For the good of the team

Amazement slowly gave way to anger. The thing was so unexpected that for a while he could not believe it, and the idea that it was a hoax presented itself. But that theory vanished speedily and he faced the truth. A sense of insult, of degradation mastered him and he crumpled the letter into a ball and hurled it to the floor. He passed a bad ten minutes, his wrath encompassing Coach Haynes and the whole Athletic Faculty. Of the latter, though, it was the student members, Jud McColl and Stearns Wilson, on whom his anger fell chiefly. They pretended to be his friends. He could find excuses for the coach, for the coach made no secret of his hostility, but McColl and Stearns had literally betrayed him.

Finally he rescued the letter and smoothed it out and reread it. It was plain enough, he told himself. They wanted him to go before them and eat humble pie, perhaps apologize to Haynes! What they did not want was his resignation. No matter if he had failed, from their point of view, as a captain, he was still invaluable as a player. There was no one to take his place at quarter. In spite of their bluff, they couldn’t do without him, and they knew it! And he knew it! Stuart laughed mirthlessly. Well, they’d see! If they expected penitence and apologies they’d be fooled! He’d call their bluff!

He selected a sheet of school paper and went about the matter very calmly. When it was finished his reply was a model of conciseness and, he hoped, dignity:

He considered delivering it personally at the Office but in the end put a stamp on the envelope and dropped it into the box in front of Manning as he hurried to his next class. He was no longer angry. He was excited instead, excited and triumphant. He wondered how the Committee would manage to crawl out of the hole he had placed them in, and he chuckled as he pictured the surprise and chagrin with which his letter would be received. That the resignation would be accepted never entered Stuart’s mind. He might have to make concessions, but if there was any crawling done, the Ath. Fac. would do it! He went into the class room in a very cheerful frame of mind.

It was Neil who caused him his first qualms of doubt. Neil was distressed and strangely pessimistic. “You must get that resignation back before it reaches them,” he declared earnestly. “If you go to the post-office——”

Stuart shrugged. “You can’t get a letter back like that. Besides, I don’t want to. I’ve called their bluff, now let them get out of it the best way they can!”

“But, Stuart, suppose they don’t want to! Suppose you’ve played into their hand?”

“What do you mean, played into their hand? You don’t think they really want my resignation, do you?” Stuart laughed in ridicule. “Not much! Not unless they think I’d give up the captaincy and go right on playing. And if they do think that they’ve got a fine big surprise coming to them!”

“I don’t know,” Neil shook his head troubledly, “Mr. Haynes is against you, remember, and——”

“So are Jud and Stearns Wilson, and I’m not likely to forget it, either,” interrupted Stuart in an ugly tone. “But if it came to a show-down I guess there are plenty of fellows on the team——”

“Stuart, if the Committee accepts your resignation the players won’t have anything to say about it! Don’t you see that? They couldn’t do anything if they wanted to. If you’d only waited and talked it over first! I—I’m awfully afraid you’ve messed things up again!”

“Oh, piffle! You wait and see, old man. They’ll be talking mighty small to-morrow. Jud McColl knows me well enough to tell them that I’m not the sort to be kicked out of the captaincy and then keep right on playing for them! Haynes knows it, too. He’s no fool, if he does act it.”

But in spite of his pretended assurance Stuart began to wonder secretly if he had, after all, made a mistake. Haynes had proved pretty conclusively that he stood strong with the Committee. He began to consider what would happen if they did the impossible thing and accepted the resignation. Short of inciting the team to mutiny, he realized, with a sinking sensation, that there wasn’t anything he could do! And, for that matter, it might be that the number of fellows on the team who would stand by him would be too small to cause anything approaching a mutiny. And, besides that, Stuart wasn’t sure that he would want a mutiny. That would be going too far. It would play hob with the team and, no matter how it resulted, would set them back badly. After all, even though the confounded bunch of old women that called themselves the Committee on Athletics didn’t seem to believe it, the success of the team was first in his thoughts! Then he banished doubts. Neil was always more or less of a pessimist. Of course, maybe it might have been wiser to have waited and talked it over a bit first, but it was mighty unlikely that the Ath. Fac. would cut off its nose to save its face, or, put differently, would lose a star quarterback to retain its dignity!

There was no apparent knowledge of the Committee’s letter among the fellows on the field that afternoon. Evidently the matter was still a secret. Coach Haynes was the same as usual, formally polite to Stuart, and the unpleasant incident of yesterday seemed to have been forgotten. Stuart went at his work with a resolution to emphasize his value to the team and played the game with all the dash and brilliancy of which he was capable. It was one of his good days and he made the most of it. “Old Unabridged’s” pets were torn asunder and trampled on, out-generaled and out-fought, and the first walked off the field at the end with a 17 to 0 victory.

“Now,” said Stuart to himself, “let them go ahead and fire me!”

His high spirits, though, failed to lighten Neil’s gravity.

Jack came over to Number 12 that evening and he and Stuart talked a good deal of football and a good deal of other things, and, apparently there was no cloud in the sky. But Neil didn’t have much to say, and when rallied by Jack only smiled and answered that he was far too much awed by so much brilliance to venture remarks of his own. Stuart, realizing the real reason for his roommate’s quietness, had brief moments of uneasiness.

Oddly, when morning came, he awoke with the feeling of uneasiness vastly increased, and, although he told himself that there was no cause for anxiety, he remained nervous all during breakfast and through his first two classes, and it was with positive relief that, at half-past eleven, he returned to Lacey and spied a letter in his box. Up in Number 12, he hesitated for a long minute before he slit the envelope. When at last he did so and read the contents his face paled. After that he sat for many more minutes, the letter in his hand and his eyes fixed broodingly on the floor.

It was a very polite missive, almost cordial in spite of its brevity. It thanked Mr. Stuart Harven for his communication, appreciated his spirit of loyalty to the school, accepted his resignation with regret for the necessity for doing so and hoped that the incident would not be allowed to affect his interest in the Team’s success or impair his usefulness. When Neil came in later Stuart had recovered his poise. He handed the letter to Neil with a smile that, if it didn’t deceive Neil, established the attitude which Stuart was to hold for some time. Neil said nothing for a moment after he had read the epistle. When he did speak he only said gravely: “I’m sorry, Stuart.”

Stuart shrugged. “Why, so am I, in a way,” he replied with seeming candor. “I guessed wrong, and no fellow likes to make mistakes. As for the rest of it, resigning and all that, why, I’m not sure it isn’t a good thing, Neil. Trying to get along with Haynes is a good deal of a job, and the next fellow will find it out. And I’ll miss playing, I suppose, for awhile.”

Neil nodded. After a moment he said tentatively: “This oughtn’t to stop you from playing, Stuart.”

Stuart laughed shortly and mockingly. “Oh, of course not! I ought to keep right on, eh? Maybe I could get a job lugging the water pail! Don’t be a coot, Neil! If I’m not good enough for captain, I’m not good enough to play quarterback.”

“How about the team, though? This isn’t going to make you want Pearsall to win, is it?”

“No, but they won’t need me. Wheaton’s a good man, and once I’m out of his way he’s bound to be a lot better.” Stuart didn’t sound convincing even to himself, though, and he added: “Anyway, I’ve got some pride, Neil, and I’m switched if I’ll go back there as a private in the ranks to be grinned at by every whippersnapper of a fourth-string substitute and lorded over by Haynes! No, by golly, they’ve got what they wanted and now they can go ahead and make good. All I say is, whoever the new captain is I pity him!”

That ended the subject for a while, for during the next few days it was carefully avoided by both.

The School heard the news that afternoon, and, as was to be expected, excitement prevailed. On the whole, however, the thing created less sensation than Stuart, for one, looked for. Among the players sides were taken and argument raged, but Stuart’s partisans were vastly in the minority, and if he had secretly hoped for anything approaching a protest against his resignation he was disappointed. His own attitude in public was one of smiling, half-contemptuous amusement. He made no charges in words, no matter what his manner expressed. A fair sample of his explanations to those who questioned, was his reply to Greg Trenholme, the baseball captain.

“I just couldn’t get along,” he said. “There was only one thing to do and I did it.”

Of course there were many who surmised that Stuart’s resignation had not been offered solely without suggestion from the Committee on Athletics and who freely published that surmise, but the truth of it was never established. Stuart dropped out of the team and remained away from the field, and what news he had of football affairs he received from Jack. Jack was plainly sympathetic and sorry, but Stuart couldn’t help feeling after the first few days that Jack was accepting the situation with surprising equanimity. The fact was that the unfortunate incident once accepted, Jack’s principal sensation was one of relief. Affairs had been going far more smoothly at the field since Stuart’s departure. The feeling of tension had disappeared, and, with Coach Haynes alone in command, the players knew where they stood. Of course Stuart was missed at quarter, and there was no one in sight who promised to more than half fill his shoes, but Jack’s loyalty to his friend couldn’t disguise for him the fact that so far as the welfare of the team was concerned Stuart’s absence was more of a blessing than a misfortune. He, like Neil and several others, had suggested that the loss of the captaincy need not keep Stuart off the team, but with a similar result.

“Nothing doing,” laughed Stuart. “When I quit, I quit. When Haynes appoints a new captain you won’t need me.”

“What’s Haynes got to do with choosing a captain?” asked Jack.

“Why, isn’t he going to?” asked the other innocently. “Who is, then?”

“The players, of course,” answered Jack. “There’s a meeting called for to-morrow night. It’ll probably be Howdy Tasker.”

“What’s the matter with you getting it?” asked Stuart.

“Me? Gosh, I couldn’t captain the team!”

Two days later, Stuart heard the result of the meeting. “Nobody would accept,” said Jack gloomily. “We had Howdy nominated and he refused point-blank. Then we tried to elect Joe Cutts and then Billy Littlefield, and they lay down on us. So——”

“Weren’t you nominated?” asked Stuart.

Jack nodded. “Yes, but I wouldn’t make any kind of a captain. Well, it ended up with no election. Now, they say, the Ath. Fac. will appoint some one. No one seems to want it, though.”

“You were a chump not to accept, Jack. Why didn’t you?”

Jack looked uncomfortable. “I told you, didn’t I?” he growled. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to take it when—after you——”

Stuart laughed. “I thought that was it,” he said. “Well, you should have taken it, old man. I’d rather see you captain than any one. If any one could get along with Haynes it’s you, I guess. If you get the chance again you take it and stop being a silly ass.”

Jack shook his head, “I don’t believe I’d want it,” he muttered.

That was Sunday morning. Monday Jack sought Stuart again just before dinner. “Look here,” he began, plainly embarrassed, “they’ve gone and done it, the crazy jays.”

“Done what?”

“Appointed me captain. The Ath. Fac. I got word half an hour ago. Isn’t that the limit?”

“I don’t see anything to be insulted about,” answered Stuart. He tried to sound cordial, but he didn’t succeed. “You’d better accept, I’d say.”

“Fellows tell me I’ve got to,” muttered Jack. “I’d a heap rather not. It—it seems sort of rotten. I mean toward you.”

Stuart laughed shortly. “Don’t mind me, Jack. I’m out of it completely. You wouldn’t do me any good by refusing.”

“You’re quite sure you wouldn’t mind?” asked Jack anxiously.

“Absolutely, old son. Go to it!” Stuart managed to get the right note that time, and Jack caught it and smiled his relief.

“Well, then, I suppose I’d better,” he said. “I’d a lot rather you still had the job, though, Stuart, and I’d hate mightily to take it if—if you didn’t like it. You know that, eh?”

“Sure!” Stuart did know it, and appreciation of Jack’s loyalty made the word sound genuine. “Some one’s got to be captain of the team, Jack, and it might as well be you. In fact, you deserve it, old man, and I’m glad you’ve got it!”

And he really thought he was glad, but after Jack had gone off, relieved and quite cheerful, he found himself wondering how much of his friend’s reluctance had been real and how much feigned. Certainly he couldn’t blame Jack for wanting the captaincy. Any fellow would be glad of the honor. Of course some chaps might have refused under the circumstances, but perhaps not many. Friendship didn’t mean an awful lot, after all, to the average fellow, and possibly he ought to give credit to Jack for asking him about it before deciding: if, that is, Jack hadn’t already made up his mind to accept the captaincy before coming to him! Stuart’s lip curled a little. He guessed Jack wouldn’t have let the chance get away from him whether he—Stuart—had liked it or lumped it!