“Vinton, I want to present to you Mr. Bendall Kurtis,” announced Ned. “Mr. Kurtis desires to join your aggregation of thugs and pursue the agile pigskin across the—the verdant meed. Not bad, what?” They had found Dan alone in Number 28, studying some new plays which were to be taught to the team that week.
“Very poetic,” laughed Dan. “Sit down, fellows. Burtis and I have met before, I think. Now kindly tell me all over again, Tooker; what is troubling you?”
“Not a thing. And please don’t assume that air of patient fortitude, as though you were humoring an idiot from sheer politeness. I’m talking perfectly good sense. Mr. Kurtis—or Burtis—wishes to join your team of footballers.”
“Oh, I see. But isn’t it a little late, Burtis?” asked Dan with a smile.
“Yes, I know it is,” said Kendall. “I—I didn’t want to bother you, but Ned insisted that[218] I should come over. I thought perhaps I might be able to play on the Second Team.”
“I see. Well, the Second is pretty well settled now, you see, and I don’t believe—”
“May I interrupt?” asked Ned very courteously. “I merely wish to say, Vinton, that you perhaps do not realize the magnitude of the favor I am trying to do you. Mr. Burtis here is no common garden variety of footballer. He is—he is a positive wonder! I have never seen him play, nor have I ever heard him speak of his—his prowess, but I have tried him at golf, and, while I don’t say that he might not with patience and perseverance, become a golfer of some ability, yet truth compels me to acknowledge that he would not be likely to become the United States amateur champion. You catch the idea?”
“Hanged if I do!” laughed Dan.
“Why, don’t you see that the mere fact that he is only an average golfer makes it more than probable, nay, almost certain, that he is a natural-born footballer? In other words, Vinton, if a fellow isn’t a golfer he must be able to do something, and what is easier to do than football?”
“You’re an idiot, Tooker! But I’ll see what can be done for you, Burtis. Perhaps Staniford may be able to take you on as a sub. You had some training early in the season, didn’t you?”
[219]
“A little,” answered Kendall.
“Were you dropped or did you get tired of it?”
“I—I—”
“Fess up, Curt. The fact is, Vinton, that this seemingly innocent youth is one of the most depraved characters in school. You wouldn’t suspect it, would you? Why, man alive, he’s been on probation for a month! Fancy that! And that’s why he abandoned football. He had no choice, you see.”
“So that was it? I’m sorry, Burtis, you couldn’t keep on. That was hard luck, wasn’t it? Well, I’ll speak to Staniford to-morrow; he’s captain of the Second, you know; perhaps he will find something for you, although, as you know, I suppose, there are only two weeks more of football. What’s your line, Burtis?”
“Line?” asked Kendall vaguely.
“Yes; I mean what position have you played?”
“My dear Vinton,” Ned interrupted before Kendall could reply, “my client is an all-around footballer. He can play anything from quarter-back to manager. His—ah—domain, if I may use the word, has no limits, Vinton; he—”
“Oh, please dry up, Ned,” begged Kendall laughingly. “He will think I’m a perfect fool!”
[220]
“None of us,” replied Ned, shaking his head sadly, “are perfect.”
“Well, you come down to the field to-morrow afternoon,” said Dan to Kendall, “and we’ll see. But don’t bring your advertising manager with you. First thing I know he will have you captain of the team!”
“Thank you,” said Kendall gratefully. “Would it matter if I didn’t wear regular things to-morrow?”
“Regular things?” asked Dan. “What sort of things?”
“I mean regular football clothes. You see, I didn’t get any because—”
“You shall have mine,” exclaimed Ned. “I’ve got a perfectly magnificent array of football attire! I shall never use them again; they are yours unconditionally, Curt. My football experience was brief but lurid. Perhaps I didn’t know as much about playing the game as some; in fact, the coach as much as hinted that; but I will say that when it came to outfit, Vinton, I was head and shoulders above the whole field! Complete, that’s the word for it. I don’t believe in doing things by halves, and when I determined to lend my assistance to the football team I obtained a catalogue from a dealer in football necessities and luxuries and bought one of everything. I think[221] I owned everything in any way connected with the game except a gridiron. I even had an assortment of leather and felt pads for my ankles, knees, elbows and shoulders in case I should meet with an accident some time while plunging through the enemy’s line for a touchdown. And I had—and still have—a rubber thing that strapped around my head and covered my little nose; I held one extremity of it between my pearly teeth, and I can still remember how very unpleasant it tasted. All these things shall be yours, Curt. I intend you to be the Beau Brummel of the football field. All I ask is that some day you will allow me to dress you in full panoply, with a complete assortment of rubber bandages, arm and leg guards, nose guard and head guard, and have your picture taken!”
They were still laughing over Ned’s extravagances when the door opened and Gerald Pennimore came in. He shook hands with Kendall and seemed very glad to see him. “I thought you had forgotten your promise to come and see us, Burtis,” he said. “How are you, Tooker? I haven’t seen much of you this fall.”
“Been over to Arthur’s?” Dan asked.
“Yes. He’s getting on all right. The doctor says he can try crutches, if he likes. The sprain wasn’t as bad as it seemed at first, he says.”
[222]
“Who’s that, Pennimore? Arthur Thompson?” asked Ned.
“Yes, he sprained his knee in the game last week.”
“I heard about it. Too bad. I’m glad he’s getting well, though. I suppose that keeps him out of football for the rest of the season, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Dan replied. “I hope, though, that he will be able to hobble into the Broadwood game for a minute so as to get his Y.”
“These the new plays?” asked Gerald, taking up the sheets of paper on the table. “When I see a thing like that I’m glad I’m not on the team,” he laughed, holding up one of the diagrams.
“How is the Cross-Country Team getting on?” asked Ned.
“Fine. We have our trials to-morrow afternoon to select the fellows to run against Broadwood a week from Saturday. We’ve got twenty-two fellows trying, which means that ten of us will get left.”
“Ten?” said Dan. “I thought you had only ten in the race.”
“That’s all, but Andy picks a dozen and two of them are substitutes in case someone can’t run. How are you getting on, Burtis?”
[223]
“First rate, thank you.”
“You gave up football, didn’t you? You know you were quite full of it a while ago.”
“Yes, I—that is—”
“He’s going to try again to-morrow,” said Dan. “That is, if I can convince Staniford that he needs another sub. Tooker has accepted the position of Burtis’s press agent and manager.”
“I should think he’d make a good one,” said Gerald, with a smile.
“One of the best,” agreed Ned. “After the football season is over I shall be at leisure again. Anything needed in my line?”
“No, I think not,” laughed Gerald.
After Ned and Kendall had taken their departures, which they did a few minutes later, Gerald turned a puzzled face to Dan.
“What did you ............