Rivals for the Team: A Story of School Life and FootballBarbour, Ralph Henry
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Rivals for the Team: A Story of School Life and Football
Barbour, Ralph Henry
Adventure stories; Boarding schools -- Juvenile fiction; Football stories
“What did they do to you, Hugh?” he asked as he tore a sheet from the
pad and crumpled it in his hand. “Were they brutal?”
“Hardly! They scored once, but they wouldn’t have pulled that if we
hadn’t been asleep. Derry took a pass about a foot from the side line
and ran thirty yards.”
Bert laughed. “What were you fellows doing to let him get off like
that? You must have been asleep!”
“I fancy we were,” acknowledged Hugh ruefully as he seated himself
in the Morris chair and stretched tired legs across the rug. “I was
awfully glad it wasn’t on my side.”
“I’ll bet you were! Who played halves for them?”
“Kinds was one. The other fellow I don’t know. Small and dark and
awfully quick and squirmy.”
“Fearing. He’s going to make a bully half some day. He’s only a lower
middler.” There was a pause and then: “Say, Hugh,” Bert went on
carelessly, “you don’t happen to have any money you don’t want to use
for a while, I suppose?”
“Money? How much?”
“Oh, a beast of a lot; thirty dollars. Twenty would do, I guess. It
would do for a while, anyway.” Bert was much too casual to deceive the
other and Hugh looked regretful.
“No, I haven’t more than six or seven, Bert. How soon would you have to
have it?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter. I only thought that if you did happen to have
it――――”
“I know, but I fancy I could get it in a few days. Only thing is the
mater’s away just now.” He frowned thoughtfully. “What are you going to
do, Bert? Buy something?”
“Sort of. It doesn’t matter a bit.” He yawned elaborately, tossed aside
the block of paper and sat up. “I’d have to have it by Monday, anyway.
Thanks just the same.”
“Monday! But this is Friday, and――――”
“I know. Don’t bother. I tell you it doesn’t matter, Hugh.”
“Yes, but――if you want it――I say, now, I might telegraph, eh? But I
dare say you could get it from home as soon as I could.”
“Well, the fact is――――” Bert hesitated. “My dad’s shut down on me and
won’t send me a cent beyond my allowance; and that’s only ten a month.
Of course, he will come around in time; maybe in a month; but I’ve got
to have――that is, I――I need twenty or thirty right now. I’ve sort of
promised a man to let him have it Monday. It――it’s a debt. An old one.
Things I bought last winter. Now he’s acting nasty and threatens to go
to faculty if I don’t settle up.”
“But I thought we weren’t allowed to have any debts!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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