Left End Edwards

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LEFT END EDWARDS

[Illustration: The "Forward Pass"]

LEFT END EDWARDS

BY

RALPH HENRY BARBOUR

AUTHOR OF

THE HALF-BACK, ETC.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY

CHARLES M. RELYEA

[Illustration]

NEW YORK

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America

COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I FATHERS AND SONS 3

II OFF TO SCHOOL 13

III STOP THIEF! 24

IV OUT FOR BRIMFIELD! 40

V NUMBER 12 BILLINGS 51

VI CLUES! 62

VII THE CONFIDENCE-MAN 73

VIII IN THE RUBBING ROOK 86

IX BACK IN TOGS 98

X "CHEAP FOR CASH" 112

XI "HOLD 'EM, THIRD!" 125

XII CANTERBURY ROMPS ON--AND OFF 142

XIII SAWYER VOWS VENGEANCE 157

XIV A LESSON IN TACKLING 170

XV STEVE WINNOWS SOME CHAFF 182

XVI MR. DALEY IS OUT 202

XVII THE BLUE-BOOK 212

XVIII B PLUS AND D MINUS 225

XIX THE SECOND PUTS IT OVER 235

XX BLOWS ARE STRUCK 251

XXI FRIENDS FALL OUT 267

XXII STEVE GETS A SURPRISE 285

XXIII DURKIN SHEDS LIGHT 297

XXIV THE DAY BEFORE THE BATTLE 309

XXV TOM TO THE RESCUE 323

XXVI AT THE END OF THE FIRST HALF 334

XXVII STEVE SMILES 346

XXVIII THE CHUMS READ A TELEGRAM 360

ILLUSTRATIONS

The "Forward Pass" _Frontispiece_

FACING PAGE

Steve slipped on the tiling and fell sidewise into the water
(page 166) 80

"Lift!" instructed the quarter-back. "Lift me up and yank my
feet out from under me! Use your weight and throw me back!" 178

It was Steve, Steve on his back, with only his head and
shoulders above the water 324

LEFT END EDWARDS

CHAPTER I

FATHERS AND SONS

"Dad, what does 'Mens sana in corpore sano' mean?"

Mr. Edwards slightly lowered his Sunday paper and over the top of it
frowned abstractedly at the boy on the window-seat. "Eh?" he asked.
"What was that?"

"'Mens sana in corpore sano,' sir."

"Oh!" Mr. Edwards blinked through his reading glasses and rustled the
paper. Finally, "For a boy who has studied as much Latin as you have,"
he said disapprovingly, "the question is extraordinary, to say the
least. I'd advise you to--hm--find your dictionary, Steve." And Mr.
Edwards again retired from sight.

Steve, cross-legged on the broad seat that filled the library bay, a
seat which commanded an uninterrupted view up and down the street,
smiled into the open pamphlet he held.

"He doesn't know," he said to himself with a chuckle. "It's something
about your mind and your body, though. Never mind." He idly fluttered
the leaves of the pamphlet and glanced out into the street to see if any
friends were in sight. But it was Sunday afternoon, and rainy, and the
wide, maple-bordered street, its neat artificial stone sidewalks
shimmering with moisture, was quite deserted. With a sigh Steve went
back to the pamphlet. It bore the inscription on the outer cover:
"Brimfield Academy," and, below, in parenthesis, "William Torrence
Foundation."

"What does 'William Torrence Foundation' mean, dad?" asked the boy.

Again Mr. Edwards lowered his paper, with a sigh. "It means, as you will
discover for yourself if you will take the trouble to read the
catalogue, that a man named William Torrence gave the money to establish
the school. Now, for goodness sake, Steve, let me read in peace for a
minute!"

"Yes, sir. Thank you." Steve turned the pages, glanced again at the
"View of Main Building from the Lawn" and began to read. "In 1878
William Torrence, Esq., of New York City, visited his native town of
Brimfield and interested the citizens in a plan to establish a school on
a large tract of land at the edge of the town which had been in the
Torrence family for many generations. Two years later the school was
built and, under the title of Torrence Seminary, began a successful
career which has lasted for thirty-two years. Under the principalship of
Dr. Andrew Morey, the institution increased rapidly in usefulness, and
in 1892 it was found necessary to add two wings to the original
structure at a cost of $34,000, also the gift of the founder. Dr.
Morey's connection with the school ended four years later, when the
services of the present head, Mr. Joshua Fernald, A.M., were secured.
The death of Mr. Torrence in 1897, after a long and honoured career,
removed the school's greatest friend and benefactor, but, by the terms
of his will, placed it beyond the reach of want for many years. With new
buildings and improvements made possible by the generous provisions of
the testament the school soon took its place amongst the foremost
institutions of its kind. In 1908 the charter name was changed to
Brimfield Academy--William Torrence Foundation, the course was
lengthened from four years to six and the present era of well-deserved
prosperity was entered on. Brimfield Academy now has accommodations for
260 boys, its faculty consists of 19 members and its buildings number 8.
Situated as it is----"

Steve yawned frankly, viewed again the somnolent street and idly turned
the pages. There were several pictures, but he had seen them all many
times and only the one labelled "'Varsity Athletic Field--Gymnasium
Beyond" claimed his interest for a moment. At last,

"They've got a peach of an athletic field, dad," he observed
approvingly. "I can see six goals, and that means three gridirons. And
there's a baseball field besides. The catalogue says that 'provision is
also made for tennis, boating and swimming,' but I don't see any tennis
courts in the picture."

"All right," grunted his father from behind the paper.

"I wonder," continued Steve musingly, "where you get your boating and
swimming. It says that Long Island Sound is two and a half miles
distant. That's a long old ways to go for a swim, isn't it?"

Mr. Edwards laid the paper across his knees and regarded the boy
severely. "Steve," he said, "about the only thing I've heard from you
since that catalogue arrived is the athletic field and the gymnasium.
I'd like to refresh your mind on one point, my son."

"Yes, sir?" said Steve without much eagerness.

"I'd like to remind you that you are not going to Brimfield Academy to
play football or baseball, or to swim. You're going there to study and
learn! I don't propose to spend four hundred and fifty dollars a year,
besides a whole lot for extras, to have you taught how to kick a
football or make a home-hit. And----"

"A home-run, sir," corrected Steve humbly.

"Or whatever it is, then. I expect you to buckle down when you get there
and learn. Remember that you've got just two years in which to prepare
yourself for college. If you aren't ready then, you don't go. That's
flat, my boy, and I want you to understand it. So, if you have any idea
of football and tennis as your--er--principal courses you want to get it
right out of your head. Now, for a change, suppose you have a look at
the studies in front of you, and don't let me hear anything more about
the gymnasium or the--the what-do-you-call-it field."

"All right, sir." Steve obediently turned the pages back. "Just the
same," he said to himself, "he didn't know what 'mens sana in corpore
sano' meant any better than I did! Bet you _he_ didn't kill himself
studying when _he_ went to school!" With a sigh he found the "Courses of
Study" and read: "Form IV. Classical. Latin: Vergil's Aeneid, IV--XII,
Cicero and Ovid at sight, Composition (5). Greek: Xenophon's Hellenica,
Selections, Iliad and Odyssey, Selections, Sight Reading, Reviews,
Composition (5). German (optional) (4). French: Advanced Grammar and
Composition, Le Siege de Paris, Le Barbier de Saville----"

At that moment a shrill whistle sounded outside the library window and
Steve's eyes fled from the pamphlet to the grinning face of Tom Hall set
between two of the fence pickets. The Catalogue of Brimfield Academy was
tossed to the further end of the seat, and Steve, nodding vigorously
through the window, jumped to his feet.

"I'm going for a walk with Tom, sir," he announced half-way to the hall
door. Mr. Edwards, smothering a sigh of relief, glanced at the weather.

"Very well," he said. "Don't get your feet wet. And--er--be back before
it's dark."

Steve disappeared into the dim hallway and Mr. Edwards gave honest
expression to his sense of relief by elevating his feet to the seat of a
neighbouring chair, dropping the newspaper and, with a luxurious sigh,
composing himself for his Sunday afternoon nap. But peace was not yet
his, for a minute or two later Steve came hurrying in again. Mr. Edwards
opened his eyes with a frown.

"Sorry, sir," said Steve, "but Tom wants to see the catalogue."

His father nodded drowsily and Steve, securing the pamphlet, stole out
again with creaking Sunday shoes. Very quietly the front door went shut
and peace at last pervaded the house. In the library, Mr. Edwards,
dropping into slumber, was dimly conscious of a last disturbing thought.
It was that he was going to miss that boy of his a whole lot after next
week!

"It's all right," declared Tom Hall as he took the catalogue from Steve
with eager fingers. "At least, I'm pretty sure it is. He said at dinner
that he'd think it over, and when he says that it means--that it's all
right. What do you say, eh?"

"_Bully!_" That was what Steve said. And he said it not only once but
several times and with varying degrees of enthusiasm and volume. And, as
though fearing his chum would doubt his satisfaction, he accompanied
each "_Bully!_" with an emphatic thump on Tom's back. Tom, choking and
coughing, squirmed out of the way.

"Here! Ho-ho-hold on, you silly chump! You don't have to kill a fellow!"

"Won't it be dandy!" exclaimed Steve, beaming. "We can room together!
And--and----"

"You bet! And we can have a bully time on the train, too. Gee, I never
travelled as far as that alone!"

"I have! It's lots of fun! You eat your meals in a dining-car and
there's a smoking-room where you can sit and chin as late as you want to
and you get off at the stations and walk up and down the platform and
you tip the negro porters and----"

"Wouldn't it be great if we both made the football team, Steve? Of
course, you'll make it anyway, and I might if I had a little luck.
Townsend said last year I didn't do so badly, you know, and if----"

"Of course you'll make it! We both will; next year anyway. I'll bet
they've got lots of fellows on the team no better than you are, Tom.
Wait till I show you the athletic field. It's a corker!" And Steve's
fingers turned the pages of the school catalogue eagerly. "How's that?"
he demanded at last in triumph.

They paused under a dripping tree while Tom viewed the picture, Steve
looking over his shoulder.

"It's fine!" sighed Tom at last. "Gee, I hope--I hope he lets me!"

"Let's go over there now so you can show him this," suggested Steve.
But Tom shook his head wisely.

"Not now," he said. "He don't like to be disturbed Sunday afternoons.
He--he sort of has a nap, you see."

"Just like dad," replied Steve. "Bet you when I get as old as that I
won't stick around the house and go to sleep. Say, Tom, what does 'Mens
sana in corpore sano' mean?"

"A sound mind in a sound body," replied Tom promptly. "Why?"

"It's in here and I asked dad and he didn't know." Steve chuckled. "He
made believe he was peevish with me, so's he wouldn't have to fess up.
Dad's foxy, all right!"

"Well, you ought to have known, Steve," said Tom severely.

"Sure," agreed Steve untroubledly. "That's what he said. Let's take that
a minute. I want to show you the picture of the campus."

"Let's sit down somewhere and look it over," said Tom. "I told father
that it was a school where they were terribly strict with the fellows
and you had to study awfully hard all the time. I wonder if it is."

"I don't believe so," answered Steve. "They say so much about football
and baseball and things like that you can tell they aren't cranky about
studying. And look at the pictures of the different teams in here.
There's the baseball nine, see? Pretty husky looking bunch, aren't they?
And--turn over--there you are--there's the football team. Some of those
chaps aren't any bigger than I am, or you, either. Good looking
uniforms, aren't they? Say, dad gave me a lecture on not thinking I was
going there to just play football. Fathers are awfully funny sometimes!"

"You bet! I wonder--I wonder--would you mind if we tore out a couple of
these pictures before he sees it? I'm afraid he might think there was
too much in it about athletics."

"No, tear away! Here, I'll do it. We'll take the pictures of the teams
out. How about the athletic field? Better tear that out too, do you
think?"

"Well, maybe, just to be on the safe side, you know. Don't throw 'em
away, though. We might want to look at them again. Let's go over to the
library where we can talk, Steve."

CHAPTER II

OFF TO SCHOOL

Possibly you are wondering why two boys, each of whom was possessed of a
perfectly good home of his own, should select the Tannersville Public
Library as a place in which to converse. The answer is that Steve's
father and Tom's father were in the same line of trade, wholesale
lumber, and had a few years before fallen out over some business matter.
Since that time the two men had been at daggers drawn during office
hours and only coldly civil at other times. Steve was forbidden to set
foot in Tom's house and Tom was as strictly prohibited from entering
Steve's. Had the fathers had their way at the beginning of the quarrel
the boys would have ceased then and there to have anything to do with
each other. But they had been close friends ever since primary school
days and, while they reluctantly respected the dictum as to visiting at
each other's residences, they had firmly refused to give up the
friendship, and their fathers had finally been forced to sanction what
they could not prevent.

At the time this story opens, the quarrel between the two men, each a
prominent and well-to-do member of the community, still continued, but
its edge had been dulled by time. Both Mr. Edwards and Mr. Hall took
active parts in municipal affairs and so were forced to meet often and
to even serve together on various committees. They almost invariably
took opposite sides on every question, but they did not allow their
personal quarrel to interfere with their public duties.

The boys had at first found the condition of affairs very irksome, but
had eventually got used to it. It was hard not to be able to run in and
out of each other's houses as they had done when they had first known
each other, but there were plenty of opportunities to be together away
from home and they made the most of them and were well-nigh inseparable.
Mr. Edwards had declared, when announcing the fact in the preceding
spring, that Steve was to go to boarding school, that he was sending the
boy away to remove him from the questionable association of Tom Hall.
But Steve gave little credence to that statement, for he knew that
secretly his father thought very well of Tom. The real reason was that
Steve had not been making good progress at high school, owing
principally to the fact that he gave too much time to athletics and not
enough to study. Mr. Edwards concluded that at a boarding school Steve
would be under a stricter discipline and would profit by it. Steve's
mother had died many years before, and his father, while perfectly able
to command a large army of employees, was rather helpless when it came
to exercising a proper authority over one sixteen-year-old boy!

Naturally enough, Tom, when he had learned of his chum's impending
departure in the fall for boarding school, began a vigorous campaign to
secure parental permission to accompany him. Mrs. Hall had soon yielded,
but Mr. Hall had held out stubbornly until almost the last moment. "I
guess," he had said more than once, "you see enough of that Edwards boy
without going off to the same boarding school with him! If you want to
go to some other school I'll consider it, Tom, but I'm blessed if I'll
have you tagging after Steve Edwards the way you propose!" But in the
end he, too, capitulated, though with ill-grace, and for a week there
were not two busier persons in all Tannersville than Steve and Tom.
Steve had taken time by the forelock and had accumulated most of the
necessary outfit, but Tom had to attend to all his wants in six
weekdays, and there was much scurrying around the shops by the two
lads, much hurry and worry and bustle in the Hall mansion. You had to
take with you such a lot of silly truck, you see! Or, at least, that is
the way Tom put it. The catalogue informed them that they must provide
their own sheets, pillow-cases, spreads, towels, napkins and laundry
bags, as well as take with them a knife, fork and spoon each. Steve
sarcastically wondered if the school gave them beds to sleep in! The
situation was further complicated by the eleventh-hour discovery on the
part of Mrs. Hall that Tom's clothing, while quite good enough for
Tannersville, would never do for Brimfield Academy, and poor Tom had to
be fitted to new suits of clothes and shoes and hats and various other
articles of apparel.

They were to leave early Monday morning, for in that way they could
reach Brimfield before dark. Both boys, who had set their hearts on a
night in a sleeping-car, with all its exciting possibilities, begged to
be allowed to make their start Monday evening, which would allow them to
arrive at school Tuesday forenoon in plenty of time. But neither Steve's
father nor Tom's would listen to the suggestion.

"Then I'll get there a whole day before school opens," grumbled Tom,
"and have to stay there all alone Monday night."

"It won't hurt you a bit," replied Mr. Hall. "And the catalogue says
that students will be received any time after Monday noon. I'm not going
to have you two reckless youngsters travelling around the country
together at night."

Tom, recognising the inevitable, said no more.

There was a somewhat awkward ten minutes at the station, for both Mr.
Edwards and Mr. Hall, the latter accompanied by his wife, went down to
see the boys off. The men nodded coldly to each other and then the odd
situation of two boys who were to travel together side by side taking
leave of their parents at opposite ends of the same car developed.
Tannersville is not a large town and those who were on the platform that
morning when the New York express pulled in understood the dilemma and
smiled over it. Steve and Tom were both rather relieved when the
good-byes were over and the train was pulling out of the station.

"Blamed foolishness," muttered Steve as he met Tom where their bags were
piled on one of the seats.

"Yes, don't they make you tired?" agreed the other. "Say, how much did
you get?"

Steve thrust his fingers into a waistcoat pocket and drew out a
carefully folded and very crisp ten-dollar bill, and Tom whistled.

"I only got seven," he said; "five from father and two from mother. I
guess that will do, though. The only things we have to pay for are
dinner and getting across New York. Got your ticket safe?"

Ensued then a breathless, panicky minute while Steve searched pocket
after pocket for the envelope which contained his transportation to
Brimfield, New York. The perspiration began to stand out on his
forehead, his eyes grew large and round and his gaze set, Tom fidgetted
mightily and persons in nearby seats, sensing the tragedy, grinned in
heartless amusement. Then, at last, the precious envelope came to light
from the depths of the very first pocket in which he had searched and,
with sighs of vast relief, the two boys subsided into the seat. By that
time Tannersville was left behind and the great adventure had begun!

There are lots of worse things in life than starting off to school for
the first time when you have someone with you to share your pleasant
anticipations and direful forebodings. It is an exciting experience, I
can tell you! The feeling of being cast on your own resources is at once
blissfully uplifting and breathtakingly fearsome. Suppose they lost
their way in New York? Suppose they were robbed of their tickets or
their pocket money? You were always hearing about folks being robbed on
trains, while, as for New York, why, every fellow knew that it was
simply a den of iniquity! Or suppose the train was wrecked? It was Tom
who supplied most of these direful contingencies and Steve who
carelessly--or so it seemed--disposed of them.

"If we lost our way we'd ask a policeman," he said. "And if anyone
pinched our money or our tickets we'd just telegraph home to the folks
and wait until we heard from them."

"Where'd we wait?" asked Tom with great interest.

"Hotel."

"They wouldn't let us in unless we had money, would they?" Tom objected.
"Maybe we could find the United States consul."

"That's only when you're abroad," corrected Steve scathingly. "There
aren't any United States consuls in the United States, you silly chump!"

"I should think there ought to be," Tom replied uneasily. "What time do
we get to New York?"

"Two thirty-five, if we're on time. We ought to be. This is a peach of a
train; one of the best on the road. Bet you she's making a mile a minute
right now."

"Bet you she isn't!"

"Bet you she is! I'll ask the conductor."

That gentleman was approaching, and as they yielded their tickets to be
punched Steve put the question. The conductor leaned down and took a
glance at the flying landscape. "About forty-five miles an hour, I
guess. That fast enough for you, boys?"

"Sure," replied Tom. "But he said we were going a mile a minute."

"No, we don't make better than fifty anywhere. You in a hurry, are you?"

"Only for dinner," laughed Steve. "Where do we get dinner, sir?"

"There's a dining-car on now," was the reply. "Or you can get out at
Phillipsburg at twelve-twenty-three and get something at the lunch
counter. We stop there five minutes."

"Me for the dining-car," declared Steve when the conductor had moved on.
"What time is it now, I wonder."

It was only a very few minutes after eight, the discovery of which fact
occasioned both surprise and dismay. "Seems as though it ought to be
pretty nearly noon, doesn't it?" asked Tom.

"Yes. What time did you have breakfast? I had mine at half-past six."

"Me too. Let's go through the train and see if we can find some apples
or popcorn or something."

The trainboy was discovered in a corner of the smoking-car and they
purchased apples, chocolate caramels and salted peanuts, as well as two
humorous weeklies, and found a seat in the car and settled down to
business. They were both frightfully hungry, since excitement had
prevented full justice to breakfasts. It was horribly smoky in that car,
but Steve declared that he liked it, and Tom, although his eyes were
soon smarting painfully, pretended that he did too.

"I suppose we'll have to smoke at school," said Tom without enthusiasm.

Steve considered the question a moment. "I don't believe we will unless
we want to," he replied at last. "We can say it's because we're in
training, you know. They don't allow you to smoke when you're trying for
the football team or anything like that."

Tom sighed his relief. "It makes me horribly squirmy," he said. "I
thought, though, that if all the fellows did it, you know, I'd better,
too. In all the stories about boarding schools I've ever read, the
fellows smoke on the sly and get found out. Don't see much fun in that,
though, do you?"

"No." Steve devoured the last of his apple and started on the peanuts.
"I don't believe those stories very well, anyway. There's always a
goody-goody hero that gets suspected of something he didn't do and knows
who really did it all the time and won't tell. And then he saves another
fellow from drowning or something and it turns out that it was that
fellow who did it, you know, and he goes and fesses up to the principal
and the principal asks the hero's pardon in class and the captain of the
football team comes to him and begs him to play quarter-back or
something, which he does, and the school wins its big game because the
hero gets the ball and runs the length of the field with it and scores a
touchdown. I guess boarding school isn't really very much like that,
Tom. I guess there's a heap more hard work to it than those fellows who
write the stories tell you about. Anyway, we'll soon find out."

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