The Crimson Banner : $b A story of college baseballMoffat, William D. (William David)
General
The Crimson Banner : $b A story of college baseball
Moffat, William D. (William David)
Baseball stories; College sports -- Juvenile fiction; College students -- Juvenile fiction
Tony Larcom was the only one with us at the time, when a soft rap
sounded at the door, and, in response to our summons to “come in,” the
door was opened gently about a foot, and the head of Percy Randall was
thrust through the aperture. Immediately Tony Larcom let fly with a
book, which hit the door with a startling thump. The head disappeared
like a flash, and a foot appeared instead.
Finding that hostilities were not renewed, the door was at length
opened wide, and Percy came in. He approached us with such penitence
and humility expressed in his looks that we could hardly repress a
smile.
“Now, then, you rascal,” said Ray. “What have you got to say for
yourself?”
“Nothing at all,” answered Percy meekly. “I came here to give you
a chance to have your say. I supposed you’d have lots of great big
language saved up for me, and I am ready to take anything.”
“Oh, well, words won’t do any good,” said I.
“Then maybe you want to kick me,” rejoined Percy. “Go ahead. Help
yourself. I deserve anything.”
“We don’t care for satisfaction of that kind,” answered Ray, with a
laugh. “We can’t undo anything that has happened. We are in a nice mess
on your account, and you can’t help us out, so we will have to make the
best of it.”
“See here, Ray,” exclaimed Percy earnestly. “I’ll tell you what I’ll
do. I’ll go straight to Dr. Drayton and make a clean breast of it――tell
him that I was responsible, and get him to suspend me and take you
fellows back. I’ll offer to give him information as to the leader in
the mischief, on condition that he lets you off your penalty, and then
I’ll expose myself.”
“No, that wouldn’t work,” I answered. “Dr. Drayton would never make
such a condition in the first place――――”
“Well, I guess if he can make conditions for you, he can take them,
too,” said Percy.
Ray shook his head.
“No,” he said. “It would be useless and foolhardy for you to do that.
We appreciate your disposition, Percy, and we thank you for offering,
but you must not think of going to Dr. Drayton. It would only get you
into trouble, while it would do us no good whatever. They did not
suspend us because they thought we were leaders in the trouble, but
because we had a _share_ in it, and that fact would not be altered by
your confession.”
“Well, it does seem a shame that you fellows who did the least should
suffer for it,” he said, as he turned away regretfully.
“It can’t be helped now. We can only profit by experience and keep out
of your company on future occasions,” Ray answered, with a smile.
“Well, boys, I’m sorry I got you into such a fix, and I wish with all
my heart that I could get you out,” said Percy. He was standing by the
door when I called after him.
“Say Percy, do you happen to know who it was that got Ray’s match box
from me that night?”
“Len Howard, I think,” answered Percy from the hall. “He lit the other
cannon, I know.”
I turned quickly and looked at Ray, who said nothing, but merely raised
his eyebrows.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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