A Boy Knight Part 25

Just then there was a rap at the door, and in came Frank. The priest arising said, "G.o.d bless you, Frank." They stood and looked at each other for a moment. Father Boone extended his hand. Frank clasped it.

They understood.

Then Frank unburdened himself to the priest. He told him all the snubs he got, and finally came to the football matter.

"That got me. You see, Father, they are a square set of fellows. To take such action right before the big game means that they have me down bad.

I don't blame them. I told them I had no kick. But, gee whiz, it hurts!"

"Of course it hurts, boy, but don't you suppose it hurts when a soldier goes over the top and gets a bayonet in his breast? Or when he gets ga.s.sed, or bombed? Perhaps you think it's fun for an aviator to see his machine crippled four thousand feet above ground and to know he is dashing to death? They do all that for flag, for country, for glory. We ought to do our bit for G.o.d and our country above."

"Father, you've got a way of explaining everything. I think if I had you around, I could go through life as if it were a picnic."

"It's not much of a picnic, son; and I could tell you some things worse than going over the top."

"For instance?" suggested Frank.

"Well, wouldn't you like to know now, Frankie boy? But you won't. No, it is enough that G.o.d sees and knows. He who has Him for witness has enough."

"But what do you advise me to do about this football business, Father?"

"There's nothing to advise. All I can say is 'watchful waiting.' But I can tell you this. I have never yet known that a fellow who does what is right, loses out. He may appear for a time to have the worst of it, and he may suffer a lot, but if he does what is right to the end, he comes out on top. The trouble is that most people are willing to do right for a limited period, and then they give way. That always loses. If G.o.d is to be trusted, it is not for a day or a week, but always. I don't mean to say that every good man has been justified before men, but this I do say, that no good man has ever regretted his trust in G.o.d, nor the price he paid for it."

"I feel now that I can stand anything, Father."

"That's the way to talk. Just act the same way."

Frank went into the reading room and glanced over the magazines. He took down some books and looked them over. The Club rooms were practically empty and his mind was not on his reading. It was the matter of football practice and how the new player would do that chiefly recurred to him.

After about an hour and a half, as it was getting dark, he put away his book and started for home.

At G.o.dy's corner, there was usually a crowd of the Regal boys at this hour, and Frank hesitated whether he would pa.s.s along that way or go around the block. He had had enough troubles for one day, and did not court any more. To pa.s.s that crowd would mean trouble of some sort, he was afraid. But suddenly he wheeled around. "I'll go the way I would in case nothing was up. If I once give in to this thing, it will be my finish."

He accordingly walked towards the crowd. As they saw him coming, he caught their looks and nods in his direction. When he got alongside of them, George Mooney, an upper cla.s.s boy, said sneeringly, "Why weren't you out to the practice, Mulvy?"

Frank took all the wind out of his sails by answering, "I was out there, but they fired me. They had no room on the team for a thug, they told me."

"Some sand, kid," said Fred Gaffney. "You don't look like a fellow who'd do a dirty trick."

"He has already done it, there's no question of what he would do,"

retorted Mooney.

"Come here, kid," said Gaffney. "I'm going to believe just what you say.

Did you have anything to do with that damage over there?"

In a clear, straightforward manner, Frank said, "No." And he looked Gaffney right in the eye.

Gaffney, who was the biggest fellow in the crowd, turned to the others and said, "Fellows, I'm not looking for a fight, nor am I going to run away from one. I'm going to stand by this kid. Not that I think he needs anyone to brace him up. He is well able to take care of himself.

But I'm going to stand by him because I think fair play demands it.

What's got into you fellows. Doesn't a chap's record count for anything?

Hasn't Mulvy's record always been good? If a fellow is white all along, is he going to turn yellow over night? Put on your thinking caps."

Frank's eyes were riveted on him, and they were moist. Gaffney saw it.

"Put out your hand, kid. You're good enough for me," he said.

"And for me." "And for me," others echoed, for Gaffney was a leader.

"I thank you, fellows, and you particularly, Gaffney," said Frank, as he moved along. His steps seemed lighter. Gaffney, a real leader as well as cheer leader for the games, believed in him. Perhaps the thing would blow over. Some others might put on their thinking caps also. He hoped so.

When he got near his own street, he ran into d.i.c.k, who had just met some of the fellows who had been at the practice.

"I say, Hank," he began, "they had hot work up at the field. Bully practice. The new guy is going fine, they say."

"Were you up?"

"No, but I got it from Fitzpatrick and Redmond, who were there all the afternoon."

"I don't see how he could jump in on such short notice, and fill the place. But if he does, so much the better."

"Will you be out at the game tomorrow?" asked d.i.c.k.

"No, I don't see how I could stand it," replied Frank.

(IV)

It broke clear and bracing next morning. It was football weather made to order. Everybody was discussing the game. Stanley High and Regal had even scores for the season. They were tied for the championship, and this game was to decide it. In the morning, the boys got together at the school to rehea.r.s.e their cheers and songs. Gaffney was cheer leader. By the time they had finished they were worked up to a high pitch of excitement.

Louis Holten walked up to Gaffney at the close and said, "We've got 'em licked, surely, Gaff."

"Not so fast, boy. Stanley has something to say about that."

"Yep, Stanley's record is first cla.s.s all right, but you should have seen our bunch at it yesterday. Nothing can stop them!"

"I hope so, Holten, but I'd feel better if Mulvy were on the job."

"Mulvy! Why the fellow that takes his place has him beaten a mile.

Besides, the fellows wouldn't play with that thug on the team."

"I wish there were more thugs like him, old man, that's my 'think.' And besides it's a big mistake to put a new man in at the last moment."

"Not if he's as good as this new man."

"O, I saw him yesterday, and I tell you Louie, Mulvy entirely outcla.s.ses him. Derby is big and strong, but Mulvy has head and grit. And that's what counts."

"Well, we'll see, old chap; we'll be there with the yells."

"So long, Louie!"

"So long, Gaff!"

The crowd began to arrive at the field at one o'clock. The game was scheduled for 2:30. It was to be in four periods of fifteen minutes each. There was to be an interval of one minute between the quarters and of twenty minutes between the halves. As many visitors were expected, some of whom would not know much about the teams or the game, the names of the teams and players were posted on a large board at one side of the field. Under the names were placed the scoring points, so that those unacquainted with the game would not have to show their ignorance.