A sense of duty is sometimes a most inconvenient thing to possess. That Monday night it was a sense of duty that sent Toby up to Number 31, and he went laggingly, feeling very certain that George Tubb would be more objectionable than ever. Tubb was not, Toby thought, of the kind who stands prosperity well. Tubb would be quite unbearable to-night: Toby could imagine him growling “Huh, I’d have made the First Team long ago if I’d had the ‘pull’ some fellows have!” But Toby felt that to an extent he was responsible for Tubb’s well-being, having in a manner started him out of his Slough of Despond, and that it was up to him to congratulate the other on his good fortune.
The scene that met his eyes when he pushed the door open in response to an invitation to enter was very unlike that upon which he had gazed on the occasion of his first visit to Number 31. Tubb and Ramsey were shoulder to shoulder, Tubb seated and his roommate bending over the table beside him, evidently elucidating some problem contained in the textbook that lay open before them. To all appearances perfect amity reigned now in Number 31! Nor was that the only surprise awaiting Toby. George Tubb was still George Tubb, and probably he would never be anything else, but instead of “grouching” because Fortune had not visited him earlier, or predicting the great things that were to happen by reason of his elevation to the First, he seemed loath to talk of the matter, accepting the visitor’s congratulation with a frown and a muttered—and vague—“Oh, well, I don’t know. I suppose it’s all right.” After that he appeared to prefer other topics of conversation, although Toby nevertheless had the impression that the matter was in his thoughts most of the time.
The problem in geometry that had puzzled Tubb proved a diversion and Toby was able to supply the needed assistance, rather to his surprise since of late he had begun to fear that he had forgotten most of what he had learned during the preceding year! After that they talked of various subjects, football most of all. Tubb was ready to talk football so long as it was general, and he had a number of criticisms to make of last Saturday’s contest. With some of them Toby didn’t agree, and arguments followed, and Toby discovered that Tubb could think things out clearly and state his results quite convincingly when he wanted to. Horace Ramsey maneuvered the talk around to tennis finally and asked Toby’s advice about trying for the Tennis Team.
“I didn’t do so badly in the handicaps last week,” he explained. “Got as far as the semi-finals, anyway. Beat two or three fellows who are considered rather good, too. How do you set about making the Team, Tucker?”
Toby didn’t know and said so, but he promised to find out and let Ramsey know, and after that he took his departure. Both boys, without saying so in words, managed to convey to him the impression that they had enjoyed his visit and wanted him to come again. He went downstairs feeling very well pleased with himself for having performed a disagreeable duty and a little surprised at finding that it hadn’t been disagreeable after all! “I guess,” he told himself as he clattered down the stairs, “a good many disagreeable things are like that. You think they’re a lot worse than they are.”
The First Team paid a good deal of attention to defense that week, a branch of football science that had been somewhat neglected by Coach Lyle in favor of attack, and the Second was called on four afternoons to aid, the big team working, contrary to custom, quite as hard on Friday as on any other day. It was on Wednesday that Toby had his first chance to see Tubb in action with the First. Tubb made his entry in the middle of a very strenuous second half, relieving Meadows. Sandford, who had started the season at left end, appeared to be out of the running. Tubb did well. Toby was rather amazed at the boy’s playing, and his respect for Grover Beech as a judge of football talent went up a peg. Beech had called Tubb “a natural-born end,” and, while Toby had little intimate knowledge of end playing, he thought that Beech had been quite right. Tubb acted as if he had played football for several seasons. He appeared to have unlimited confidence—in fact, his confidence looked almost like effrontery at times—and absolutely no physical fear, hurling himself into every play he could reach regardless of consequences. He had a way of keeping in motion every minute while in the line-up that, although it was rather wearisome to the spectator, kept his adversary in wholesome fear. And he could run like a ferret, too, and although he still missed tackles rather too frequently, he proved a thorn in the side of Toby and his team-mates when catching punts. Somehow, Tubb was always on hand when the ball had dropped into Toby’s arms, and if Toby squirmed himself free more than once it was only because Tubb had yet something to learn of the gentle art of tackling. Toby found himself a bit proud of George Tubb, quite as though he was personally accountable for that youth’s attainments!
The Second went through some gruelling work that week, for the most part assaulting the First’s defenses with every art and artifice at her command. Time and again the ball was taken away from the First and handed back to the Second, the coaches demanding that she put it over, every one, as it seemed, conniving at the First Team’s humiliation. Perhaps once during a game the First was allowed to show her prowess in attack, and the rest of the time she was back to the wall with the Second banging at her center, jabbing her tackles, skirting her ends, trying every possible means to penetrate her defenses. The result showed before the end of the week arrived. The First developed a savage, bitter, every-hand-against-me attitude that worked wonders. On Thursday she was thrice set her five yards and told to hold the opponent, and twice she did it, which, considering that both coaches egged on the Second and tried every device they could think of to make her attack more effective, was none so bad. Even on Friday, with a hard game against Carrel’s School looming up on the morrow, the First was hammered and banged about by the Second, which, having come in for a good many hard knocks and much rough usage, was in none too gentle a mood. It was on Friday that an incident occurred which, unimportant in itself, led to strange results.
Frick was playing quarter on the Second and Tubb had taken the place of an exhausted Meadows at left end on the First. First, unable to gain her distance in three downs in midfield, punted and the ball fell to Frick in front of Second’s goal. Both Tubb and Halliday had got free and were well under the ball as it arched down the field, but Halliday fell victim to Deering, leaving Tubb to look after Frick alone. Frick made the catch a moment before Tubb arrived on the scene and set off to his right in the hope of skirting the enemy pouring down the middle of the field. Tubb gave chase, running him off. Frick feinted but Tubb wasn’t fooled. Had the quarter-back been able to get free soon after making the catch he might have reeled off a good gain, for the gridiron to his right was practically unguarded, but Tubb had him so well blocked that there was no getting by and it was only when the side-line came dangerously near that Frick made a despairing effort to turn in. He pulled up suddenly and tried to dash past Tubb, but the First Team end was quicker than he was. Avoiding the runner’s straight-arm, Tubb dived and, for once, dived surely. He didn’t have to hold his man after the tackle, for by that time he had plenty of help, and Frick was speedily flattened out. On his feet again, Frick was very angry indeed, and panted insults and threats at Tubb’s retreating back until Beech silenced him.
Unaware that he had aroused Frick’s wrath, Tubb trotted back to his position. Two savage attacks on the First Team’s line netted but four yards and then Stover punted. Tubb was spilled trying to stop the opposing end and was climbing to his feet when the Second’s stragglers streamed past. Among them was Frick, for some reason later in getting down the field than he should have been. Only a few saw what happened as Frick reached Tubb, for most eyes were fixed on Noyes as he got under the ball. Toby, however, saw from where he sat on the bench, for Frick’s performance was of more interest to him than any one’s else, and just now Toby was wondering why his rival was almost the last in the pursuit. Tubb, in the act of raising himself from the ground, did not see Frick’s approach, nor, since he was unsuspecting, would he have heeded it if he had seen it. Frick had set a course that led him past the other, and now, as he reached him, he swerved a pace and brought one heavily-shod foot against Tubb’s ribs just under the left shoulder. It was as deliberate a thing as Toby had ever seen, and unconsciously he jumped to his feet with an exclamation of disgust. Tubb, supported at the moment on his left hand, dropped instantly to the turf and rolled over on his back, his legs drawn up in pain. Frick was already well down the field. Toby and Lovett, a substitute end, ran on together. Tubb was white-faced and gasping, both hands clasped to his side.