NOBODY

"Who cheers me up when I feel sad?
Nobody!"

sang S. S. softly, as the pupils trooped down the stairs from the assembly room and out the main door.

"Who gets me out when I'm in bad?
Nobody!"

It was Roundy who carried on the refrain. "That song is pretty near right; don't you think so, Bunny?"

"I've stopped thinking," said Bunny shortly. "It's about time to do something."

"Do what?"

"That's for us to find out."

Some twenty of the Lakeville High boys were reporting for football practice. Those with suits shifted to the basement, where a shower bath and lockers had been installed, while the others tramped directly to the field back of the schoolhouse, to begin their work with punting and drop-kicking.

The little basement was crowded with candidates in various stages of undress. But because their two years of experience had accustomed them to slipping into their togs in a hurry, the seven Scouts were the first to leave. By common consent, they moved to the shady plot under the big oak.

"Something has happened," Bunny said briefly. "For some reason, the whole school is against us. I don't know why; but whatever the reason is, we'll have to prove that we're the right sort, and that we're not trying to run the school or anybody else except ourselves. The question is, how to do it."

"I know how I'd do it," said Specs. "I'd pull right out of this business, unless they want to treat us right. We've played scrub football for two years and made four trips; and I don't believe there is anybody else in school who has been on a regular eleven. Just say the word, Bunny, and we'll get up a team of our own."

Roundy growled assent.

"No, we don't want to do that." Bunny doubled his fists emphatically. "You remember what Horace Hibbs said about working for the school. Fighting the school isn't the kind of thing Scouts ought to do. We don't even care who runs it; all we want is a fair chance to help."

"We won't get it. From now on, Bunny, any time we try something, it will be Waterloo for us," Nap jerked an indignant nod.

"Why can't we take one of them into the patrol for our eighth member?" put in Bi. "Suppose Buck, for instance—"

Bunny shook his head. "A week or two ago, Buck might have joined the Black Eagles, but now, if we asked him after this election, he'd think we wanted him because we couldn't get along without him and because we could run the school through him. And I guess that goes for the rest of them, too."

"I know they wouldn't be Scouts," added S. S. "I heard Buck and Roy Sheffield and Bob Kiproy talking together. What they are trying to do is to get up a secret society to buck our patrol."

"Then there is just one thing for us," Bunny said earnestly, "and that is to go on being the right kind of Scouts just as hard as we can. If we take care of our good turns, they'll take care of us. And if we are loyal and helpful and trustworthy, and live up to the rest of the Scout law, they're going to take off their hats to us, whether they think so now or not. What's more, I bet that before the end of the year they will be asking us how they can form a patrol of their own."

"That's all right!" Specs interrupted suddenly. "Maybe they will—at the end of the year. But right now four or five of us are going to make the football team. You know more about the game and can play better than anybody else in school. Are they going to elect you captain or aren't they?"

"Can't find out till the votes are counted," Bunny returned cheerily. "If anybody nominates me for captain, I'll run, of course."

"Then you'll run, all right," promised Specs. "And if you are not elected, then I'm through with football at this school. Ab-so-lute-ly! I'll take my suit home to-night. Come on; there's Professor Leland waving to us."

Gathering the squad about him, the principal explained that the school board had detailed him as coach. "We may as well begin our practice," he said, "by lining up on both sides of the playground and punting the ball back and forth."

First kick at the oval fell to Buck Claxton. Perhaps he was a bit nervous. At any rate, his toe, instead of whirling the ball roof high, sent it tumbling and bounding along the ground, till a low bounce shot it into Bunny's arms.

"Now show 'em what you can do!" urged Specs in a hoarse whisper.

Carefully poising the ball, Bunny booted it up and across the field, till it spun down with a plop into Bi's arms.

"Nice work, Payton!" shouted the coach.

"That's showing him!" commented Specs. "He'll see that you didn't play in the back-field two years for nothing. Why, there isn't anybody else in the squad who can punt like that."

The next ten minutes proved Specs' boast. Not only could Bunny punt far and away better than the other candidates, but he could drop-kick almost as well. And when the players formed in a great circle and fell upon the ball, the members of the Black Eagle Patrol distinguished themselves again. With the exception of Roundy, who dove so heavily that the ball escaped through his arms, the Scouts downed the pigskin as surely as though it were a watermelon. With the others, this practice did not go as well; even Buck Claxton missed as the ball bounded at an unexpected angle.

"We'll top off with a little running and tackling," announced the coach, as he retrieved the ball from the last man. "Jones, you take your place forty yards down the field, to catch punts and run them back. Kiproy, you go with him to act as interference. And Claxton, when the ball is punted, you charge down the field and try to tackle Jones between the knees and waist."

With Bi in position, Kiproy beside him, and Buck crouching on the line, the coach kicked. It was a high punt, and Buck was almost upon the pair before the ball plumped into Bi's arms. Kiproy ran toward the tackier, but Buck, swerving to one side, eluded him and drove squarely at Bi's legs. Had the latter been under full speed, he would have toppled like a falling tree; instead, checking himself, he jolted back out of the grasping arms, and while Buck floundered in the dust, jogged complacently down the field.

"All right, Payton; you act as tackler this time. Claxton catches the ball. Jones is the interference."

Specs slapped Bunny on the back. "Show 'em what you can do. Grab that fellow, if it takes a leg!"

Either Bunny was luckier than Buck, or a better tackler; opinion stood divided. But whatever the truth of the matter, Bunny skillfully dodged Bi's forward defense (and Bi was playing hard, too) and managed to stop Buck and actually throw the heavier boy backward.

With the next shift, Bunny caught the punt. Buck, with his lack of experience, bungled the interference, but Bunny pushed off Sheffield with his open palm, and romped safely out of danger. Later, on the last change, Bunny shouldered hard-running Peter Barrett out of the way as interference, thereby giving safe passage to Roundy, even after the latter had fumbled the ball.

"You are running away with the game, Payton," smiled the coach kindly. "If you keep this up, we shall have to put you in a team by yourself."

"What did I tell you!" chuckled Specs. "No matter whether they like the Scouts or not, they have to elect you captain. There just isn't anybody else."

Bunny said nothing. However much of a glow he felt over Professor Leland's compliment, there remained the undeniable fact that the school was at outs with the Black Eagle Patrol. It was unpleasant to be in this position, but it was worse still to realize how this attitude hampered the Scouts at every turn, both in working for the good of the school and in creating interest in the Scout movement.

Specs insisted, in a very audible whisper, that Rodman Cree was part and parcel of this conspiracy, and even hinted that he had purposely tried to lose the relay race, both while it was being run and afterward, and had later prevented a fitting nomination for presidency of the student association.

"Look at that!" he growled, as Rodman failed in an easy tackle. "He's no good at anything in the world; anybody can see that. But he makes himself solid with the other crowd by hitting at us."

Meanwhile, could they have known it, Royal Sheffield was saying much the same thing about poor Rodman, except that it was Sheffield's idea that the new boy was trying to "get in" with the Scouts by working against the balance of the school.

"Good enough!" commented the coach, as the last uniformed player went down the field for a tackle. "We have the material for a strong team. Now I want you to elect a good man captain, and we shall call it a day's work."

There was a moment's silence in the crowd gathered about Professor Leland, which was broken by Specs, his voice high-pitched and shrill.

"I nominate the best player in the squad—Bunny Payton!"

Without hesitation, Sheffield nominated Buck Claxton; and Jack Turner, whose farm adjoined the Barrett place, put forward Peter.

"If anybody has the nerve to vote for Buck after the showing he has made this afternoon," said Specs hoarsely, "I'll eat my hat."

The coach himself collected the bits of paper which had been distributed as ballots, and counted the returns.

"The vote stands as follows," he said slowly. "Barrett has received two, Payton seven, and Claxton eleven. Claxton is therefore elected captain of the team. The practice to-morrow night will be at the same time. All those who have no suits will see me before they go home."

The Scouts stood dumbfounded. Bunny was the first to recover, leaving the group and walking over to congratulate Buck with a warm handshake.

"Well," observed Specs, "what about it? Do we quit this rotten business, or don't we?"

"No," Bunny snapped, "we don't. We keep right on practicing every night. If they won't put us on the first eleven, we'll play on the second."

"You can play on the third, if you feel like it." Specs had completely lost his temper. "As for me, I've eaten all the crow that's good for me. I'm through!" He turned his back and walked rapidly toward the basement.

For a long moment, Bunny stood fast on the field, while the others of the squad drifted toward the dressing room. Rodman Cree he could see waiting uneasily at one side, as if he wished to come up and speak to him. But though Bunny had none of Specs' feeling toward Rodman, at that particular moment he did not wish to speak to anybody. He stared toward the road, pretending to be unconscious of the other's presence.

From the basement floated the tenor voice of S. S., singing the final refrain of the "Nobody" song:

"Who cares for us an awful lot?
Who always helps us on the dot?
Who is the only friend we've got?"

And the final word, roared by all of the six Scouts, came out in a thundering:

"NOBODY!"