The boys of Columbia High on the gridiron : $b or, The struggle for the silver cupForbes, Graham B.
General
The boys of Columbia High on the gridiron : $b or, The struggle for the silver cup
Forbes, Graham B.
Football -- Juvenile fiction; High school students -- Juvenile fiction
"Oh, pretty well, I think. I'm not wholly satisfied with myself,
but I believe I'm improving every day," replied the other,
modestly.
Frank looked sideways at his friend, and smiled. He had just been
talking with the coach, and heard what he had to say about the
scrub team. It was already understood between them that two of the
regulars must give way to better men who shone as stars on the
scrub. Columbia wanted her best sons in front, regardless of any
favoritism.
Coach Willoughby was back again, visiting at the home of Buster
Billings' folks. He said the "lure of the leather" was too much
for him, bringing back those dear old college days when he played
on the Princeton eleven, and carried the ball over Yale's line
for a hard-fought victory.
And so he had consented to take charge of the Columbia players,
and help them get in condition for the work ahead, when they were
to meet the brawny cohorts of Clifford, and those others from
Bellport.
Frank and Ralph had not gone more than fifty yards down the dusty
road leading from the recreation field to the town center, perhaps
a full mile away, when Ralph felt a sharp tug at his arm.
"Hello! what's this?" he said, looking down at a small girl, who
seemed so shy that her face was covered with blushes as she pulled
at his sleeve.
"Please, Mr. West, I'd like to say something to you," she said,
hesitatingly.
"Why, it's Madge Smalling, Mary's older sister!" exclaimed Ralph,
showing new interest.
In the Spring he had been instrumental in finding a little girl
who had hurt herself seriously, in the woods. At the time, Ralph
was on his way to the recreation field, where he was expected to
pitch a game against a rival school. Still, as he could not think
of leaving the child there to suffer, he had carried her to the
mill where her father was employed.
Since that time, he had been a welcome visitor at the home of the
Smallings, and, of course, was well known to this girl of nine,
who had been away at the time of Mary's adventure.
"Shall I walk on," asked Frank, with a wink, "because, you know,
there are times when two is company, three none."
"None of your joshing, now," said Ralph, and then, turning to the
child, he continued: "I hope nothing is wrong over at your house,
Madge?"
"Oh, no, sir. It wasn't that. I heard something about you, and I
wanted to tell you right away, 'cause I'm afraid of that bad boy.
Once he threw water on me, and laughed when I cried. Then he put a
nasty cold frog in my hand, and made me hold it ever so long."
Ralph looked at his friend. "Whoever can she mean, and what has
that got to do with me?" he said, wonderingly.
"The other boy called him Asa," remarked Madge, quickly.
"Oh, now I begin to see light. And was the second chap called
Tony?" Ralph asked.
"Oh, yes, that was it. I saw them coming along the road, and I
was afraid that he had another nasty frog. So I hid behind a log,"
the child went on, her face showing the deep interest she felt
in her own recital.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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