Mr. Haynes smiled. “Human nature has some queer angles, my boy,” he said. “I fancy Harven really thought he was glad to see you become captain, and I dare say he’s tried to be, but there’s a little hurt feeling that persists, and he can’t help showing it. But I wouldn’t let it bother me. He’ll get over it in time. By the way, what about Towne? Have you heard from him since afternoon?”
“No, sir, but I guess it’s only a cold.”
“Well, I hope so,” answered the coach grimly. “We can’t afford to lose our best guard just now. And we’d certainly be in a hole if he wasn’t on hand to kick field goals. That’s a weak department with us, Brewton. Outside of Towne and Harven we haven’t a fellow we can depend on for field goals. Tasker is a whale of a punter, but if the Pearsall game depended on a three-point tally I’d hate to have to leave it to him! Of course, if Harven was in we’d be safe, but unless he bucks up a whole lot inside of the next week he’s likely to see that game from the bench. If I were you I’d look in on Towne to-night and see how he’s making it.”
Jack agreed and took his departure.
Thursday morning it became known that Wally Towne was ill with something that looked a whole lot like tonsillitis, and consternation reigned throughout the school. That afternoon Baker played right guard and the most promising of the second team’s guards was requisitioned by Mr. Haynes. Baker, however, was not a success, and the second team fellow, although he was scrappy and quick and worked hard, was much too light for the place. On Friday the coach tried an experiment, and Steve Le Gette, second-string tackle, was shoved into the line between Cutts and Thurston. Le Gette had the weight and the size and he soon showed that he had the fight. It was not certain that Towne would not be back for the Pearsall game, but tonsillitis, if you have it severely enough, can play hob with you, and even if Wally was able to enter the final contest it was doubtful that he would be able to play it through; and just now the doctor’s report was far from reassuring. So Coach Haynes set about the development of a new guard, to the chagrin of several substitutes for that position, and, recalling the fact that, with Towne out of the game, there’d be a dearth of goal kickers, looked about him for likely material. In the end, it was Le Gette who seemed the most promising. Tasker would have to do the bulk of the punting and, while he might add to his field goal ability by hard practice, it seemed neither wise nor fair to add to his duties. Le Gette had done some punting the year before on the second team as substitute fullback, and so the coach’s choice fell on him.
Stuart, well wrapped in a big gray blanket against the chill wind that was sweeping across the field, was watching the first and second plugging away down by the thirty-yard line at the far end of the field when some one seated himself on the bench beside him. Stuart, interested in seeing the result of Tasker’s effort to punt into the teeth of the wind, didn’t turn his head until Mr. Haynes’s voice startled him.
“Harven,” the coach was saying, “how are you fixed for time in the morning?”
“Time?” Stuart looked rather blank for an instant, trying to focus his thoughts. It was a trifle disconcerting to find the coach’s eyes on a level with his at a distance of two feet.
“Perhaps I’d better explain what I’m after,” continued the other. “We need another man who can kick goals, Harven. If Towne shouldn’t make the Pearsall game we’d be in a fix. If you were playing I’d not worry, but, to be candid, you may not be.” He paused, but Stuart, turning his gaze away, only nodded. “We need another man, if only to be on the safe side,” Mr. Haynes resumed. “I know that a week is a mighty short time to work in, but I think that if you gave an hour to the business in the mornings and perhaps a half hour in the afternoons you could come pretty close to giving us a new goal kicker. A good deal would depend on the other chap, of course, but I’ve got a fellow who has done some punting and who is willing to learn. He was on the second last year and I’ve frankly told him that his chance of getting into the big game depends on his ability to kick goals fairly well. You’ll find him eager to learn, Harven. I’d take him in hand myself, but I’m no kicker and never was, and I wouldn’t be able to teach him half as well as you will. Now what do you say?”
“Of course I’ll do what I can, sir,” answered Stuart soberly and a bit stiffly. “I can find an hour every morning, if my time suits the other fellow’s. Is it certain that Towne won’t be able to play?”