Afternoon school passed as uneventfully as the morning session and no summons from Doctor Webster reached the culprits. Each of them drew a deep sigh of relief when he was safely outside the front door of School Building; and he didn’t linger long thereabouts, but hurried off to the gymnasium to prepare for football practice. “What did I tell you?” Spud demanded triumphantly as they went. “Horace hasn’t heard a word of it.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Dutch. “Only what I’d like to know is who was that in the orchard last night?”
“I wonder if we really did see anything, after all,” mused The Fungus.
“I didn’t,” replied Dutch.
But there was a chorus of protest from the rest.
[161]
“You bet we saw something!” cried Hoop. “I saw it all right, anyway!”
“And so did I,” said Cal and Sandy in unison.
“Well, whoever it was,” declared Ned, “it couldn’t have been one of the Old Maids, for they’d certainly have scorched the ground getting to Horace with their troubles. I’m beginning to think that Clara is right and that it really was a ghost.”
“There isn’t any such thing,” jeered Spud as they entered the gymnasium. “And, anyhow, a ghost wouldn’t have swiped Cal’s pillow-case!”
“Well, whatever it was or whoever it was,” said Sandy earnestly, “I’m glad it didn’t give us away.”
Practice that afternoon was strenuous and Cal, having accepted philosophically the fact that there was no escape for him, set to work and made up his mind to master the intricacies of the game. Not that it appeared much like a game to him, however. He spent a quarter of an hour handling the ball with others of the “awkward squad”; passing it, catching it, falling on it—when it was there!—and learning not a few of its idiosyncrasies. He discovered,[162] for instance, that, contrary to his first impression, it was sometimes possible to tell which way the pigskin would bounce when it struck the ground. At first if a ball was dropped and he reached in one direction for it it was nominally certain to bound off at an opposite tangent. But after awhile he began to develop a certain sense of prophecy, as it were, and more often than not the ball came toward him rather than away from him. They put him with six other fellows in a line and he was informed that he was to play left tackle. For awhile that meant being shoved and knocked around in order that an apparently crazy boy with the pigskin clasped firmly to his bosom might spring from behind him somewhere and dash forward, only to deposit the ball on the turf again and repeat the performance. Cal was still appearing in his every-day clothes, since the orchard episode had quite put the thought of purchasing football togs out of his mind. But Ned recalled it to him on the way back to West House after practice and showers.
“We’ll have to make that trip to the village tomorrow, Cal,” he announced. “We’ll get Marm to let us have dinner early. Just about[163] one more day and those trousers of yours won’t be fit to wear to anything except a dog-fight.”
Cal examined them ruefully. They did show signs of the fray, and that was a fact. The knees bulged horribly and there was a nice collection of yellowish mud around the bottoms of them. He sighed.
“All right,” he answered. “I cal’late you’re right, Ned. Maybe, though, I could just get trousers now and let the other things go until I get some money from home. Then I won’t have to borrow from you, Ned.”
“Pshaw, what’s the difference? You might as well get the whole outfit now. Four dollars will about do the trick and I can loan you two just as well as not.”
“That’s good of you,” said Cal. “I just thought—you see I ain’t ever borrowed any money before and I don’t believe my mother would like it.”
“Oh, it’s just until you get your own money,” replied Ned carelessly. “There’s no harm in that. Borrowing’s all right when you can pay back. All the fellows borrow. Spud owes fifty cents right now. I must remind him of it when he gets his next letter. Spud’s a[164] little bit forgetful, you see. I’ll give you the money when we get to the Den.”
But Dutch Zoller challenged him to a set of tennis as soon as they got around the corner of the house and Ned forgot the money for the time being.
“Tell you what I’ll do, Dutch,” said Ned. “I’ll play you and Cal.”
Dutch viewed Cal dubiously.
“But he doesn’t play, does he?”
“No, but neither do you, Dutch; not much, that is,” replied Ned meanly. “You see, I’ll beat you in either case.”
“You could give me thirty on a game,” Dutch suggested. “That would make it more interesting for you.”
“Thirty! Well, I like your nerve! Look here, if you don’t want to play that way I’ll take Cal with me and you play against the two of us.”
“I’d rather not,” Cal protested. “I don’t know anything about it, Ned.”
“Time you did, then. And you’ll never find a softer proposition to learn on than Dutch. Come on! Get somebody’s racket from the closet under the stairs. It doesn’t make any difference whose racket you take; they’ll all[165] kick about it. But you’d better take the best you can find!”
In the end Cal was persuaded. He secretly wanted to learn the game and not always have to sit on the end of the porch and look on. Of course his was a funny performance and when the rest of West House arrived they had a fine time watching his efforts and cheering him on to victory. At first Cal was all for giving up, but Ned told him to “buck up and not be an idiot.” “They’re only fooling,” he said. “You’ve got to learn to take a joke, Cal, or you’ll have a pretty miserable time here, old man.” So Cal thought better of it, gripped his racket until his knuckles were white and blisters began to appear inside his hands and tried his best to profit by Ned’s shouted instructions.
“Let her go, Cal! Out here, Dutch.... Forty-thirty.... Hit it, Cal! Oh, say, don’t dodge out of the way, but bat the stuffing out of it! Hit at it, anyway, Cal! All right; you’ll get on to it.... Deuce! Play!”
Even with such a severe handicap as Cal’s partnership Ned was always able to keep the game in hand, for he didn’t hesitate to invade[166] Cal’s side of the court and take every ball that he could possibly reach. And on Ned’s service Dutch was nearly helpless. Toward the end of the set Cal began to see the humor of his wild slashes and awkward prancing and joined his laughter with that of the gallery. Once when he aimed a reckless blow at a low lob and accidentally hit it so that it sped back across the net and hit the ground just where Dutch couldn’t get it the applause from the onlookers was so tumultuous and hearty that Cal was quite proud and made up his mind then and there that he would learn tennis if he had to die for it.
“Our set,” announced Ned. “Six—four. Want to try again, Dutch?”
“If you’ll give me fifteen,” said Dutch.
But Cal declined to play any more. He was very tired and quite out of breath, and, besides, he knew that if he withdrew the others would make up a set of doubles. So he took his place on the porch and watched Ned and Hoop try conclusions with Sandy and Dutch and got not a few points in that way. Before the snow came Cal had learned the game. He never made a remarkable player, but he was able to beat both Dutch and The Fungus, and Ned had[167] only to give him a handicap of fifteen to ensure a hard-fought match.
Ned and Hoop secured the first set, six—four, and were one game to the good on the second when supper time arrived.
“We’ll finish after grub,” said Sandy, “if it’s light enough. We’ve got them on the run, Dutch.”
“Hear the blatant boaster, Hoop,” said Ned. “Bet you, Sandy, you don’t get one more game in the set. Why, we’ve just been trifling with you so far, haven’t we, Hoop?”
“Trifling is the word,” responded Hoop gravely. “We have been merely amusing ourselves, Sandy.”
Sandy laughed with much sarcasm and Dutch emitted a word that sounded like “Yah!” and whatever it was expressed ridicule and defiance. How the second set came out Cal never learned, for at the supper table Mrs. Linn interposed.
“Miss Matilda said she had two baskets of apples for me if I’d send for them,” she announced. “And I was wondering whether two of you boys would go over for them after supper. I guess they aren’t very heavy.”
Apples and the Misses Curtis being just then[168] dangerous topics, there was a prolonged hush about the table. The boys wondered if it would be safe to present their countenances at the Curtis front door. If the mysterious person in white had failed to recognize them last night might she not do so if she saw them again? They cast doubtful and inquiring glances at each other.
“Of course,” began Marm, “if you’d rather not—”
“Not at all,” protested Sandy gallantly. “We were just waiting modestly for you to say who you’d rather have, Marm. I’d love to go, only I’ve got a set of tennis to finish with Ned and Hoop and Dutch. But there’s Spud and The Fungus and Cal.”
“I’ll go, Marm,” said Spud.
“So will I,” said Cal.
“Bet you there won’t be many apples left by the time they get back,” said Hoop.
“Oh, I guess there’ll be plenty,” said Mrs. Linn. “So you can all ............