At half-past one he found George Watson in his room, and handed over one of his tickets. “I can’t go to the field with you,” he said, “but I’ll find you over there. Try to keep a seat for me, will you?”
“What’s the big idea?” asked George, blankly. “Why can’t you go with us? That’s a fine game to play!”
“I’ll tell you later. I—I’ve got something to do. Be a good fellow, George, won’t you? And tell Polly how it is, will you?”
“How the dickens can I tell Polly how it is when I don’t know how it is myself?” asked George, indignantly. “Oh, all right! But you want to get there pretty quick, Nod. It’s hard to hold seats when there aren’t enough of them in the first place. There’s a regular mob going out there already!”
Disconsolately Laurie hurried out and stationed himself at the dormitory entrance. Presently the players emerged from the gymnasium in their togs and passed through the little gate to Washington Street. Laurie watched them file past, hoping hard that Ned would be among them. But, although all the rest were there, twenty-one in all, there was no Ned.
From Washington Street and Summit Street came a steady tramping of feet, accompanied by a swishing sound as the pedestrians brushed through the fallen leaves. Occasionally an automobile went by with a warning honk of its horn at the corner. Looking over the withered hedge, Laurie could see the colors of Hillman’s and Farview marching past, banners of dark blue bearing the white Old English H, maroon-and-white flags adorned with the letters “F. A.” Laughter and the merry, excited chatter of many voices came to him. The yard was empty, except for a boy hurrying down the steps of West Hall, and he too quickly disappeared through the gate.
Presently Laurie looked at his watch. The time was eighteen minutes to two. He left East Hall and turned toward the gymnasium. Out of the shelter of the dormitory a little breeze fanned his face, and he remembered Hop Kendrick’s dread of a wind that would put more power into the toe of the Farview punter. It might be, he reflected, that Hop was due for disappointment; but the matter didn’t seem very important to him. The locker-room in the gymnasium was empty. Over the benches lay the discarded underclothing of the players, and sometimes the outer clothing as well, suggesting that excitement on this occasion had prevailed over orderliness. Laurie made his way to Ned’s locker. It was closed, and behind the unfastened door hung his togs.
CHAPTER XX—FOR THE HONOR OF THE TURNERS
Walking felt good to Ned that morning. The air, brisk in spite of the sunshine and the day’s stillness, cleared his head of the queer cloudiness that had been there since awakening, and, turning into the country road that led eastward toward the higher hills, he strode along briskly. He had, he reflected, played rather a low-down trick on Laurie; but that could be explained later, and Laurie wouldn’t mind when he understood. When he had gone the better part of a mile into the country, and the road had begun to steepen perceptibly, the sound of a motor behind warned him to one side. But, instead of passing in a cloud of dust, the automobile slowed down as it reached the pedestrian, and the driver, a genial-looking man of middle age, hailed.
“Going my way?” he asked. “Get in if you like.”