CHAPTER V THE GRUMBLERS "Well, I'm mighty glad it's all settled, Steele," said Bob Somers. "I'm afraid, though"--he smiled rather grimly--"that some of the chaps are pretty badly disappointed." Coach Steele's gray eyes ran over the crowd congregated before the bulletin-board. "It's the same old story, Bob. A coach's life is not always the biggest snap in the world." "I wonder how Roycroft will take it," ventured Charlie Blake. "Like a good sport, I'm sure," answered Steele. "Of course he will," said Tom, who was bubbling over with glee. "Honest, Bob, I can hardly wait for the umpire to call 'Play ball!' Aren't we going to pulverize Nat Wingate's crowd? I'll bet we whitewash 'em. Doesn't it make you tired to hear some of those fellows boast?" "Ha, ha! I shall have to make a note of Mr. Clifton's comment on boasting." Benny Wilkins, wearing his usual grin, approached. "Congrats, Brandon and the whole bunch. Thought your weight and Somers' delicate nerve would carry you through. Lucky dogs!" "I can see an awful lot of hard work before us," drawled Dave Brandon. "But just think what jolly good fun it'll be getting the school a new athletic field," exclaimed Tom. "Hope some of the teams we play are strong enough to give us a pretty good tussle." "Cut it out, fellows! I tell you I don't want you to say a word. I'm not putting up any kick." Earl Roycroft's big form loomed up from among a group of gesticulating, excited admirers. Voices echoed sharply through the big gymnasium. "How about Lawrence? How about Lawrence?" chorused a small coterie surrounding the new student and "Crackers" Brown. "Rah, rah, rah for Bob Somers!" answered a challenging roar from lusty throats. "Three cheers for Coach Steele!" The room seemed to shake with applause. The Somersites were clearly in the majority. A stream began pouring over to offer their well wishes to the members of the first regularly organized team of the Kingswood High. Bantering remarks, cat-calls, came from the minority. Never in its history had the gym witnessed such a scene of noise, confusion and bustle. From out of the babel of sound came the repeated cry of: "Roycroft--Roycroft!" The big guard, red-faced and flustered, found himself being pushed toward Coach Steele. His emphatic protests fell on unheeding ears. "Quit it, fellows," he commanded, almost angrily. "If the coach didn't want me on the team that settles it." "Don't roll off any such chicken-hearted stuff as that," growled Owen Lawrence. "We've been handed a raw deal, and it's time to us we said something." "This looks like the beginning of a real revolution," grinned Benny Wilkins, who had walked over. "We might as well have a little talk with Mr. Steele right now," suggested "Crackers." "That's right; strike while the Steele is cool," piped Benny.