“Being there, though, right on hand, would help, wouldn’t it?” Willard asked. “I mean, you’d be in a better position to offer your advice and aid. And maybe you might play full-back so well that they’d realize that—that science has its place in football.”
“Do you know,” exclaimed McNatt quite excitedly, “you almost persuade me to try it, Harmon! By golly, you do! This man that is coaching this year—I forget his name—; is he the sort you can talk to? You know some of these coaches are so—so set! You can’t get them to listen to anything at all!”
“I don’t think Mr. Cade is that sort,” replied Willard reassuringly. “I’d say he was quite open to conviction, McNatt. In fact—” and here Willard smiled to himself—“in fact, I think I can promise that he will listen to anything that promises success for the team. There’s one thing, though, that might bother you, old chap. You’ve been out of training a good while and of course condition’s got a heap to do with playing football well.”
McNatt shook his head impatiently. “My condition’s all right,” he answered. “I’ll have to read up on the new rules, though. They’ve made several changes since I played before. I suppose I ought to see Myers and tell him I’ve changed my mind.”
“I’ve got a rules book,” said Willard, “and I’ll bring it over to you the first thing in the morning. As for telling Myers, I wouldn’t trouble. I’m quite likely to run across him myself this evening and I’ll pass the good word to him if you like.”
“I’d be very much obliged,” answered McNatt gratefully, “but don’t go out of your way, please. Funny you should turn up here tonight, Harmon. I’m glad you did, though, I really am. I wouldn’t have realized what an opportunity this thing affords me if you hadn’t!”
[CHAPTER XVII]
M’NATT JOINS THE TEAM
A great many years before the period of this story Alton Academy manufactured its own illuminating gas from gasoline by means of a machine in the basement of Academy Hall. The machine was connected by pipe with a gasoline tank set in a covered pit some sixty feet from the building. One fine day there was trouble with the gasoline supply and one of the faculty members known as Old Grubby descended into the pit to investigate matters. Just what occurred down there was never known, but shortly after Old Grubby disappeared from sight he reappeared with vastly more celerity, and his reappearance was accompanied by a violent concussion that brought everyone rushing to the scene or to the dormitory windows. A fortunate few gained points of vantage in time to see the teacher’s ascent interrupted by the force of gravitation and to watch his return to earth. This happened at a point many feet distant from the crater that had once been a brick-lined pit, and was quite spectacular. Fortunately, aside from a severe shaking up, some contusions and a nervous shock, Old Grubby was uninjured, although just at first it seemed to the horrified spectators that he had suffered a direful fate, since he had gone into the pit with a luxuriant growth of dark hair on his head and had subsequently descended from his flight with his scalp as bare and polished as a pale-pink billiard ball! None was more horror-stricken than the unfortunate gentleman himself, however, when he realized his plight. Clapping both hands to his head, he broke loose from the solicitous rescuers and ran agitatedly around in circles. Such extraordinary behavior on the part of an ordinarily sane gentleman was naturally adjudged to be the result of temporary dementia produced by the accident, and so, of course, all those who had arrived on the scene took up the chase. Old Grubby dodged and eluded, giving vent to inarticulate ejaculations of dismay, and the chase might have continued for quite a while had he not finally, with a cry of relief and triumph, snatched a brown object from a lower branch of a tree, clapped it on his shining head and dashed for his room.