Left End Edwards

"Why, maybe I might if you put it that way. The rug's two dollars."

"All right," answered Steve impatiently. "Where are you going to be for the next hour?"

"Upstairs, practising. Come and see it any time you like. It really is a peach, Edwards, and it's scarcely worn at all. It—it's a prayer rug, too, and they're scarcer than hens' teeth nowadays!"

But Steve was already yards away and Durkin shrugged his shoulders and turned back into Torrence.

"Wonder what's up," he murmured. "I'd hate to get Sawyer into a scrape. Still, if he will buy that rug–"

CHAPTER XXIV

THE DAY BEFORE THE BATTLE

Tom was attiring himself in his Sunday best. It was almost six o'clock and one of Hoskins' barges was to leave Main Hall at half-past with the members of the second team, for this was the evening of the banquet in the village. Tom didn't feel unduly hilarious, however. He was sorry that the football season was over, for one thing, for he loved the game. And then existence of late had been fairly wearing and mighty unsatisfactory. His quarrel with Steve was a tiresome affair and he didn't see just how it was to end. For his part, in spite of the fact that his chum had hurt him a good deal by his mean suspicion of him, he was ready to make up, only—well, he had some pride, after all, and it did seem as if the first overtures should come from Steve. No, on the whole, Tom wasn't looking forward to the banquet with any great amount of enjoyment. If Steve was going to be there, too–

Someone came hurrying down the corridor, the room door flew open and there stood Steve himself, a radiant and embarrassed look on his face, his gaze searching the room for Tom. His face fell a little as he found the room apparently empty, and then lighted again as his glance discovered Tom at the closet door, Tom half-dressed and with a pair of trousers dangling over his arm. Out went Steve's hand as he turned.

"I'm sorry, Tom," he said simply. "I was a beast."

Tom took the hand that was offered and squeezed it hard.

"That's all right," he stammered. "So was I."

"No, you were right, Tom," answered Steve convincedly. "I hadn't any business suspecting you of a thing like that. And—and I want to tell you first that I knew I was wrong a long time ago, before this happened. You believe that, don't you?"

"Yes, Steve, but—what is it that's happened?"

"It's all clear as daylight," said Steve, grinning happily as he seated himself on the bed and tossing his cap toward the table. "It was Sawyer did it. He put up the whole job. He fessed up when 'Horace' got at him. Durkin met him coming out and–"

"Hold on!" begged Tom. "I don't quite get you, Steve!"

Steve laughed. "Sort of confused narrative, eh? Well, listen, then. Drop those trousers and sit down a minute."

"All right, but the barge leaves at half-past–"

"Never you mind the barge, old man! You're not going in it. I'll come to that later, though."

"Take your time," said Tom, dropping into a chair. "I love to hear your innocent prattle."

"Shut up! It's like this, Tom. I met Durkin awhile ago and he got to talking about that shoe-blacking stand. Remember the note he left here that night?" Tom nodded. "Well, it came out that while he was putting it under our door Eric Sawyer walked out and fell over him."

"Out of here?"

"Right-o! Sawyer said he'd been waiting to see me. Now you remember I'd seen him coming out of Daley's room earlier, eh? Well, it seems that Sawyer saw a chance to put up a game on me. So after I'd gone upstairs again, he sneaked back to 'Horace's' room, got that confounded blue-book of Upton's and waited his chance. After we'd left the room he came up here and slid the thing among some books on the table there. While he was in here Durkin came along and knocked and Sawyer slipped over and locked the door. Then he waited until he thought Durkin had gone and unlocked the door again and came out. But old Durkin had written a note to us down under the light and come back with it and he was putting it under the door when Sawyer came out and fell over him. Of course, when Durkin told me that I had a hunch what had happened and I hot-footed it to 'Horace.' He confessed that it was Sawyer who had told him he'd seen me carrying off the book. So he streaked off after Sawyer, found him somewhere and took him to Durkin's room. Sawyer–"

"Were you there too?" asked Tom excitedly.

"No, he told me to wait in his study for him. He was back in about a half-hour looking sort of worried. Of course Sawyer had to own up. He told 'Horace' that he'd just done it for a joke, but 'Horace' didn't believe him for a cent. And there you are!" Steve ended in breathless triumph. Tom viewed him round-eyed.

"What—what about Sawyer?" he asked.

"I don't know for certain, but I think Sawyer's on pro. Anyway, Tom, I know this much: You don't go to any old banquet to-night."

"I don't? Why don't I?"

"Because I met Lawrence downstairs a few minutes ago. He was looking for you."

"Wh-what for?" asked Tom faintly.

"Robey says you're not to break training, Tom! You're to report at the 'varsity table to-night for supper!" Whereupon Steve, his eyes dancing, jumped from the bed and pulled Tom to his feet. "What do you say to that, old Tommikins?" he exulted.

Tom, dazed, smiled weakly. "Do you mean—do you mean they want me to play?" he murmured.

"Oh, no," scoffed Steve, pushing him toward the bed on which he subsided in a heap. "They want you to carry the footballs and sweep the gridiron! Of course they want you to play, you old sobersides! Don't you see that with Sawyer on pro there's a big hole in the line? I suppose they'll give Churchill the first chance at it, but he won't last the game through. Think of both you and I making the 'varsity, Tom! How's that for luck, eh? Not bad for the old Tannersville High School, is it? I guess we've gone and put Tannersville on the map, Tom!"

"Gee, I'm scared!" muttered Tom, looking up at Steve with wide eyes. "I—I don't believe I'll do it!"

"You don't, eh? Well, you're going to do it! Get your old duds on and hurry up. It's after six."

"I'll have to tell Brownell I'm not going to the feast." Tom gazed fascinatedly at his best trousers draped across the chair back. "Anyway, I wasn't keen on going—without you," he murmured.

"There's only one drawback," said Steve a few minutes later, when they were on their way to supper. "And that is that I promised Durkin to buy a rug from him."

"A rug? We don't need any rug, do we?" asked Tom.

"Not a bit. But this is a genuine Begorra; Durkin says so himself. And I agreed to buy it if he'd tell 'Horace' about Sawyer. Unless—unless you'd rather have the shoe-blacking stand, Tom?"

"I would. If we had that, perhaps you'd keep your shoes decent!"

Steve tipped Tom's cap over his eyes. "Rude ruffian!" he growled affectionately.

There was no practice at Brimfield Friday, for as soon as the last recitation of the day was over the 'varsity team and substitutes piled into two of Hoskins' barges in front of Main Hall to be driven over to Oakdale, some five miles distant. The school assembled to see them off, and there was much hilarity and noise. Joe Lawrence, note-book in hand, flustered and anxious, mounted the steps and called the names of the squad members.

"Benson!"

"Here," responded Benson from where, at the far end of one of the barges, he sat, crutches in hand, looking a bit disconsolate.

"Churchill, Corcoran, Edwards, Fowler, Gleason, Guild, Hall, Harris, Innes—Innes?"

"Coming fast!" shouted a voice from the edge of the throng, and the big centre, suit-case in hand, pushed his way toward the barges.

"Right through!" laughed the fellows. "Hit the line, Innes! A-a-ay!"

"Kendall," continued Lawrence. "Lacey, Marvin, Miller, Milton, McClure, Norton, Roberts, Still, Thursby, Williams!"

"All present and accounted for," announced a voice in the crowd. "Home, James!"

Coach Robey and "Boots" appeared. Danny Moore, who with Gus, the rubber, sat on the driver's seat surrounded with suit-cases, took the bags, Joe Lawrence and Tracey Black, assistant manager, squeezed into the already overcrowded barges, Blaisdell, baseball captain, called for a cheer and, amidst a thunderous farewell, the squad, grinning and waving, disappeared down the drive, through the gate and out on to the road.