For the good of the team

by Ralph Henry Barbour

In the Forest Hill game Stuart played as well as he ever had, although the incentive to great effort was lacking since the contest was one-sided from the first. On Monday, however, when the first was stacked up against the second and Saturday’s players were, contrary to custom, sent into the scrimmage, Stuart was distinctly off his game. Scenting an opportunity to triumph, perhaps, the second, coached by Mr. Webster, who had long since earned the affectionate nickname of “Old Unabridged,” started in with a whoop. Several of the fellows on the first team who had played through the Forest Hill game slightly resented being called on to-day. Some of them were a little bit tired, or thought they were, which amounts to practically the same thing. Among them was Stuart. His resentment was principally aimed at the violation of a long-established precedent which allowed those who had played through a Saturday game a Monday of rest or, at the most, the lightest sort of labor. He didn’t much mind playing, although, as he explained later to Neil, he “didn’t feel very zippy,” but the injustice rankled. As a result he—well, he was pretty poor.

Second took the kick-off and came up the field hard, using a new split-formation play that “Old Unabridged” had just taught them, to such good results that they were on the first’s twenty-yard line before any one knew what was happening. After that they tried twice to bore through the center and then tried to heave across the left. Tom Muirgart spoiled that, however, catching the ball just short of the line, and the first lined up on her three yards. Stuart called for a plunge at center, which yielded practically nothing, and then, instead of letting Tasker punt out of danger, himself took the ball for a run around the right. In the situation that was as unexpected a play as it was hazardous. Perhaps Stuart expected its unexpectedness to make it go, but if he did he was wrong. A big second team tackle slammed through and got him before he could turn in and heaved him across the goal line for a safety.

Some of his companions looked on him sorrowfully and reproachfully, though only half in earnest. Coach Haynes spoke his mind quietly but crisply. “Bad generalship, Captain Harven,” he said, as Stuart found his feet again. “Too risky. You should have punted.”

Stuart, knowing all that quite as well as the coach, scowled and bit his lip. The coach, about to add something further, caught his expression and wisely changed his mind.

The second chose to kick-off and the pigskin floated high and far toward the first team goal. Stuart claimed it and got under it near the ten-yard line. The catch was not a difficult one. The other backs, never doubting that he would make it, sped ahead to form interference. The ball fell straight into Stuart’s hands and as straightly bounded out again. He tried to get it on the bounce as it went on toward the goal line, failed, and threw himself on it. Again misfortune met him. The ball somehow wiggled loose and a second team end, who had marvelously evaded the interference, crashed down across Stuart and captured the pigskin.

From the seven yards the second carried over in four plays, choosing Towne as a point of attack. Although she failed at goal, the second had, beyond any possible doubt, won the game in the first six minutes of play, and she rejoiced exceedingly and made herself most obnoxious; so much so that Billy Littlefield came to blows with a second team end and was yanked out by a stern referee. Stuart, sore and silent, followed back to position to find Millard Wheaton awaiting him. “Wheat” was trying hard to look regretful, but the attempt wasn’t very successful.

“What do you want?” asked Stuart darkly.

“You’re off,” said Wheaton. “Sorry, Cap.”

“Get out of here!” Stuart pulled his head guard on with a jerk.

Wheaton, at a loss, turned to Tasker, but Howdy only shrugged. Of course his duty was to call the referee’s attention to Stuart’s refusal, but—well, Stuart was captain of the team, and so, after a moment’s indecision, Wheaton trotted back to the side-line. Then Mr. Haynes walked out with Wheaton in tow. Stuart, seeing, went toward them.