Football -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- Juvenile fiction
yards and the touchdown. Tarver kicked a neat goal. That ended the
scoring, and, while Hillsport opened up several long passes after the
next kick-off and occasioned a moment of uneasiness once, neither side
threatened the opponent’s goal, and the play became utterly listless as
the end approached.
Today’s Hillsport eleven was not by any means the team that had
worsted Alton last fall, and Alton’s victory was nothing to be very
proud of. It was, consequently, satisfaction from revenge achieved
rather than pride of performance that caused the visiting crowd to
cheer and sing with such unction when the game was over. Alton “rubbed
it in” a little, I fear, and, since the Hillsport fellows didn’t take
defeat any too gracefully, it looked at one time as if there would
be trouble before the marching victors left the field. However, a
clash was averted, and Alton, waving gray-and-gold banners and still
cheering, took herself across the grounds to the car line. Better
accommodations were afforded for the return trip to Darlington and no
one had to walk.
The Alton team had dressed in the field-house, a small wooden structure
built under one of the grandstands, and by the time they were once
more in street clothes the spectators had long since vanished. Willard
and Martin had shared the same suitcase and when, having reached the
waiting trolley car, some three blocks distant from the field, it was
discovered the suitcase was missing each laid the blame on the other.
“I thought you had it,” said Martin.
“I thought you had it,” replied Willard. “You were at it last.”
“I was? I’ll bet you! I’ll match you to see which of us goes back for
it.”
“I don’t mind going,” said Willard, “but I’ll miss the car, I guess.”
“We’ll wait for you,” said Bob, who, with Cal Grainger, had been
enjoying the joke. “There’ll be another car pretty quick. Get a move
on, Brand!”
Willard found the field-house locked when he reached it again, and
no one was in sight. There was just one thing to be done, and he
did it. Finding a flat piece of iron amongst the litter behind the
little building, he forced a window and crawled through. Rather to his
surprise, the suitcase was just where they had left it, and, leaving as
he had entered, he closed the window again and hurried back across the
school grounds. It was well after five o’clock and lights were showing
in some of the dormitory windows. At the main entrance a group of three
awaited him; Martin, Bob and Cal. The special car had gone, but Bob
assured him that there would be another one along pretty soon, and so,
their bags at their feet, they perched themselves on the coping of
the wall and waited. At intervals Hillsport youths passed through the
gateway, eyeing them with a disfavor that brought chuckles from Bob.
“Gee, they’re a sore bunch,” he said. “We could get up a scrap without
half trying.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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