CHAPTER XIV—ARLINGTON SHOWS HIS HAND
The football-team soon began to feel the hand of Chester Arlington. He sent men out to practise and directed that they should be tried on the regular team. And he seemed to have the athletic committee behind him, for they backed up his demands. Two of these men, Peter Hicks and Rufus Hoyt, knew something about football and played fairly well.
Dick chafed, for he saw that serious trouble was brewing. He saw that Arlington would try to manage the team through the committee, and that was just what Dick determined he should not do.
“It’s a fight, pard,” said Brad Buckhart. “Mark what I say, you’ll have your troubles with that galoot right along.”
Phil Warne was chairman of the committee. In the past he had permitted Dick to run the team on the field just about as he pleased. Now, however, he advised a shifting about of the team and trying them in other positions.
Dick felt that this was more of Arlington’s work, for Warne was not the fellow to dip in like that without being put up to it by another.
A feeling of uncertainty and restlessness attacked the team. Dick feared the men were lacking confidence. They had relied on him in the past, and now they saw that he was being ordered about. They had talked over the game with U. A. A., and were almost unanimous on the folly of playing it. What was there to gain by it? The committee had arranged to have the game take place in Fardale. If it had been arranged to play in Uniontown on the same terms as the baseball-game was pulled off, they might have urged that winning the game would bring in a large amount of money. But they had agreed to pay U. A. A. a sum of money to come and play the game, which made it almost a settled thing that it would be a financial failure.
U. A. A. had vowed to get revenge on Fardale for defeat in the baseball-game. Now it was said that the Uniontown men were anxious to get up against the cadets and “soak ’em.”
It was not to be a game between schools, and so the school spirit was lacking. Neither team regarded the other as a rival in its class. There was no rivalry of a friendly nature.
Some of the boys threatened to rebel, but Dick talked to them and convinced them that it was best to play the game. He knew Arlington would make a great to-do about it, saying he was afraid to play, if the Fardale boys declined to meet the chaps from Uniontown.
Saturday came, and an early train brought the Uniontown players into Fardale. Some of the boys from the academy were at the station to see them arrive and to size up their antagonists. Buckhart was one of these, and he hastened back to the academy, seeking Dick, whom he found in the gymnasium.
“Pard,” he said, “guess who’s in town?”
“I thought you hailed from Texas?”
“Well, so I do.”
“But this guessing-racket is a Yankee trick.”
“You can’t guess?”
“I don’t think I can. Who is it?”
“Fred Kennedy.”
“Kennedy? Who is——”
“Why, pard, you must remember him. He is——”
“Not the dirty whelp who doped Singleton and blinded me when we went to Uniontown?”
“The same.”
“Where is he?”
“At the North Hotel.”
Five minutes later Dick was on his way to town, accompanied by Brad. They went direct to the North Hotel, which did all the hotel business of the place, now that Fardale House had been gutted by fire, and there they sought Kennedy.
His name was not on the register. He did not seem to be with the strangers from Uniontown. Those strangers were the “sports” who followed the U. A. A. games and bet on the Uniontown team. They were looking for bets, and they hailed the appearance of Dick Merriwell.
“Tell us where we can get some of our good money up,” said one of the team. “We’re betting two to one on U. A. A. Have you children at the academy got any dough you wish to lose?”
“No,” said Dick quietly. “Few of us bet on these games. When we do bet it is for sport, not for profit. Can any of you gentlemen tell me where I can find Mr. Kennedy?”
“Kennedy? Kennedy? What Kennedy?”
“Fred Kennedy.”
“From our place? Oh, he isn’t with us.”
Kennedy was not found, but Buckhart was still certain he had arrived in town, even after they turned back toward the academy.
“He’s here, pard,” asserted the Texan. “I never make a mistake in faces. That onery whelp stepped off the train, or I’m a Chinaman! You hear me chirp!”
“I should like to meet him!” said Dick.
“And I’d enjoy being with you, pard. There would be something doing, you bet!”
The gamblers from Uniontown found takers for their bets in Fardale, as the villagers had great confidence in the academy team, which had not met defeat while under command of Dick Merriwell. Odds of two to one seemed like a good thing and were gobbled up.
At one o’clock p. m. Dick Merriwell received a shock. He was sent for by the athletic committee, which was in session at the time. When he appeared before them, Phil Warne said:
“Mr. Merriwell, we have concluded that, while you have done splendidly with the eleven, you have not been playing the men in just the right positions. Besides,” he went on swiftly, not permitting Dick to speak, “there are two men on the team who are not strong men, and we have concluded to drop them off for this game and try the experiment of supplying their places. We do this now because this is not a game with a school eleven, and we can better afford to experiment than at any other time. If we find we have improved the team, we shall be very glad. But we insist that the team be given a fair trial as we have arranged it, no changes being made until we give you permission, save on account of injuries. Here is the line-up of the team, with the names of substitutes to be used, if substitutes are required.”
There was a strange look on Dick’s face as he took the paper from Warne’s hand and glanced over the line-up of the team. His cheeks flushed and his eyes gleamed.
“Gentlemen of the committee,” he said, his voice distinct but low, “I need not say that I am surprised at your most surprising action. I think you are making a big mistake and are exceeding the bounds of your authority. It is not necessary to call attention to the fact that Fardale has not lost a game this season. Up to this time the making up of the team has been left almost wholly to me. In taking this privilege out of my hands you have handicapped me greatly, making it impossible for me to work to the best advantage. I think the mistake is liable to prove fatal. The shifting about of these players I consider ill-advised, the dropping of Kent and Dare weakens the line, and, on the whole, the team as given here will go on the field to-day greatly weakened.”
Chester Arlington had listened, his lips curling and his eyes expressing contempt. When Dick finished, Chester turned to Hadley Burrows, observing loud enough for the captain of the eleven to hear:
“Didn’t I say he could insult the committee! He has had things his own way altogether too long.”
Instantly Dick’s anger flashed like powder to which a match has been touched.
“You, Arlington, are the cause of it all!” he exclaimed, pointing straight at Chester. “And you are doing it not for the good of the eleven, but to annoy and injure me! I know you, and I know your methods. Yet but for me you would not be on that committee now!”
“What?” cried Chester, astonished. “But for you?”
“Exactly.”
“Bah! You would have kept me off the committee had you dared! I believe you did try to! I believe you did get rid of some of my votes on the first two ballots. You knew you were watched too closely for it the last time, and you didn’t dare try it.”
Dick actually laughed.
“Why, you poor, mistaken duffer!” he exclaimed, unable to fully control his tongue. “It’s surprising how little you really know about the truth!”
“Duffer!” snarled Chester, springing up. “Gentlemen, are you going to permit this? It’s an insult to the entire committee!”
“Mr. Merriwell,” said Warne severely, “your language is offensive to us all. If you are not satisfied with what we have done, if you do not care to follow our instructions thoroughly——”
“What then?”
“You may resign from the team. Another captain will be appointed in your place.”
In his intense anger Dick came near making a mistake and playing into the hands of Arlington. It was on the tip of his tongue to utter his resignation, when he saw Chester leaning forward, breathless, expectant, eager. Instantly the rush of blood to Dick’s head ceased, his heart seemed to stop its wild hammering, his pulse dropped back to normal, and he was master of himself.
“No, Arlington!” he exultantly thought, “I’ll not do it! You have failed in this.
“I’ll stick by the team,” he said aloud. “I could not think of deserting it now.”
Warne seemed relieved, while Arlington was plainly disappointed.
“Very well,” said the chairman, dismissing him with a gesture. “You have your instructions.”