Forward Pass: A Story of the "New Football"

by Ralph Henry Barbour

The next day, Sunday, Dan went to Sound View, according to promise, at half-past three to take dinner and spend the evening. He had secured permission very easily, for since he had announced to Mr. Collins that Gerald was to come to Yardley and that their conspiracy had succeeded, Mr. Collins was so pleased that Dan had only to ask to get anything in reason that he wanted. He spent a pleasant afternoon and evening at Sound View and got back just before ten. Tubby was not in, but appeared a few minutes later, informing Dan that he had been spending the evening with Hiltz. As Dan had shown no curiosity, nor felt any, this information was quite gratuitous and Dan speculated about it idly for a minute. But there were more interesting things than Tubby’s vagaries to think about and it soon passed out of his mind.

The next day was Monday, the Eighteenth of November. I mention the fact because it was known for many months afterwards as “Blue Monday,” and appears in a great many diaries as such. A good deal happened on “Blue Monday,” enough to set the school in a ferment of excitement that lasted for several days; and for a proper understanding of it let us begin at the beginning and follow events as they transpired.

The beginning was at about half-past six in the morning. At that hour Professor Angus McIntyre might have been seen coming out of the second entrance of Dudley Hall wrapped in his queer old plaid ulster. He wasn’t seen, as far as I know, for as a general thing at that hour of the morning Kilts and “Mr. McCarthy,” the janitor, whose name, by the way, isn’t McCarthy at all, at all, but just plain Owens, have the place to themselves. The janitor was busy with his assistants in Oxford Hall, and so, as far as I know, Professor McIntyre’s appearance was witnessed only by a flock of noisy sparrows who were indulging in a post-prandial quarrel around the sun-dial. It was the professor’s daily habit to take a walk before Chapel. This morning, since in spite of the early sunlight, the air was sharp and eager, he paused on the bottom of the three stone steps and fastened the topmost button of his ulster. He wore on his head a round, gray cloth hat and held under his arm a thick walking-stick of Scotch oak. It was said that ulster, cap and cane had each been in use by the professor when he first came to Yardley, some twelve years before.

As he paused on the last step his gaze traveled appreciatively over the Quadrangle. (This was the professor’s name for it, but to everyone else it was just the Yard.) The pale sunlight threw long shadows across the grass and the red brick walks, moist with dew, made lines of warm color. Then he stepped onto the pavement and turned to the left, and as he did so his gaze wandered to the building beside him and he stopped short and stared at what he saw. There along the front of the building, between the first and second entrances and beneath the sills of the first-floor windows, were huge daubs of blue paint. The Professor rubbed his eyes and looked again. Then he backed off onto the wet grass and viewed the vandalism in its entirety. The daubs were letters nearly two feet high and here is what they spelled:

NOW FOR BROADWOOD!!

The Professor read and shook his head. Then he turned and viewed the windows of the neighboring buildings. No sign of life met his anxious gaze. Then he disappeared into the second entrance of Dudley.

When he returned a couple of minutes later he had abandoned ulster and cane. In place of the latter he bore a bucket of steaming water, a cake of soap and a scrubbing-brush. Then he got to work. He began with the “N.” The paint where it had been put on thinly was dry but still fresh. Soap, water and brush had their effect, but it was slow work, and by the time the “N” and the “O” were obliterated the water was very blue and the Professor realized that he would never be able to scrub out the whole inscription before time for Chapel. But he changed the water in the pail and kept at work, and at seven o’clock, when Doctor Hewitt raised the shade of his bed-room window, and, adjusting his shaving glass, looked out across the yard, he stared in amazement, just as the Professor had done half an hour before. He even followed out the latter’s programme to the extent of rubbing his eyes. But there was no optical illusion here. The figure with back toward him was undeniably Professor McIntyre; Professor McIntyre washing the front of Dudley Hall!

Now it is well known that higher mathematics, like chess, will, if indulged in too greatly, impair the intellect. The Doctor shuddered with horror and recalled symptoms displayed of late by the professor, which at the time he had thought nothing of. It was terrible, terrible! thought the Doctor. And something must be done at once; it would never do to allow the students to discover the professor in such a ridiculous situation! There was, also, the reputation of the school to be protected!