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  QUARTER-BACK BATES

  _That second pass was fairly high and it seemed thatKirkendall would reach the receiver in time to spoil it_]

  QUARTER-BACK BATES

  BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR

  AUTHOR OF LEFT END EDWARDS, LEFT TACKLE THAYER, FULL-BACK FOSTER, ETC.

  ILLUSTRATED BY FRANK J. RIGNEY

 

  GROSSET & DUNLAP Publishers New York

  Made in the United States of America

  Copyright, 1920 By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I THE DEPARTURE OF A HERO 1 II "WASHINGTON P. QUIGGLE" 11 III ROOM-MATES 27 IV BLASHINGTON 38 V "RUSTY" 52 VI DICK MAKES AN ENEMY 69 VII PAGING MR. BLASHINGTON 78 VIII HALDEN REPEATS 90 IX LETTERS AND RHYMES 102 X WHITEWASHED! 118 XI WARDEN ADVISES 130 XII THE PHILLIPSBURG GAME 142 XIII THE LAST QUARTER 154 XIV RUSTY BRINGS A FRIEND 166 XV CAPTAIN PETERS ENTERTAINS 177 XVI MR. BATES PROTESTS 194 XVII IN CONFERENCE 209 XVIII PUBLICITY 225 XIX ON THE SCREEN 237 XX BLASH EVENS THE SCORE 247 XXI TWO SCRAPS OF PAPER 256 XXII BLASH CONFESSES 270 XXIII KENWOOD SCORES 277 XXIV QUARTER-BACK BATES 287

  ILLUSTRATIONS

  That second pass was fairly high and it seemed that Kirkendall would reach the receiver in time to spoil it _Frontispiece_

  FACING PAGE

  "Good evening," said Rusty amiably 62

  "How we love our Faculty!" 188

  The pursuit had closed in now and foremost friend and enemy were but a few yards behind 292

  QUARTER-BACK BATES

  CHAPTER I

  THE DEPARTURE OF A HERO

  It cannot be truthfully said that Dick Bates was overwhelminglysurprised when he reached the railroad station that September morningand found fully a score of his schoolmates assembled there. WallyNourse had let the cat out of the bag the day before. Wally was oneof those well-meaning but too talkative youths such as we have allmet. But Dick played the game perfectly this morning, descendingfrom the carriage--Mr. Bates was one of the very few persons leftin Leonardville who could afford an automobile and still drovehorses--with an expression of questioning surprise. He realized thattoo much surprise would suggest that he knew the assemblage was thereto do him honour; and if, as some said, Dick was conceited, at least hewas always careful not to seem so.

  Mr. Bates handed the lines to Hogan, the coachman, who had ridden inthe back seat surrounded by Dick's luggage, and followed his sonto the platform with a satisfied smile on his seamed, good-humouredcountenance. It pleased him that this younger son of his should bepopular and sought after. To a certain extent he accepted it as acompliment to himself. Dick was already surrounded by the little throngof high school boys and girls--for the gentle sex was well represented,too--and his father heard him telling them in that pleasant, ratherdeep voice of his how unsuspected and undeserved it all was. Mr. Bateswasn't deceived, however. Dick had confided to him on the way from thehouse that there might be a few of the fellows there to see him off.Instead, he chuckled to himself. "You can't beat him at the diplomaticstuff," he thought proudly. Then his smile faded. "Wonder if he isn'ta little _too_ good at it!" Then Doris Ferguson had spied him and wasclinging to his arm and telling him how mean and horrible he was tolet Dick go away and leave them, and the other girls, seven in all,were chiming in, and everyone was talking at once. And that pleased Mr.Bates, too, for he liked Doris and, having no daughters of his own,wished he had a girl just like her. He patted her hand and beamed downat her from his six-foot height.

  "Now don't you take on so, young lady. Just you remember you've stillgot me. Course, I can't play one of those half-portion banjos like Dickcan, but I'm just as nice as he is other ways!"

  Sumner White had drawn Dick apart. Sumner was this year's footballcaptain, and the other boys, watching and trying to appear not to be,felt that words of weight and wisdom were being exchanged over there bythe baggage-room door, and wouldn't have interrupted for worlds. WhatSumner was saying just then may have contained wisdom, but certainlywasn't very weighty.

  "If you run across any real good plays or wrinkles, Dick, I wish you'dput me on, eh? I guess they play pretty near college football atParkinson, and you know how it is here. If Murphy ever had a new ideahe'd drop dead! Of course I wouldn't give anything away. You can trustme to keep mum, old chap."

  "Why, yes, I will, Sum, if I can. But I may not get near the team, youknow. I guess they have a raft of corking good players at Parkinson,and----"

  "Oh, pickles!" jeered Sumner. "I guess they won't have so many goodquarters that you'll be passed up! Bet you anything you'll be playingon the Parkinson team before you've been there a week! Gee, I sort ofwish you weren't going, Dick. It's leaving us in a beast of a hole.Say, honest, do you think Rogers could ever learn?"

  "I think Sam's the best we--the best you've got, Sum. All he needs is awhole lot of work. Of course you can try Littleton if you like, but youknow my opinion of him."

  "Ye-es, I know. But Sam's so blamed dumb! Gee, you have to use a sledgeto knock anything into--There's your train, I think. She whistled downby the crossing. Well, say, Dick old scout, I sure wish you the best ofluck and everything. You're going to make us all mighty proud of you,or I miss my guess! We'll all be rooting for you, you know that. Well,guess the others'll want to say good-bye. Wish you'd drop me a linesome time, eh? I'll write, too, when I get a chance. But you know howit's going to be this fall, with a lot of new fellows to break in andMurphy away more'n half the time, and----"

  "Sure, Sum, I know, but you'll get by all right. I wish I could be herewhen you play Norristown, but I suppose I'll be busy myself. So long!"

  After that there was much confusion. Wade Jennings shoved a packagetied with blue and white ribbon, the high school colours, into Dick'shands and tried to make the presentation speech he had been practisingfor two days. But everyone talked at once, the train came thunderingin, and his stammers were drowned in the tumult. Dick had to shakehands all around, darting across the platform at the last momentto say good-bye to Hogan, and then listening to his father's finalinstructions as to tickets and changing at Philadelphia. A grinningporter took charge of his luggage and Dick followed him up the carsteps and from the platform smilingly surveyed the laughing crowdbelow. Afterwards it came to him that Wally Nourse had been the onlyone who had looked really sorry, that the others were merely merry andexcited! Of course he excepted his father. Poor old dad had reallylooked quite down at the mouth when, pursued by the high school cheer,the train had pulled out. Tommy Nutting, true to the last to his roleof school jester, had blown kisses from the summit of a baggage truck,and Doris Ferguson had pretended to wipe tears from her eyes. The restwas a confused memory.

 
Dick found his seat in the parlour car and watched the frayed andtattered hem of Leonardville disappear: the brick-yards, the carpetfactory, the blocks of monotonous, square, lead-hued houses of theoperatives, the tumble-down quarter known as Povertyville, and then, atlast, the open country still green and smiling. His last glimpse wasof the slender steeple of the Baptist church, white above the old elmsaround it. He changed his straw hat for a light-weight cap and opened amagazine he had tossed into his bag at the last moment. Then, however,his eyes fell on the ribboned package and he picked it up eagerly. Thenext moment he remembered his neighbours up and down the aisle andso he pretended to suppress a yawn as he struggled with the entwinedribbons. When the covering was off he found a pair of silver-backedmilitary brushes hidden amidst much rustling white tissue and a foldedsheet of paper. The brushes weren't half bad, and although he alreadyhad a pair, he made up his mind to use them. The message read: "ToRichard Corliss Bates from his friends and fellow-members of the L. H.S. M. C." Then followed some thirty names, the complete roster of theHigh School Musical Club, and, in a lower corner, in Wade Jennings'uncertain writing, the further message: "There wasn't time to have themmarked, but they'll do it the first time you come home."

  Dick was pleased in a complacent way. The brushes were nicer, in bettertaste than he had expected they would be. Of course he had known theywere coming: trust Wally for that! But even if Wally hadn't talked,Dick would have expected a gift of some sort. He was the sort who gotgifts, not through any effort of his, but because folks liked him andseemed to want to do things for him. He never went out of his way togain popularity. He didn't have to. But he enjoyed it thoroughly, and,having known it for some time, had become to regard it as his right.Today, the silver brushes pleased him not because of their value,which, after all, wasn't great, but because they stood as a furthertribute to his popularity.

  Dick was seventeen, the right height for his age, slender in awell-muscled, athletic way, and undeniably good-looking. His featureswere regular, with a rather high forehead and a well-cut straightnose. His eyes were brown, a warm brown that held a suggestion of red,and matched his hair. He had a fair complexion with plenty of healthycolour in the cheeks. It was one of the few sorrows of his life thathe didn't tan readily, that he had to go through a beastly period ofsunburn and peeling skin before he could attain a decent shade ofbrown. He seemed unaware of his personal attractions, whether he wasor not, and his smile, which was not the least of them, won where meregood looks failed. He always stood high in his class, for he learnedeasily. He had a gift for music and could play any instrument at leastpassably after a surprisingly short acquaintance. He had a pleasantspeaking voice and sang an excellent tenor on the school Glee Club.But it was perhaps in the less polite pursuits that he excelled. Hehad a record of ten and two-fifths for the hundred yards and had donethe two-twenty under twenty-four. He was a fair high-jumper, usuallycertain of third place in the Dual Meet. In the water he was brotherto a fish. He had played baseball one season not at all badly andcould fill in at basket ball if needed. But, when all is said, Dick'sline was football. He had played two years on the High School Teamat quarter-back. Last year he had been offered the captaincy withouta dissenting voice and had refused it, announcing, what he had kepta secret until then, that he was leaving at the end of the schoolyear, and nominating Sumner White. That Sumner was promptly electedwas a further proof of Dick's popularity, for ordinarily Sumner wouldscarcely have been thought of. As a football player Dick was reallybrilliant. He had a collection of fourteen epistles, which he was notaverse to showing to close friends, from as many preparatory schoolsand smaller colleges urging him to consider their advantages to aperson of his scholastic attainments. Parkinson School, however, wasnot represented in that collection, perhaps because Parkinson was toofar away for his fame to have reached it. Dick had chosen Parkinson forthe completion of his preparation for college only because his brotherStuart had graduated from there some five years before. Stuart hadtalked of Parkinson so much that Dick felt that he knew the school andthat he was certain to like it. He might have entered two years ago,but had chosen to remain at the high school until he could go to thepreparatory school with a fair chance of making the football team. Hebelieved now that the time had arrived. Although he had belittled hischances in conversation with Sumner White, secretly Dick entertainedfew doubts of his ability to make the Parkinson team.

  He was entering the Third Class and had been assigned a room in SohmerHall. Brother Stuart had advised Sohmer, since it was the newest of thedormitory buildings, and Dick had made application the year before. Tohis regret, he had not been able to get a room to himself, but the factdidn't trouble him greatly. In fact he recognised certain advantagesaccruing from a room-mate. Who that person was to be he had not yetlearned.

  His train reached Philadelphia at a few minutes before eleven andhe had just time to buy a morning paper before the New York Expressleft. He didn't waste much time on the front page of the journal, soonturning to the football and athletic news. A hair-breadth connectionin New York put him on the last lap of his journey, and, after adeliberative meal in the diner and the perusal of one story in themagazine, it was time to gather his luggage together. The train slidinto Warne at three-fifty, and Dick, not a little excited under hisappearance of perfect calm, alighted.