A goal from that touchdown was too much to hope for. The punt-out failed, and the ball went back to the center of the field. But in a moment it was all over, and the final whistle sounded the defeat of Fairview. And Hansel, on the side line, with Bert’s head on his knees grinned foolishly and was very happy. Bert opened his eyes.
“Over?” he whispered weakly.
“All over!” answered Hansel.
Bert sighed again, and again closed his eyes.
“We win,” he said faintly.
It was three hours later. Mr. Ames, his hands clasped behind him, was strolling thoughtfully to and fro along the corridor of the first floor of Weeks. In the dining hall, behind closed doors, the football team had gone into executive session in the matter of choosing a captain for next year, and when, in the course of his trips back and forth, he passed the big doorway, the dim murmur of earnest voices met his ears. There is no training-table room at Beechcroft, and the team members dine at one end of the big hall. To-night the other students had been hustled out of the hall very early, and since before seven the football warriors, with the coach, the trainer, and several graduates of prominence, had been in full possession.
There had been broiled chicken and Maryland biscuits and French fried potatoes, and many other luscious dishes served to the players and their guests as extras, for to-night’s supper was their “banquet,” and if it wasn’t as elaborate as the after-victory feasts of some teams, it tasted mighty good to the fellows upon whom the monotonous régime of steaks and chops, milk and toast, had begun to pall. After the banquet there had been speeches. The graduates had spoken, Mr. Ames had spoken, Bert had spoken, even Mr. Foote had found a word or two to say. Then they had sung the school song, standing about the long table, and had cheered for Bert, for Mr. Ames, for Mr. Foote, for the manager, for the grads and for Beechcroft. After that the outsiders had gone their ways and the big doors had been closed again.
Down on the green, dark forms moved about in the moonlight, coming from all directions and meeting in the corner of the field sacred to bonfires. Throughout the village wise householders were on the alert, keeping watchful eyes on gates, chicken coops, and like movable and inflammable matter. Now and then a boy stuck his head in the door and looked questioningly and impatiently at Mr. Ames. Outside a group awaited the news; waited, too, to carry off the heroes to the scene of the celebration. Mr. Ames passed the closed doors for perhaps the twentieth time, and looked at his watch. They were taking a long time in there. He wondered whether the election would turn out the way he wanted it to. As he turned again toward the outer door Phin entered and approached him.
“Have they elected a captain yet?” he asked eagerly.