On Thursday Squad B became officially the Scrub Team and lined up against the First, or Varsity, as the fellows liked to call it, for the first real scrimmage. Tom Nostrand was captain and the roster consisted of Jones, left end, Mander, left tackle, Gage, left guard, Shaw, center, Nostrand, right guard, Peyton, right tackle, Smith, right end, Farrar, quarterback, Burns, left halfback, Sawin, right halfback, and Brimmer, fullback. Six other youths were retained as substitutes and the balance of the candidates, eight in number, were dropped. Fudge Shaw had not shown enough promise to warrant his retention on the Varsity and had been released to Nostrand and tried as center, in which position he was doing very well. For his part, Fudge was quite satisfied, for his ambition had never really gone beyond a place on the Scrub Team. It is doubtful, though, if Gage and Brimmer, both of whom had played with the First Team prior to Dick’s advent, were as well pleased! However, it was well understood that changes were still likely to occur and that any fellow who proved his right to a place on the Varsity would get it, a knowledge which served to cause the Scrub Team players to do their best.
Tom Nostrand’s warriors showed up remarkably well that afternoon and gave the Varsity a first-class argument. The best the latter could do was make a touchdown in each half of twenty minutes and hold the enemy scoreless. The Scrubs trotted from the field not a little proud of themselves and with Dick’s commendation, “Good work, Scrub!” ringing in their ears. Tom Nostrand had already announced to them that they were to play the North Side team on the twenty-first, and they were more than pleased.
On Friday the Varsity, contrary to custom, was put through as hard if not harder practice than usual, and a full hour was spent in going over the few plays to be used against Logan the next day. Also, there was an extremely strenuous session with the dummy, and, after scrimmage was over, the backs and centers were kept until it was too dark to see, the centers passing to punters and the other backs running down under kicks. Morris Brent practiced goals from the field and managed to score about six out of ten, which, as some of the angles were extreme, was a creditable performance.
Morris was something of a problem to Dick and Lanny. In spite of the doctor’s permission, Dick had a feeling that Morris, if allowed to play as much as he wanted to, was likely to peg out before the big game. Lanny, too, shared this belief, and, while neither of them could have given satisfactory reasons for it, they were agreed that the wise course was to nurse Morris along, giving him only enough work to keep him in condition, and bank all on his ability to reach the Springdale contest in top-form. Meanwhile Lanny himself was doing most of the punting, Chester Cottrell supplying short kicks from regular formation. So far Morris Brent had been brought into the game whenever a goal from field was necessary, but Dick was anxious to find another player who could also be relied on to add an occasional three points in that manner. So far, though, no one had shown much promise. Tupper and Nelson Beaton were doing their best under Morris’s tuition, but they didn’t seem to get on very fast. Dick heartily wished that he knew more about drop-kicking himself, or, better still, that there was somebody he could call on to come out and coach in that department of the game.
And in the meantime came the game with Logan, which, since it must be played without Lanny and Cottrell, presented another problem!
CHAPTER XI
“SPY!”
Springdale lies nestled amongst the hills six miles inland from Clearfield, and one may make the journey speedily enough by either steam railroad or trolley line. Lanny and Chester chose the latter route, and after an early dinner on Saturday, climbed into a front seat of one of the big, lumbersome cars and settled themselves for the forty-minute trip. Chester—he was a sturdily-built chap of seventeen with a pleasant countenance and a singularly attractive voice—was supplementing his hasty meal with peanuts. Lanny declined the delicacy and intimated that the quarterback would be a whole lot better off if he didn’t eat such “truck” between meals. Lanny was inclined to be irritable to-day, recognizing which fact, Chester diplomatically confined his entire attention to the contents of his paper bag while the car rumbled over the B Street Bridge after slowly and noisily trundling its way through most of the business portion of the town. By the time it had left the mills behind and had plunged into the country—it sped across fields and through woods with no heed to the highways—Lanny was ready to talk. Perhaps the crisp October breeze had blown his irritability away. At all events, after that they chatted pleasantly enough and watched the long line of shining rails rush toward them at breath-taking speed. Every few minutes the car slowed down at a tiny station and folks got off or on, and the two boys, now being in excellent spirits, viewed and discussed them and whimsically invented histories and careers for them. The big car pulled into Central Square in Springdale right on time and the visitors had nearly an hour in which to see the town and walk out to the High School athletic field. Springdale is less citified than Clearfield, even though it has a slightly larger population. Perhaps the fact that it is on the main line of the railroad and so nearer the city in point of time accounts for its popularity as a residence town. The State Agricultural Experiment Station lies just outside, and Chester, who was an enthusiastic chicken fancier, was all for going out there to see the poultry farm. But there was hardly time for that excursion, and so they contented themselves with wandering about the streets of the business section for half an hour, quenching their thirst at a soda fountain, standing for several minutes in front of the gaudy placards outside a moving-picture theater, and all the time pretending amused contempt for Springdale’s village aspect. Then it behooved them to reach the field and they tore themselves away from the interesting display in a picture-dealer’s window and moved out Maple Boulevard, their feet rustling through the fallen leaves that almost hid the sidewalk. They were soon part of a straggling procession of boys and girls and older folks all headed toward the athletic field. A number of merry-faced youths in striped brown-and-white uniforms rode past, and the throngs on the sidewalks waved their blue pennants with the white S’s and shouted laughing comments after the visitors.
Lanny and Chester yielded their quarters and, being early, found places near the center of the field in the comfortable and commodious new grandstand. “This,” said Lanny enviously, “is what we ought to have.”