Football had heretofore remained outside Cal Boland’s philosophy. There had been a game now and then at home, but for the most part the high school team had journeyed to other towns to play their contests and Cal had never watched more than two or three in his life. His conception of the game was very vague when he reported at the lower end of the athletic field for practice the next afternoon. As he owned no football clothes he merely laid aside coat and cap and rolled his shirt-sleeves up. Ned viewed his costume with misgiving, but made no comment as they went together down to the field.

As Oak Park played no contests with outside football teams all the interest concentrated on the inter-dormitory games. West and East Houses combined forces against the Hall, with whom they played a series of three games for the school championship and the possession of what was known as the Silver Shield. This was an oak shield bearing a smaller shield of silver surrounded by a design of oak leaves and acorns—the school emblem—and the inscription: “Oak Park School Football Trophy.” Each year the shield was inscribed with the names of the winning players and became the temporary property of Hall or House, as the case might be. For two years running the Silver Shield had graced the parlor of the Hall, and the Houses were resolved that this Fall it must come down. As East House accommodated only fourteen boys and West House but eight, while the Hall held thirty-eight, at first glance the chances seemed to favor the Hall from the start. But the discrepancy was not as great as would appear, for the Hall held most of the younger boys, members of the Second Junior Class, who were not allowed to take part in the big games but were permitted to play amongst themselves. So that actually the Hall’s supply of football material was usually not much larger than that of the combined Houses.

The House Team was captained this year by Frank Brooks, an East House lad of seventeen who was usually known by the title of Brooksie. The Hall’s captain was Pete Grow, House Leader at the Hall and one of the best-liked fellows in school. There were two separate gridirons on the athletic field and it was an unwritten law that during athletic activities no Hall man should approach the House gridiron, and vice versa. The House used the lower field and it was on that that Cal began his initiation into the mysteries of football. I can’t say that he displayed any especial aptitude for the game or was very enthusiastic about it. He did as he was told to do to the best of his ability and perspired freely for the cause, but Frank Brooks didn’t single him out for commendation that day. On the way back to West House after they had had their showers Cal gave expression to his curiosity.

“It seems to me, Ned,” he remarked, “that football playing’s pretty hard work. I always thought, to hear about it, that it was fun.”

“Why, it is fun!”

“Oh,” murmured Cal. “Is it?”

“Of course it is, after you get to know it.”

“Well, I didn’t see much fun in it today. Dropping on a wobbly leather ball that’s never where you think it is and running across the field after it with the thermometer at—whatever it is at, isn’t my idea of having a real good time, Ned.”

“That’s because you haven’t got into it yet,” said Ned encouragingly.

“I cal’late I never will. I didn’t seem to have much luck today.”

“Oh, you did well enough for a beginner,” answered Ned. “Most fellows have a pretty hard time at first. You never played before, did you?”

“No, and I guess I’ve had enough already. I cal—guess I’ll let the rest of you have the fun.”

“Oh, you can’t back out,” exclaimed Ned.

“Why not?” Cal asked in surprise.

“Because we need you; we need every fellow we’ve got, and more too. Why, if Clara Parker wasn’t a Second Junior we’d have him at work!”

“But there isn’t any use in my trying for the team,” said Cal. “I’d never make it.”

“You can’t tell. We’re going to be in a hard way for men this year. You’d better stick it out, Cal. Besides, the fellows wouldn’t like it if you squealed.”

“They wouldn’t? Well, I don’t see as it’s anyone’s business but mine. If I’d rather not—”

“You haven’t anything to say about it,” declared Ned firmly. “As long as the House needs you it’s your duty to come out. Of course, you’re new yet and don’t understand the way we feel about such things here. You see, Cal, it’s the School first and then your own particular House; see? After that you can do as you like personally.”

“Oh!” Cal thought that over a moment, and then chuckled. “I see. After I do what the School wants me to do then I do what the House wants me to do, and then, if there’s any time left, I do as I please. That’s it, ain’t it?”

“Sure pop,” answered Ned gravely. “And it’s a good thing to remember, old man.”

“Supposing my mother didn’t want me to play football; and I ain’t sure that she does; then what?”

“Oh, if she wrote to Horace he’d tell Brooksie and Brooksie would let you off,” answered Ned carelessly. “But I wouldn’t try that game,” he added meaningly, “because the fellows would think you’d put your mother up to it.”

“Seems, then, like I’ve just got to go ahead and be a martyr,” sighed Cal with a rueful shake of the head. “Look here, Ned, ain’t there any nice quiet position I could fill without having to bump my breath out and skin my shins all up? How about official scorer? Ain’t there something like that on the team? I cal’late I’d make a fine official scorer.”

“You’ll make a fine chump of yourself if you don’t stop talking,” said Ned with a laugh. “Do you play tennis? I’ll try you a set before supper if no one has the court.”

“I don’t know how. Besides, I couldn’t play after what I’ve been through back there. Why, I’m all lame and bruised up!”

Ned slapped him on the back.

“Oh, you’ll get used to it,” he laughed, “and just love it, old man! You wait and see.”

“Love it nothing!” said Cal disgustedly. “I cal’late I’ll have to keep on, but I’m plumb sure I ain’t ever going to get to love it! Besides,” he continued as they sat down on the steps of West House, “I don’t see any sense in it! I thought football was play, but you fellows go at it like it was a matter of life or death.”

“Because we want to beat the Hall this year and get the shield away from them. You wait until later and you’ll be just as crazy as any of us. Things get pretty well heated up along towards November. If we win a game and Hall wins a game, why, you won’t be able to eat or sleep for two days before the play-off!”

“I won’t?” grunted Cal. “Huh; you just watch me!”

“You’ll have to get a football suit,” said Ned thoughtfully. “They don’t cost much, though. You can get one that’s good enough for about four dollars.”

“That settles it,” said Cal with a satisfied sigh. “That lets me out. I haven’t got four dollars for football clothes.”

“Now, look here,” exclaimed Ned sternly. “You’re rooming with me, Cal Boland, and I’ve got to look after you. And you’ve got to do as I say, and you might as well understand that right now. You’ll go down to the village tomorrow before morning school and get a pair of canvas breeches and a jacket. You ought to have shoes, too, but I think I’ve got a pair upstairs that’ll fit you all right.”

“But I can’t afford it!” objected Cal.

“You’ve got to afford it,” answered Ned sternly. “What’s four dollars?”

“It’s more’n I’ve got to throw away on football things,” Cal replied with a shake of his head. “I cal’late it don’t seem much to you, but four dollars looks big to me, Ned. Besides,” he added after a moment, “I’ve been thinking about a suit. I cal—I guess you’re right about my clothes being pretty bad. I’ve been looking around and I see that the fellows here pay a lot of attention to what they wear. Some of ’em seem to wear their best clothes all the time! Well, I was thinking I’d write home and see what my mother thought about my getting a new suit. You see, Ned, I don’t want you to be ashamed to have me room with you.”

“Oh, piffle! Of course I’m not ashamed. But I do think you ought to have another suit, a sort of knock-about suit you could wear every day, you know.”

“Yes. Well, if I get that I surely can’t go buying any football clothes.”

“Now wait, Cal. There’s a place in the town where you can get a mighty good looking suit for about twelve dollars. Of course, it isn’t a wonder, but it will do well enough. Twelve dollars is pretty cheap, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes, I cal’late it is,” replied Cal doubtfully. “That’s about what I paid for these.” He looked thoughtfully at his gray flannels. “And I’ve worn ’em two summers.”

“They’re very nice,” said Ned with an effort. “But I wouldn’t get light gray if I were you, Cal. You see, you’re sort of light yourself and darkish things would look better on you.”

“They show the dirt, though.”

“Not if they’re kind of rough and mixy,” said Ned. “If you could get a suit for twelve you could easily afford to buy the football togs, couldn’t you?” But Cal looked doubtful.

“I was cal’lating to spend about twelve altogether,” he replied. “Then you said I ought to have a cap and a belt and some neckties; though seems to me I’d better wear what neckties I’ve got; I’ve got a whole lot of ’em; about six or seven, I guess.”

“Never mind those things now,” said Ned. “As for the cap, why, you might just as well wear that one you’ve got on as buy a new one. It fits all right, and I don’t need it. And the belt the same way. It isn’t a very good one, but it will do well enough. And you can buy a couple of ties any old time. Look here, Cal, if you’re hard-up just now, there’s a fellow in town who will trust you if you want him to. Of course he will charge you a little bit more for what you get, and you mustn’t say anything about it to anyone, because it’s against the rules to get things on credit.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” said Cal. “Besides, I’ve got as much now as I will have all winter. More, I guess,” he added ruefully. “I suppose I couldn’t play football in what I’ve got? There’s an old pair of trousers upstairs—”

But Ned shook his head firmly.

“Couldn’t be done. You can’t work in tight things, and they won’t stand the strain. No, you’ve got to have togs, Cal.”

“Have, eh?” Cal looked disappointed. “Well, all right. I wish I didn’t, though. You see, I thought I’d get mother to send me ten dollars. Then I’ve got pretty near three dollars left from my trip. And that ought to be enough. If I just got the suit, you know. But if I’ve got to have football things—” He stopped and shook his head puzzledly.

“Can’t you get her to send you fifteen instead of ten?” asked Ned.

“Yes, but I oughtn’t to spend that much on clothes.” He put his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out an old red leather wallet and found two one-dollar bills folded away in a recess. “Thought maybe I might be mistaken,” he said. “Thought maybe there might be another one there.” Then he counted the silver in his trousers pocket. “Eighty-five cents,” he mused. “That ain’t much, is it?”

“No,” replied Ned, frowning. “But,” he added with a laugh, “you’ve got eighty-five cents more than the law allows.”

“How’s that?”

“Rules don’t let us have more than two dollars spending money,” replied Ned carelessly. “We’re supposed to hand the rest over to Marm and she doles it out to us. But no one pays any attention to that. I’ve got about eight dollars upstairs in my collar-box.”

“Gee!” Cal’s eyes got big. “Ain’t you afraid to lose it?”

“No; why? How could I lose it? It’s in my bureau drawer.”

“I wouldn’t want to have that much lying around, though,” Cal said. “I’d be mighty nervous about it.”

“I tell you what,” said Ned. “I’ll lend you a couple of dollars so you can get your football togs in the morning. You can pay me back later, when you get your money from home.”

“I wouldn’t like to do that,” said Cal. “If I write tonight I guess maybe I’d get the money by day after tomorrow; or next day, anyway.”

“Oh, there’s no use in waiting all that time. Besides, you need the things right away; you can’t play in ordinary clothes. You let me lend you two dollars and then you kite down town in the morning; I’ll go along if you like.”

“All right,” answered Cal reluctantly. “I’m much obliged to you. And I cal’late you’d better come along and show me where to go. I wouldn’t want to get into any high-price place.”

“All right,” laughed Ned, “I’ll look after you, old man. Here comes Spud and The Fungus. O you Spud! Want to play a set?”

“I’ve got you,” answered Spud. “Going in for your racket? Bring mine out, will you? It’s in the stair closet or back of the door or—somewhere around.”

“You don’t say?” inquired Ned sarcastically. “You’re sure it isn’t in the trunk-room or under the refrigerator or in my pocket? You’d better come in and look for it yourself.”

“No, honest, Ned, it’s right there somewhere. If you can’t find it, bring The Fungus’s.”

“You do and you’ll get licked,” said The Fungus grimly as he seated himself in the hammock. “Say, fellows, has anyone glanced over the apple crop this Fall?” Spud’s gaze followed the Fungus’s over the whitewashed picket fence that marked the boundary of school territory at the left of the cottage. There was a hedge of lilac bushes on the other side of the fence which hid the next door domain from the porch. But Cal knew what was beyond, for from the bay window of the Den he could look over the hedge and through the trees at the old-fashioned white farm-house with its green shutters and its columned porch.

“Who lives over there?” he asked.

“The Old Maids,” replied Spud. “There are two of them. Their name is Curtis. They’re Tartars, too. They’ve got a dandy apple orchard back of the house and they’re very, very stingy with the fruit thereof.”

“It doesn’t do them much good, though,” said Ned, returning with the two rackets. “We usually get all we want.” The Fungus chuckled.

“Rather! And we ought to be seeing how those nice big red apples are coming on. They’re usually ready for us about the first of October, aren’t they, Ned?”

“I guess so.” He lowered his voice. “We might drop over tonight and investigate. What do you say?”

“Good scheme! I couldn’t do a thing to a couple of those pippins! I wonder if they’ve nailed up the gate again.”

“Sure! We’ll have to climb, I guess.”

“Well, we’d better stroll along and find a good place to get over. Last year I tore my bestest panties on a picket. Come on, Cal; you and I’ll look things over while those chumps try to play tennis.”

“What is it you’re going to do?” asked Cal as he followed The Fungus around the corner of the house and across the grass toward the fence and hedge.

“Why, find a place where we can get over the fence easily and not get tangled up in the hedge. We all take pillow-cases over and fill them with apples, you know. They’re dandy! Only, you want to be sure that you can get over the fence again in a hurry because the Old Maids are painfully suspicious of us West Housers. One year the hired man caught two fellows and locked them up in the shed and telephoned to Horace. And they got the dickens; pretty near fired, they were. If you get caught over there now it means suspension, at least.”

“It’s rather dangerous, then, isn’t it?” asked Cal.

“Sure. That’s what makes it such good sport,” replied The Fungus easily. “Look; here’s a place where there’s a picket off. If we could get the next one off— There it is; bully! We can crawl through there easy as pie. It’s only a little way to the orchard. If you peek through the lilacs you can see the trees. Gee, look at those apples! There’s a million billion bushels of them! See the tree down toward the brook, the one with the red, red apples on it? That’s the best in the orchard. Say, there isn’t any moon tonight, is there?”

“Why, yes, but it doesn’t come up until pretty late.”

“That’s all right then. Wish those lilacs weren’t so thick right here,” he said. “But I guess we can squirm through. Hello, what was that?”

“What?” asked Cal.

“I thought I saw something in there, something white. And listen!” He peered into the shadow of hedge and trees. “Didn’t you think you heard something?”

But Cal shook his head.

“I guess I just imagined it,” said The Fungus. “Now let’s fix this place in our minds, Cal. If we walk diagonally across from the woodshed toward the big chestnut tree we’ll get it all right, won’t we? That’s easy. Don’t forget to bring your pillow-case tonight. We’ll come over here about half-past ten.”

“I—I don’t believe I will,” said Cal. “I wouldn’t want to get suspended, you see.” The Fungus viewed him amazedly.

“Who would?”

“Well, you said if we got caught—”

“If! But we’re not going to get caught. That’s the difference. Oh, you’ll come all right. If you don’t, you’ll be awfully sorry when you see the apples we bring back. They’re perfect corkers! Those big red ones—” But words failed him and he contented himself with licking his lips and looking unutterable bliss.

“Do the women live there all by themselves?” asked Cal as they returned to the tennis court.

“Yes, with some servants. There’s a big truck-garden beyond the orchard and another house where the hired man lives. They’ve got about fifteen acres there, I think. They’re awfully rich, the Old Maids are. They own about half the clock factory back of town, by the river. You’d think they’d be more generous with their apples, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe they’d give us some if we went and asked,” replied Cal innocently.

“Huh! Who wants apples that are given to you? All the fun comes in swiping them and not knowing whether someone is going to pop out at you any minute!”

Sandy, Dutch, Hoop and Claire were watching the tennis when the two conspirators returned to the front of the cottage and The Fungus at once announced the gleeful news of a raid on the orchard “at half-past ten by the old town clock.” Sandy, as became his years of discretion—he was sixteen—looked doubtful, but the rest were so heartily in favor of the adventure that he was forced to give his sanction in order to save his dignity and authority.

“It’s risky, though,” he declared with a frown. “We’ll have to be mighty quiet. If the Old Maids hear us they’ll tell Horace, as sure as shooting.”

“What of it?” Hoop ridiculed. “They can’t prove it was us if they don’t see us.”

“The trouble is that we’re under suspicion,” said Sandy.—“Good stuff, Spud! That was a dandy!—They’ll say it was us and Horace will ask us. Then what?”

There was an uncomfortable silence and everyone seemed to prefer to watch the tennis rather than face the question. At last Hoop said:

“Well, preservation is the first law of Nature, or something like that. If he asks me I’ll tell him I don’t know anything about it.”

“You can’t do that,” said The Fungus, shaking his head disapprovingly. “You can’t lie about it, you know. Especially to Horace. He—he expects you to tell the truth and you just have to do it. The only way is to keep so quiet that they won’t hear us. And the place I’ve found where we can get through the fence is so far from the house that they’re not likely to know anything about it. And it will be plumb dark, too. Hard luck, Ned!”

“Game and set,” panted Ned. “I guess there isn’t time for any more, Spud. I’ll try you again tomorrow, though, you Mr. Good-player.”

“What was it?” asked Dutch.

“Seven—five,” said Spud. “Gee, I’m warm! What time is it?”

“Supper time; there’s the bell,” answered Ned. “Tell Marm I’m changing my clothes, Sandy. And don’t you swipe my butter, Dutch!”