Change Signals: A Story of the New FootballBarbour, Ralph Henry
General
Change Signals: A Story of the New Football
Barbour, Ralph Henry
Football -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- Juvenile fiction
“Oh, for the love of mud, Jensen, cut out the rough-house, will you?”
he was imploring as Kendall edged up. “I’ve got your old name down here
already.... What’s that, Fogg? I don’t know; ask Payson.... What’s the
name, you fellow?”
“Burtis.”
“Curtis. What class?”
“Not Curtis, if you please; Bur――”
“Shut up, you fellows, can’t you? I can’t hear a word. What’s your
class, Curtis?”
“Third.”
“Where’re you rooming?”
“Twenty-one Clarke Hall.”
“How old?”
“Fifteen; pretty near sixteen.”
“Never mind the pretty near part. Squad D. Report to-morrow to Mr.
Bendix at twelve for examination. Come on, now, I haven’t got all night
to do this!”
Kendall pushed his way through the crowded room toward the door. Most
of the fellows, he noticed, were changing their football clothes for
their usual attire in front of little closets which ran in rows at one
end of the room. Some, already disencumbered of everything save huge
bath towels, were hurrying toward a doorway from beyond which came the
sound of rushing water and eddying clouds of steam. In there, Kendall
surmised, were the shower baths. He had heard of them and would like
to have tried one, but he had neither towel nor locker. He stood
for a moment out of the way and watched the scene. Dan Vinton came
hurrying through the outer door and pushed his way through the throng.
Several fellows tried to detain him, but he kept on to a bench and
rapidly removed his togs, talking as he did so to half a dozen fellows
who had followed and quickly surrounded him. In a minute he was off
to the showers, still replying to questions as he went and eluding
the clutches of friends. Across the room Cowles was still taking
names, although his task was about over. The throng began to lessen
as the baths swallowed their quota. Kendall turning to reach the door
suddenly became aware of a boy who, a yard or two distant, was viewing
him uncertainly. It was the boy to whom Kendall had been introduced
last night in Vinton’s room, but he couldn’t recall his name. He was
in ordinary attire and looked as though he had just entered. When he
caught Kendall’s eye he nodded smilingly and stepped across to him.
“We met last night, but I’ve forgotten your name,” he said.
“I remember,” Kendall replied a trifle shyly. “My name is Burtis.”
“Burtis? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that before. Mine is Pennimore.
How did you get on at practice, Burtis?”
“Not very well, I guess.”
“One doesn’t at first. It’s a bit discouraging. After you’ve got the
hang of it, though, it goes better.” He surveyed the room and finally
called across to the manager. “Cowles, where’s Dan?”
“I haven’t seen him, Gerald,” Cowles replied, waving his book and then
slipping it into his pocket.
“If you mean Mr. Vinton,” said Kendall, “he went into the bathroom
about two or three minutes ago.”
“Did he? I guess I won’t wait then. Coming my way?”
“I――I was going back to my room,” replied Kendall.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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