“You’re supposed to give what you can afford—or what you want to give. I used to give ’em two, but what’s the use? Let’s find Mal and go on over.”
The hall was rather sparsely inhabited when Prentiss arose to address the meeting. Rob and Evan and Malcolm sat together on a front bench, and there were about seventy other chaps in attendance. Prentiss explained that the meeting had been called in pursuance of a school custom to acquaint the supporters of the football team with the plans for the season and to secure from them funds with which to carry out those plans. He informed the audience that the football treasury had held the sum of twelve dollars and eighty cents at the beginning of the year, that amount having been left over from the previous season.
“Of course,” he went on, “that didn’t last very long. We have had to purchase several balls, buy lime for the purpose of marking out the field and get quite a few little things to begin work with. We are now without funds and it is necessary that your response to-night should be generous. We shall need fully a hundred and fifty dollars to carry us through the season. There will be new sweaters to purchase for the entire team and one or two pairs of trousers. Of recent years it has been the custom for players to supply their own shoes, but I think that is a mistake. Lots of fellows can’t afford to pay what they ought to to get a good shoe and the result is that they buy cheap things that don’t give good service. And that naturally affects their playing. I think the Football Association should buy shoes as well as clothing for the players, and I’m sure you will agree with me. Our schedule this season includes games with several teams that require us to travel away from home, and the item of railroad fares will be considerable. So I hope you fellows will respond heartily to our appeal, remembering that you are giving to the School and aiding it in its struggle for football preeminence. You all want to witness a victory over Adams, and the first step toward the—the realization of that desire is to put the Team on its feet financially. Captain Hopkins has a few words to say before we proceed to business.”
There was a smatter of applause as the manager took his seat and Frank Hopkins arose. Hopkins could talk very well when he was in the mood, and he realized that to-night was a time when eloquence was needed. The slim attendance was not encouraging, and the spirit of the meeting evidently left much to be desired in the way of warmth and enthusiasm. Hopkins thrust his hands into his coat pockets and viewed the audience with a genial smile.
“Well,” he began, “what I have to say isn’t of great consequence, fellows. You all know why you’re here. We need money for the Team. We can’t run a football team without money. Fellows have to be clothed and shod and we have to have balls and head-gears and nose-protectors and other things too numerous to mention. They all cost money. And, as the manager has just told you, we’re stoney-broke at this moment. We couldn’t scrape up ten cents if we tried. In fact, both Prentiss and I have had to advance small sums of money to keep things going this far. But we’re going to have a good team this year, one that you’ll all be proud of.”
“Yes, indeed,” called a sarcastic voice from the audience, and a ripple of titters arose. Hopkins frowned momentarily, but quickly remembered his role of geniality and went on:
“We’ve got enough fellows from last year’s team to form an excellent basis to build upon. And the new material in sight is unusually good. In short, the outlook is distinctly encouraging, and I, for one, am quite optimistic regarding the work ahead. Adams has triumphed too long—”
Applause, and a shrill “That’s no joke!” from somewhere at the back of the room.
“She has triumphed too long and it is time that we show her that Riverport is still to be reckoned with. And this fall, fellows, you’ll see a turning of the tables. We’re going to give old Adams a drubbing that will make up, more than make up for past defeats!”