CHAPTER XXII

GERALD MAKES THE TEAM

Arthur’s probation and his loss to the Track Team caused consternation throughout the school. It made necessary a new figuring of the probable result of the Duals, and when five points for first place in the pole vault was deducted from the Yardley column and credited to Broadwood it left the respective scores dangerously close; 67 for Yardley, and 65 for Broadwood. Andy Ryan was perhaps the most disgusted of any, and refused to recognize Arthur by so much as a nod for several days. But the trainer’s anger couldn’t last in the face of Arthur’s behavior, for that youth presented himself on the field the next afternoon and went bravely about the coaching of the remaining candidates in the pole vault.

“Maybe we can get a second and third out of it, after all,” he said, cheerfully. “Myers has been doing pretty good work lately and I’m going to make him dig hard.”

The rules prevented Arthur from using a pole himself, even to illustrate a point in his instruction, which was something of a drawback, but in spite of that he did grand work for the next ten days, and Myers and Cowles added many inches to their performances. And when, three days before the meet, it was voiced around that the former had done better than ten feet in a trial the school took heart again.

The day succeeding Arthur’s visit to the Office and the beginning of his probation, Mr. Collins said, as his Latin class prepared to leave the room: “I’d like to see Pennimore for a moment, please, after class.” Gerald remained in his seat when the others went out and Mr. Collins, after gathering his books and papers together, came down from the platform and took a seat beside him.

“Pennimore,” he said, “it’s a great temptation to keep you on probation right along, because you do about twenty-five per cent. better than when you’re off. How do you explain that?”

“I suppose I try harder, sir,” replied Gerald.

“And put more time to it, maybe?” asked the Assistant Principal, with a smile. Gerald agreed to that, reflecting the smile.

“Well, you’ve been doing very good work. Do you think that if you were released from probation you could keep it up?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Gerald, eagerly.

“Would you care to go so far as to promise that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you did, I’d have to hold you to the promise for the rest of the term, Pennimore.”

“Yes, sir; I’d be willing.”

“Then that’s a bargain? Hard study and plenty of time to your lessons, Pennimore? And back on probation if you don’t keep your end up?”

“Yes, Mr. Collins.”

“All right then. Probation ends at noon to-day, Pennimore.” He smiled at the expression of radiant delight that overspread the boy’s face. “But remember our bargain, please!”

“I――I won’t forget, sir. And thank you, sir.”

“You must thank the entire faculty, Pennimore. We decided last evening that you had been diligent and earnest and had done your best to atone for your fault. Now, just one word for future guidance, my boy. Rules are rules, Pennimore. They’re made to be observed. Of course I know that there is a good deal of the experimental in every fellow; to a certain extent you’ve all got to ‘monkey with the buzz saw’ just to see if it really hurts. Well, you’ve had your experiment, and you’ve learned that it does hurt, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep that in mind, then. Faculty didn’t treat you very badly this time, but I wouldn’t reckon on similar lenience on another occasion. You’d better make up your mind to let the buzz saw alone. That’s all. Are you late? Tell the instructor I detained you.”

English IV was over at three o’clock. At three-twenty-one Gerald, in running trunks and shirt and spiked shoes, dashed out of the gymnasium and tore down the path to the field. Andy Ryan was directing the spading of the broad-jump pit.

“Andy,” cried Gerald, “I’m off probation!”

Andy turned and observed him, silently and critically.

“You are, eh?” he said. “And how are you feeling to-day?”

“Fine and dandy!”

“Then jog around a bit till you’re warmed up. I’ll give you a trial for the mile.”

When that trial was over and Gerald, turning back, sought Andy to learn what time he had made, he was doomed to disappointment. Andy had already returned the watch to his pocket and his face told nothing.

“How was it?” Gerald asked, eagerly.

“Not so bad,” said the trainer. “Come to training table in the morning. That’ll do for to-day. Up to the gym now on the trot, and don’t stand here getting stiff.”

He turned away and Gerald, swallowing his curiosity, obeyed orders. But even if he wasn’t to know his time there was plenty to atone for that disappointment. He was on the Track Team at last! To-morrow he was to join the others at training table! It seemed almost too good to be true, and Gerald trotted back to the gymnasium with his heart beating high with pride and elation. He wanted to tell Dan about it, and Arthur, and Tom, and Alf, but he had had his shower and had dressed before it was time for any of them to appear, and so he went up to his room and wrote a hurried, scrawly note to his father, who was away out West, telling him all about it. And when Dan and Alf came in just before supper-time, they were almost as pleased as Gerald himself, and Alf thumped him on the back and called him “a credit to my training, by gad!”

After supper he went over to tell Tom, but Tom had already heard and said a lot of nice things to the effect that Gerald deserved what had come to him. And when Gerald said, “I guess if it hadn’t been for you, Tom, I wouldn’t have kept up my track work,” Tom disclaimed all credit in the matter. “You had pluck, Gerald,” he said, “and that’s what counts every time.” When it came to telling Arthur the good news, Gerald experienced some embarrassment, for it seemed a good deal to expect Arthur to sympathize with him on the recovery of the privilege that the other had just lost. But if Arthur felt any envy he failed to show the least sign of it. He was really immensely pleased at his friend’s good fortune, and made Gerald understand it. Harry, a very subdued and well-behaved Harry nowadays, added his congratulations to Arthur’s, and the three spent a very pleasant hour in 20 Whitson, discussing track affairs and the chance of a win over Broadwood.

The next afternoon Gerald joined Maury and Goodyear and Norcross, who now comprised the mile squad, and had his work-out with them. He was pleased to find that he could hold his own very well with both Norcross and Goodyear. Captain Maury told him that he was glad to see him back again, but he showed no very great enthusiasm, and it didn’t require the gift of mind-reading to tell that Maury didn’t expect much from the new recruit. As a matter of fact, although Gerald never learned it, Maury had opposed adding Gerald to the squad and the training table, and only Andy’s insistence had secured that result.

The Baseball Team met its first defeat on a Wednesday, ten days before the Dual Meet, going down before Carrel’s to the tune of 4 to 9. The players took the beating very much to heart, for Carrel’s was not considered a very formidable opponent. But the school at large accepted the defeat good-naturedly, and cheered their dejected players loudly as they trotted off to the gymnasium. A beating was to be expected now and then, and, after all, it didn’t much matter what happened so long as in the end Broadwood was humiliated in the final contest.

Payson made one or two trial changes on the nine the following day, and put the fellows through two full hours of the hardest sort of practice in preparation for the next game on the schedule, that with Nordham Academy, the following Saturday. Nordham usually gave a good account of herself on diamond or gridiron, and this spring her baseball men had marched half way through a difficult schedule without a defeat. As a usual thing Nordham was played fully a fortnight later in the season, and Durfee rather wished now that he had not agreed when the manager had advocated giving Nordham an earlier date, for, judging from the game with Carrel’s, Yardley was scarcely in a condition to break Nordham’s long list of victories.

Payson’s changes didn’t work out to his satisfaction, and on Friday the team was back in its old shape. There was no practice game that day, but there was some sharp fielding and a whole lot of work in front of the batting nets, and Reid and Servis, the regular pitchers, as well as Snow and Wallace, second-string twirlers, pitched to the limit of their capacity. At five o’clock some two dozen very, very tired youths trooped up to the gymnasium and strove to ease the soreness in their muscles under the shower baths. Durfee was doubtful of the wisdom of working the players so hard the day before a game and expressed his doubts to Alf in the locker-room while they were wearily pulling off their togs. Alf, however, didn’t agree with his captain.

“You trust Payson, old chap; he knows how much we’ll stand. I believe a good, hard workout was what we needed. I’m tired, but I know mighty well I’ll be feeling like a fighting cock in the morning. Just now, though, I’ll ’fess up that I’d like to be tumbled into a warm bath, have a good rubbing down and then be put to sleep to the strains of soft music. Who’s going to pitch to-morrow?”

“Servis is going to start,” replied Durfee. “Reid will relieve him in the fifth, I suppose, if he lasts that long. If we get a safe lead――which we aren’t likely to, I guess――Snow or Wallace will have a try-out in the last inning or two. I hope we’ll have as bully a day as Wednesday was.”

“So do I,” answered Alf. “I hate to try and play ball in a silly rainstorm, or with the thermometer flirting with the freezing point. No danger of that, though; it’s going to be fair and warm to-morrow. And we’re going to have a dandy old game with those Nordhamites, those Unbeaten Terrors of the Diamond!”

“Rather!” said Harry Durfee, grimly. “They’re going to give us the game of our lives!”

“Sure! And that’s what we’re going to give them,” replied Alf, cheerfully. “I hope to goodness I make a couple of hits to-morrow. I want to fatten my batting average a bit. It’s pretty lean so far this season.”

“Nobody’s been hitting decently yet,” returned Harry. “I haven’t done a thing, either. If it wasn’t for that last part of the Porter game, after the immortal Holmes went to the bad, we wouldn’t any of us have much to our credit in the batting line.”

Alf chuckled.

“That was a cinch, wasn’t it?” he asked. “I suppose this pitcher of Nordham’s is pretty good, isn’t he?”

“Keswick? Of course. You remember him last year, don’t you? He was first substitute then. They put him in in the last four innings. We managed to touch him up a bit, but he’s a lot better this year. He had seven strike-outs in their game with Pell.”

“That so? He’s a left-hander, isn’t he?”

“Yes, and has quite a few good things, they say. Well, here’s hoping we each get a couple of two-baggers, Alf.”

“Pshaw! Two-baggers? Make it a couple of homers while you’re wishing, Harry. It doesn’t cost any more. Well, me for the shower!”

Saturday promised to be an eventful day, for not only was the baseball game with Nordham Academy coming in the afternoon, but Mr. Bendix, who was a firm believer in the physical benefits to be derived from swimming and boating, had for a fortnight past been working up enthusiasm in what he called an Aquatic Carnival to be held on the river in the forenoon. What “Muscles” set his hand to he always accomplished, and in the present instance he had managed to get the school quite excited about his scheme. There were to be canoe races, swimming races, tub races, barrel races, diving contests, and an obstacle race for canoes which was a novelty of his own devising, and which promised to be both exciting and diverting. For a week past entrants had been practicing for the carnival, and every canoe in the boathouse had been requisitioned. Tom and Alf had entered in three events, and Dan and Paul Rand had also formed a partnership for the purpose of walking away with a few of the prizes. Tom and Alf owned their own canoe, but Dan and Paul had to hire one of the school fleet, and their craft proved to be much in need of repairs. Rand, who had more time on his hands than Dan, had been working over the canoe for two or three days, and Friday night he announced that “with good luck the silly thing would hold together for maybe a half-mile!”

“That’s all we want,” said Dan. “We’ve only entered for the half-mile race.”

“Why don’t you go in for the obstacle?” asked Tom. “That will be very, very amusing.”

“Why don’t we?” responded Rand. “Because, you silly idiot, that old tub of ours has all it can do to stay together in the water. If we try to lug it over obstacles it would just naturally fall to pieces.”

“Besides,” said Dan, “neither Paul nor I can afford to put up another quarter apiece. I have already squandered seventy-five cents in entrance fees.”

“What are the prizes going to be?” Alf asked.

“Haven’t you seen them? They’re in the trophy-room. There are some books――” Alf groaned――“a bunch of pewter mugs and four bully tennis rackets for the swimming events.”

“Wonder Muscles didn’t put up some dumb-bells and Indian clubs,” said Alf. “What are you going to try, Dan?”

“Half-mile canoe race, with Paul here, and high dive.”

“Dive! Can you dive?” asked Alf.

“I invented diving,” replied Dan, modestly.

“Well, don’t hit your head against the bottom,” said Alf. “We shall need your services in the afternoon, Mr. Vinton. What’s the prize for the obstacle race? Some silly book, I suppose.”

“No, it’s a mug; two of them; one for you and one for Tom,” replied Dan.

“Really? Tom, we might as well go over and get them to-night.”

“Yes, if you expect to get them at all,” said Rand, unkindly.

“Paul, I fear you have been working too hard,” returned Alf. “Your disposition is decidedly mean to-night. As for those mugs, why, they’re ours already. Tom and I have spent our young lives in overcoming obstacles, and to-morrow’s task will be just pie for us. Won’t it Tom?”

“Correct,” replied Tom, lazily. “We dote on obstacles; eat ’em alive, we do.”

“Have you seen the obstacles?” asked Rand. They shook their heads. “Well, Muscles was down there this afternoon getting them ready. One’s a ladder. He’s going to tie that across the river. Then he’s going to hitch a lot of barrels together――――”

“I can just see you trying to pull your canoe over a lot of silly, wobbly barrels!” laughed Dan.

“That’s just what you will see,” replied Alf, with much dignity. “What else, Paul?”

“I don’t know; that’s all I saw. But I guess he has some other stunts up his sleeve for your amusement, Alf.”

“The more the merrier,” said Alf. “Can’t have too many for us, can he, Tom? Obstacles are our long suit. By the way, just how _do_ you get a canoe over a barrel in the water, Tom?”

“Don’t you know?” Tom seemed surprised. “Why, you――you―― Ask Dan.”

“I suppose,” said Dan, “you have to get out and lift it over, don’t you? I never tried it.”

“Exactly; you lift it over.” Tom waved his hand carelessly. “That’s all you have to do; just lift it over, Alf.”

“Thanks. I thought perhaps we had to take it over in our teeth, you sleepy galoot!”

“You might try that,” replied Tom. “I’ve never seen it done, but it might work all right. Anyhow, our canoe is good and light, Alf.”

“Best little canoe on the river, Tom. Where are you going?”

“Bed,” replied Tom, suppressing a yawn. “You need plenty of sleep if you’re going to surmount obstacles. Good-night, every one.”

“That means we’re not wanted, Paul,” said Dan. “See you in the morning, fellows. First race is at ten-thirty, Alf. Good-night.”

“Oh, don’t run off,” begged Alf. “Tom doesn’t mind sleeping with a crowd around, do you, Tom? You couldn’t keep him awake if you tried.”

“I know,” laughed Dan, “but what’s the good of staying? Once Tom starts to snoring you can’t make yourself heard.”

“That,” said Tom, removing his shoes with many grunts, “is a very low thing to say. I bid you good-night, Mr. Vinton.”

“Good-night, Tom. See you later.”

“And I,” remarked Rand, who roomed almost across the corridor, “will probably _hear_ you later!”