“Pop, you must control that horrid temper of yours,” said Hugh gravely.
Pop grinned. “I will. I’m not going to start anything, Duke, but if Lambert gets gay he will run against something hard this time. Last year I stood a lot of jolts from him, and Bonner saw it, and after the game—they beat us seven to three—he said, ‘If I had caught you slugging back at that fellow I’d have pulled you out, Pop.’ ‘Sure, I knew that,’ I told him. ‘That’s the only reason he got away with it.’ So the other day Bonner said, ‘You’ll play against Lambert again next Saturday.’ And I said, yes, I was expecting to. And Bonner said, looking away off into the distance, ‘He used you sort of roughly last year, didn’t he?’ ‘He sure did,’ said I. ‘Well, we mustn’t have any rough stuff, Pop, you know. If I catch you at it you’ll come out.’ ‘All right,’ said I. ‘Are you likely to be looking?’ ‘Well, I’m not going to keep my eyes on you all the time,’ he said, ‘and my sight isn’t what it was when I was younger, but if the umpire should call my attention to anything you’d have to come out, Pop. So if I were you I’d be a bit careful!’ And I’m going to be.”
Hugh laughed as Pop pushed him through the doorway of Number 20. “I’m not going to miss that game, whatever happens,” he declared. “And if they send me out to carry you off, Pop, I’ll be very gentle with you.”
“Huh!” growled the other. “Carry me off, eh? If Lambert doesn’t act like a perfect gentleman he will be smiling in his sleep and listening to the birdies singing about the middle of the second quarter!”
CHAPTER XIV
BERT CONFIDES
Bert wasn’t very good company that week. In the evenings he made a great pretence of studying, but Hugh’s stolen glances showed that his friend’s thoughts were far from his books. At times Bert was as gay as you please, but the gayety didn’t last long and while it did last struck Hugh as being decidedly forced. For the most part Bert was silent and morose. There were no more bickerings, but it was more to Hugh’s credit than Bert’s, for the latter on more than one occasion showed himself ready to quarrel on any provocation. As a result Hugh was less at home than usual. He spent much time with Pop Driver and Roy Dresser, over in Trow, and often dropped down the corridor to hobnob with Cathcart before bedtime. There was one good thing about the proctor and that was that you could always depend on finding him in his room except when he had a recitation. Now and then Hugh visited Nick, but Nick, unlike Cathcart, was almost never in. A couple of evenings Hugh went over to Lit for awhile, but he had a feeling that it was better taste to remain away from the society’s room until he was a full-fledged member. He very much wished that Bert would confide in him, so that whatever the trouble was they might talk it over like sensible beings. Somehow, he didn’t believe that gridiron difficulties quite explained his friend’s condition of mind. Instead, he shrewdly suspected that Bert’s poor performances in practice of late were the result of some secret worry and not the cause of it. All that Hugh could be certain of was that studies had nothing to do with it, for, while Bert was not a particularly studious fellow, he nevertheless managed to maintain an average standing and was seldom in trouble with the office.
Bert went back to left half on Wednesday and stayed there until the Rotan game. But even Hugh could see that he was having a hard time of it to keep Siedhof out, and there were times when no one could have criticized Coach Bonner had he pulled Bert back to the bench. Nick confided to Hugh one day that Bert was frightfully off his game, adding regretfully, “It’s got so I think twice before I give him the ball. And Bonner’s getting on to me, too. Bert’s got to brace up Saturday or Billy Siedhof will have his place. I’d like to know what the dickens is wrong with him! The best thing for him would be to get Davy to lay him off for three or four days. I suggested it to him yesterday and he nearly bit my head off. Ted’s got his eye on him, too, and Ted’s so set on winning this year that he’d fire his grandmother if she didn’t play well! Look here, ’Ighness, why don’t you sort of drop a hint to Bert, eh? I’ve tried it and only escaped death by instant flight.”
“So you want me to die, eh? I’d do it, only—well, Bert gets mad so easily now that it wouldn’t be much good.”
“I guess it wouldn’t. Well, it’s his funeral and he will have to make his own arrangements. Still, I hate to see him making such a mess of things without any reason that anyone can see. What the dickens is the matter, Duke? Has he hinted anything to you?”