Left End Edwards

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But he was not to go unchallenged. The enemy was hot on his track, Steve
in the lead. And with the enemy, doing their best to upset or divert the
pursuit, came a half-dozen of the 'varsity. It was a wildly confused
race for a minute. Then the slow-footed ones dropped behind and the
procession consisted of Eric, running desperately some five yards ahead
of Steve, Steve pounding along at his heels, Williams striving to edge
Freer toward the side of the field, Marvin leading Captain Miller by a
scant yard, and one or two others dropping gradually away as the race
progressed. Near the twenty-five-yard line Williams managed to upset
Freer and went down with him in the effort, Andy Miller drew even with
Marvin, and Eric glanced behind him for the first time, at the same
moment heading a bit further toward the centre of the gridiron.

That move lost him a stride of his lead, and Steve made a final spurt
that took just about all the breath left in his body. On the fifteen
yards his hand went out gropingly, touched Eric's back and fell away.
Near the ten-yard line Steve launched himself forward and his arms
settled about Eric's thighs, slid down to his knees and tightened. Eric
went down, dragged forward another yard and then, panting and weak, gave
it up. Then Marvin settled ungently on his back, to make assurances
doubly sure, Andy Miller threw him off very promptly and Steve rolled
over on his back and fought for breath.

The rest of the teams came panting up, the audience along the side-line
howled and cheered gloriously, if a trifle breathlessly, having itself
raced down the field in an effort to keep abreast of the drama, and
delighted members of the second team lifted Steve to his tottering feet,
thumped him on the back and shrieked praise into his singing ears.

After that, with the ball on the second's eight yards, the 'varsity
should have scored easily. And yet, so gallantly did the scrubs dig
their toes into the trampled turf that thrice the 'varsity was held for
a scant gain and, finally, with one down remaining, Williams dropped
back to the twenty-yard line and dropped a field-goal.

"Boots" was almost moved to tears and looked as though he wanted to
embrace each and every member of his team. For what was a puny three
points when the second had six to its credit? The things that Miller
said were extremely derogatory, while Coach Robey walked back to the
middle of the field with a disapproving air. In the four minutes that
remained, there was football played that _was_ football! The 'varsity,
smarting under impending defeat, went at it with a desperation that
promised everything. That it failed of what it promised was only because
the second, buoyed up by the knowledge of victory in its grasp, fought
like veterans. There was some fierce playing during those two hundred
and forty brief seconds, and the fellow who finally trudged off the
field without a scar felt himself dishonoured. Substitutes were thrown
into the fray by both sides, although "Boots," having fewer men to call
on, was handicapped. Steve went out in favour of Sherrard soon after the
kick-off, and Tom relieved Gafferty. The coaches raged and urged, the
rival captains scolded and implored and the quarters danced around and
acted like wild-men. And then, suddenly, the ball was seized, a whistle
blew and it was all over. And the panting players, tense of face,
dripping with perspiration, drew apart to view each other at first
scowlingly and then with slowly spreading grins, taking toll of their
own injuries and the enemy's.

"Good work, second," said Mr. Robey. "That's all for to-day. Get your
blankets and run all the way in."

CHAPTER XX

BLOWS ARE STRUCK

The second went off jubilantly. Steve was a hero for an hour. In the
locker room "Boots" said some nice things to them, pointed out a few
faults and took himself away just as the first team and its substitutes
came piling in. Most of them looked pretty grim about the mouths.
Evidently in the few minutes that Mr. Robey had detained them on the
field, they had been provided with food for thought. Andy Miller
encountered Steve on his way to the bath.

"That was good work, Edwards," he said heartily. "You fellows certainly
put it over us to-day." He shook his head ruefully. "We ought to have
got that touchdown in the last period." Then he smiled grimly, and,
"We'll get you to-morrow, though," he said with conviction. "How's
everything with you?"

"Fine and dandy, thanks," replied Steve heartily.

"Good! You haven't been around to see me, by the way. You and Hall must
think a confidence-man isn't a proper acquaintance."

"We're coming around soon, Miller. The fact is, I--well, I made such a
mutt of myself that last time----"

"Oh, nonsense! That's all right, Edwards. Don't let that worry you.
Besides, you took my advice, I guess, and that squares it. Mind if I
give you some more, by the way?"

"Of course not! I wish you would."

"Only this, Edwards. On defence don't watch the ball. They'll tell you
to, but don't do it. Watch your opponent. Watch his eyes. He will tell
you when the ball's snapped. He's got to watch it and you haven't, and
then if you keep your eyes on him you can guess where he's coming almost
before he starts. It may sound cheeky for me to tell you this, because,
as a matter of absolute fact, Edwards, you played all around me
to-day----"

"Oh, piffle, Miller!"

"Yes, you did," insisted the captain grimly. "I know it, if you don't.
But you try what I tell you to-morrow and see what a jump you'll get on
the other fellow. Come around and see me soon, you and Hall."

Andy moved away and Steve hurried on to find a shower before the new
crowd claimed them all. He was pretty well fagged out this afternoon,
and for once the thought of that swimming class didn't appeal. But after
a tepid shower and then a hard rush of ice-cold water over his tired
body, he felt different. Coming out of the bath he almost collided with
Eric Sawyer. Eric had a nasty cut over his right eye that gave him a
peculiarly ugly expression, and it was soon evident that Eric's temper
was as ugly as his appearance.

"Hello, fresh," he growled, scowling at Steve and barring his way in the
narrow passage. "What call had you to butt in on me to-day?"

"I was playing the game, that's all," replied Steve coolly.

"You think you're a wonder, don't you? Well, you wouldn't have got me if
I hadn't slipped. And the next time you interfere with me on the field
or anywhere else I'll fix you for keeps. Now you mind that, you fresh
young kid."

"You're a wonder at making threats, Sawyer," returned Steve angrily.
"Why don't you do something besides talk?"

"I'd give you a good thrashing if you weren't so small," Eric growled.

"Oh, that's all right," replied Steve airily. "We can't all have piano
legs, you know."

"Say, you let my legs alone! For two cents I'd tell what I know about
you, you cheater, and we'd see how long you'd stay so cocky!"

"What you know about me?" laughed Steve. "You go right ahead and tell
anything you want to, Sawyer. Whatever it is, it's a lie, I guess."

"Oh, is it? It's a lie that you swiped Upton's blue-book with his
composition in it, I suppose. It's a lie that you were going to use it
until Daley went up to your room and found it, I dare say. It's----"

"Yes, it is a lie, and you know it, Sawyer," flamed Steve. "If you tell
any story like that around----"

"I'll tell what I please, kid, and you can't stop me." Several fellows
came along the passage, viewing the two curiously, and Eric dropped his
voice a note. "You stop bothering me, Edwards, or I will tell, and if I
do, this place will be too hot for you. We don't like cheaters here----"

Steve sprang at him madly, but Eric stepped aside and Steve's blow went
past.

"None of that!" warned Eric in a low, ugly voice. "Ah, you want it, do
you?"

Steve hit again and Eric countered and got in a blow on the younger
boy's neck that sent him staggering against the wall. Then arms wrapped
themselves around Steve and a voice said:

"Here, what's up, Eric? Cut it out, Edwards!"

Steve, struggling, found himself in the firm grasp of Innes, the big
first team centre-rush. "He called me a cheat!" he cried angrily. "You
let me go, Innes!"

"So he is a cheat," returned Eric contemptuously. "He swiped Carl
Upton's French composition and was going to hand it in as his own if
Daley hadn't caught him at it!"

"That's a lie!" cried Steve. "Ask Mr. Daley himself! You're saying it
because I kept you from making that touchdown, you--you----"

"Hold on, Edwards!" said Innes. "Don't call names." By this time the
passage had filled with fellows, among them Andy Miller. Miller pushed
forward.

"What's up, Jack?" he asked of the centre. Innes shrugged his big
shoulders.

"Oh, just a scrap. Run along, you fellows. It's all over."

"It isn't over!" declared Steve, still trying to detach himself from the
big fellow's grasp. "He's got to take it back! He's got to take it back
or fight!"

"Cut it out, Edwards!" said Miller sternly. "Don't act like a kid.
What's the trouble, Eric, anyway?"

"Oh, this kid got fresh with me," replied Eric with a malevolent glare
at Steve. "Said I had piano legs----" There was an audible snicker from
some of the audience--"and I told him to shut up and he made a swipe at
me and I shoved him away. That's all."

"He said I cheated!" raged Steve.

"So you did. You stole Upton's French comp. out of Daley's room and he
found it on your table."

"That's a lie! I don't know how that book got there. Mr. Daley will tell
you----"

"Cut it, Edwards! I saw you carry the book out of the room myself! Now
what do you say?"

"I say you lie! I say----"

"Stop that, Edwards!" Miller turned to Eric. "You've got no right to say
things like that, Eric, and you know it. I don't believe he did anything
of the sort. If he had, Mr. Daley would have had him expelled. Now you
two fellows stop squabbling. You've been at it all the fall. If you
don't, I'll see that you both lose your positions. And that goes!"

"Then tell him to let me alone," replied Eric with a shrug.

"Oh, forget it, Sawyer," exclaimed a voice down the passage. "You're
twice as big as he is. Let the kid alone."

"Sure, I'll let him alone," growled Eric with an angry glare in the
direction of the speaker. "Only he's got to stop getting fresh with me.
I've warned him half-a-dozen times."

"And you'll have to warn me half-a-dozen more times," responded Steve
grimly, "if you think I'm going to stand around and be called names. If
I were as big as you are, you wouldn't dare----"

"That'll be about all from both of you," said Andy Miller. "Now beat it.
If I hear of any more trouble from either of you while the season lasts,
I'll have you both out of the game in a wink. If you've got to row, do
it after we've beaten Claflin. Move on now! Get off the corner, all of
yez!" And Andy good-naturedly pushed the fellows before him down the
passage. Innes released Steve, but stepped between him and Eric.

"Come on, Edwards," he said with a laugh. "Be good and get your clothes
on. Cap will do just what he says he will, too. You take my advice, kid,
and bury the hatchet."

Steve went back to his locker, and with trembling hands dressed himself.
Harry Westcott and Tom joined him and asked in low voices about the
trouble. But Steve was non-communicative. He was wondering how much of
Eric Sawyer's charge the fellows who had heard it were believing.
Finally,

"No swimming to-day?" asked Tom.

Steve shook his head. "No," he answered. "Tell the fellows, will you?
I'm--I'm too tired. I'm sorry."

"It's pretty late, anyway," murmured Harry. Together the three crossed
the room toward the door. Already, as it seemed to Steve, fellows were
regarding him suspiciously. Eric was not in sight, having gone on to his
bath, for which two at least of the trio were thankful. Harry left them
at the corner of Torrence, and Steve and Tom went on in silence to their
room. Somehow it seemed difficult nowadays for them to find things to
talk about. Steve resolutely sat himself down and drew his books toward
him, while Tom, after fidgetting around for a few minutes, announced
that he was going over to the office to see if there was any mail, and
went out again. Steve was glad when he had gone, for he was relieved
then of further pretence of studying. He couldn't get his mind on his
books. The encounter with Eric Sawyer had left him irritable and
restless, and he couldn't help wondering whether the fellows believed
what Eric had said. He was grateful to Andy Miller for the latter's
support, but it was doubtful if Andy's words had convinced anyone. And
the charge was an ugly one. Steve winced when he considered it. It had
seemed to him as he had left the locker room that already the fellows
there had looked at him differently. He could imagine them talking about
him and weighing Eric's story. Further reflections were interrupted by
the reappearance of Tom, an open letter in hand and several newspapers
sticking from a pocket.

"Nothing for you but a couple of papers," he said. "What do you suppose
those silly fathers of ours are doing now?"

"Fighting a duel?" asked Steve with an attempt at humour.

"Not quite," Tom answered, "but they're getting ready for a law-suit."

"What about?"

"I can't make out," replied the other disgustedly, scanning the letter
again. "It's something about some contract for building supplies,
though. Gee, they make me tired! Always squabbling!"

"Who's bringing the suit, your father or mine?" asked Steve.

"Mine," said Tom hesitantly.

"Then I don't see that you need to blame my dad for it," retorted Steve.

"It takes two to make a quarrel, though," answered Tom sagely. "I don't
believe my father would start anything like that unless--unless there
was some reason for it."

"Oh, I suppose my father beat him out on a contract and he got sore,"
said Steve, with a short laugh. Tom looked across in surprise and
puzzlement. The tone was unlike Steve, while never before had they taken
sides in their fathers' disagreements. Tom opened his mouth to reply,
thought better of it and slowly returned the letter to its envelope.

"I guess it'll blow over," he said finally. "I hope so."

Steve shrugged his shoulders. "Let them fight it out," he said. "It may
do them good."

The next day it was soon evident to Steve that Eric Sawyer's story of
the purloined blue-book was school property. Fellows whom he knew but
slightly or not at all observed him doubtfully, others greeted him more
stiffly--or so Steve thought--while even in the manners of such close
friends as Roy and Harry and one or two more he fancied that he could
detect a difference. Much of this was probably only imagination on
Steve's part, but on the other hand there were doubtless many fellows
who for one reason or another chose to believe the story true. Steve was
popular amongst a small circle of acquaintances and well enough liked by
others who knew him only to speak to, but, naturally enough, there were
fellows in school who envied him for his success at football or took
exception to a certain self-sufficient air that Steve was often enough
guilty of. These, together with a small number who owed allegiance to
Eric Sawyer, found the story quite to their liking and doubtless told
and retold it and enlarged upon it at every telling. At all events,
Steve knew that gossip was busy with him. More than once conversation
died suddenly away at his approach, and he told himself bitterly that
the school had judged him and found him guilty. He passed Andy Miller in
the corridor between recitations, and Andy, being in a hurry and having
a good many things on his mind at that moment, said, "Hi, Edwards!" in a
perfunctory sort of way and went by with only a glance. Steve concluded
that even Andy was against him now, in spite of his defence yesterday.
In the afternoon it seemed that there was a difference in the attitudes
of his team-mates on the second, and, so inflamed had his imagination
become by this time, he even imagined he detected a contemptuous tone in
"Boots'" speech to him! The result was that Steve "froze up solid," to
use Roy's phrase, and, secretly hurt and angry, presented a scowling
countenance to the world that was sufficient to discourage those who
wanted and tried to let him see that they didn't believe Eric's story.

When he got back to his room after the swimming lesson that afternoon,
he found Tom nursing a very red and enlarged nose. He had a wet towel in
his hand and was gingerly applying it to the inflamed feature.

"What--where----" began Steve.

"Scrap with Telford," replied Tom briefly.

"What about?" demanded Steve.

"Nothing much."

"Let's see your nose."

Tom removed the towel and Steve viewed it. "He must have given you a
peach," he said critically. "What did you do?"

Tom smiled reminiscently. "Nothing much," he answered.

"Huh! Let's see your knuckles. 'Nothing much,' eh? They look it! Did
faculty get on to it?"

Tom shook his head. "No, it was back of the gym. Just the two of us. It
didn't last long."

"Who got the worst of it?"

"That depends on what you call the worst," answered Tom judicially. "I
got this and he got one like it _and_ a black eye. At least I suppose
it's black by this time. It looked promising."

Steve laughed. Then he said severely: "You ought to know better than
take chances like that, Tom. Suppose faculty got on to it. Besides,
fighting's pretty kiddish for a Fourth Former!"

Tom viewed Steve amusedly over the wet towel. "Coming from you, Steve,
that sounds great!" he said.

"Never mind about me. What I do doesn't affect you. What were you
fighting about?"

Tom looked vacant and shook his head. "I don't know. Nothing special, I
guess."

"Don't be a chump! You didn't black his eye and get that beautiful nose
for nothing, I suppose. What was it?"

"Well, Telford said--he said----"

"You're a wonder!" declared Steve. "Don't you know what he said?"

"I forget. It was something--something I didn't like. So I slapped his
face. That was on the gym steps. He said 'Come on back here.' I said
'All right.' Then we--we had it. Then he said he was wrong about
it--whatever it was, you know--and we sort of apologised and sneaked
off." Tom felt of his nose carefully. "I saw about a million stars when
he landed here!"

"That's the craziest stunt I ever heard of!" said Steve disgustedly.
"And you want to hope hard that no one saw it. If faculty hears of it,
you'll get probation, you chump."

"I know. It won't, though. No one saw us."

"Who's Telford, anyway?" Steve demanded.

"Telford? Oh, he's a Fifth Form fellow."

"What does he look like?"

"Look like?" repeated Tom vaguely. "Oh, he's a couple of inches taller
than I am and has light brown hair and--and a black eye!"

"Is he the fellow who goes around with Eric Sawyer?" demanded Steve
suspiciously. "Wear a brown plaid Norfolk? The fellow who shoved me into
the pool the night we had that fracas with Sawyer?"

"Did he? I don't remember. I didn't see who did that. I--I guess maybe
he's the chap, though. I've seen him with Sawyer, I think."

"What did he say?" asked Steve quietly.

"Who say?"

"Telford."

"When?"

"To-day! When you had the row! For the love of Mike, Tom, don't be a
fool!"

"I don't remember what he said."

"Was it about--me?"

"You? Why would it be about you?" Tom attempted a laugh.

"Was it?" Steve persisted.

Tom shook his head, but his gaze wandered. Steve grunted.

"It was, then," he muttered.

"I didn't say so," protested Tom.

"I say so, though." Steve was silent a moment. Then, "Look here, Tom,
there's no use your fighting every fellow who says things about me," he
said. "If you try that, you'll have your hands full. I--I don't care
what they say, anyway. Just you keep out of it. Understand?"

"Sure," answered the other untroubledly.

"Of course"--Steve hesitated in some embarrassment--"of course I
appreciate your standing up for me and all that, but--but I'll fight my
own battles, thanks, Tom."

"You're welcome," murmured Tom through the folds of the towel. "Keep
the change. I'll fight if I want to, though."

"Not on my account, you won't," said Steve sternly.

Tom grinned. "All right. I'll do it on my own account. Say, I'll bet
Telford's nose is worse than mine, Steve. I gave him a bully swat!"

CHAPTER XXI

FRIENDS FALL OUT

On the eleventh of November Brimfield played her last game away from
home. Chambers Technological Institute was her opponent. About every
fellow in school went over to Long Island and witnessed a very sad
performance by their team. The slump had arrived. That was evident from
the first moment of play. Brimfield was outpunted, outrushed and
outgeneraled. Chambers ran up 17 points in the first half and 13 more in
the last, while all Brimfield could do was to make one solitary
touchdown and a field-goal, the latter with less than thirty seconds of
playing time left. Williams missed the goal after the touchdown by some
ten yards. Not only was Brimfield outplayed, but she showed up
wretchedly as to physical condition. It was a warm day and the
Maroon-and-Grey warriors seemed to feel the heat much more than their
opponents and were a sorry-looking lot by the end of the third period.

The second team attended the game in a body, "Boots" for once relenting,
and looked on in stupefied sorrow while their doughty foe was
humiliated and defeated.

"Gee, I wish Robey would put us in in the next half," sighed Gafferty to
Steve after the second period had reached its sad conclusion. "I'll bet
you we'd put up twice the game the 'varsity has."

"I don't see what ails them," responded Steve quite affably. The
calamitous drama unfolding before him had for the moment made him forget
his role of aloofness and cynical indifference. "Why, even Andy Miller
is up in the air! He hasn't caught a pass once, and he's had four
chances, and he's missed enough tackles to fill a book!"

"One grand slump," said Gafferty. "That's what it is, Edwards, one
wonderful, spectacular, iridescent slump! And the only person who is
pleased is Danny, I guess. He's been begging the 'varsity fellows to get
stale and be done with it. And now they've obliged him. Too bad, though,
they couldn't have slumped the first of the week. It's fierce to be
beaten by a tech school!"

In the third period Coach Robey hustled the best of his substitutes on
in the hope of stemming the tide of defeat, and, while the new men
showed more dash and go, they couldn't stop the triumphant advance of
the black-and-orange enemy. To make matters worse, when it was all
over, Benson, who played right end, had a strained ligament in his
ankle, Williams was limping with a bad knee and Quarter-back Milton had
to be helped on and off the cars like a confirmed invalid. There wasn't
a regular member of the 'varsity who could have stood up against a hard
gust of wind five minutes after the final whistle had blown!

The school returned to Brimfield disgruntled, disappointed and critical.
There was scarcely a fellow on the train who didn't have a perfectly
good theory as to the trouble with the eleven and who wasn't willing and
eager to explain it. As for the game with Claflin, now just a fortnight
distant, why, it was already as good as lost! Anyone would have told you
that. The only point of disagreement was the size of the score. That
ran, according to various estimates, from 6 to 0 to 50 to 3. It was a
wonder they allowed Brimfield that 3! But all this was on the way home.
Gradually the reaction set in and hope crept back. After all, a slump
was something you had to contend with. It happened to every team some
time in the season. Perhaps it was lucky it had come now instead of
later. Of course, Chambers Tech was only a fair-to-middling team and
Brimfield ought to have beaten her hands down, but since she hadn't,
there was no use in worrying about it. By the time supper was over that
evening, the stock of the Brimfield Football Team had risen to close to
par, and anyone who had had the temerity to even suggest the possibility
of a victory for Claflin would have been promptly and efficaciously
squelched!

The Chambers game resulted in a shake-up. That it was coming was hinted
on Monday when only a few of the substitutes on the first were given any
work and four of the second team fellows were lifted from their places
and shifted over to what represented the 'varsity that day. These four
were Trow and Saunders, tackles; Thursby, centre, and Freer, half-back.
On Tuesday the first-string 'varsity men were back at work, with the
exception of Benson, whose ankle was in pretty bad condition. Thursby
was given a try-out at centre and Saunders at left tackle in the short
scrimmage that followed practice. Thursby showed up so brilliantly that
many predicted the retirement of Innes to the bench. Saunders failed to
impress Coach Robey very greatly and he and Freer and Trow went back to
the second the next day. The slump was still in evidence and the work
was light until Thursday. Benson was still on crutches and his place was
being taken by Roberts. Thursby ran Innes such a good race for the
position of centre-rush that a substitute centre named Coolidge suddenly
found his nose out of joint and faced the prospect of viewing the
Claflin game from the bench.

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