Читать книгу Danforth Plays the Game: Stories for Boys Little and Big онлайн

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“Oh, see the blush of modesty upon the face of the pretty little boy! How beautiful is modesty!”

There was more, but Harry didn’t hear it. Taking refuge at the edge of a group of waiting candidates, he sought to forget his burning cheeks. But as, at his advent, many of the fellows turned to observe him, his embarrassment continued.

“See the study in red,” whispered one youth laughingly to his companion, and although he had not meant the strange boy to hear him, the latter did hear, and felt the blood surging harder than before into his face. He was heartily glad when, at that instant, the coach summoned them on to the field.

There were fully sixty candidates on hand that first afternoon of football practice at Barnstead Academy. Some few of them were members of the last season’s eleven, more were second-string players of the year before, and the balance were, like Harry, new candidates. Mr. Worden, the head coach, a finely built, pleasant-faced man of about thirty, took the names of all who had reported. In this task he was assisted by a boy of eighteen or so whose name Harry later learned was Phillips. Phillips was manager of the team. Harry gave his name, age, class, weight and details of former football experience to Phillips and was promptly sent to the awkward squad, or Squad Z, as the school facetiously termed it. There he was one of a group of some twenty youths whose ages ranged from thirteen to sixteen and who, in the course of the hour’s instruction that followed, exhibited every phase of football inexperience. The awkward squad was in charge of a large boy whom the coach addressed as Barrett. Barrett looked to be about seventeen and wore a vastly bored expression all the time that he labored with the beginners. If his features lighted at all during that period it was when Harry showed by his handling of the pigskin that he at least might possibly have the makings of a player. Barrett watched him speculatively, almost interestedly, at intervals, and once even vouchsafed a grunt of satisfaction as Harry fell neatly on a wabbling ball and snuggled it under his chest.