Left Tackle Thayer

by Ralph Henry Barbour

"To myself? How the dickens--Oh, get out of here!"

Clint got out and as he made his way across to the second team gridiron he heard Amy's impassioned voice behind him.

"Say, Grindell, where under the Stars and Stripes have you been? Lee has been waiting here for you ever since two o'clock! You fellows certainly give me a pain! Now, look here--"

Clint chuckled. "Funny," he reflected, "to get so excited about a tennis tournament. Now, if it was football--"

Clint shook his head over the vagaries of his friend and very soon forgot them in the task of trying to keep the troublesome Robbins where he belonged, which, in Clint's judgment, was among the second team substitutes. That was a glorious afternoon for the second team, for they held the 'varsity scoreless in the first period and allowed them only the scant consolation of a field-goal in the second. "Boutelle's Babies," as some waggish first team man had labelled them, went off in high feather and fancied themselves more than ever.

Clint smiled at himself all the way to his room afterwards. He had played good football and had thrice won praise from "Boots" that afternoon. Even Jack Innes had gone out of his way to say a good word. He had clearly outplayed Saunders, the 'varsity left tackle, on attack and had held his own against the opposing end on defence. More than that, he had once nailed the redoubtable Kendall well behind the line, receiving an extremely hard look from the half-back, and had on two occasions got down the field under the punt in time to tackle the catcher. Yes, Clint was very well satisfied with himself today, so well pleased that the fact that he had bruised his left knee so that he had to limp a little as he went upstairs didn't trouble him a mite. He hoped Amy would be back from that silly tennis tournament so that he might tell him all about it. But Amy wasn't back, as he discovered presently. What met his eyes as he opened the door from the staircase well, however, put Amy quite out of his mind for awhile.

The door of his own room was closed, but the doors of 13 and 15 were open, and midway between them a rather startling drama was being enacted. The participants were Penny Durkin, Harmon Dreer and a smaller boy whose name afterwards transpired to be Melville. Melville was no longer an active participant, though, when Clint appeared unnoted on the scene and paused across the corridor in surprise. It was Penny and Harmon Dreer who held the centre of the stage.

"What are you butting in for?" demanded Dreer angrily. "I'll cuff the kid if I want to. You get out of here, Penny."

"You weren't cuffing him," replied Penny hotly. "You were twisting his arm and making him cry. Now you let the kid alone, Dreer. If you want to try that sort of thing you try it on me."

"All right!" Dreer stepped forward and shot his closed fist into Penny's face. The blow missed its full force, since Penny, seeing it coming, dodged so that it caught him on the side of the chin. But it was enough to send him staggering to the wall.