The Spirit of the School

by Ralph Henry Barbour

And, as it turned out, that was just what Hansel had to see, for after the first fifteen minutes of play, during which Beechcroft, having secured the ball on the kick-off, advanced from her ten-yard line by steady rushes to Warren’s goal line, and from there sent Bert over for a touchdown, from which Cotton kicked goal, Warren showed herself the superior of the home team. For the rest of that half she played on the defensive, and the period ended with the score 5 to 0. But of the last half there was a different tale to tell.

Beechcroft kicked off, and Warren’s left half back ran the ball in thirty yards before he was finally downed on his forty-five-yard line. Then came a try at the center of the light blue, which netted a scant two feet, and the Beechcroft adherents shouted their glee. But that was almost the last opportunity they had for such shouting. On the next play the Warren quarter back reeled off twenty yards around Beechcroft’s right end, and Hansel, watching from the side-line, clinched his hands and called himself names. Warren was quick to see her advantage. Time and again the right end was tried, and always for a gain until, seven minutes from the beginning of play. Warren’s full back was pushed over for a touchdown. Those seven minutes comprised a fair sample of the subsequent proceedings. Cutler was taken out, and Forrester, a second team man, was put in his place. But, although Forrester did better work than his predecessor, Beechcroft’s defense against end runs was woefully weak, and gain after gain was made around her right side. At the left end of her line King did good work and, although Warren’s nimble quarter got around there once or twice for short gains, he had little to reproach himself with. Had the other end been as difficult for the opponent, the final score would have been different. As it was it was 17 to 6, and it was a gloomy lot of fellows that climbed the terrace after the last whistle had blown. As for Hansel, he had been in his room for fifteen minutes then; he had not had the heart to stay and watch the contest after the first score of the second half; and not for much money would he have faced at that moment the looks of the Beechcroft players. He believed himself to be in the right, only—the right looked all wrong!

At five o’clock Bert came in, gloomy and disheartened. After a glance at Hansel, who was pretending to study in the window seat, he threw down his cap and seated himself at the table. Presently Hansel heard the hurried scratching of a pen, and looked across at his roommate. Bert, cheek on hand, was writing feverishly, scowling darkly the while. The clock ticked annoyingly loud. Hansel cleared his throat, opened his mouth, closed it again, and turned back to his book. The pen scratched on and on, and the clock ticked louder than ever. Finally, with a rush of blood to his cheeks, Hansel put down his book.

“Bert,” he said softly, “I’m awfully sorry.”

“I dare say!” was the bitter reply.

“I am, though; I feel like a low-down mucker!”

“Well,” growled Bert, “how do you suppose I feel?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” answered Hansel. “You played the swellest sort of a game; so did all the fellows; but I—well, maybe it wouldn’t have made any difference if I had played, but I can’t help——”

“Difference!” cried Bert scathingly. “It would have made the difference between a defeat and a victory! That’s all the difference it would have made!”