Right Tackle Todd - Ralph Barbour 6 стр.


What have you been doing to yourself? asked Clem.

Jim stared questioningly. Apparently he was not aware of any change, and Clem explained. Well, you look twenty pounds heavier, Jim; maybe more; and But he stopped there. To approve his present attire would be tantamount to a criticism of his former.

Yes, I guess I am heavier, replied Jim. I got mighty good food up at Blaisdells, and a heap of it; and then I was outdoors most of the time. Right healthy sort of life, I guess. Didnt work hard, either; not really work.

I suppose it was pretty good fun, mused Clem. Id liked to have got up there for a few days, but it didnt seem possible.

Wish you had. Id have shown you some real fishing. Like to fish, Harland?

N-no, I dont believe I do. Maybe because Ive never done much. But it sounded pretty good, what you wrote, and if father hadnt arranged a motor trip for the last part of the summer I think Id have gone up there for three or four days.

Guess you thought that was pretty cheeky, that letter of mine, said Jim consciously.

Not a bit, Clem assured him heartily. If he had, he had forgotten it now. Awfully glad to have you, Jim.

I hope you mean that. Jim laughed sheepishly. I tried hard to get that letter back after Id posted it, but it happened that the fellow who carried the mail out got started half an hour earlier that morning, and I was too late.

Glad you were, said Clem, and meant it. Hope you dont mind having Marts things left around. He thinks now he will come back next year and finish out.

Jim looked about the room and shook his head. Mighty nice, he said. Ive got a few things upstairs that Ill have to move out, but they aint scarcely suitable for here: theres a cushion and a couple of pictures and a sort of a thing for books and two, three little things besides.

Bring them down and well look them over, said Clem. What you dont want to use can go in your trunk when you send it down to the store-room. Dont believe we need any more cushions, though. He thought he knew which of the cushions in Number 29 was Jims! Too much in a place is worse than too little, eh?

I suppose tis, Jim agreed. This rooms right pretty now, Harland, and I guess those things of mine wouldnt better it none.

Youll have to stop calling me Harland sooner or later, said Clem, so you might as well start now, Jim.

Jim nodded. I was trying to work round to it, he answered. Guess Ill go up and get those things of mine out of 29.

Ill give you a hand, said Clem.

It was not until late that evening that Clem found an opportunity to broach the subject of football. By the way, he said, Lowell Woodruff was in yesterday. Hes football manager, you know. Said hed sent you a call for early practice and that you hadnt made a yip.

Why, thats right, replied Jim. I found a letter from him when I got home three days ago. You see, after I left Blaisdells I went over Moose River way with another fellow for a little fishing. Got some whopping good trout, too. So I didnt get back to Four Lakes until Monday. Then I didnt know if Id ought to answer the letter or not. He didnt say to.

No, I fancy he expected youd show up. Well, theres no harm done, I guess. Be all right if you show up to-morrow afternoon. Clem spoke with studied carelessness and stooped to unlace a shoe.

Show up? asked Jim. Where do you mean?

On the field. For practice. Youre going to play, of course. This was more an assertion than a question.

No, said Jim, I tried it last fall and quit. It takes a lot of a fellows time, and then I aint Im not much good at it.

Well, Jim, youll have a lot more time this year than you had last, you know. And as for being good at it, why, Johnny Cade said only this morning that you looked like promising stuff. Better think it over.

You mean Mr. Cade is looking for me to play?

Of course he is. You see, the team lost a good many of their best players last June and Johnnys pretty anxious to get hold of all the material he can. I gathered from what Woodie said that they are looking to you to fit in as a tackle.

Tackle? Hes the fellow plays next to the end, aint he? Well, I dont see what hed want me back again for, after the way he laid me out last year. Jim chuckled. Gosh, he most tore the hide off me, Clem!

Well, if you ask me, it was sort of cheeky, throwing him down in the middle of the season, Jim, and I cant say I blame him for getting a bit waxy about it. However, hes all over that. He isnt holding anything against you; Ill swear to that; and if you go out youll get treated right. Johnny and Woodie both believe in you as a football player, Jim.

If they do, laughed Jim in a puzzled way, theyve got more faith than I have. Why, honest, Clem, I dont know much about the game, even after what they showed me last fall, and I cant say that Im keen about it, either. I always thought playing games was supposed to be fun, but I call football mighty hard work!

What of it? Arent afraid of hard work, are you? You know, Jim, a fellow has a certain amount of of responsibility toward his school. I mean its his duty to do what he can for it, dont you see? Now, if you can play football

But I cant, Clem.

You dont know. Johnny Cade says you can. Johnnys a football authority and ought to know.

Jim was silent a moment. Then he asked, almost plaintively: You want I should play, dont you?

Why, no, Jim. That is well, I want you to do what you want to do. Of course, if you think

Yes, but you think I ought to, Jim persisted. Thats so, aint it?

I think, responded Clem judicially, that as long as Johnny Cade wants you, and as long as you have no good reason for not playing, you ought to try. I dont want to influence you

Clem became aware of Jims broad grin and ran down. Then: What you laughing at, confound you? he asked.

Wasnt laughing, chuckled Jim. Just smiling at the way you dont want to influence me.

Well, suppose I do? asked Clem, smiling too. Its for the good of the football team, Jim. And, if you must have the whole truth, I promised Woodie Id talk to you. And I have. And now its up to you. You do just as you please. Guess you know best, anyway.

Well, maybe I havent got any good reason for not playing this year, or trying to, mused Jim, enveloping himself in an enormous nightshirt. I dont think Ill ever make a good football player, but if those folks want I should try, and you want I should

Hang it, Jim, dont drag me into it! Id feel to blame every time you got a bloody nose!

I dont mind doing it, concluded Jim. Last year it didnt seem like I was really needed out there. Maybe this year it will be different. Maybe Mr. Cade can make me into a tackle. If he can hes welcome. Maybe after Ive been at it a while Ill get to like it. Maybe

Maybe youll put out that light and go to bed, said Clem. Of course youll like it. Youll be crazy about it after a week or two, or a month or two, or

Well, if I got so I could really play, said Jim musingly, as the light went out, maybe I would. You cant tell.

The next afternoon, having resurrected the football togs he had worn the season before, Jim went dutifully over to the field and stood around amongst a steadily growing gathering of old and new candidates. He found several fellows that he knew well enough to talk to, but, having arrived early, much of his time was spent in looking on. He observed the coming of Peter, preceded by a wheelbarrow laden high with necessities of the game, the subsequent appearance of Manager Woodruff and Assistant Manager Barr, the latter apparently weighted down with the cares of all the world, and then the arrival of Coach Cade, in company with Captain Gus Fingal. By that time fully sixty candidates were on hand and balls were beginning to hurtle around. Formalities were dispensed with to-day. Mr. Cade clapped his hands briskly and announced: Give your names to Mr. Woodruff or Mr. Barr, fellows, and hustle it up. Men reporting for the first time will start to work on the other gridiron. Last-year fellows report to Captain Fingal here. Lets get going, Mr. Manager!

Hang it, Jim, dont drag me into it! Id feel to blame every time you got a bloody nose!

I dont mind doing it, concluded Jim. Last year it didnt seem like I was really needed out there. Maybe this year it will be different. Maybe Mr. Cade can make me into a tackle. If he can hes welcome. Maybe after Ive been at it a while Ill get to like it. Maybe

Maybe youll put out that light and go to bed, said Clem. Of course youll like it. Youll be crazy about it after a week or two, or a month or two, or

Well, if I got so I could really play, said Jim musingly, as the light went out, maybe I would. You cant tell.

The next afternoon, having resurrected the football togs he had worn the season before, Jim went dutifully over to the field and stood around amongst a steadily growing gathering of old and new candidates. He found several fellows that he knew well enough to talk to, but, having arrived early, much of his time was spent in looking on. He observed the coming of Peter, preceded by a wheelbarrow laden high with necessities of the game, the subsequent appearance of Manager Woodruff and Assistant Manager Barr, the latter apparently weighted down with the cares of all the world, and then the arrival of Coach Cade, in company with Captain Gus Fingal. By that time fully sixty candidates were on hand and balls were beginning to hurtle around. Formalities were dispensed with to-day. Mr. Cade clapped his hands briskly and announced: Give your names to Mr. Woodruff or Mr. Barr, fellows, and hustle it up. Men reporting for the first time will start to work on the other gridiron. Last-year fellows report to Captain Fingal here. Lets get going, Mr. Manager!

Jim gave his name and other data to Johnny Barr and went across to the second team field. No one seemed interested in his presence there, and he stood around a while longer. Eventually the new candidates stopped coming, and Latham, a substitute quarter-back of last season, took them in charge. Jim went through just such a program as had engaged him a year ago. The afternoon, while not so hot as yesterday, was far too warm for comfort, and the work was a whole lot like drudgery. He caught balls and passed them, chased them and fell on them, awkwardly rolling around the turf, made frantic and generally unsuccessful grabs at them as Latham sent them bouncing away, and then, after a few minutes of rest, started all over again. At four-thirty he trotted two laps of the field, keeping, by injunction, close to the edge of the cinder track.

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