Dick wondered who the “one other” might be and why Sumner hadn’t told, but the question didn’t occupy his thoughts long. He read that letter to Stanley, watching ferociously for any sign of levity, and was a bit disappointed when he saw none. He was in a mood to have welcomed a scrap!
That afternoon he and Stone alternated at driving the big team against the Second in the last scrimmage before the final game, and it proved to be the hardest and most blood-thirsty encounter of the season. The Second, with nothing to lose, was resolved to finish in a blaze of glory, and the way they went at the enemy was a marvel. Before scrimmage and after it they might be friends and well-wishers, but while the battle was on friendship was at an end and they fought like wild-cats. They scored in the first ten minutes, pushing straight through the First’s line for a clean touchdown and kicking a goal afterwards, and they scored again from the field within twenty seconds of the final whistle. And the best the First could do in retaliation was to get two touchdowns without goals. So the score at the end was 12-10 and the Second viewed the result as a nominal victory and ended the training season in a condition of wild triumph, parading around the field, singing and cheering, to their own delight and the amused approval of the school at large.
Dick emerged from the fracas with a damaged nose and several painful but unimportant contusions, and scarcely anyone else fared much better. The Second Team players were tattered and disfigured and gloried in their wounds. Altogether, it was a disreputable and motley bunch of vagabonds that gathered in the locker room after the trouble was over, and, having buried the hatchet, discussed the late unpleasantness in all its details and speculated as to its bearing on the big game. The coaches, for Mr. Driscoll had been assisted by two and sometimes three enthusiastic graduates during the past week, wore expressions of satisfaction, just such expressions, as “Short” Davis, confided to Dick, as the spectators doubtless wore in ancient Rome after a particularly gory entertainment in the arena! Dick accidentally heard one of the assistant coaches confide to another that “whether those chaps can lick Kenwood or not, Perry, they sure can fight!”
Perhaps some of the fighting mood remained with Dick after he had washed away the stains of battle and was on his way across to Sohmer in the deepening twilight. At all events, the theory serves as an explanation of what happened when, just outside the hall, Sandy Halden and another fellow encountered the returning gladiator.
“Behold the world-famed athlete!” declaimed Sandy, adding a laugh that was far more annoying than the words. His companion laughed, too, but somewhat embarrassedly. Dick scowled and pushed past toward the steps. But Sandy wasn’t through. “Hicksville’s Hero!” he went on grandiloquently. “He says so himself!”
What happened then was performed so quickly that Dick was nearly as surprised as Sandy. Sandy was prone on the grass well beyond the edge of the walk, his companion was a dozen yards away in flight and Dick was standing supreme on the first step at the entrance. Presumably Dick had pitched Sandy where he lay, but Dick had little recollection of having done so. Or of having regained the steps afterward. He had given way to a sudden and overmastering anger and had acted without conscious thought. Now, however, the anger was gone and in its place was a wholesome amusement.
“Better get off the grass, Halden,” he volunteered cheerfully. “That’s just been seeded there.”
Halden got off, but he didn’t resent the attack. Instead, he brushed himself silently and unnecessarily, avoiding a glance at Dick until he straightened up again. Then with a look so malevolent that Dick wondered at it, he said in a low voice that shook with passion: “All right, Bates! That settles you!”
Dick laughed, but not with much amusement. Somehow, the threat conveyed in the other’s tone precluded amusement, even though, as Dick reasoned a moment later, Halden had no power to harm him. Sandy turned and rejoined his waiting but discreet companion and went his way without further notice of his assailant. Dick, already ashamed of his fit of temper, went on upstairs. Fortunately, perhaps, none had seen the swift incident, and he was very glad of it. He didn’t say anything about it to Stanley although that youth was doubled up on the window-seat reading.