Frank Armstrong at Queens Read online

  CHAPTER IX.

  WHAT CAME OF A FUMBLE.

  Things went badly for Queen's in the second half of the game. Hillardwas as brilliant and erratic as ever, and made several dashing runsaround the ends, but he inevitably slipped up somewhere, and hisunfortunate fumbling lost his team many more yards than he gained forit. Chip played like a demon, trying to justify himself in his ownmind for the trick he had played Jimmy, the team and the school. Hewas in every interference and worked every instant to put Queen's ina position to score, but it was all to no avail. Chip was so intenton his work with the back field that he failed to hold the teamtogether, and as the game went on the Queen's presented a less andless organized effort. Barrows slammed into them for big gains whenthe Academy had the ball, and at last solved all of the Queen'sattacks so completely that the old school eleven was making noheadway.

  Finally, after an exchange of punts, Boston Wheeler, being obligedto kick against the wind, Barrows took up the march to Queen's goalfrom the latter's 35-yard line. Queen's line was tired physicallyfrom the pounding, and weak, for there was not enough stamina now toresist the bigger Academy fellows, who seemed to be growing strongerevery minute. There was no Jimmy Turner now to drive his sturdy bodyfearlessly against the oncoming Barrowites.

  "It's all over now," said the Wee One, "the team has lost what littlefighting spirit it had at first. They will be buried out of sightwith not even a leg to mark the graveyard."

  Frank admitted that there was no help for it.

  Horton walked up and down the sideline, shaking his head, unable tostop what was coming.

  Soon the Barrows' catapult was rammed over the line for a touchdown.The angle was too difficult for the goal when the ball had beenbrought out, and Morton, who did the kicking, failed. From thatpoint on, the game was a rout. Harding, having none of the qualitiesfor leadership about him, could not hold his team together. He wasuseless in the emergency which was now upon the Queen's eleven. Chiptried to help by banging his men on the back, and crying desperatelyto "hold them, hold them, show your sand." But if they ever had anysand it had been scattered earlier in the game.

  And how about the Freshman halfback who had been so unkindly thrownout of the game, and who sat watching this second half going againstthe Queen's School eleven? He was only a Freshman, but black despairwas in his heart. He was only a Freshman, but he loved the old place,and he wanted to have the privilege of helping to put the school flaguppermost in all the contests in which she had a part. And to be someanly tricked for no fault of his, and pitched off the field beforethe whole school was almost more than he could stand.

  When the thing happened he was perfectly well aware how Chip hadserved him, and he sprang to his feet to settle the matter then andthere with his fists, but after a tense moment his senses came backto him. Perhaps others had seen what had actually happened, and hewould not have to bear the shame. But no one seemed to have noticedit. The coach evidently had not happened to see the incident,lynx-eyed though he was.

  "He may have been looking aside at that moment," thought Jimmy, "andI mustn't blame him. I just looked like a dummy when he turned andsaw the ball rolling around on the ground, and a hole big enough todrive an ox-cart through waiting for me. But I'll settle up withDixon some day, and I hope it isn't far off." He ground the words outbetween his clinched teeth, and his look boded no good for Chip Dixonwhen the day of settlement should arrive.

  What need is there to go into detail of that disastrous afternoon?Three times more did the jubilant Barrowites plough through Harding'sdemoralized eleven, and when the final whistle blew, the Queen'scrowd saw the awful record on the board of 23 to nothing. It was theworst defeat that had ever come to Queen's at the hands of any butWarwick. It was a sting never to be forgotten, and only to be wipedout with reverse figures twice the size.

  "Well, I'm glad that's over," said Gleason to Frank as the crowdslowly filed down off the stand, and the tired teams drew each intoa knot and gave the yell for the opponents. "If it hadn't been forthat rotten fumble of young Turner I think the Wheel-barrows wouldn'thave gone home so full."

  "It wasn't a fumble, Mr. Gleason," said the Wee One, "and if youthought it was you better run right along to the oculist and have himput his prettiest pair of specs on you!"

  "Oh! p'raps it was a clever little piece of legerdemain then,"grunted Gleason, but neither Frank nor the Wee One heard him. Theywere hotfooting it after Jimmy, who was tailing after the squad withhis eyes on the ground and gloom in his heart.

  Frank ran up behind him and slipped his arm around his shoulder."We saw it, Jimmy," he said. "I didn't think he dare carry a grudgeagainst you so far. But it lost him the game."

  "I don't know," returned Jimmy. "They were too heavy for us." Butthere was a lightening of his spirits when he felt that the play wasnot entirely misunderstood. "Dixon made it hard for me to get theball several times, but he always did it so cleverly that no onecould see him. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it and been thevictim of it as well. He got me out and his room-mate in."

  "He got you out sure enough," said Frank. "I suspected he would swingsomething against you, and he was determined to get his room-mate inat any cost."

  "Yes, and it cost him the game," said Patterson. "That's what you getfor playing favorites. I'll bet the scrub could have put up a betterargument against the Academy than the First eleven, the way it playedto-day. Wonder what the coach will say to them?"

  But the coach had little to say.

  "Boys," he said, simply and without any venom in his words, "there'ssomething wrong with you, and we'll try to find it next week. The wayyou played to-day, you haven't the ghost of a show to win your biggame two weeks from now. You are a sore disappointment. I've done thebest I could to show you how, but I can't go out there on the fieldand play your game for you."

  It was quite evident from Jimmy's actions that he wanted to be letalone, so Frank and the Wee One slipped out of the gymnasium andheaded for the school yard.

  "Frank, what are we going to do about it? I don't want Queen's tolose to those farmers up the river, or I'd go to Horton with what Iknow and make a clean breast of it. That would certainly get Dixonfired from the team, but we'd be no better off, for in spite of whatyou may say about Chip, he's a peach of a quarter."

  "Let's go to Dixon and tell him we know that Jimmy's failure to getthe ball was due to him, and not to a stupid fumble, as it seems tohave appeared to everyone else."

  "We'll have our trouble for our pains I think, and I wouldn't besurprised if he fired us both out of his room, and shied a few boots,with feet in them, after us. Chip's got a bad temper, and he's not ina good humor just now."

  "Let's try Harding. Even if he is a dummy, I don't think he'd standfor Dixon making a goat out of him and the rest of his team simplybecause he wants his room-mate and a brother Gamma to play."

  "No use, Frank. Harding hasn't spunk enough. He's a pretty fair end,but he has no more business to be captain than I have to challengefor the heavyweight championship of the world. I'm afraid we can't doanything without busting up this whole eleven."

  "What do you suppose the Doctor would do if it was proven to himthat Chip threw the game away for a favorite?" asked Frank.

  "Well, if I know anything about Old Glass-eye, I'd say he'd put astop to the meteoric career of this football eleven of ours. Andthat's what I don't want to see. If we can only force Chip to drophis grudge against Turner, and get down to business, we might stillhave a fighting chance, but it's hopeless I'm afraid. The whole ofGamma Tau is behind him. And the worst of it is he's knocked poorJimmy, and has done it so cleverly that even Horton thinks Jimmy'sunreliable in a tight pinch, and if there's anything Horton won'tforgive a man for, it is to fail when he is most needed. With no onestrong enough to push his case and the captain and Dixon dead againsthim, there's not much more chance for Turner now."

  Frank had been thinking hard, and now he stopped dead in his tracks.

  "By Jove!" he said, "I think I know
a way to force Chip Dixon to doas we want to have him. If he doesn't do it, there's a fair chanceof his ending his career here. I hate to be mean, but when the otherfellow is mean and will not let up, we've got to meet him with hisown weapons."

  "Well, fire away, young Sleuth; do you hold a deadly secret over hishead? Out with it if you do."

  Frank quickly gave the Wee One a description of the hazing, which wasinterrupted very frequently by Patterson with snorts of indignation.

  "I'll bet Dixon was mixed up in that affair. If we only knew, we'dfix him."

  "But supposing we did know?"

  "We'd have him where the wool was short and the skin tender."

  "Well, that's just it, for when I got back to the room that nightGleason had picked up a wristlet that Chip wore the first day I camehere. I haven't seen a wristlet on him since. I looked particularlyto-day, and he had none on."

  "Any marks on the wristlet you found?" inquired the Wee One, eagerly,beginning to catch the drift of Frank's plan.

  "Yes, 'C. D.' inked plainly on the inside of one of the small straps,and besides that I made a hunt in the grass near the boat-house thenext morning, trying to trace out the way we went to the river, andaccidentally came across the strap with which they tied my hands,and on that was printed Chip's full name. It looks like one of thestraps which go around an extension grip. Here it is, and here's theleather wristlet."

  "Jumping geewhillikins! Come to my arms, you Sherlock Holmes. We haveChip Dixon where we want him. This seems to be certain proof, andif we gave the story to Glass-eye, Chip wouldn't last long enoughto pack his suit case. The old man is dead down on hazers sincethe accident we had here two years ago. He gives every new class ared-hot talk about it.

  "To-night you and I will make a call on Mr. Dixon," added the WeeOne, who had now thoroughly espoused the Freshman's cause, not onlyfor that individual's sake, but for the sake of justice to theschool. "I'll come over to-night after supper, and we will have alittle session with our shifty quarterback, which, I think, will makehim so gentle that he'll eat off our hand. So long, see you abouthalf-past seven," and the Wee One tore off, but not before Frank hadtime to shout: "This is all between ourselves."

  "Sure," returned the Wee One, "ourselves and Mr. Christopher."