The Crimson Sweater/Chapter 9

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 exception. He woke up Saturday morning a rather unimportant and quite unpopular person. He climbed out of bed Sunday morning to find that, metaphorically, 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 "Morning, 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 aren't going to begrudge him the satisfaction the changed conditions brought him. Life 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 couldn'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 polite 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 admiration as long as Roy would let him. Sid, whose overwhelming 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 school, and the juniors especially, with an iron hand, and Sid was, as he well knew, courting dire punishment. But it was a time of open revolt against Horace'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 captain, 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 previous autumn when Hammond had triumphed unfairly 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 proportions.

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 passed; Bacon, the quarter-back, who had been almost 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 opposing camps, but before the Christmas vacation arrived 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 considered 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 prohibited 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 connection 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—in fact until the game with Hammond Academy—been held in disgrace by his fellows. I am not going to discuss here the justice or injustice of the attitude assumed by you; my purpose is to remove the stigma of deceit from an innocent boy. This boy, when summoned 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 dining hall. Roy stared fixedly at a salt-cellar.

"Fortunately," continued Doctor Emery, "the instructor in charge of the Junior Dormitory, Mr. Buckman, 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 student 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 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 applause 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 become him, for, while his refusal to try to put himself right with his fellows shows a certain commendable pride, yet it was hardly fair under the circumstances. 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 wasn'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 already stood first in school opinion and all the vindication in the world couldn't have placed him any higher. He had won the game from Hammond; that was sufficient for most fellows.

In view of Doctor Emery's disclosure you have already found me guilty of having neglected to enumerate 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 manner. 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 conversation 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.

"But, Harry," he protested, "you must have! He said so!"

"I didn't! I didn't! I didn't!"

"But, Harry, that's nonsense, you know."

"I didn't break my promise," she answered angrily.

"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 haven't, Harry."

"You have, too! So! And you—you're very impolite!"

"Oh, pshaw, there's no use in getting mad about it. I only said—"

"I'll 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 touchdown!"

"I'm not!"

"You are!"

"My, what a temper! Just what you'd expect of a girl with red hair! Why, I wouldn't—"

But he stopped there, for Harry's face went suddenly 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.

"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 didn'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'll 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 recitation 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, but Mr. Buckman's expression prohibited the laughter they longed to indulge in.

"It was a very funny joke," continued Mr. Buckman scathingly, "only, unfortunately, one of the rabbits 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. I 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 ignorance 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 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 don't want your word! I wouldn'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, although 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 something of a science. The annual event always awakened much interest and the rivalry between the four classes was intense.

There were no handicaps, all entries starting together 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 Findlayburg and so home by the road to the gymnasium, a total distance of six miles. At Carroll and Findlayburg they were registered by the instructors. In deference 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 class 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 contest the countryside was sprinkled with boys panting up the hills, loping through the woods and trotting doggedly along the frosty road. And at two o'clock on Thanksgiving Day afternoon thirty-four boys awaited the word in front of the gymnasium.