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It was, and Myron for the first time realised it, but he couldn’t quite get himself to acknowledge it to Cummins. He tried to look hurt and made no answer.

“Sure!” said Chas. “And when the coach and the captain didn’t give a dinner in your honour and ask you to accept a place on the team and give them the benefit of your advice as to running same you got peeved. That’s just what I’d have done if I’d been you, you see, so I know. If it was me I’d have either gone to the coach and made a big kick and told him how good I was or else I’d have gone out and played so hard that they’d have either had to take me on or chuck me to save the lives of the others! But you, being Haughty Harold, just froze them with a glance – which same they didn’t happen to see – and went your way. And it’s a rotten way, too. Because it won’t get you anywhere. Driscoll won’t fall for you until you show something and you won’t show anything until Driscoll pats you on the back. Say, I’m talking a whole lot! What time is it? And you’ve got some digging to do! I’ll beat it. Think over my words of wisdom, Foster, and drop around tonight and hear more. I’ve got a plan, old chap. I’m in 16 Goss; first floor, on the right. Bye-bye!”

And before Myron could agree or refuse the invitation Cummins had hurried to the door and was clattering downstairs. Myron went to the window and, in somewhat of a daze, watched Cummins emerge below and disappear under the trees. Then he sat himself down on the window-seat, plunged both hands into trousers pockets and frowned intently at his shoes. He didn’t get much studying done that hour.

CHAPTER XV
THE PLAN

There was hard practice that afternoon in preparation for the Musket Hill Academy game, and the second squad, in process of becoming the second team, with a coach and signals of its own, was sent against the first for three long periods. Myron found himself with the third squad, as usual, however, and ended practice with a half-hour scrimmage against the substitutes. Perhaps Cummins’ words had made an impression, for he certainly played good, hard ball today and ran rings around the opposing ends and backs. As they played on the second team gridiron, while the first team was battling, his performance was not noted by the coach. But Keene, an end who was off with a bad ankle and who refereed the scrimmage, saw and casually made mention of Myron’s work to Jud Mellen later.

“That chap Foster played a nifty game today,” said Keene. “He might bear watching, Jud.”

“Foster? Yes, he’s not half bad. If we didn’t have so many good halves he might be useful. Best we can do for him, though, is to carry him over for next year, I guess.”

“Well, he’s a pretty player. It seems too bad to waste him. How would he fit at end?”

“Looking for a chance to retire?” laughed Jud. “What would we do with another end, Larry? Have a heart, man!”

“Well, but he ought to be tried somewhere, just the same, Jud. He plays so blamed smooth!”

“I wonder if he’d make a quarter.” Jud paused in the act of lacing a shoe and stared speculatively at a grated and dusty window. Then he shook his head. “I guess we’re good enough at quarter. We’ll know better after Saturday’s game, though. How’s the foot getting on? Going to be able to play a bit?”

“Sure! It’s coming on fine. I’ll be good for the whole game.”

“Yes, you will, son! A couple of quarters is about your stunt, I guess. Driscoll wants to give O’Curry a show, anyway. Know what I think? Well, I think Musket Hill’s going to give us a tough old tussle. They’ve got almost every lineman they had last year and the same quarter; and you know what the score was last time.”

“Twelve to ten, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, and it ought to have been turned around, for they played us to a standstill in the second half. Driscoll’s firm for starting with a second-string line, but I don’t like it. That Musket Hill coach is a fox. If they get a score on us in the first quarter we’ll be lucky to pass them.”

“They play hard ball, and that’s no joke,” agreed Keene. “I hope he pulls me out before Grafton gets in.”

“What’s the matter with Graf?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t seem to get on with him. I think he plays too much for the centre of the line. There’s always a hole there and I get about two yards more of territory to look after. You keep your place, but Grafton sort of wanders in.”

“Glad you spoke of it,” answered Jud. “I’ll watch him. Going over?”

Up to a half-hour after supper Myron was convinced that he had no intention of visiting Cummins that evening. Cummins was a lot more decent than he had thought him, in fact a rather likable fellow, but he had a disagreeable way of saying things that – well, didn’t need to be said. Besides, there was something almost indecent in telling another that you liked him and asking him to be pals! Even if Cummins had taken a fancy to him, as he declared, at least he might have kept it to himself. But when supper was over and Myron had turned on the steam in Number 17 – the evenings were getting decidedly chilly now – and settled himself to write a letter home, Cummins’ freckled countenance insisted on obtruding itself between him and the sheet of grey, yellow-monogrammed paper. Joe had not returned to the room and, when the letter was written and he had brushed up on Latin and math., he would be pretty well bored, he supposed. He got as far as “Dear Mother and Father: I didn’t get this letter written yesterday because I was very busy – ” Then, after trying to recall what he had been busy with and fiddling with the self-filling device on his pen for a good ten minutes, he gave it up. He guessed he’d walk over and hear what Cummins’ plan was. Not that it interested him any, but he didn’t feel like writing just now.

Cummins himself answered Myron’s knock, although the battered door of Number 16 bore not only his card but that of “Guy Henry Brown,” to the end of which name some facetious person had added the letters “D.D.” Brown, who played right half on the first team, was not at home, however, and Cummins, stretched out along the window-seat, was the sole occupant of the room. The room served as study and chamber both, and a narrow, white-enamelled bed stood against the wall on each side. The rest of the furnishings were nondescript and had evidently seen long service. A few posters adorned the painted walls and the carpet was so threadbare in places that one had to guess at the original pattern and hue. Nevertheless, there was a comfortable and home-like look to Number 16 which Myron acknowledged. Cummins tore himself from the book he was reading with unflattering deliberateness and indicated a shabby automatic rocking-chair.

“Try the Nerve Dispeller,” he invited. “So called because when used your own nerves leave you and go to the other chap, who has to watch you rock. It’s all right; it won’t go over; that’s just its playful way.”

“What were you reading?” asked Myron, by way of conversation.

Chas held the book up and the visitor was surprised to see that it was what he mentally called “a kid’s story.”

“Oh,” he murmured.

Chas grinned. “I know, but I like them. They’re easy to understand and there’s generally something doing all through; and you can’t say that for these novels some of the fellows pretend to read. I tried to wade through one last summer. Nothing happened until I got to page 112, and then the hero changed his shoes. Maybe he changed back again later, but I ducked. Well, how are you tonight?”

“Me? All right, thanks.” Myron wondered why he had said “Me,” and then realised that he had caught the trick from Joe. “I had a letter to write, but I couldn’t seem to get at it, and so I thought I’d drop over and see – hear – ”

“That plan? Well, it’s a good one. Put your feet up here, will you, and keep that thing still? Do you mind? It pretty nearly sets me crazy to talk to any one who’s bobbing back and forth like one of those china mandarins! I’d have chucked that chair long ago, only Guy hates it worse than I do. Do you know him, by the way? Guy Brown: plays right half on the first.”

“Only to speak to. I’m not well acquainted amongst the ministry.”

“Oh, that? Some fresh youth wrote that and a couple of days afterwards Hale called – Do you have him in physics? He lives down the hall – and said it was sacrilegious. But I told him it stood for ‘Decent Dub’ and he calmed down. Say, Foster, can you keep a secret?”

“Yes, of course.”

“There’s no ‘of course’ about it,” said Chas. “Lot’s of fellows can’t. I’m not very good at it myself. But I guess you’re one of the kind who can. Well, here it is. I’m going to be captain next year.”

“Are you? Captain of what?” asked Myron politely.

“Football, you chump! What did you think, the Tennis Team?”

“Oh!” Myron stared, wondering whether the other was joking. But Chas appeared to be quite in earnest and returned Myron’s gaze with an expression of bland inquiry.

“Does that interest you?” he asked.

“It interests me to know how you know you are,” said Myron.

“Of course. Remember that it’s a secret. If you ever tell any one what I’ve just said I’ll draw and quarter you and frizzle you crisp in boiling oil. I know it, old chap, because I’m after the job, and what I go after I get. Unless some dark horse develops between now and the Kenwood game I’m certain to get it. So we’ll call that settled, shall we?”

“Just as you say,” laughed Myron. “If you want it, though, I hope you get it.”

“Thanks. Of course, I realise that it isn’t usual to mention such matters. You’re not supposed to know that there is such a thing as a captaincy. When you get it you nearly die of surprise. Well, that’s not me. I’m after it. Mean to get it, too. I wouldn’t say this to every fellow because most of them would be so shocked at my – my indelicacy they’d never get over it. Besides which, they’d probably vote against me.” Chas chuckled. “So can you if you like, Foster. I’m not making a bid for your vote.”

“I’m not likely to have one,” replied Myron drily.

“You will have if my plan works out. Now you listen. If I’m going to captain next year’s team – and I am, old chap; don’t you doubt it! – I want some players around me. I don’t want to run up against Kenwood and get licked. That might do when some other fellow’s running things, but not when I am. No, I want some real players with me, Foster. So I’m building my team this fall.”

Myron laughed. “Honest, Cummins, you’re the craziest chump I ever met! Are you – are you in earnest?”

“Why not? Good, practical scheme, isn’t it? What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, but – you’re not captain! And how can you build up a team when you’re not?”

“How? You watch me. Take your case, old chap. Maybe you won’t make good this year. Mind, I say maybe. I think you will. But if you don’t, what?” Myron shook his head helplessly, signifying he gave it up and that no matter what the answer proved to be he was beyond surprise! “Why, you’ll be A1 material for next —if you keep your head up. That’s my game, to see that you keep going and learn all the football you can and don’t drop out of training after the season’s over. I think basket-ball will be a good thing for you to take up, Foster. Or you might go in for the gymnastic team. But I won’t have you playing baseball, so don’t get that bug in your bonnet. Baseball’s spoiled a lot of good football chaps. Track’s all right if you don’t overdo it. We’ll settle all that later, though.”

“Very well,” agreed Myron docilely. “Don’t mind me.”

Chas grinned. “Not going to – much. But you see the idea, don’t you? What do you think of it?”

“I think,” returned Myron deliberately, “that it’s one of the craziest schemes I ever heard of.”

Chas looked much pleased. “All right. And then what?”

“And I think it may work out beautifully.”

“Sure it will! So that’s why I went after you, old chap. You’re a ‘prospect.’”

“Oh,” said Myron demurely, “I thought it was because you had taken a violent fancy to me.”

“That too! Don’t make any mistake, old chap. I want fellows of the right sort, and I want fellows that I like and who like me. I can do things with that sort: they’ll work for me. And I’ll work for them: work my fingers off if necessary. Now for the plan.”

“I’m listening,” said Myron.

“How’d you like to get on the first this fall, Foster?”

“Well, seeing that I’m black-and-blue pretty nearly all over, that seems sort of – of idle!”

“Just getting black-and-blue isn’t enough, old chap. Lots of dubs are purple-and-green that’ll be dropped next week. Now, look here. Who told you you were a born half-back?”

“No one, of course. I’ve played that position, though, and know it. I played end for a while too, but half seemed to be my place.”

“Yes. Well, we’ve got exactly five good to middling half-backs this year, Foster, and you’re no better than about two of them and not nearly so good as two more, Brown and Meldrum. So, you see, you’re sort of up against it. See that, don’t you?”

“I suppose so. Just the same, if I had a chance I might beat Brounker and Vance, and then, if Brown or Meldrum – ”

“Broke his neck you’d get in?” asked Chas impatiently. “What’s the good of that sort of figuring? What you want to do, old chap, is to go after something that shows a chance of success. That other game’s too much like waiting for dead men’s shoes, as they say. You might get into the big game for five minutes, or you might not. And I’m not so dead sure that you could beat out those fellows. And, anyway, there’s still Robbins against you. Yes, I know he isn’t such a wonder now, but suppose he starts to come while you’re coming? How do you know he won’t come just as fast, or a little bit faster? No, that’s rotten planning, Foster. You’re all wrong. Forget that you’re a half and go hard after a job that’s open to you.”

“Where’ll I find it?” asked Myron. “What other position is there?”

“Full-back,” said Chas.

CHAPTER XVI
CONSPIRACY

“Full-back!” exclaimed Myron. “Why, I never played it! I don’t know it! I – ”

“Piffle! What’s the difference? Any chap who can play half well can play full-back decently. Besides, I’ve got a strong hunch that you’d make a good one, Foster. You aren’t as heavy as I’d like you, but you’re fast and you start quick and you hit ’em hard. When it comes right down to it, I’m not sure I wouldn’t as soon have a lighter man who can jump off quick as a heavier one who gets going slow. But the big idea about turning you into a full-back is that you’ll have a fair show for that position. I like Steve Kearns, but he ought never to have been taken back from the line. He was a mighty promising tackle last year until Desmond got damaged and we had to have a full-back in a hurry. As for Williams and Bob Houghton, they aren’t more than fair. There’s a nice job waiting for a smart, steady full-back who’ll live on the premises and be kind to the dogs, Foster. And I nominate you.”

Myron made no answer for a moment. This thing of having some one else arrange his affairs was a bit startling. Finally he said, doubtfully: “Aren’t we forgetting that Driscoll and Mellen have something to say, Cummins?”

“Not a bit of it. What we’ve got to do is show them that you are the fellow they want there. Then they’ll simply have to have you.”

“It would be learning a new game, though.”

“Rot! The positions aren’t very different. Just think a minute.” Myron thought. Then:

“How about punting?” he asked dubiously.

“I’ve seen you do thirty,” answered Chas.

“You seem to have made a life study of me,” laughed Myron. “Yes, I can do thirty, and better, too, I guess, but I’ve never had much of it to do and I don’t believe that I can place my kicks, and I don’t know how I’d get along if a bunch of wild Indians was tearing down on me. I’d probably get frightfully rattled and try to put the ball down my neck, or something.”

“You’d need practice, of course,” Chas granted. “I could show you a few things myself, and if you went after the position Driscoll would see that you got plenty of punting work. Don’t let that worry you. The thing to do, and it may not be so easy, is to persuade Driscoll that you have the making of a good full-back.”

“Ye-es.” Myron was silent a minute. “I’d like to ask you something, Cummins,” he said at last.

“Shoot!”

“What other changes are you considering on the team?”

Chas chuckled. “None, just now. I had thought – but never mind that. You see, what I want to do, Foster, is to fix things so that when next September rolls around I’ll have the making of a good team. A lot of this year’s bunch will graduate, you know. I’ve got to make sure that there’ll be other chaps to take their places. For instance, Steve Kearns, even if he was a corking good full-back, wouldn’t do me any good next fall because he won’t be here. Don’t get it into your bean that I’m queering this year’s team for the sake of next year’s, though, because that’s not the idea. I wouldn’t do that if I could.”

“I begin to believe you could, all right,” said Myron. “I have a notion that if you thought it would be better to have some one else captain you’d talk Mellen into resigning!”

“Well, I dare say I’d try it,” laughed Chas. “Now what do you say?”

“About this full-back business? Why, I’m willing, Cummins. I’m not getting anywhere as a half-back, and I guess I wouldn’t do much worse at the other stunt. But what I don’t see is how I’m to persuade the coach to let me change.”

“I know. I haven’t got that quite doped out yet. I don’t believe just asking for a chance to play full-back would do. He might fall for it, and he might not. You let me mull that over until tomorrow and I’ll see if I can’t hit on some scheme. Meanwhile, if I were you I’d sort of put myself through an exam and see how much I knew about playing full. You might take a book that I have along with you and read what it says about it. It’s not a very new book, but it’s the best that’s ever been written, and there isn’t much difference in a full-back’s job then and now. I’ll see you at the field tomorrow. By the way, are you going with the team Saturday?”

“To North Lebron? I don’t know. I don’t suppose Driscoll will take me with the squad, but I might go along and see the game.”

“You’d better. It doesn’t hurt a fellow to see all the football he can, even if he sees it from the stand. Got to beat it? Well, here’s the book, old chap. And mind, not a word to any one about this business. It’s between you and me, Foster.”

Myron found Joe and Andrew Merriman in the room when he got back, and he took his part in the talk for a half-hour or so. When Andrew went he pushed his school books aside and opened the little blue-bound volume that Cummins had loaned him. Joe, across the table, half-hidden by the drop-light, knotted his fingers in his hair and groaned at intervals. At ten both boys yawned and went to bed. Myron was not a sparkling success in Latin class the next forenoon.

A three o’clock recitation made him somewhat late for practice and Cummins was trotting about the gridiron in signal work when he arrived at the field. Mr. Driscoll sent him over to the second team gridiron to join the third squad and so, after all, he didn’t learn from Cummins whether the latter had found a solution to their problem. Nor did he run across Cummins again that day. The first team was let off early, all save the punters and goal-kickers, and Cummins had left the gymnasium when Myron got there at half-past five. He considered looking him up at his room after supper, but he had rather more than half promised Joe to go over to Merriman’s and so decided not to.

There was no practice for the first the next afternoon, but the other squads were put through a full day’s work. To Myron’s surprise, Cummins took command when scrimmage time came, Coach Driscoll disappearing from the field. Myron found himself at left half on the second squad, with Houghton at full-back. In that position he played for five minutes. Then Cummins, who was evidently very hard to please today, called a halt.

“That’ll do, Bob,” he told Houghton. “O Billy! Got a full-back there?”

“I have not,” answered the trainer. “I’ve got a half here. Want him?”

“Wait a minute.” Cummins ran his eye over the second squad backs. “Foster, have you ever played full?” he growled.

“No,” answered Myron.

“Want to try it? All right, fall back here. Send your half in, Billy.”

Myron heartily wished that Cummins hadn’t shifted him, for while he had a very fair notion of a full-back’s duties, he wasn’t at all keen about displaying his knowledge under those circumstances. He was, he felt, bound to make a hash of the job, and there were several fellows within a few yards who would be tickled to death to have him do so. He was glad he had discounted his failure by acknowledging his inexperience. When Cummins had asked him, he hadn’t known whether the temporary coach had expected him to say yes or no. He didn’t know yet, but he felt that his reply had certainly been the better one.

Cummins wasn’t gentle with him. Every mistake he made, and he made many, was pointed out to him in emphatic language. Myron wanted to pinch himself to make certain that he wasn’t dreaming. Cummins had conspired with him to get him into the position of full-back and now he was snarling and growling at him quite as though Myron had forced himself into the place on false pretences. Myron thought that in consideration of the circumstances Cummins might have dealt a little less harshly with his shortcomings. But, on the whole, Myron didn’t do so badly. He honestly believed that he was playing as well as the deposed Houghton. Cummins didn’t let him punt, for which he was grateful, and he encouraged Warren, who was playing at quarter, to use many end plays. Outside of tackle, Myron was usually successful whenever he received the pigskin, and he once or twice made good on plunges at the centre of the line. There, however, his lack of weight told somewhat. In the first twelve-minute period the second squad got one touchdown and goal and might have had a second score if Cummins had not put them back from the eight yards to the eighteen on some whim of his own. Third got the ball on downs six inches from the last white streak and punted out of danger, and the second was mad enough to rend Cummins limb from limb! When a five-minute rest came Cummins called Myron from the bench and led him into the field. To those watching it was perfectly evident that Chas was telling the green full-back how absolutely rotten he was. They would have been surprised had they heard the conversation out there.

“You weren’t half bad, old chap,” said Chas eagerly, yet scowling ferociously still. “You slowed up once or twice when you hit the line, though. Try to keep going hard. A good way to do is to think of the other fellow’s goal line instead of his players. Sort of make yourself think that’s where you’re going. You’ll get farther before you’re stopped, if you are stopped. How do you like it?”

“All right,” answered Myron, a bit grumpily. “But considering that I’ve never played it before it seems to me you might let up on me a bit. You go on as if I’d murdered my grandmother!”

“Why, sure,” chuckled Chas. “You don’t want those fellows to think I’m pulling for you, do you? It’s got to look like an accident, don’t you see? I want to be able to tell Driscoll tonight that you went in at full in an emergency and played a corking good game. Then, if he has half the sense I think he has, he will put you in there himself the first of the week and look you over. By the way, want to try a little punting in the next period?”

“I don’t believe I’d better,” answer Myron. “I guess I’d rather not.”

“Maybe you’re right. If you made a mess of a punt it would sort of take off a few good marks. All right. Now see if you can do a little better still this half. And don’t mind my growls, old chap. You’re getting no worse than any other fellow would get.”

Twelve more minutes of hard playing followed in which the third turned the tables with a long run that netted a touchdown. But the try-at-goal failed and, after the second had battered its way to the enemy’s twelve yards, Warren’s attempt at a drop-kick went wide and the referee, the assistant manager, blew his whistle. In that second period Myron did a little better because he was learning his duties, but it would be an exaggeration to say that he showed phenomenal ability as a full-back. He made several good games, gains, was strong in defensive play and got off one very pretty forward pass to Mistley that netted twenty yards. In short, Chas had to show a little more enthusiasm than he actually felt when he spoke to Coach Driscoll that evening. There had been a final conference in the coach’s room at half-past seven attended by the trainer, the managers and seven of the players, and the last problem of the morrow’s game had been solved more or less satisfactorily. Afterwards, Chas remained behind with Jud Mellen and Farnsworth and Harry Cater for a sociable chat. None of them meant to talk football, and none of them did for a full quarter of an hour, but it is difficult to keep the subject uppermost in the mind out of the conversation, and presently Jud said thoughtfully:

“I wish we had about three more good plays, Coach.”

“We’ve got enough, Cap,” was the confident reply. “No use trying to remember too many at this time of the season. Better know ten or twelve well than half know twenty. It isn’t lack of plays that will beat us tomorrow, if we are beaten – ”

“Sure to be,” interpolated Katie cheerfully.

“Well, it’ll be because we haven’t got our attack working, then. Musket Hill is well ahead of us in development, and that’s going to count, fellows. However, we may show them something, at that.”

“By the way, Coach,” said Chas, “I ran out of full-backs this afternoon and used that fellow Foster through most of two periods. He wasn’t half rotten, if you ask me. He’d never played it in his life, either.”

“Foster? What happened to Houghton?”

“It wasn’t his day,” said Chas. “So I had to find some one else for the second squad.”

“Houghton hasn’t had a day for a good while,” murmured Farnsworth drily.

“For the love of Mike,” exclaimed Jud Mellen, “if we can make a full-back of Foster, let’s do it, Coach! It’s the weakest position on the team right now.”

“I’ve been thinking that Kearns would come on,” said Mr. Driscoll, “but he doesn’t seem to get the hang of it.”

“He works hard enough,” said Katie.

“How did you happen to choose Foster?” asked the Coach of Chas. “You had Wiborg. He’s played full.”

“Don’t think he was there. I asked Billy and Billy only offered me a half.”

“Wiborg wasn’t out today,” explained the manager. “He’s been having some trouble with the Office. Nothing serious, I believe, but he asked for a cut.”

“You say Foster showed up pretty well, Cummins?”

“He really did, Coach. Of course, I don’t know how he’d be at punting, but he made some mighty good gains from kicking formation and went into the third pretty hard from close in.”

“He could be taught enough punting to get by with,” suggested Captain Mellen. “Maybe he’ll be a find, Coach. I’ve said right along that he looked good.”

“No harm in trying him,” mused Mr. Driscoll. “If Kearns doesn’t show something tomorrow we’ll need a good full-back. Much obliged for the tip, Cummins. Well, good night, fellows. Get a good sleep and be ready with the punch tomorrow. We want that game if we can get it!”