So the voyage of the good schooner Rattletrap was ended. It had been over a thousand miles long, and had lasted more than two months.
THE END.
[TILL THE GAME IS DONE.]
BY SEELYE BRYANT.
Captain "Reddy" Alden, of the Blackwood Academy football team, was not handsome. He was not even graceful. But his chin "meant business," and there was a serene look in his eyes which was likely to make a bully think twice before taking hold of him. His nickname sufficiently indicated the color of his hair, which grew back from his forehead in a "cowlick," and showed a tendency, when of approved football length, to drop in straggling masses down either side of his freckled face.
Reddy—or more properly Mark—was nineteen years old, tall, and long-armed, with a very slight outward bend of the legs, and a chest not broad but deep. He looked wiry rather than muscular.
As he started toward the village, one Thursday afternoon, his hands were in his pockets, his leather cap was on the back of his head, and the collar of his heavy sweater fell over his shoulders above his double-breasted coat.
He walked slowly down the hill, as if waiting for some one, and occasionally turned to look back toward the academy. Soon a clear quick call stopped him entirely. "Hold on there, Reddy!" it came, and the next moment "Buck" Harris darted down the hill and caught him by the arm.
The two settled into a brisk walk, and Buck remarked, "I saw Billy Hurd just now. His knee'll keep him off the field for a month."