“If football plays may be worked out by algebra, I believe you. We will repeat to-day’s lesson to-morrow. I trust that as the football season will be over on Monday we may then return to our studies. Dismissed.”
Events transpired so rapidly that day that it is difficult to tell of them in order. First of all, though, just before noon it was known that Curtis, formerly of the second and now playing right tackle on the first team, had been summoned home because of sickness in the family. Consternation prevailed. At two o’clock Curtis went off, bag in hand, torn between anxiety and disappointment. Before that Duncan Sargent and Johnny Connell had spent a troubled hour trying to rearrange their line of battle. At dinner time Johnny pedaled along the road, jumped from his wheel in front of Sunnywood Cottage, rang the bell impatiently and demanded Jim.
“Look here, Hazard,” began Johnny when Jim reached the porch, napkin in hand, “we’ve lost Curtis. He’s gone home. Some of his folks ill. We’ve got to have another lineman. There’s no one on the second heavy enough to stand up in front of Hawthorne. Either you or Gary must come back. I don’t care which, but the first of you to report to me, all square with the Office, starts the game to-morrow. I’ve seen Gary and told him the same thing. Now you have a talk with Mr. Gordon right away, understand? And let me know what he says. Come to me after school. If he lets you play you’ll have to learn the new signals this evening. Now hurry up and finish your dinner, and don’t stuff yourself. Then see Mr. Gordon at once.”
“All right,” replied Jim, his heart thumping hard at the thought of getting back to the team. “I’ll see him in fifteen minutes. Where will I find you?”
“I’ll be in the gym at two. Before that you’ll find me around Academy somewhere. Get a move on. Tell Gordon you’ve got to play; tell him we’ve got to have you!”
And Johnny hurried through the gate, jumped on his bicycle and tore back to school. Fifteen minutes later Jim, breathless and anxious, ran up the steps of Academy Hall, hurried down the corridor and entered the Office.
“Can I see Mr. Gordon, please?”
“Mr. Gordon has gone to Boston,” replied the secretary in his best official voice. “He left at twelve o’clock.”
Jim’s heart sank. “When will he be back, please, sir?” he asked. The secretary frowned.
“He is not in the habit of informing me very closely as to his plans. I believe, however, that he expects to return sometime to-morrow forenoon.”