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Dick Prescott's Fourth Year at West Point, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 11. The News From Franklin Field |
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_ CHAPTER XI. THE NEWS FROM FRANKLIN FIELD Though Dick was firmly resolved on his new course, life none the less was bitter for him. The Army football team was now being organized and drilled in earnest. Douglass captained it this year, and was doing excellent work, though his material was not as good as he could have wished. Anstey was developing speed and strategy in the position of quarterback, and, in football matters, was a close confidant of Douglass. "This Prescott muss has given us a bad setback this year," growled Douglass. "It certainly has, suh," agreed the Virginian. "We're certainly going to feel the loss of Prescott and Holmes when we come to face the Navy eleven with such men as Darrin and Dalzell." "Hang it, yes. I'm shivering already," growled Douglass. "Now, of course, we can't ask Prescott to join." "And he wouldn't come in, suh, while in Coventry, if we asked him." "But Holmes, who is almost as good a man, ought not to hold back where the Army's credit and honor are at stake. Holmes ought to stand for the Army, asleep or awake!" "If I were in Holmesy's place, I wouldn't come in," rejoined the Virginian. "I'd stay out, just as Holmesy is doing." "But you were one of Prescott's thick friends, too." "I'm not his roommate, or his schoolboy chum, suh. Holmesy is. "It's hard to lose either of them," sighed Douglass, "and fierce to lose both of them. We've worked like real heroes, but I can't see any such team coming on as the Army had last year. And the Navy eleven will undoubtedly be better this year than it was last." "The Army must stand to lose by the action of the first class," insisted Anstey doggedly. Though every man in the corps would have thrown up his cap at the announcement that Prescott and Holmes were to play again this year, the leaders of first-class opinion could see no reason to alter their judgment of Dick. So he continued in Coventry. The football season came on with a rush at last. The Army won some of its games, from minor teams, but none from the bigger college elevens. Then came the fateful Saturday when the corps went over to Philadelphia. Dick and Greg were the only two members of the corps, not under severe discipline, who remained behind at the Military Academy. Late that afternoon Greg, with a long face, brought in the football news from Franklin Field. "The Navy has wiped us up, ten to two," grumbled Holmes. "I'm heartily sorry," cried Dick, and he spoke the truth. "Well, it's our class's fault," growled Greg. "The Army can thank our class." "We might not have been able to save the game," argued Prescott. "We could have rattled Dave and Dan a lot," retorted Greg. "My own belief is we could have saved the day." "You might have played, Greg. I wouldn't have resented it." "No; but I'd have felt a fine contempt for myself," retorted Cadet Holmes scornfully. "Besides, Dick, though I have done some fairly good things in football, I don't believe I'd be worth a kick without you. It was playing with you that made me shine, always." Late that evening the cadet corps returned, in the gloomiest frame of mind. "I can just see the blaze of bonfires at Annapolis," groaned Douglass. "Say, the middies just fairly tore our scalps off. I always had an ambition to captain the Army eleven, but I never thought I'd be dragged down so deep under the mire!" The details of that sad game for the Army need not be gone into here. All the particulars of that spiritedly fought disaster will be found in the fourth volume of the Annapolis Series, entitled "_Dave Darrin's Fourth Year At Annapolis_." A lot of the cadets who felt sorry for "Doug" came to his room. "I haven't altogether gotten it through my weak mind yet," confessed the disheartened Army football captain. "I can't understand how those little middies managed to treat us quite so badly." "I can tell you," retorted Anstey. "Then I wish you would," begged "Doug." "Go ahead!" clamored a dozen others. "I don't know whether you fellows believe in hoodoos?" asked Anstey. "Hoodoos?" "Yes; the Army is under one now." "Pshaw, Anstey!" "Explain yourself, Anstey!" "There is a man in this class," replied the Virginian solemnly, "who has been treated unjustly by the others. Lots of you won't see it, and can't be made to reason. But that injustice has put the hoodoo on the Army's athletics, and the hoodoo will strut along beside the present first class all the way through this year. You'll find it out more and more as time goes on. Just wait until next spring, and see the Navy walk away with the baseball game, too." "Stop that, Anstey!" "Put him out!" "Give him soothing syrup." "Wait until June, gentlemen," retorted the Virginian calmly. "Then you'll see." "What rot!" sneered Jordan bitterly. "Well, of course," admitted others in undertones, "we lost through not having Prescott and Holmes on the eleven. But we'd better lose, even, than win through men not fit to associate with." "Prescott must be chuckling," jeered Durville. "He's doing nothing of the sort, suh!" flared Anstey. "And I'm prepared to maintain my position." _ |
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