Koy. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 ON INNER BOUNDS 
 
 T) Y NOON the news was all over school : Roy Porter 
 -*-' was on inner bounds for the rest of the term! 
 
 "Emmy told him," confided Sid importantly to a 
 group of Juniors and Middlers awaiting the dinner sum- 
 mons on the steps of Burgess, "that if it was n't for his 
 good record all year he would have suspended him ! ' ' 
 
 "Gee!" quoth the youngest boy in school, "that 's 
 pretty fierce, just for fishing on Sunday ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' He was poaching, ' ' explained Sid. ' ' Anyhow, Emmy 
 says he was. Old Mercer swears he saw him on his place 
 yesterday afternoon. Why, a couple of years ago there 
 was a fellow fired for poaching ! ' ' 
 
 "Gee !" echoed the youngest again in wide-eyed amaze. 
 
 "Well, Sid, who '11 play first?" asked another of the 
 audience. Sid shook his head dispiritedly. 
 
 "Patten, I s'pose. I think it 's a beast of a shame, 
 that 's what I think ! Take a fellow off the nine just five 
 days before the big game ! Of course Hammond '11 lick 
 us." 
 
 "Sure!" was the concurrent opinion. 
 254 
 
ON INNER BOUNDS 255 
 
 "If Patten goes back to first you may get his place at 
 right-field/' suggested the youngest boy. 
 
 "Maybe I will," answered Sid gloomily, "but who 
 wants to play if Roy 's out of it ? " 
 
 And the countenances of the audience answered: 
 
 "Who indeed?" 
 
 "I '11 bet if we wanted to we could get him back on the 
 nine, ' ' said Sid presently. 
 
 "How?" asked half a dozen voices eagerly. 
 
 ' ' Oh, I know a way, ' ' was the unsatisfying reply. 
 
 "Go on and tell us, Sid!" 
 
 "I would if you 'd promise never to tell anyone, cross 
 your heart and hope to die. ' ' 
 
 Everyone promised instantly and fervidly. 
 
 "Supposing, then," resumed Sid, "that a whole raft of 
 us were caught fishing on old Mercer's place. What 
 would happen?" 
 
 "We 'd all get suspended," piped up the youngest boy 
 promptly. 
 
 "Inner bounds," suggested someone else. 
 
 ' ' Huh ! I guess not ! It is n 't likely Emmy would sus- 
 pend half the school," replied Sid scornfully. "He 'd 
 see the injustice of it, of course, and give us all a good 
 blowing up and let us go. And if he let us go he 'd have 
 to let Roy off too. It would be a — a — " Sid paused for a 
 word — "it would be in the nature of a popular protest!" 
 
 "That 's so," said one of the number. "He could n't 
 punish all of us very well." 
 
 "He might, though," muttered the youngest uneasily. 
 
256 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "Oh, we don't want you in it," answered Sid con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 ' ' 1 'm going if the rest do, ' ' was the dogged answer. 
 
 "We 'd ought to get a whole lot of fellows, though," 
 one of the Middlers said. 
 
 "Yes, about twenty," answered Sid. "We can do it, 
 too, you bet ! Supposing we call a meeting of the Mid- 
 dlers and Juniors for this afternoon after supper?" 
 
 ' ' Good scheme ! Whereabouts ? ' ' 
 
 "At the boat-house. You fellows tell it around, but 
 don 't say what the meeting 's about. If you do Emmy '11 
 hear of it, sure. ' ' 
 
 Then the dinner bell rang and the informal conclave 
 broke up. 
 
 "Wait for me after dinner," whispered Chub to Roy 
 at the table. ' ' I want to see you. ' ' 
 
 "All right," answered Roy cheerfully. 
 
 He was trying very hard to hide the fact that he was 
 terribly down in the mouth. The half -curious, wholly 
 sympathetic looks of his companions followed him all 
 through the meal and he was glad when it was over. 
 Chub caught up with him on the steps and together they 
 crossed the walk and found seats under one of the elms 
 well away from possible eavesdroppers. 
 
 "Tell me all about it," demanded Chub, scowling 
 fiercely. 
 
 So Roy told him. 
 
 "You don't think he will let you off in time for the 
 game Saturday?" asked Chub. 
 
ON INNER BOUNDS 257 
 
 "No, I 'm pretty sure he won't. He 's dead certain it 
 was me that Mercer saw. ' ' 
 
 Chub jumped to his feet. 
 
 ' ' Where are you going ? ' ' asked Roy suspiciously. 
 
 "To see Emmy," was the answer. "I '11 tell him that 
 you did n 't wear your red sweater and that you could n 't 
 have been on old Mercer's place because you were with 
 me." 
 
 "Don't be a fool!" said Roy. "What 's the good of 
 getting into trouble yourself ? He '11 ask what you were 
 doing and you '11 have to 'f ess up ; and then the nine 
 won't have any captain on Saturday." 
 
 "I don't care," answered Chub stubbornly. "I got 
 you into the hole and the least I can do is to get you out. ' ' 
 
 "But you would n't get me out! You 'd just throw 
 yourself in with me. Look here, now, Chub ; Emmy is n 't 
 going to take any stock in your story. He '11 just think 
 that we concocted it between us this morning. Besides, 
 you left me for almost an hour and you can't swear that 
 I did n 't go over to Mercer 's while you were gone. It 's 
 only a quarter of a mile from where you left me. ' ' 
 
 "But you were asleep !" 
 
 ' ' So you say. ' ' 
 
 "Well, were n't you?" 
 
 "Yes, but Emmy won't believe it. He '11 think we 
 were both out fishing and that I went to Mercer's; and 
 instead of being minus a first baseman on Saturday the 
 team will be short a first baseman and a second baseman 
 too; also a captain." 
 
 »7 
 
258 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "But it is n't fair/' cried Chub. "I was the only one 
 that fished, and now you 're getting the blame for it. It 
 was all my fault, anyhow ; I made you go along when you 
 did n 't want to. ' ' 
 
 1 ' Nonsense ; I did n 't have to go. ' ' 
 
 "But you went to please me." 
 
 "Oh, well, what if I did?" 
 
 "It is n't fair," muttered Chub. "If I play in that 
 game and you don't I '11 feel like a brute." 
 
 "You don't need to, Chub. Besides, there 's the school 
 to think of. You know plaguey well we '11 get done up 
 brown if you don't play — " 
 
 1 ' We will anyway, I guess, ' ' interpolated Chub sadly. 
 
 " — And that is n't fair to the nine and the school. 
 You 've got to do everything you can to win that game, 
 Chub. You don't suppose that I mind being out of it if 
 we 're going to win, do you ? ' ' 
 
 "But we need you, Roy ! Who 's going to play first?" 
 
 ' ' Patten, of course ; he can do it. ' ' 
 
 "He can't bat like you can." 
 
 ' ' He '11 do all right, ' ' answered Roy cheerfully. ' ' Now 
 you keep your mouth shut, old man, Avill you ? ' ' 
 
 "I suppose so," Chub muttered. "But I had n't 
 ought to. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, you had, too. I 'm not the main thing, Chub; 
 there 's the school. ' ' 
 
 "You 're a brick," said Chub. "All right; I '11 keep 
 mum as long as you want me to. But if you change your 
 mind all you 've got to do is to say so and I '11 do all I 
 
ON INNER BOUNDS 259 
 
 can with Emmy. Promise to tell me if you change your 
 mind ? ' ' 
 
 "Honor bright; but I sha' n't change it ; I don't mind, 
 Chub, as long as we win." 
 
 "Win ! Thunder, we are n't going to win ! We 're go- 
 ing to get everlastingly walloped ! ' ' 
 
 "No, we 're not," answered Roy hopefully. "We 're 
 going to win ; you see. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Look here, ' ' said Chub after a moment 's silence, ' ' you 
 did n't poach on Mercer and I did n't. Who the dickens 
 did?" 
 
 "I can't imagine. I dare say it was some fellow from 
 the village. ' ' 
 
 "With a crimson sweater on? Not likely. I suppose 
 it could n 't have been your sweater, eh ? " 
 
 Roy shook his head. 
 
 "How do you know?" pursued Chub. 
 
 " 'Cause mine was locked in my trunk." 
 
 "Sure?" 
 
 "Certain." 
 
 "Someone might have had a key that fitted the lock, 
 though. ' ' 
 
 "They might have, but — " Roy paused and scowled 
 thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, Chub, my trunk 
 was n't locked yesterday afternoon. I remember now 
 I locked it after we got back." 
 
 ' ' Was the sweater there ? ' ' 
 
 "I did n't look." 
 
 Chub whistled softly. 
 
260 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "Bet you anything some fellow swiped it and wore it," 
 he declared. "Let 's go see if he put it back." 
 
 They hurried up to the dormitory and Roy unlocked 
 his trunk, threw back the lid and opened the till. 
 
 "I thought I left it here on top," he muttered, diving 
 through the contents of the till. "Maybe I put it under- 
 neath, though. ' ' Out came the till and out came most of 
 the contents of the trunk. But there was no crimson 
 sweater. Roy turned to Chub in distress. 
 
 "I don't care if they took it," he said, "but I hope 
 they '11 bring it back ! I would n't lose that sweater for 
 anything ! ' ' 
 
 "Lock your trunk again," said Chub 7 "and let 's get 
 out of here. Some one 's coming. Let 's go somewhere 
 and think it over." 
 
 "If we only knew who was away from school yester- 
 day afternoon, ' ' said Roy when they were once more un- 
 der the trees. 
 
 "We know that Ferris and Burlen were," answered 
 Chub suggestively. "They said so." 
 
 ' ' And Ferris saw you borrow that pole from Tom ! ' ' 
 said Roy. Chub sat up suddenly. 
 
 "I '11 bet that was Tom 's pole that old Mercer brought 
 with him ! " he cried. 
 
 "But you left it at Deep Hole, and I did n't leave 
 there until long after four, I guess." 
 
 ' ' But you said you did n 't see it when you left ! ' ' 
 
 "That 's so; I 'm pretty sure it was n't there," an- 
 swered Roy, thinking hard. "But how could anyone have 
 got it?" 
 
ON INNER BOUNDS 261 
 
 "Don't know, but I '11 bet someone did. They might 
 have sneaked up while you were asleep. Horace Burl en 
 could do it." 
 
 They looked at each other a moment in silence. Then, 
 
 " If he took the sweater I '11 bet he 's thrown it away, ' ' 
 said Roy sorrowfully. "He would n't be likely to bring 
 it back again. ' ' 
 
 "Why not? He found the trunk unlocked and maybe 
 thought he could put it back again without anyone know- 
 ing anything about it. See? That 's just about what 
 happened, Roy. I '11 bet he did the whole thing to 
 get you in trouble." 
 
 "Was n't Tom in the dormitory when we got there?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 ' ' Then maybe he was there when Horace got back ; and 
 Horace could n't get at my trunk without being seen." 
 
 "What do you suppose he 'd do with it?" asked Chub. 
 
 Roy shook his head. 
 
 ' ' Put it in his own trunk maybe, ' ' he answered. 
 
 "Come on," said Chub. 
 
 Back to the Senior Dormitory they hurried, for each 
 of them had an examination at two and it was almost that 
 hour now. The dormitory was empty and Chub stood 
 guard at the head of the stairs while Roy crossed the 
 room and examined Horace's trunk. 
 
 ' ' Locked, ' ' he announced softly. 
 
 Chub joined him and they stood for a moment looking 
 at the trunk as though striving to get an X-ray view of 
 its contents. 
 
 "Maybe we could find a key to fit it, " whispered Chub. 
 
262 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "I would n't like to do that," answered Roy, shaking 
 his head. 
 
 ' ' No more would I, ' ' answered Chub, ' ' but I 'd do it if 
 I was just a little more certain that the thing was in 
 there. I 'd like to bust it open with an axe," he added 
 savagely. ' ' 
 
 Then the two o 'clock bell rang and they hurried down- 
 stairs. 
 
 "Keep mum about it," said Chub, "and we '11 get to 
 the bottom of it yet." 
 
 1 ' The trunk ? ' ' asked Roy with a weak effort at humor. 
 
 1 ' You bet ! ' ' was the answer. 
 
 Roy watched practice that afternoon. He stood on the 
 school side of the hedge which marked inner bounds and, 
 out of sight himself, saw Patten playing on first. It was 
 lonely work and after a while the figures on the green 
 diamond grew blurred and misty. Then, suddenly, 
 Brother Laurence's advice came back to him and Roy 
 brushed the back of his hand across his eyes and turned 
 away. 
 
 ' ' ' When you 're down on your luck, ' " he murmured, 
 " 'Grin as hard as you can grin.' " 
 
 So he tried his best to grin, and made rather a sorry 
 affair of it until he spied Harry walking toward the ten- 
 nis courts with her racket in hand. He hailed her and 
 she waited for him to come up. 
 
 "I 'm awfully sorry, Roy," she greeted him. "I told 
 dad you did n't do it." 
 
 "And he believed you at once," said Roy despondently 
 
ON INNER BOUNDS 263 
 
 "N-no, he did n't," answered Harry. "He— lie 's a 
 little bit stupid sometimes; I often tell him so." 
 
 Roy laughed in spite of his sorrow. 
 
 ' ' What does he say then ? " he asked. 
 
 ' ' Oh, he just smiles, ' ' answered Harry resentfully. ' ' I 
 hate people to smile at you when they ought to answer, 
 don't you?" 
 
 Roy supposed he did. And then, in another minute, 
 they were side by side on the stone coping about the stable 
 yard and Roy was telling Harry everything, even to the 
 examining of Horace's trunk and the reason for it. 
 
 ' ' That 's it ! " cried Harry with the utmost conviction. 
 "He did it! I know he did!" 
 
 "How do you know it?" asked Roy. 
 
 "Oh, I just do ! I don't care if he is my cousin ; he 's 
 as mean — ! ' ' 
 
 "Well, suspecting him won't do any good," said Roy. 
 "We can't see into the trunk. And, anyhow, maybe he 
 did n 't bring the sweater back at all. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, he did too," answered Harry. "Don't you see 
 he 'd want to put it back again so that you could n't say 
 that someone had taken it and worn it ? It 's there, in his 
 trunk. ' ' 
 
 "And I guess it '11 stay there," said Roy hopelessly. 
 "He won't be fool enough to take it out now." 
 
 "Could n't you make him open his trunk?" 
 
 "I don't see how. I could n't go and tell him I sus- 
 pected him of having stolen my sweater; not without 
 more proof than I 've got now. ' ' 
 
264 THE CEIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 "I suppose not," answered Harry thoughtfully, her 
 chin in her hand and the heel of one small shoe beating a 
 restless tattoo on the wall. "You might — " she lowered 
 her voice and looked about guiltily — "you might break 
 it open ! ' ' 
 
 "And supposing it was n't there?" 
 
 ' ' But it is there ! ' ' cried Harry. ' ' I know it is ! " 
 
 "Wish I did," grunted Roy. 
 
 "Well, we '11 just have to think of a way," said Harry 
 presently, arousing herself from her reverie. "And now 
 I must go on, because I promised to play tennis with Jack 
 Rogers. I 'm sorry. ' ' 
 
 "That 's all right," answered Roy. "I — I 've got 
 some studying to do, anyhow. ' ' 
 
 Harry turned upon him with alarm in her face. 
 
 "Now don't you go doing anything desperate, Roy 
 Porter!" she commanded. "You just sit still and hold 
 light and— and it '11 come out all right. You leave it to 
 tie!" 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 SID'S "POPULAR PROTEST" — AND WHAT FOLLOWED 
 
 HARRY and Jack played one set of tennis, which re. 
 suited, owing largely to Harry's evident preoccu- 
 pation, in an easy win for Jack, 6—3. 
 
 ' ' Look here, Harry, you do n't really want to plaj* 
 tennis, do you?" asked Jack. 
 
 Harry started and flushed guiltily. 
 
 "Do you mind?" she asked. 
 
 "Not a bit," he answered. "What 's bothering yout 
 Methuselah got a headache? Or has Lady Grey eaten 
 one of the white mice?" 
 
 Harry shook her head. 
 
 "I wish I could tell you, Jack, but it 's not my 
 secret," she answered regretfully and a trifle impor- 
 tantly. "Do you — would you mind taking a walk?" 
 
 "No; where to?" 
 
 "Over to the Mercers'." 
 
 Jack thought he could guess then what Harry was 
 troubled about, but he said nothing, and they cut across 
 the orchard, in which a few trees of early apples were 
 already beginning to ripen their fruit, and headed for 
 Farmer Mercer's. 
 
 Harry was a great favorite with Mrs. Mercer and was 
 
 265 
 
266 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 cordially greeted. They had root beer and vanilla cookies 
 on the front porch, and then, leaving Jack and Mrs. 
 Mercer to entertain each other, Harry ran off to the 
 barn to find the farmer. She was back again in a few 
 minutes and she and Jack took their leave. 
 
 "Well, did you discover anything?" asked Jack when 
 they were once more on the road hurrying homeward. 
 Harry shot a startled glance at him. Jack was smiling. 
 
 "No," she answered disappointedly. "How 'd you 
 know?" 
 
 "Oh, I just guessed." 
 
 "He insists that it was Roy, but he did n't see him 
 near to at all, so I don't see how he can tell." 
 
 "Don't you think it was Roy?" asked Jack. 
 
 Harry's indignant look was eloquent. 
 
 ' ' Of course it was n 't ! He says so ! " 
 
 There was a mysterious exodus of Middle and Junior 
 Class boys from the campus to the boat-house that even- 
 ing after supper. And, when, an hour later, they came 
 straggling back every face bore the impress of a high 
 and noble resolution. It had been unanimously resolved 
 — after a good deal of pow-wow — that they should pro- 
 ceed in a body on the following afternoon to Farmer 
 Mercer's grounds and fish in Wissick Creek. 
 
 Behold them, then, at the time appointed, marching 
 across the fields and through the woods for all the world 
 like a band of young crusaders, each armed with a fish- 
 ing pole and line ! There were not enough ' ' truly ' ' 
 poles to go around, so many of the party were forced 
 
SID'S "POPULAR PROTEST » 267 
 
 to cut branches from the willows. On to prohibited ter- 
 ritory they marched, eighteen strong, Sidney Welch, 
 having sought and received permission to absent himself 
 from practice, in command. In full view of the white 
 farm-house they lined the bank of the stream and threw 
 in their lines. To be sure, many of the lines were guilt- 
 less of flies or even worms, but that was a detail. The 
 minutes passed. One boy actually hooked a trout, but 
 was so surprised that the prey escaped before he could 
 land it. And still the minutes passed, and the irate 
 voice of the tyrant sounded not. The sportsmen began 
 to tire and grew bored. Many of them had never fished 
 before and did n't care about it. A few tossed aside 
 their rods and fell to playing stick-knife. And then, 
 just when Sid had decided to give up and lead his de- 
 feated hosts back to school, a figure ambled toward 
 them across the meadow. 
 
 ' ' He 's coming ! ' ' whispered Sid hoarsely. 
 
 Fully half of the group exhibited unmistakable signs 
 of alarm ; half a dozen edged toward home and were sum- 
 moned back by the stauncher members. 
 
 "He can't do anything to us," said Sid nervously. 
 "We 're too many for him — even if he is big!" 
 
 "Well, boys, what you doin'?" inquired the farmer 
 amiably. 
 
 There was a moment of constrained silence. Then, 
 
 "Fishing," answered Sid bravely. 
 
 "Caught anything?" asked the farmer as he joined 
 the group and looked curiously at the huddled poles. 
 
268 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "Not yet, sir," answered Sid. 
 
 "Too sunny, I guess," was the reply. 
 
 The trespassers darted bewildered glances along their 
 front. This awful calm was worse than the expected 
 storm. 
 
 "Did n't take you long to get here, by gum!" said 
 Farmer Mercer presently. "I did n't just bargain for 
 having the whole school turn out to once, but I don't 
 know as it matters. A bargain 's a bargain. I give my 
 word, and there it is. ' Let 'em come once a week, then, ' 
 says I, 'but no more 'n that.' The way that gal sassed 
 me was a caution ! ' ' The farmer 's face relaxed into 
 something very like a smile. " 'If you gave 'em permis- 
 sion to come,' says she, 'they would n't care about it 
 so much. It 's the temptation that leads 'em,' says she. 
 'Tell 'em they can come and they won't want to.' Looks 
 like she was mistaken there, though. ' ' 
 
 " Who— o?" stammered Sid. 
 
 "Why, Harry Emery. That 's the way she talked, 
 like a regular book. Said it was all my fault you boys 
 got in trouble ! ' ' He chuckled hoarsely. ' ' What do you 
 think of that, eh? My fault, by gum! Called me a— a 
 'perverter of youth,' or somethin' like that, too! 
 Could n't do nothin' but give in to her after that! 'Let 
 'em come and fish once a week, then, ' says I, ' an ' as long 
 as they behaves themselves I won't say anything to 'em.' 
 Well, you ain't had much luck, to be sure, but I guess 
 you 're clustered kind o' close together. Guess what 
 fish vou fellers catch won't hurt much of any!" 
 
SID'S "POPULAR PROTEST" 269 
 
 And Farmer Mercer turned and ambled off, chuckling 
 to himself. 
 
 The trespassers looked from one to another; then, 
 with scarcely a word spoken, they wound up their lines 
 and, with poles trailing, crept crestfallenly home. And 
 in such fashion ended Sid's "popular protest!" 
 
 Meanwhile events marched rapidly. School came to 
 an end the following Wednesday. In four days, that is 
 on Saturday, came the boat-race, in the forenoon; and 
 the final baseball game, at three o'clock. Examinations 
 would end the day before. It was a breathless, exciting 
 week. On the river the finishing touches were being 
 put to what the school fondly believed was the finest 
 four-oared crew ever destined to carry the Brown and 
 White to victory. On the diamond Mr. Cobb and Cap- 
 tain Chub Eaton were working like beavers with a nine 
 which, at the best, could be called only fairly good. Tap- 
 pen at first was doing his level best, but his best was far 
 below the standard set by Roy. The nine, discouraged 
 at first by the loss of Roy, was, however, fast regaining 
 its form, and Chub began to feel again that he had at 
 least a fighting chance. 
 
 It was a hard week for Roy, for there was always the 
 hope that Fate would intervene and deliver him from 
 his durance. But Wednesday came and Thursday came, 
 and still the crimson sweater, upon the discovery of 
 which so much hinged, did not turn up. Roy vetoed 
 Chub's plea to be allowed to rip open Horace's trunk, 
 
270 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 and Harry's assistance, from which, for some reason, 
 Roy had hoped a good deal, had so far worked no relief. 
 There were moments when Roy was strongly tempted 
 to accuse Horace to his face and dare him to display the 
 contents of that battered trunk of his in the Senior Dor- 
 mitory. But there was always the lack of certainty in 
 the other's guilt to deter him. 
 
 Of Harry, Roy caught but fleeting glimpses. But 
 although she had no good news for him, no brilliant 
 plans to suggest, she was by no means idle. She very 
 nearly thought herself into brain fever. So absorbed was 
 she in Roy's dilemma that the permission wrung from 
 Farmer Mercer to allow the boys to fish his stream 
 passed entirely out of her mind until after school had 
 closed. None of the members of the poaching expedi- 
 tion cared to talk about it, and so Harry remained in 
 ignorance of it for the time being. 
 
 Roy finished the last of his examinations on Thurs- 
 day afternoon, and, while he would not learn the results 
 until next week, he was hopeful of having made a better 
 showing than in the winter. Afterwards he went to the 
 limit of his prison on the river side and watched from 
 a distance the placing of the course flags for the race. 
 
 Presently from down the river the brown-shirted crews 
 swept into sight, rowing strongly in spite of their weari- 
 ness. They had finished the last work before the race, 
 although in the morning there would be a half-hour of 
 paddling. Number 2 in the first boat was splashing a 
 good deal as the slim craft headed toward the landing, 
 
SID'S "POPULAR PROTEST" 271 
 
 but it probably came from weariness rather than from 
 poor form. The second crew looked pretty well done up 
 and the coxswain 's ' ' Let her run ! ' ' floated up to Roy 
 long before the landing was in sight. After that they 
 paddled slowly in and lifted their shell from the darken- 
 ing water is though it weighed a thousand pounds. 
 
 From behind Fox Island, well over toward the farther 
 shore, a row of white shirts caught a shaft of afternoon 
 sunlight and Roy watched the rise and fall of the oars 
 as the Hammond four returned home at a good clip 
 closely pursued by the second crew. Then, on his own 
 side of the river, a single scull crept into view around the 
 point and Mr. Buckman, handling the long sweeps with 
 an ease and rhythm that seemed the poetry of motion, 
 his little brown megaphone bobbing from the cord about 
 his neck in time to his movements, shot his craft up to 
 the landing. Then, save for the launch gliding across 
 to the Hammond side, the river was empty and long lanes 
 of sunlight were disappearing, one by one, as the sun 
 sank behind the purple hills. 
 
 Roy had not watched baseball practice since that first 
 afternoon. Brother Laurence's advice might be very ex- 
 cellent, but a chap could n't always follow it; there were 
 moments when the grins would n 't come. And, somehow, 
 when Chub confided to him that evening that things were 
 looking up, and could n't help showing some of the cheer- 
 fulness he felt, Roy was more lonesome and out of it 
 than ever. 
 
 The next morning after breakfast Doctor Emery an- 
 
272 T HE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 nouneed that every student must be in the dormitories at 
 ten o'clock and have his trunk and cupboard open for 
 inspection; Mrs. Emery would examine the boys' cloth- 
 ing and take away for repairs such garments as needed 
 them. The announcement was something of a surprise 
 to the older boys, for never before had such an examina- 
 tion been made. It was the custom for the boys to lay 
 aside each week whatever clothing needed mending, 
 cleansing or pressing, but a general inspection was some- 
 thing unprecedented. Many fellows made up their minds 
 to get upstairs as soon as possible and remove certain 
 things from their trunks; firearms and sensational liter- 
 ature, for instance, were prohibited and subject to con- 
 fiscation if discovered. 
 
 Roy's heart leapt when he heard the announcement 
 and he could n't help glancing at Horace. The latter 
 youth, however, had apparently not heard it, for he was 
 talking away with Whitcomb at a great rate and his 
 countenance showed no sign of dismay or uneasiness. 
 But Roy made up his mind to be near Horace's trunk 
 when Mrs. Emery looked through it ! As he had nothing 
 in his trunk he was unwilling for the authorities to see, 
 he did n't go to the dormitory after breakfast. Instead, 
 he crossed over to the gymnasium in the hope of finding 
 Chub there. But Chub was n't to be discovered, and Roy 
 mooned about the campus for the better part of an hour 
 and then went up to the dormitory. It was pretty well 
 filled and the fellows were getting a good deal of fun 
 out of the occasion. Jack Rogers called across and told 
 
SID'S "POPULAR PROTEST" 273 
 
 him he wanted to see him after inspection. Horace Bur- 
 len had his trunk open and was sitting nonchalantly on 
 the side of his cot. Mrs. Emery soon appeared and, with 
 Mr. Cobb in attendance, began her rounds. The whole 
 thing looked rather perfunctory to Roy. Perhaps the 
 fellows' garments were in good condition; at least, few 
 of them were laid aside for mending. When Mrs. Emery 
 reached Horace's trunk Roy sauntered carelessly over 
 and looked on. He imagined that Horace looked a bit 
 uneasy when Mrs. Emery began taking his clothing out of 
 the till. 
 
 ' ' Your things are in nice condition, Horace, ' ' she said. 
 ' ' Now what 's underneath ? ' ' 
 
 "There 's nothing much there," answered Horace. 
 "Everything 's all right, Mrs. Emery." 
 
 "Well, I guess we 'd better look at them and make 
 sure," was the pleasant reply. "Just lift out the till, 
 please. ' ' 
 
 Horace obeyed with ill-grace, and Roy, his heart beat- 
 ing hard, edged nearer. Garment after garment came 
 out to be piled neatly on the floor and finally the last 
 one appeared. The trunk was empty and the crimson 
 sweater was nowhere in sight ! 
 
 Roy's eyes darted here and there in search of other 
 recesses, but beyond a doubt he had seen everything the 
 trunk contained. Mrs. Emery began to place the things 
 back very carefully, one by one, as though even she were 
 looking for that sweater. Roy wondered. Perhaps — Of 
 course that was it ! Harry had taken her mother into her 
 
274 THE CEIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 confidence and the unusual proceedings had been insti- 
 tuted on his account! He felt very grateful to Mrs. 
 Emery, but he was terribly disappointed. There was 
 only one thing to suppose now, and that was that Horace 
 had thrown the sweater away instead of bringing it back 
 to school with him. Of course red sweaters were n't 
 scarce, but that particular one had been very precious to 
 Roy and he felt its loss keenly. He went back to his own 
 side of the room and dolefully locked his trunk. One by 
 one the fellows went out. Mrs. Emery, having completed 
 her task, collected a half-dozen garments and, still es- 
 corted by Mr. Cobb, took her departure. Horace, too, 
 followed, and only Roy and Jack were left. 
 
 ' ' Did you want to see me, Jack ? ' ' asked Roy indiffer- 
 ently. 
 
 "Er — yes. Just wait a minute." 
 
 He went to the door and called: 
 
 "0 Chub!" 
 
 ' ' Coming ! ' ' bawled Chub 's voice from downstairs, and 
 in a moment he came in. He was beaming like the cat 
 that ate the canary. Roy sighed. It was all well enough 
 for Chub and Jack to stand there and grin at him, he 
 reflected sadly; they had n't lost a priceless crimson 
 sweater and were n't on inner bounds. 
 
 ' ' Have you told him ? ' ' asked Chub breathlessly 
 
 Jack shook his head. 
 
 ' ' Told me what ? ' ' asked Roy resentfully. 
 
 For answer the two boys bade him rise from his cot. 
 Wondering, Roy obeyed. Then, between them, they 
 lifted bedding and mattress. 
 
Sli>'S "POPULAR PROTEST" 275 
 
 "Look underneath," said Chub. 
 
 Roy looked. 
 
 And the next instant he had his crimson sweater in his 
 hands and was looking bewilderedly from it to Chub and 
 from Chub to Jack and so back again at the sweater. 
 Chub and Jack were grinning like satyrs and enjoying 
 hugely his bewilderment. 
 
 "How — how 'd it get there?" whispered Roy finally. 
 
 ' ' Put it into your trunk and come on out, ' ' said Chub. 
 ' ' We 've got something to tell you. ' ' 
 
 Roy found his key and unlocked the trunk. But in the 
 act of laying the sweater away he paused and drew back. 
 Under one shoulder was a long rip where the stitches had 
 given way. 
 
 "I— I think I '11 take it over to Mrs. Emery," he said, 
 ' ' and get her to mend it. That 's a beast of a hole ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' All right, ' ' said Jack. ' ' Come on. ' ' 
 
 So they took the precious garment over to the Cottage, 
 and as they went Chub — Jack assisting — explained. 
 
 "It was Harry's scheme, Roy. She told her mother 
 and Mrs. Emery got the Doctor to issue that order about 
 having the fellows unlock their trunks. But Harry knew 
 that if Horace had the sweater he 'd try and get rid of 
 it before the examination. So she told Jack and me to 
 come up here right after breakfast and hide where we 
 could see what was doing. Well, we did. We got under 
 Gallup 's bed where he could n't see us and waited. We 
 had n't been there five minutes before up comes little 
 Horace. He looked around mighty carefully, you bet, 
 and then he unlocked his trunk, dug down to the bottom 
 
276 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 of it and pulled out the sweater. Jack nearly whooped 
 when he saw it ! " 
 
 "That 's right," agreed Jack. "I came near spoiling 
 the whole show ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' So Horace tiptoed over to your bed, lifted up the 
 mattress and stuck the sweater underneath. Then he lit 
 out. And he does n't know yet that we saw the whole 
 thing!" 
 
 ' ' I knew he had it ! " muttered Roy. ' ' Gee ! I 'm aw- 
 fully much obliged to you chaps." 
 
 ' ' You want to thank Harry, I guess, ' ' said Jack. ' ' It 
 was her scheme." 
 
 ' ' That 's so, ' ' said Roy. ' ' Harry 's a wonder ! I sup- 
 pose she 's at school now. Too bad, for she was dying 
 to know what was going to happen and I promised to 
 come over as soon as I could and tell her. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Emery smiled knowingly when she came to the 
 door and Roy handed the sweater to her, but she only 
 said that she 'd be very glad to draw the hole together for 
 him and that Harry would be delighted to hear that it 
 was found. 
 
 "I '11 tell her as soon as she gets home from school," 
 she added. 
 
 "And — and please thank her for me," said Roy. 
 
 "Is the Doctor in?" asked Chub 
 
 "No, he 's gone to town," was the reply. "But he '11 
 be back very shortly. Will you come in and wait ? ' ' 
 
 "No 'm, thanks. We '11 come back again at noon," 
 answered Chub. A.nd when they had left the Cottage he 
 
SID'S "POPULAR PROTEST" 277 
 
 turned and thumped Roy triumphantly on the back. 
 ' ' Practice at three, old chap ! " he cried. 
 
 Roy smiled happily. Then, 
 
 "I suppose he will let me off?" he asked doubtfully. 
 
 "Who? Emmy? Course he will! What 's he got 
 against you now? Both Jack and I saw Horace put the 
 sweater there, and we know that he was away from school 
 Sunday afternoon. What more proof is wanted?" 
 
 ' ' We 've got Horace done brown, ' ' said Jack. ' ' Emmy 
 won 't do a thing to him ! ' ' 
 
 "Kind of hard luck, too," said Chub, "with the race 
 coming off in the morning; for of course Emmy will 
 yank him out of the boat the first thing." 
 
 "Then we '11 lose the race, won't we?" asked Roy. 
 
 Chub shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "Sure to," he answered. "I 'm kind of sorry for 
 Horace, but he deserves every bit of it. It was a mean 
 trick to work. ' ' 
 
 Roy was silent a moment. Finally, 
 
 "Well, I don't care so much now that I 've got my 
 sweater back, ' ' he said thoughtfully. 
 
 "Care about what?" asked Jack. 
 
 "Oh, the rest of it; being on bounds and — and not 
 playing to-morrow," answered Roy. "You see, I 'd just 
 about made up my mind that I was n't going to play, 
 anyhow. ' ' 
 
 "Well, you 're going to play," answered Chub cheer- 
 fully. "And I 'm pleased purple. A few of those nice 
 long hits of yours to-morrow will do a heap of good, Roy. ' ' 
 
278 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 But Roy did n't seem to hear. 
 
 1 ' No one knows about this but you and Jack and me?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "That 's all," replied Chub. 
 
 "And if we don't say anything about it, then, no one 
 else will know." 
 
 "Don't say anything about it!" cried Chub. "Are 
 you crazy?" 
 
 ' ' No, but there 's the boat race to think of, Chub ; we 
 don't want to lose that, I guess. And if they take Horace 
 out-" 
 
 ' ' Now don 't you be a silly ass ! ' ' interrupted Chub in 
 alarm. ' ' Let them lose the old race ! I reckon we don 't 
 want to lose the ball game either, do we? Now don't get 
 sentimental and sloppy ; Horace deserves all that 's com- 
 ing to him ! ' ' 
 
 "Maybe," answered Roy, "but I guess we '11 just keep 
 this to ourselves, if you fellows don't mind." 
 
 "But you won't be able to play!" 
 
 "I know," Roy replied, "but I was n't expecting to, 
 you see. And — and, anyhow, I 've got my sweater back ! ' ' 
 
 "Sweater be blowecl!" exploded Chub. "Don't be a 
 fool, Roy! You 're just fooling, are n't you, eh?" 
 
 "No, Chub, I 'm not. I 'm sorry to disappoint you, 
 but— but I don't think it would be fair to the school to 
 tell on Horace and lose the race. I 'd like to piay might} 7 
 well, but — I guess we '11 just keep this to ourselves, fel- 
 lows!" 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE BOAT-RACE 
 
 IT was Saturday morning. 
 Along the Ferry Hill shore, from the landing to a 
 point half a mile further downstream where the finish 
 flags flew, students and villagers, the former in most 
 cases accompanied by friends or relatives, stood, sat 
 or strolled at points of vantage. On the river white- 
 sailed skiffs, chugging launches, gaudy canoes and more 
 sober rowboats darted and drifted across the sunlit water. 
 It was the hottest sort of a June morning and only the 
 steady little northerly breeze kept the heat from being 
 intolerable to the spectators along shore. 
 
 The crews had gone up the river half an hour before, 
 the men making the trip to the starting point in com- 
 fortable launches, their shells streaking along in tow. 
 The time for starting the race was already past and 
 everyone about the finish was eagerly awaiting the dis- 
 tant boom of the tiny brass cannon aboard the referee's 
 launch which would announce to them that the struggle 
 had begun two miles away. 
 
 From where Chub and Roy sat in the midst of a throng 
 of onlookers on a high point of rock near the finish line 
 the entire course was in sight save for a space where Fox 
 
 279 
 
280 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 Island hid it. Away up the broad blue ribbon of water 
 tiny specks that danced and glittered in the blaze of sun- 
 light told where the start was to be made, but only Sid, 
 who was the proud possessor of a pair of dilapidated field- 
 glasses, could tell one boat from another. At last there 
 was an excited grunt from that youth. 
 
 ' ' They 're off ! " he cried. ' ' I saw the smoke from the 
 cannon on the Sylph ! ' ' 
 
 And in confirmation of his statement a low boom came 
 down to them on the breeze. Everyone jumped to his 
 feet and gazed intently upstream. But only such as had 
 glasses were able to throw any light on the situation up 
 there. Sid was popular and voluble. 
 
 "We 're ahead, 'way ahead!" he cried excitedly. 
 "About two lengths, I guess." 
 
 "Hooray!" shrieked Patten. 
 
 "No, we 're not, either," said Sid lamely. "I was 
 looking at a launch. I can 't see our boat at all ! " 
 
 "0 — oh!" groaned the others. 
 
 "Yes, there it is! I think — it looks as though — " 
 
 "Well, out with it!" commanded Chub. 
 
 ' ' I guess it 's about a length behind, ' ' finished Sid. 
 
 But when half the course had been rowed it was pos- 
 sible to identify the two boats without the aid of field- 
 glasses. Side by side they were, or very nearly, and com- 
 ing hard. Someone in the Ferry Hill shell was splashing 
 occasionally; they could see the water dash up into the 
 sunlight. Then, still rowing about even, they were lost 
 to sight behind the island and suspense gripped the spec- 
 
THE BOAT-RACE 281 
 
 tators. The seconds seemed minutes until, at last, the 
 slim sharp bow of a boat shot into sight past the lower 
 end of the island. Followed a breathless moment until 
 the back of the bow oar appeared. Then the group 
 groaned as one man. Bow wore a white shirt ; the Ham- 
 mond shell was in the lead. Clear of the island it came 
 and still the rival boat did n't follow. 
 
 ' ' Guess our boat 's sunk, ' ' muttered Chub nervously. 
 
 Then another brown nose poked its way past the point 
 and Ferry Hill, three lengths behind, but rowing hard, 
 flashed into view. The crowd on the shore vented its re- 
 lief in a long yell. Maddox, the tiny coxswain, his mega- 
 phone strapped to his mouth, was bending forward and 
 urging his crew onward. But three lengths is a good deal 
 to make up in the last quarter-mile of a hard race, 
 especially when one of the crew is plainly ragged. 
 
 ' ' Just look at Hadden ! ' ' moaned Thurlow. " He is n 't 
 pulling a pound ! ' ' 
 
 "Thinks he 's a blooming geyser, I guess," said Chub 
 disgustedly. "See him splash, will you? He 's just 
 about all in. ' ' 
 
 But Hammond's stroke was also showing the effects 
 of the work and was rowing woefully short. Inch by 
 inch the brown shirts crept up on the white. At first, 
 so slow was the gain, that no one noticed it. Then Chub 
 let up a whoop of joy. 
 
 ' ' We 're after 'em ! " he cried. ' ' We 're gaining on 
 'em!" 
 
 "Yes, but we can't cut down that lead," answered 
 
282 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 Roy, who had been freed from inner bounds for the race. 
 "But we certainly are creeping up!" 
 
 "You just bet we are!" shrieked Sid. "Why, we 're 
 only two lengths behind! We — we are n't that much!" 
 
 "Length and a half," grunted Thurlow. 
 
 The two boats were almost abreast of them now and 
 only a couple of hundred yards remained. In and out 
 dipped the red blades and the brown, forward and back 
 bent the straining bodies, back and forth like shuttles 
 slid the two red-faced, shouting coxswains. The strident 
 tones of Maddox came up to those on the hillside : 
 
 ' ' Hit it up, now ! Hit it up ! Ten hard ones ! One ! 
 . . Two! . . Three! . . " 
 
 Ten hard ones made a difference. The bow of the 
 Ferry Hill shell slid up to the stern of the rival boat. 
 On the shore pandemonium reigned. Shouts, yells, 
 shrieks, bellows ; entreaty, command ; a vocal jumble that 
 no one even heard ! For below there on the flashing river 
 the two boats were crossing the finish line, Hammond a 
 half length to the good! Down went the white signal 
 flag. 
 
 ' ' Let her run ! ' ' cried the Hammond coxswain. 
 
 Past the judge's boat floated the shells, victor and van- 
 quished, while on the shore and in the watching craft 
 spectators drew long- breaths and turned homeward. In 
 the Ferry Hill boat only Horace Burlen sat erect. Whit- 
 comb was leaning weakly on his oar, Gallup 's head was in 
 his hands and Hadden was huddled limply while Maddox 
 splashed water upon him. Hammond was paddling 
 
THE BOAT-EACE 283 
 
 slowly around in a circle, coming back. Abreast of their 
 defeated rivals they rested on their oars and cheered for 
 Ferry Hill. And Ferry Hill cheered weakly for Ham- 
 mond. And the boat-race was a thing of the past. 
 
 "Another fifty yards and we 'd have had them," said 
 Chub disappointedly. 
 
 "Surely," answered Roy. "But we certainly rowed 
 the pluckiest kind of a race. Look at the way we over- 
 hauled them there at the last!" 
 
 "Fine!" said Thurlow. 
 
 "Swell!" said Sid. 
 
 And in this way they found surcease for their disap- 
 pointment ; which was as it should have been. A race well 
 rowed and won is something to be proud of ; a race well 
 rowed and lost may be quite as creditable. Pluck and 
 sportsmanship is always the criterion, not merely victory. 
 Many a time has a defeated crew or eJeven taken off the 
 first honors. Ferry Hill's game finish to a heartbreaking 
 race — rowed, as the timers' watches proved, twelve 
 seconds under record time for the course — more than 
 atoned for her defeat. 
 
 "After all," said Thurlow, "it was n't that our crew 
 was poorer than we thought it was, but that Hammond's 
 was a> blamed sight better. Why, we must have finished 
 six or seven seconds under the record ! ' ' 
 
 "Sure," answered Chub more cheerfully. "It was a 
 dandy crew and Horace deserved to win. If the fellows 
 know their business they '11 re-elect him for next year. I 
 don't like the chap a bit, but he certainly did row a fine 
 race ! ' ' 
 
284 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 "That 's right," responded the rest as they climbed 
 the hill back to school. And by the time the campus was 
 reached they were all smiling as though victory instead 
 of defeat had fallen to their lot. All save Chub. Chub 
 was very unhappy, but not over the race. 
 
 "Lots of good you did," he said to Roy as they made 
 their way across to the dormitory. "You might as well 
 have squared yourself; we got beat anyhow." 
 
 "Maybe, but that does n't change the — the ethics of 
 the thing, ' ' replied Roy. 
 
 "Ethics!" snorted Chub. "I '11 bet ethics won't help 
 us to win from Hammond this afternoon. Oh, I dare say 
 it 's all mighty fine and heroic, Roy, but it 's blamed 
 hard on me!" 
 
 " I 'm sorry. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Oh, I dare say, but you 're not half as sorry as I am," 
 answered the other ruefully. "Look here, now. The 
 race is all over and done with. Let 's go see Emmy now 
 and tell him what we know. What do you say? Shall 
 we? He can't refuse to let you play." 
 
 But Roy shook his head. 
 
 " I 'd rather not, Chub. I decided not to tell on Horace 
 and I 'm not going to, ever. That 's settled. Besides, 
 Emmy would n't let me play now; he 'd say I ought to 
 have told him as soon as I found it out. ' ' 
 
 "Wish to goodness you had," groaned Chub. "You 're 
 an obstinate beast, Roy. If I did n't like you so well I 'd 
 punch your fool head for you ! ' ' 
 
 Chub was n't the only one disappointed and disgusted 
 
THE BOAT-RACE 285 
 
 by Roy's stand. Harry had almost given way to tears 
 when she had learned of his resolution. 
 
 ' ' After all my trouble ! ' ' she had wailed. ' ' I don 't 
 think it 's very — very appreciative of you, Roy Porter!" 
 
 But in the end she, like Chub and Jack, had been bound 
 to secrecy, promising not to tell her father. That she 
 had n't been cautioned against telling anyone else had 
 Deen merely because Roy had known her ability to keep 
 %er own counsel. 
 
 "I suppose he will let you come and watch the game, 
 
 won't he?" asked Chub as they parted on the stairway. 
 
 "Yes, he gave me permission to see both the race and 
 the game," answered Roy. "And I '11 be there, never 
 fear. I 'm going to help Hadden and Cole with the 
 cheering. ' ' 
 
 "Well, so long. I '11 see you at dinner. We 're going 
 out at two-thirty. You 'd better come along. ' ' 
 
 The breeze died away about noon and when, at half- 
 past two, the nine and substitutes went out to the field 
 and the spectators began to assemble, the heat was almost 
 unbearable. But it was a good baseball day, for after 
 one has once begun to perspire freely he can play ball 
 to the King's taste. Hammond trotted on to the dia- 
 mond soon after Ferry Hill and went to work practicing, 
 Ferry Hill remaining at the batting net until a quarter 
 to three. Then the two nines changed places and Mr. 
 Cobb began knocking out the ball. 
 
 The stands were well filled by three o'clock and fans 
 were waving lustily. Along one edge of the field Ham- 
 
286 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 mond Academy's supporters, nearly a hundred strong, 
 squatted on the grass and strove to keep the burning rays 
 of the sun from their faces by using their flags and pen- 
 nants as screens. Across the diamond Ferry Hill had 
 assembled, fortunate in having the stand behind them 
 to throw some shade where they sat. Roy and Hadden 
 and Cole were to lead the cheering and to this end had 
 armed themselves with brown megaphones. Coats were 
 discarded, while on the seats green and white and brown 
 sunshades made brilliant blots of color. In the center 
 of the main stand sat Doctor Emery, Mrs. Emery and 
 Harry, and with them as guests of honor were Doctor 
 Hammond, Principal of the rival academy, and his wife. 
 It looked at first glance as though Harry had joined the 
 enemy, in spite of the brown banner she carried, for in 
 her lap was something hued much like the Hammond's 
 brilliant color. But it was only Roy's sweater which, 
 having been repaired, Harry had brought along to re- 
 turn to its owner. An enterprising citizen of Silver Cove 
 was doing a rushing business selling ''ice-cold drinks! 
 Lemon pop, sarsaparilla and root beer ! Who 's next ? ' ' 
 
 At two minutes past the hour Chub and O'Meara, 
 respectively captains of Ferry Hill and Hammond, met 
 at the plate and watched the umpire spin a coin. 
 
 "Heads!" cried O'Meara. 
 
 "Tails," said the umpire, stooping to rescue the coin. 
 ' ' What do you want ? ' ' 
 
 "We '11 take the field," replied Chub. 
 
 Then out they trotted, nine sturdy young figures in 
 
THE BOAT-RACE 287 
 
 grey suits and brown and white striped stockings, while 
 Roy, Hadden and Cole shook their megaphones and stu- 
 dents and graduates and friends shouted enthusiastically. 
 
 ''Ferry Hill! Ferry Hill! Ferry Hill!" rang the 
 slogan, "Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! 
 Ferry Hill!" 
 
 Hammond answered promptly. Then Ferry Hill 
 cheered for Hammond and Hammond returned the com- 
 pliment. The umpire walked down to his position behind 
 pitcher, tossed a nice, shiny white ball to the redoubtable 
 Post, Ferry Hill's crack pitcher, and casually re- 
 marked : 
 
 ^Play ball!" 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE GAME WITH HAMMOND 
 
 Ferry Mill Hammond 
 
 Eaton, 2b Mullen, 3b 
 
 Bacon, ss O'Meara, ss 
 
 Thurlow, 3b Stone, cf 
 
 Pryor, If , Young, rf 
 
 Kirby, cf Hartley, lb 
 
 Patten, lb Hyde, 2b 
 
 Cole, c Taft, If 
 
 Welch, rf Smith, c 
 
 Post, p Eollins, p 
 
 POST showed his ability in that first inning. Not a 
 man reached first. Three strikes and out was the in- 
 variable rule, and Ferry Hill went wild with joy. If 
 Post could serve Hammond 's best batters in such f ashioD 
 
 what hope was there for her tail-enders? 
 
 But Post was not the only one who could strike out 
 batsmen. In the second half of the inning Rollins dis- 
 posed of Chub, Bacon and Thurlow in just the same fash- 
 ion, and so far the honors were even. Ferry Hill, who had 
 loyally cheered each of the warriors as they stepped to 
 the plate, looked less elated. The game speedily resolved 
 itself into a pitchers' battle in which Rollins had 
 slightly the better of it. Two innings passed without a 
 
 288 
 
THE GAME WITH HAMMOND 289 
 
 man getting safely to first base. Then Sid, who was still 
 rather bulky in spite of the hard work he had been 
 through, got in the way of one of Rollins' in-shoots and 
 trotted to first ruefully rubbing his hip. He made a 
 valiant effort to profit by Post's scratch hit to shortstop 
 but was easily thrown out at second. Not satisfied with 
 this, Hammond played the double, catching Post a foot 
 from the base. That was in the last of the third. So 
 far the game had dragged along uninterestingly. But 
 now things began to happen. 
 
 'Meara was the first man up for Hammond. Perhaps 
 Post let down for an instant. At all events, the Ham- 
 mond captain lined out the first hit of the contest, a long, 
 low two-bagger which made the cherry and black flags 
 wave ecstatically. Then Stone sacrificed and 'Meara 
 sped to third. Young fouled out to Patten, who made a 
 brilliant catch after a long run. Hartley hit to Bacon 
 who threw home. 'Meara doubled back to third and 
 Hartley was safe on first. Hyde, with a record of three 
 strike-outs against him, managed to find something quite 
 to his liking and knocked out a sharp grounder between 
 Chub and Bacon. 'Meara came home for the first run 
 of the day amidst wild cheers from the Hammond side, 
 and Hartley got to third. The coaching was incessant 
 and Post got a little bit rattled. 
 
 Taft bunted along first base line and Post ran for it, 
 scooped it up and threw, to Patten. The throw was a 
 little wild, but it seemed that Patten should have got it. 
 As it was it went over his head and had not Sid been on 
 
290 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 the spot to back him up things would have been worse 
 than they were. Hartley scored, but Hyde was put out 
 at the plate, Sid being the hero of the play. Two runs to 
 nothing. 
 
 Ferry Hill went in w T ith Bacon up. A scratch hit to 
 third followed by slow fielding took him safely to first. 
 Thurlow flied out to pitcher, Pryor sacrificed and Bacon 
 reached second. Kirby got four balls and took his base. 
 Patten struck out miserably. 
 
 Again, in the fifth, Hammond scored and an error went 
 down in Thurlow 's column. Ferry Hill had begun to 
 have listless moments which boded ill for success. Errors 
 were becoming too frequent to be merely accidents; it 
 was a case of discouragement. Post, however, in spite 
 of the gradual weakening of the most of the nine, held 
 up his end nobly. And Chub never for a moment eased 
 his pace. But the rest of the team, if we except Cole, 
 who was catching Post steadily and well, were plainly 
 suffering from a fit of stage-fright. Whether the attack 
 was to be temporary or permanent remained to be seen. 
 Ferry Hill's supporters were getting uneasy; three runs 
 to nothing seemed a pretty long lead with the game more 
 than half over ! 
 
 Cole got his round of applause when he stepped to bat 
 in the last of the fifth and it seemed to hearten him. Rol- 
 lins was still pitching the best of ball, but Cole was a 
 weak batter and the Hammond twirler proposed to rest 
 his muscles when the chance afforded. So he started out 
 to dispose of Cole with as little effort as possible. The 
 
THE GAME WITH HAMMOND 291 
 
 first two deliveries went by and were called balls. Then 
 came a strike ; then another ball. It was time for Rollins 
 to get down to work. Cole let the next one pass him, 
 hoping that it would give him his base, but the umpire 
 announced strike two. Cole gripped his bat a little far- 
 ther toward the end and got ready. Smith, the Ham- 
 mond catcher, read this to mean that he was resolved to 
 strike at the next ball no matter what it looked like and 
 signalled for a drop. It came. The umpire glanced at 
 his tally and waved toward first. 
 
 "Four balls!" he called. 
 
 Roy and the other cheer leaders leaped to their feet 
 as Cole trotted down the line. 
 
 ' ' Start it going now ! ' ' cried Roy. ' ' Regular cheer and 
 make it good!" 
 
 They made it good. Then they made it better. Chub, 
 back of first, was begging Cole to take a longer lead and 
 assuring him that Rollins would n't throw. Sid selected 
 his bat and stepped up to the plate. There was one ex- 
 cellent thing about Sid ; he did n 't know what it was to 
 get really nervous. He had his instructions to sacrifice 
 and proceeded to do so by hitting the first ball thrown 
 and trickling it slowly toward third. Third baseman and 
 pitcher both made for it with the result that each inter- 
 fered with the other and when the ball reached second 
 Cole had been there for ages. And Sid, to his own sur- 
 prise, was safe on first. With none out it looked like a 
 score at last, and the cheering became continuous. But 
 Post, although a good pitcher and clever fielder, was a 
 
292 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 miserable batter. It took just four balls, three of 
 them straight over the plate, to send him back to the 
 bench. 
 
 Chub went to bat looking determined. "With two foul 
 strikes on him and two balls he found something he liked 
 the looks of and let go at it. It resolved itself into a long 
 high fly to deep center. Stone was under it in time to 
 gather it in, but not in time to field it home to prevent 
 Cole from scoring. Ferry Hill jumped and shouted. 
 They had made a run at last ! Then Bacon tried to bunt 
 Sid home and himself to first and only succeeded in roll- 
 ing the ball out for a foul. After that he swung at a 
 drop and missed it. He let the next two go by and found 
 the fifth delivery for a safe drive into shortstop's terri- 
 tory, a drive that was so hard and ugly that it was be- 
 yond handling. Sid romped home like a Percheron colt 
 and Bacon got to first. Thurlow killed time until Bacon 
 had stolen second, and then in an effort to knock the cover 
 off the ball merely sent up a pop fly that was easily pulled 
 down by second baseman. That ended the fifth inning, 
 but Ferry Hill was vastly more encouraged. Two to 
 three was n't so bad; a run would tie the score. 
 
 But they were reckoning without Mr. Right Fielder 
 Young. Mr. Right Fielder Young started the sixth in 
 a way that made the Hammond supporters hug them- 
 selves and each other ecstatically. He drove out a three- 
 bagger over Kirby's head. Then when Hartley found 
 Post's first delivery for two bases, sending Young home, 
 the Ferry Hill pitcher went up into the air. Hyde ad- 
 vanced Hartley and went out himself at first. Taft 
 
THE GAME WITH HAMMOND 293 
 
 waited and trotted to first and the bases were full. 
 Things looked dark for the home team just then. But 
 there was some comfort in the fact that the batters com- 
 ing up now were the poorest of the Hammond string. 
 
 Smith, Hammond 's catcher, knocked a weak liner which 
 Bacon got on the bound and fielded home in time to cut 
 off Hartley. Ferry Hill took heart and cheered. Kollins 
 came to bat, struck at the first ball pitched and sent a 
 foul far back of the boards. Post steadied down now; 
 possibly he forgot his nervousness in his desire to even 
 matters with Rollins for the summary way in which that 
 youth had dealt with him. Post scored another strike 
 against his rival and then Rollins let go at an out-shoot. 
 
 The ball bounded off the tip end of the bat and went 
 whirling along the first-base line. Rollins lit out in the 
 track of the ball. To field it Patten had to run up a few 
 steps directly in Rollins' path. He got the ball on a low 
 bound and tried to step aside and tag Rollins as he passed. 
 He tagged him all right but he did n 't get out of his way 
 in time, and the runner with head down collided with 
 him and sent him sprawling three yards away. The in- 
 ning was over, but Patten was in a bad way. Rollins' 
 head had struck him between chest and shoulder and as 
 a result hia shoulder blade was broken. It was not seri- 
 ous, said the doctor, but it ended his playing for that day. 
 Patten begged to have his shoulder bandaged and be 
 allowed to return to the game, but the doctor would n't 
 consider the idea for a moment. And Chub, watching 
 Patten being led away to the gymnasium for repairs, felt 
 as though the very bottom had fallen out of things! 
 
294 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 Pryor opened the last of the sixth with a "Texas Leag- 
 uer" behind first that gave him his base with seconds to 
 spare. But Kirby went out on strikes. Carpenter, a 
 substitute batting in Patten's place, followed suit and the 
 inning came to an inglorious end when Cole sent a liner 
 straight into Kollins' glove. 
 
 Chub brought Kirby in from center to first and placed 
 Carpenter in center. Kirby was not a wonderful base- 
 man by any means, but he was the best at Chub's com- 
 mand. Carpenter was merely a common or garden 
 variety of player who could n't be depended on to hit 
 the ball, but could pull down flies when they came near 
 him and field them home with some chance of their reach- 
 ing the plate in course of time. Chub was pretty well 
 discouraged by this time; only Mr. Cobb kept a cheer- 
 ful countenance. 
 
 "It 's never over until the whistle blows," he said. 
 And Chub was too miserable to notice that the coach had 
 confused baseball with football. 
 
 The seventh opened with the score four to two and 
 ended with it seven to three. For Post went quite to 
 pieces and the only wonder was that Hammond did n't 
 score six runs instead of three. Mullen, the head of the 
 Hammond batting list, found Post for two bases, 
 'Meara, the captain, hit him for two more, scoring Mul- 
 len, and Stone hit safely to right field. Sid could n't get 
 under that ball in time, but he did field it back so as to 
 keep 'Meara on third. Then Post presented Young 
 with his base, and the bags were full. Hartley hit to 
 
THE GAME WITH HAMMOND 295 
 
 Bacon and a double resulted, O'Meara scoring. Hyde, 
 after hitting up six fouls, none of which were capable of 
 being caught, lined out a hot ball that escaped Chub by a 
 foot. Stone scored the third run of the inning. Then 
 Taft obligingly brought the slaughter to an end by put- 
 ting a foul into Cole's mitten. 
 
 Sid opened the last half of the seventh for Ferry Hill 
 by a splendid drive into deep left field that brought a 
 throb of hope to the breasts of the wavers of the brown 
 and white nags. But stupid coaching by Bacon resulted 
 in his being caught off of first. Post surprised everyone 
 by hitting to third and reaching his base ahead of a slowly 
 fielded ball. Chub flied out to left fielder. Bacon got his 
 base on balls. Thurlow hit weakly to second who tried 
 to tag his base, slipped and fell and only recovered his 
 footing in time to keep Post from scoring. Pryor knocked 
 a high fly back of third which that baseman allowed to go 
 over his head and Post came in with Ferry Hill's third 
 tally. Kirby struck out. Score, 7—3. 
 
 Harry had viewed proceedings with a sinking heart 
 and when Post went to pieces, making it evident that 
 Kirby would have to be taken from first and placed in the 
 box if only to keep the opponents from entirely running 
 away with the game, she felt desperate. Perhaps she 
 would have continued to feel that way with nothing 
 resulting had she not, while glancing dejectedly about 
 her, spied Horace Burlen in the throng below her. Post 
 had just reached first at the moment and in the resulting 
 
296 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 delight Harry's departure was not noticed by the Doctor 
 or his wife. She called to Horace over the heads of the 
 throng surrounding him. 
 
 "Horace ! Please come here a minute. I want to speak 
 to you ! ' ' 
 
 "When he had made his way out of the crowd and joined 
 her she led him to a quiet corner at the back of the stand. 
 Harry 's cheeks were flushed and her eyes were sparkling 
 excitedly. 
 
 "Horace," she began breathlessly, "Kirby will have 
 to pitch and there 's no one to take his place on first! 
 "We '11 be beaten as sure as anything if Roy does n 't play. 
 You 've got to tell the truth to Dad, Horace ! ' ' 
 Horace flushed a little but only laughed carelessly. 
 "You 've just got to, Horace!" she cried. "If you 
 don't tell I will. I don't care if I did promise Roy!" 
 
 ' ' Say, Harry, what 's the matter with you ? ' ' Horace 
 asked. "What are you going to tell?" 
 
 ' ' About this ! ' ' She held up the crimson sweater 
 before him. "You know what I mean, Horace, and 
 there 's no use in pretending you don't. You.'ve got to 
 go to Dad this minute and tell him ! ' ' 
 
 Horace's eyes fell and the blood rushed to his cheeks. 
 He turned away. 
 
 "I can't stay here and talk nonsense with you," he 
 muttered, "I want to see the game." 
 But Harry seized him by the arm. 
 "Why won't you own up, Horace?" she pleaded. 
 "You might. Roy saved you and—" 
 
THE GAME WITH HAMMOND 297 
 
 "How did he?" asked Horace, pausing. 
 
 "Why, by not telling. He knew yesterday. But he 
 would n 't tell ; he would n 't let us tell ; he said if he did 
 you 'd lose your place in the boat and we 'd get beaten. 
 He made us promise not to tell Dad, but I will, just the 
 same, if you don't promise this minute to do it your- 
 self!" 
 
 "I don't know anything about the sweater," muttered 
 Horace. 
 
 ' * Oh, you big fibber ! Jack and Chub were under thfc, 
 bed and saw you take it out of your trunk and put it 
 under Roy 's mattress ! And we told Roy, and he 
 would n't tell on you because he said—" 
 
 "Oh, I 've heard all that once," he interrupted 
 roughly. "I guess if he did n't tell he had a mighty 
 good reason for it ! " 
 
 "I 've told you why he did n't!" cried Harry impa- 
 tiently. "Do you suppose he wanted not to play to-day? 
 He spared you and I think you might do that much to 
 help him — and me — and the school." 
 
 "It was just a sort of joke," murmured Horace, his 
 eyes on the ground. "I did n't know it was going to 
 cause so much bother." He laughed uncertainly, 
 ' ' What 's the good of making more rumpus now ? Roy 
 can 't win the game ; we 're beaten already. ' ' 
 
 "You don't know!" insisted Harry. "Anyhow, it 
 would be only fair and square ; and you want to be that, 
 don't you, Horace?" 
 
 "And get fired?" he asked glumly. "Oh, sure!" 
 
298 THE CKIMSON SWEATEB 
 
 "You won't be fired! Why, it 's almost the end of 
 school!" 
 
 Horace was silent a moment, his gaze on the diamond 
 where the Hammond second baseman was picking him- 
 self up from the ground in a successful effort to head off 
 Post at the plate. 
 
 "Look here, Harry," he said finally, "do you really 
 think Roy kept quiet so that I could stay in the race? 
 Honest injun?" 
 
 "I know he did! Chub and Jack will tell you the 
 Bame thing ! Honest and honest, Horace ! ' ' 
 
 There was another moment of hesitation. Then Hor- 
 ace squared his shoulders, laughed carelessly and turned 
 away. 
 
 "All right, Harry," he said. "Lead me to the 
 slaughter ! ' ' 
 
 "You go into the box," said Chub to Kirby, "and for 
 goodness sake hold 'em down, old man! Post, you go 
 out to center, will you ? Who 've we got for first, sir ? " 
 
 And Chub turned in perplexity to Mr. Cobb. 
 
 ' ' Thurlow ; let Reynolds take his place at third. ' ' 
 
 Chub groaned. 
 
 "Maybe I 'd better try it myself, sir. And let Rey- 
 nolds take second." 
 
 But Mr. Cobb shook his head. 
 
 "Won't do," he answered. "You 're needed where 
 you are." 
 
 "All right. Where 's Reynolds ? Hello, Roy! Isn't 
 this the limit ? If only you had n 't been such an idiot ! ' ' 
 
THE GAME WITH HAMMOND 299 
 
 "Why?" asked Roy, his face one broad smile. 
 
 ' ' Why ? Why ! Oh, go to thunder ! Because if you 
 were playing first we would n't be in such a hole, that 's 
 why. ' ' 
 
 " I 'm going to, ' ' answered Roy. 
 
 "Going to what?" 
 
 "Play first, if you want me to." 
 
 "Want you to!" shouted Chub. "But what about 
 Emmy?" 
 
 "He 's given me permission. Horace has 'fessed up. 
 It 's all right." 
 
 Chub hugged him violently and deliriously. 
 
 ' ' Oh, good boy ! " he cried. "It 's all right, sir ! " he 
 called to Mr. Cobb. "We won't need Reynolds. Por- 
 ter 's going to play!" 
 
 Mr. Cobb hurried across from the bench and nearly 
 wrenched Roy's hand off. 
 
 ' ' Doctor willing, is he ? That 's good ! That 's fine ! 
 Do your best, Porter, do your best. Eaton 's a bit dis- 
 couraged, but I tell him it 's not over till the whistle — 
 that is, till the umpire — er — Well, good luck ! ' ' And the 
 coach hurried over to the scorer to arrange the new bat- 
 ting list. 
 
 "Come on, fellows !" cried Chub. "Let 's win this old 
 game right here !" 
 
 And Ferry Hill trotted out to the field for the first 
 of the eighth. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE CRIMSON SWEATER DISAPPEARS 
 
 "CI EVEN to three," muttered Roy as, drawing his big 
 KJ leather mitten on, he stepped to the base and held 
 his hands out toward Kirby. "That 's four to make up 
 to tie them." Sock came a ball against the hollow of 
 his mitt. "If Kirby does his part, though, and they 
 don't get any more runs, we 've got a chance." Back 
 went the ball to the new pitcher and once more it flew 
 across to Roy. "If I was n't surprised when Emmy 
 sent for me ! ' There seems to have been a mistake made, 
 Porter. I trust I have not discovered it too late for the 
 success of the nine. If you are wanted, take a hand, and 
 good luck to you. Come and see me after supper, please. ' 
 'What it means — (I beg pardon, Kirb ; my fault!) — I 
 don't know; unless Horace told on himself; he was there 
 looking kind of down in the mouth. I 'm certain Harry 
 did n't break her promise!" 
 
 "All right, fellows!" shouted Chub, throwing the 
 practice ball to the umpire and trotting to his position. 
 "After 'em hard, now. We 're all back of you, Kirb!" 
 
 Cole settled his mask into place and Kirby sent three 
 trial balls to him. Then Smith, the first of the Ham- 
 mond batsmen, stepped into the box. 
 
 300 
 
THE CRIMSON SWEATER DISAPPEARS 301 
 
 "Hello, you!" called Chub cheerfully as Roy edged 
 over toward him. "It 's good to see you there, old chap. 
 Get after 'em, Roy. We 're not beaten yet!" 
 
 "Not a bit of it!" answered Roy. "We '11 have them 
 on the run in a minute." 
 
 A whole lot depended on Kirby, and everyone realized 
 that fact. If he could pitch his best game and hold Ham- 
 mond down to her present score there might be a chance 
 of Ferry Hill's doing something in the next two innings. 
 But Kirby had had but a few minutes of warming up 
 work and might prove stiff. He got one strike on Smith 
 and then sent him four balls, one after the other, seem- 
 ingly unable to find the plate. Smith trotted to first. 
 Chub called laughingly across to Kirby. 
 
 "That 's right, Kirb, give 'em a show." 
 
 Kirby smiled and dug his toe into the ground. 
 
 Rollins tapped the plate with his bat and shot a ques- 
 tioning look toward Smith on first. Kirby pitched wide, 
 Cole slammed the ball down to Roy and Roy swung at 
 the runner. But Smith was full-length in the dust with 
 his fingers clutching a corner of the bag. Roy tossed the 
 ball to Kirby. Smith crawled to his feet, dusted his 
 clothes and took a new lead. 
 
 "Strike one!" droned the umpire. 
 
 Smith trotted back to the bag. The coach sent him off 
 again. 
 
 ' ' Take a lead, take a lead ! " he shouted through his 
 hands. ' ' He won 't throw it ! Down with his arm, now J 
 Look out!" 
 
302 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 But the warning came too late. Kirby had turned 
 suddenly and thrown swiftly, and Roy's downward 
 swinging hand had found Smith a, good six inches away 
 from base. 
 
 "Out on first," said the umpire. 
 
 From the Ferry Hill side came the sound of clapping 
 hands and cheering voices. Smith walked back to the 
 bench and Roy, moistening his mitten in the inelegant 
 but effective manner of the ball player, trotted out to his 
 position. 
 
 "One gone, Cap!" he cried. "Let 's have the next 
 one!" 
 
 "All right, Roy. Next man, fellows !" 
 
 The next man was easy for Kirby. Rollins already 
 had one strike and one ball on him and Kirby finished 
 him up in short style, causing him to strike a full six 
 inches above a deceptive drop and then putting a swift 
 ball directly over the center of the plate and catching 
 Rollins napping. 
 
 "Well, well," cried Chub merrily. "Only one more, 
 Kirb. They can 't touch you, old man ! ' ' 
 
 But that was n't quite so, for Mullins, the head of the 
 rival batting list, touched him for two bases. O'Meara 
 came up plainly resolved to do as well if not better, but 
 only brought the first half to a close by popping up a 
 high foul which Thurlow had no trouble with. 
 
 As the teams changed places the cheering broke out 
 simultaneously from both sides of the diamond, and flags 
 waved tumultuously. 
 
THE CRIMSON SWEATEE DISAPPEARS 303 
 
 "Who 's at bat?" asked Chub as he trotted to the 
 bench. 
 
 "Carpenter," said the scorer. "No, I mean Porter. ' ? 
 
 "All right, Roy," said Chub. 
 
 "Take it easy," counselled Mr. Cobb. "All you want 
 is to reach first. ' ' We '11 get you on from there. ' ' 
 
 ' ' What 's he like ? ' ' asked Roy of Chub as he stooped 
 to select his bat. 
 
 ' ' Oh, kind of hard. Look out for slow balls ; he 's full 
 of 'em and works 'em on you when you 're least expect- 
 ing 'em. You can hit him." 
 
 "Hope so," answered Roy as he selected his stick 
 and walked to the plate. As he faced the Hammond 
 pitcher, who grinned at him in probable recollection of 
 the camp adventure, the Ferry Hill supporters started a 
 cheer. 
 
 "Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Por- 
 ter!" 
 
 Roy felt a little warming tingle in the region of his 
 heart. Then he was swinging his bat back, for Rollins 
 had undoubled and shot the ball forward. Chub stag- 
 gered back out of its way. 
 
 "Ball!" droned the umpire. 
 
 Then came what was seemingly a straight delivery and 
 Roy swung at it. But it went down so suddenly when a 
 few feet from the plate that his bat traveled several 
 inches above it and threw Roy off his balance. Ham- 
 mond jeered and laughed. 
 
 "Don't try to slug, Roy!" called Chub. "Easy does 
 it!" 
 
304 THE CEBISON SWEATEE 
 
 And so it proved. Rollins sent a "teaser," one of his 
 puzzling slow ones, but Roy had the good fortune to guess 
 it before it reached the plate. He met it with an easy 
 swing and made for first. Third baseman smothered it 
 as it arose from the ground for the first bound and threw 
 swiftly. But Roy was like a streak when it came to run- 
 ning bases, and this fact, coupled with the fact that first 
 baseman had to step wide of the bag to get the throw, 
 made him safe. Chub raced over to coach and seized the 
 moment while the pitcher was returning to his box to 
 whisper instructions. 
 
 ' ' Don 't wait for a hit ; steal on the first ball. ' ' 
 
 Cole appeared at the plate and Chub retreated to the 
 coacher 's box and knelt on the ground. 
 
 "Not too far," he counselled anxiously. "Watch out! 
 Wait for the hit. Charlie '11 send you down." 
 
 Rollins looked over at him, but did n't throw. The 
 new player was plainly timid and would n't give much 
 trouble. So he turned his attention to Cole. Roy 
 pranced nervously about on his toes a scant yard from 
 base while the pitcher doubled himself into a knot. Then, 
 as the arm began to drop swiftly, Roy leaped forward 
 and shot for second. 
 
 ' ' He 's gone ! ' ' cried the infielders. 
 
 Cole swung at the ball, which was a drop, the Ham- 
 mond catcher found it near the ground, side-stepped and 
 sent it swiftly down to second. Unfortunately for suc- 
 cess, he delivered it head-high to shortstop and in the 
 moment that it took for the latter player to swing down 
 with it Roy found safety. Squatting on the bag he 
 
THE CRIMSON SWEATEE DISAPPEARS 305 
 
 waited for proceedings to resume, dusting the brown 
 soil from the front of his shirt and hearkening happily to 
 the cheers which thundered from the Ferry Hill side. 
 Then he was up and taking a good long lead in response 
 to the appeals of Thurlow back of third. Rollins evi- 
 dently felt sore, for Roy had done what few had suc- 
 ceeded in doing that spring; he prided himself on the 
 fact that runners found it mighty hard work to steal 
 bases on him ! So he tried twice to catch Roy napping 
 on second, but failed each time. Cole sent up a foul and 
 then fanned out. 
 
 Sidney Welch took his place. Sid had made a good 
 record to-day for a youngster and Roy looked for a hit. 
 It came at once. Sid took a try at the first delivery and 
 sent it speeding into short center field. Center slammed 
 the ball down to third, but Roy was up again by the 
 time it got there. Post came to bat looking determined. 
 Roy danced along third base line and once narrowly 
 escaped a put-out when Rollins slammed the ball over to 
 third. Then Post let drive at a straight one and lifted a 
 high fly into short left field. He was caught out and 
 neither Roy nor Sid had a chance to advance. 
 
 ' ' Two gone ! ' ' shouted Cole over at first. ' ' Everything 
 goes ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' You 've got to score, Roy ! ' ' coached Thurlow. ' ' Take 
 a good lead now ! That 's it ! " 
 
 Chub was at bat. Rollins sent a strike over. Chub 
 tapped the plate. Sid edged farther away from first. 
 Rollins pitched again. 
 
 "He 's gone!" was the cry. "Watch home!" 
 
306 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 Sid was lighting out for second. Shortstop ran in 
 and catcher threw down to him. Roy ran a few steps 
 farther toward the home plate and stayed there, ready 
 to go on or return to third. Sid doubled back for first. 
 Shortstop sized up the situation, made as though to 
 throw to third and then sent the ball to first. Sid turned 
 again toward second. Roy was dancing about a third of 
 the way home. 
 
 "Watch home!" shouted the catcher. 
 
 But first baseman did n't hear, or hearing thought he 
 knew better what to do. Sid was between him and 
 second baseman now, scrambling back and forth like a 
 rat in a trap. First threw to second and — 
 
 ' ' Home ! Home ! ' ' shrieked the rest of the players. 
 
 Second threw home, but he threw wildly and the ball 
 struck the ground to the left of the catcher and went 
 bounding back toward the fence. 
 
 Roy picked himself up and, patting the dust from his 
 clothes, walked panting to the bench. Sid had reached 
 third. Ferry Hill shouted and capered and waved brown 
 and white flags. 
 
 The scorer credited Ferry Hill with one more precious 
 tally and, amid noisy encouragement, Chub stepped 
 smiling back into the box. 
 
 Rollins was the least bit rattled for the first time dur- 
 ing the game. Chub found a nice one and Sid raced 
 home. Out between right fielder and center fielder the 
 ball fell to earth untouched and Chub was on first. 
 
 The cheering from the Ferry Hill side was wild and 
 discordant, and it did n't stop for an instant until Chub 
 
THE CEIMSON SWEATER DISAPPEARS 307 
 
 was caught stealing second and put out two yards from 
 the bag. 
 
 Ferry Hill's supporters were happier than they had 
 been for an hour and a half. To be sure, Hammond was 
 still two runs to the good, but seven to five sounded a 
 whole lot nicer than seven to three ; and, besides, Ferry 
 Hill's best batsmen were coming up for the last of the 
 ninth. Hammond went to bat with Stone, her center 
 fielder up. 
 
 But Kirby had found his pace. Stone stood idle while 
 two strikes and one ball were called on him. Then he 
 swung at what seemed to be made for his purpose. Then 
 he went back to the bench. Young took his place. Young 
 was a good hand with the stick and even Kirby 's most 
 puzzling balls could n't keep him from first. He lined 
 out the hottest kind of a sizzler over Chub 's head and was 
 ready to go to second when Post fielded it. But he de- 
 cided to stay where he was for the present. Perhaps had 
 he known what was to befall Hartley and Hyde he would 
 have risked more then. As it was, when he left first base 
 it was not to take second but to trot out to his position in 
 right field. For Kirby struck out the next two batsmen 
 in a style extremely pleasing to his friends and was the 
 lecipient of an embarrassing ovation when he walked to 
 the bench. 
 
 ' ' Here 's our last chance, ' ' said Chub a trifle nervously 
 as he ran in. "You 're up, Bacon. Do something now, 
 for goodness sake ! ' ' 
 
 Well, not to prolong the suspense, Bacon did some- 
 thing. He struck out ; struck out as miserably as though 
 
308 THE CEIMSON SWEATER 
 
 his side did n't need two or three runs the worst way 
 in the world. And he went back to the bench and Chub 
 and the others looking ready to cry. 
 
 ' ' Hard luck, ' ' said Chub, striving to seem cheerful. 
 
 "' ' Rotten batting ! ' ' muttered Bacon angrily. 
 
 Thurlow brought hope back, however, by getting to 
 first on second baseman's juggling of a liner. Pryor 
 went to bat with instructions to bunt, tried it twice and 
 then went out to third baseman. There were two out, 
 a man on first and the tag end of the batting list was in 
 sight. On the Hammond side the cheering was loud and 
 contented. On the opposite side the brown flags were 
 drooping dejectedly and the stands were emptying. 
 Clearly, defeat was to be Ferry Hill's portion to-day. 
 
 But Kirby was n't ready to acknowledge it. At least, 
 he told himself, he would have one good bang at that 
 ball. He could do no more than go out. So he slammed 
 away at two deliveries, waited while a third went by and 
 then hammered out a clean two-base-hit that sent Thur- 
 low ambling across the plate for the sixth tally. Some- 
 how, that seemed to change the entire aspect of things. 
 Homeward-bound spectators paused and edged back to 
 the diamond. Ferry Hill's cheers, which for the last 
 five minutes had been weak and quite evidently "ma- 
 chine made," now broke out afresh and the air became 
 full of waving brown flags. 
 
 It was ' ' Porter at bat ! ' ' now, and Chub was whisper- 
 ing intensely in Roy's ear, accompanying him to the 
 plate and parting from him finally with a slap on the 
 shoulder that was heard across on the stand. 
 
THE CEIMSON SWEATER DISAPPEARS 309 
 
 Now, if there 's one thing in the whole wide world 
 calculated to give a chap a fit of nervous prostration it 
 is to go to bat in the last half of the ninth inning with 
 the knowledge that on his ability or inability to hit safely 
 hangs victory or defeat. Roy had that knowledge, and 
 little chills crept up and down his spine when he con- 
 sidered it. So he tried not to. He tried to forget every- 
 thing save that he was there to hit the ball ; everything 
 save that and what Chub had whispered in his ear at the 
 last. 
 
 " 'When you 're up against a bigger man, Roy, grin 
 as hard as you can grin ! ' Don 't forget what your 
 brother told you ! That 's all, you dear old chump ! ' ' 
 
 So Roy grinned. Perhaps he grinned so much that he 
 quite disordered his features, for he found Rollins look- 
 ing at him curiously as though wondering as to his sanity. 
 But Roy still grinned — and watched. 
 
 Rollins wound himself up and unwound himself, and 
 the ball shot forward. Roy judged it quickly and let it 
 go by. The umpire vindicated his judgment. 
 
 "Ball!" he said. 
 
 Then came something of a different calibre and Roy 
 stepped down and hit at it. It went by without a jar. 
 
 ' ' Strike ! ' ' said the umpire. 
 
 Again Roy tried his luck, spun half around and re- 
 covered himself to find Rollins doing the grinning. Roy 
 grew angry. To have Rollins laugh at him was too much. 
 He gripped his bat and took position again. Then he 
 remembered his grin. It was hard to get it back, but he 
 
310 THE CRIMSON SWEATEE 
 
 did it. Roy has an idea that that grin worried Rollins; 
 that as may be, it is a fact that the next ball went so wide 
 of the plate that the catcher had to throw himself on the 
 ground to stop it and Kirby was safe on second. 
 
 "Two and two!" cried the catcher, setting his mask 
 firm again. "Right after him, Jim. He 's pretty easy." 
 
 Jim undoubtedly meant Roy to strike at the next one, 
 but Roy did n't because the ball quite evidently had no 
 intention of coming over the base. 
 
 ' ' Three balls, ' ' remarked the umpire in a disinterested 
 tone, just as though hundreds of hearts were n't up in 
 hundreds of throats. 
 
 For the first time since coming to bat Roy had a gleam 
 of hope. Rollins had put himself in a hole and the next 
 ball would have to be a good one. And it was. 
 
 Roy swung sharply to meet it, dropped his bat like a 
 hot potato and streaked for first. Out in left field a 
 cherry and black stockinged youth was gazing inquiringly 
 toward the afternoon sky. Home raced Kirby, around 
 the bases streaked Roy. He had seen the ball now and 
 hope was dying out within him. Left fielder seemed 
 directly under it. But he would run as hard as he 
 knew how, at any rate ; there was no harm in that ; and 
 you never could tell what would happen in baseball. So 
 Roy went flying across second base and headed for third 
 like a small cyclone in a hurry. And as he did so his 
 heart leaped, for left fielder had suddenly turned and 
 was running sideways and backward by turns out into 
 the field. 
 
THE CRIMSON SWEATER DISAPPEARS 311 
 
 He had misjudged it badly. Had he not done so I 
 should have had a different ending to narrate. But he 
 did, and when the ball came to earth he was not quite 
 under it although he made a frantic effort to get it. And 
 by the time he had picked it up and relayed it to short- 
 stop Roy was turning past third. And by the time short- 
 stop had his hands about it and had turned, Roy was 
 almost at the plate. And by the time — But what 's the 
 use in drawing a story out in this way? Roy beat that 
 ball to the plate by at least two seconds. And in one 
 more second he was being literally carried to the bench 
 in the midst of a howling, shrieking, dancing mob of 
 Ferry Hillites. 
 
 Perhaps Ferry Hill would have continued the 
 game until her third man had been put out had 
 she had a chance. But when the spectators take it into 
 their heads to have a war-dance in the middle of the 
 diamond, ball playing is extremely difficult. So Chub 
 shouted something to the umpire, the scorer slammed his 
 book shut on a score of 8 — 7 and pandemonium had 
 everything its own way. 
 
 Here and there a Ferry Hill player tried to sneak back 
 to the gymnasium undetected, but in every case he was 
 captured and placed high up on the shoulders of frantic, 
 joy-crazed friends. There was no band there to lead that 
 triumphant procession around and around the diamond, 
 but no one felt the necessity for one. There was noise 
 enough without it. 
 
812 THE CRIMSON SWEATER 
 
 Roy, swaying unsteadily on the shoulders of a little 
 group of hatless, red-faced youths, looked down on the 
 sea of pushing, panting figures and grinned happily. 
 Chub, clinging desperately to the heads of two of his 
 bearers, charged through the throng in Roy's direction. 
 
 " Hello, there!" he bawled. "Use your spurs and 
 come on!" 
 
 But Roy's bearers needed no spurs. They charged the 
 crowd and Roy went bobbing through a little forest of 
 upraised eager hands. Then the procession took some 
 semblance of form and began its march around the bases 
 according to time-honored custom. As Roy, following 
 closely behind Chub, passed third, he found Doctor 
 Emery and his family beside him. The Doctor was smil- 
 ing broadly, Mrs. Emery was waving a diminutive ban- 
 ner and Harry was dancing and shrieking, her red hair 
 floating in disordered wisps about her face. She caught 
 sight of Roy on the instant and darted toward him. 
 
 "Wait! Wait!" she commanded shrilly. 
 
 Roy's bearers waited, laughing and panting protest- 
 ingly. 
 
 Harry reached up and tossed a crimson sweater about 
 Roy's shoulders. 
 
 "I 'm so glad, Roy," she cried breathlessly. "And 
 it 's all mended ; I did it myself ! ' ' 
 
 Roy nodded, drew the arms of his precious sweater 
 across his chest and called his thanks. Then, impatient 
 of the delay, his bearers charged forward again and Roy 
 
THE CRIMSON SWEATEE DISAPPEARS 313 
 
 clutched wildly to keep his seat. Thrice around the dia- 
 mond the procession went, cheering and singing, and then 
 it turned across the track and filed through the gate in 
 the hedge and so through the June twilight and under 
 the great elms to the gymnasium. 
 
 And in the van of the line, like a vivid standard of 
 victory, swayed The Crimson Sweater. 
 
- :b