There was a second meeting called about this time to raise additional funds for the support of the football team. The sum already subscribed was not enough for the traveling expenses, guarantees to visiting teams and clothing, and where the ninety dollars to pay Billy Cameron’s tuition for the winter and spring terms was coming from was causing Harry Folsom a good deal of bother. And when the meeting had assembled he said as much. There was a very slim attendance, and a spirit of levity prevailed. Phin and Hansel were there, as was Spring, but they took no part in the proceedings, greatly, I think, to Harry’s relief. The football men were conspicuously absent.

“You fellows want a good team,” said Harry, “and you want it to lick everything that comes along. But you aren’t willing, it seems, to pay for it. You’ve pledged three hundred and eighty-eight dollars, and that isn’t nearly enough, and you know it as well as we do. We need at least two hundred and fifty dollars more. Last year we managed to scrape along on about four hundred and fifty dollars, but we were able to do it because the field had been put in fine shape the year before, and we didn’t have that to pay for. But this fall, as anyone knows who has been down there, there’s a lot of work got to be done; the place is in bad shape. The Fairview game is played here this fall, and we’ve got to have the field fixed up and the stands attended to. It has been estimated that it will take over a hundred dollars to put the stands in shape for the Fairview game.

“Now we can’t do that and pay traveling expenses, and pay guaranties to visiting teams on any little old three hundred and eighty-eight dollars. You fellows know that when a team comes here to play us we have to guarantee them a decent sum of money. If we don’t they won’t come. We don’t offer big guaranties, because we’ve never been able to afford to; if we could do that, we could get some of the best teams in this part of the country to come here. As it is, we have to pay out from twenty to seventy-five dollars at every minor game because we can’t get a decent attendance. And that soon counts up. This year we have five home games beside Fairview, and only one of those games is likely to pay for itself; that’s the Warren game. Every other team that comes here goes away with a little wad of our money in their pocket.

“Then there’s the item of uniforms. We aren’t swell dressers here, and we don’t buy the best suits on the market. But even so, a little over nine dollars is the best we can do; and the fellows supply their own sweaters. Besides these expenses which I have mentioned, maintenance of ground, traveling expenses, guaranties, clothing, there are others, such as tickets for the Fairview game, advertising in the papers and by posters, footballs, blankets, stationery, stamps, and dozens of incidental expenses. You can do a little figuring yourselves and see how much of that three hundred and eighty-eight dollars is likely to be left at the end of the season. I’ll tell you one thing; there aren’t going to be any dividends declared!”

“How about ‘team expenses’?” called some one. There was a snicker. Harry smiled.

“Well, I didn’t mention that because you fellows seem to be developing a finicky attitude of late, and I didn’t want to shock you. But since you’ve mentioned the matter yourselves, I’ll just say that there remains ninety dollars of ‘team expenses’ to be paid. And it’s got to be paid, no matter what anyone says, for the very good reason that we have given our word that we will pay it. And a certain fellow will be in a pretty mean fix if we don’t pay it. He will wonder, I guess, what the word of Ferry Hill students is worth.”

There was a mild clatter of applause.

“Now, fellows,” went on Harry, “we’ve got to have at least another two hundred and fifty. And I want you to pledge it to-night. Every one of you who hasn’t given already ought to be good for five dollars. And those of you who have already given—well, we don’t refuse a second contribution; we aren’t fussy that way; and it won’t hurt you a bit. After the Fairview game is over you’ll be mighty glad and proud that you helped to bring about a victory.”

“Suppose we get beaten?” piped a voice from the back of the hall where the younger and more mischievous youths were congregated.

“We won’t!” declared Harry promptly. “I tell you what I’ll do, fellows; if you’ll make up the sum to six hundred and fifty dollars, I’ll guarantee that we’ll lick Fairview! There! That’s fair, isn’t it?”

“A fair view of the situation, Mr. Manager!” called a voice. Harry joined in the laugh that went up.

“I’m not joking, fellows,” he continued. “I mean what I say. Here’s your chance now; a victory over Fairview for the small sum of six hundred and fifty dollars! Doesn’t that strike you as cheap?”

“What security?” asked a boy down front.

“My word!” answered Harry boldly. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“You bet it is, Harry!”

Phin and Hansel joined in the applause and laughter.

“All right, then,” said Harry. “Now I’m going to send the slips around. Any fellow who hasn’t got a pencil can get one if he will speak up. And if any of you can’t write I’ll do it for you, and you’ll only have to make your mark. I’m going to ask—” Harry’s eyes traveled about the hall and at last rested, with a twinkle, on Hansel and Phin. “I’m going to ask the assistant manager, Phin Dorr, and the best end Ferry Hill has had for many a day, Hansel Dana, to pass the slips.”

There was a clapping of hands and some laughter at Harry’s announcement. Phin and Hansel viewed each other questioningly.

“I’m not going to do it,” whispered Hansel. But he chanced to catch sight of Harry’s quizzical look and changed his mind. Phin was already crowding his way along the row of chairs. Hansel accepted Harry’s challenge and followed Phin. They took the slips of white paper and passed through the hall distributing them. Some of the youngsters near the door showed a disposition to retire from the scene, but a few words from Harry brought them back.

“I’d like to say,” he remarked dryly, “that neither Dorr nor Dana has time to follow you fellows to your rooms, and so if you’ll kindly keep your seats you will be rendering valuable assistance.”

The slips were collected and returned to the platform. Phin helped Harry count up the amounts, and the meeting broke up, although most of those present waited to hear the result.

“I hope they don’t get it,” said Spring to Hansel. “And I don’t believe they will. I want the team to have all the money it can use, but I don’t like the idea of paying Cameron’s tuition out of the fund. I’m with you fellows there, Dana, good and hard.”

“The trouble is, though,” answered Hansel, “that they’ve already paid his fall tuition, and he’s bound to stay and play football this season.”

“Yes, but there’s another year coming, and if Cameron doesn’t get his tuition paid for the rest of this year, he’s not going to stay here. That’s certain.”

“The amount pledged this evening,” announced Harry, “is seventy-four dollars. It isn’t enough, and I’m disappointed in you fellows. But I’ve told you how things stand and it’s up to you.” He paused, seemed about to continue, evidently thought better of it, and turned to Phin.

“Will you move adjournment?” he asked.

Phin was a pretty busy fellow these days. He got out of bed every morning at five o’clock and attended to five furnaces, in as many different houses throughout the village. By seven he was back home for breakfast, and after that meal he attended to a few chores about the house. At eight he had his first recitation, and from that time on was busy with lessons, either studying or reciting, until two o’clock, save for an hour at noon, and two days a week had recitations at three. From half-past three to five he was on the football field attending to his duties as assistant manager. And yet, in spite of all this, he found moments now and then to do odd jobs for the villagers or students. It was no uncommon sight to see Phin beating a carpet in some one’s back yard long after it was too dark to see the stick he wielded. He had all the work he could attend to, for there was nothing he could not do, and his personality pleased his patrons so much that one customer led to others. He mended fences, fitted keys, whitewashed walls, now and then tried his hand at a small job of painting, cleaned yards, and had soon grown into a village necessity, without whom the housewives would have been at their wits’ end. But no matter how much work was called for, Phin couldn’t neglect his school duties, for he was trying for a scholarship, and on his success depended his continuance at Beechcroft. Harry tried to get him to put up a shelf for him, but Phin, scenting charity, refused to do it.

“You don’t need a shelf,” he declared. “It would spoil the looks of your wall. But if you insist, I’ll put it up for you the first chance I have, and take just what the materials cost.”

“You’re a suspicious dub,” said Harry sorrowfully. “I’ve been pining for a shelf over there for years and years, but if you choose to assign base motives to my request, I shall continue to go shelfless. I won’t take favors from a chap who accuses me of duplicity.”

The intimacy between Phin and Hansel grew with every passing day. Hansel was grateful for the friendship, for matters in 22 Prince weren’t in very good shape those days. He and Bert passed the time of day, as the saying is, and that was about all. As for the new friends and acquaintances which Hansel had made through Phin, he cultivated them carefully, and found pleasure in so doing, but as he was beginning to be looked upon as “queer,” or, as Harry put it, “peculiar,” those friends didn’t turn into chums. Phin and Harry were his warmest friends, and that Phin finally led in his affections was probably because of the bond of interest existing between them in the form of what Harry called the “crusade.”