In the Line
The few footnotes have been moved to follow the paragraphs in which theyare referenced.
FOLLOWING THE BALL.
MAKING THE NINE.
IN THE LINE.
Down the two went in a whirl of legs.—Page 290.
IN THE LINE
In the Line is a story of school life andfootball rather than of football and school life.In its football it is meant to supplement Followingthe Ball, as With Mask and Mit inits baseball will supplement Making the Nine,each book emphasizing a different departmentof play. The story is in no sense history, andno attempt has been made to describe actualpersons.
The case for football presented in ChaptersXX and XXII is believed to be a fair and candidstatement of facts with regard to the gameas they are known to those most familiar withit. American Rugby football is here, and hereto stay, not because of its æsthetic virtues, butbecause it appeals irresistibly to the Anglo-Saxonheart. In twenty years, against ignorant criticismand bitter opposition, it has establishedviiiitself in every section of the country. It hasmerits which can neither be argued away noroverborne by abuse; it has conspicuous faults.Eliminate “dirty football” and the playing ofunfit or unfairly matched men, provide for theplayers proper supervision in their practice andstrict officials in their matches,—and the dangersof the game, with all serious grounds ofobjection, will be removed.
Particular thanks for helpful suggestions asto guard play are due Mr. Joseph T. Gilman,a veteran of the Dartmouth eleven, whose masteryof the technique of his position has beenproved in many a hard contest and againstmany a clever antagonist.
Boston, April, 1905.
|The New Mandolin||25|
|Weighed and Measured||33|
|In the Gymnasium||42|
|Industries of the Twins||52|
|The Concert at Eastham||84|
|The Halo Fades||124|
|Patron and Client||150|
|The Silent Partner||164|
|A Round Robin||231|
|The First Half||263|
|The Game Ends||284|
|On the Way Home||297|
|Down the two went in a whirl of legs||Frontispiece|
|Durand ... walked deliberately back to the cushioned space||47|
|“Pick up that hat, do you hear!”||118|
|The pile that covered the ball three yards beyond||271|
Wolcott Lindsay Senior, with WolcottLindsay Junior, and Wolcott Junior’s Mamma,arrived in Boston on New Year’s day, afterbuffeting for sixty hours against a furiousnorthwest storm that left the great ice-coatedliner looking like a glass ship taken from aglobe on the nursery shelf and magnified a thousandtimes. Wolcott Junior, being a healthy,vigorous youth, with thousands of footpoundsof energy running hourly to waste, and havingthe overweening confidence in his own powerswhich distinguishes some otherwise very attractivespecimens of American boyhood, had found therestraint of the cabin extremely irksome. Had2the voyage lasted much longer, he must havediscovered some means of getting by the barrierswhich kept him in safe imprisonment.In that case there might have been no WolcottLindsay Junior, and no story of “In the Line”to be written.
“Junior,” as his mother called him, was notone to slip by a sentinel unobserved. Five feeteleven in height, unshod; one hundred seventy-fivepounds in weight, unclothed; with heartand lungs unstrained by growth, and musclesalready swelling in significant bunches andbands, he looked more like a college juniorthan a raw boy not yet eighteen, still unripefor entrance examinations.
“Ridiculous,” his father had said, lifting hiseyes from their five-foot-six-inch level andmeasuring the whole length and breadth of hisoffspring,—“perfectly ridiculous to be so big!Why, if you keep on at this rate you’ll be asmuch out of place in an average house as arhinoceros in a garret. And not yet even asub-freshman!”
“Now, Wolcott!” expostulated Mrs. Lindsay,3“you know that’s not fair. If you had told uswe were going to stay in Hamburg two yearsinstead of six months, we should have put himin a good school or had a tutor for him. Itisn’t his fault if he’s behind; he hasn’t had afair chance.”
At this the expression on the face of Lindsaypère changed. “He shall have chance enoughwhen we get home. No more conversation lessonsin French and German, or reading novelsfor vocabulary, or going to the theatre for pronunciation,or rowing on the Elster with thatlearned fool, Herr Doktor Krauss; but old-fashionedLatin and Greek and mathematicsin some good, stiff school, under a clear-headedAmerican teacher. Too bad that the boycouldn’t have had a touch of the HamburgerGymnasium!”
At this suggestion that hard things were instore for the young man, Mrs. Lindsay lookedworried, and Junior assumed an air of indifferencethat cloaked his real feeling, which wasone of joy to be coming home again to boys ofhis own race and kind, and of willingness to put4up with any school or any work, however“stiff,” so long as it was American and withAmericans.
Aunt Emmeline met them at the dock. AuntEmmeline was Mr. Lindsay’s sister, like him andyet differing from him as sisters are wont todiffer from brothers. Both were in a sensearistocrats; both thought much of the familyname and the family history, but their pointsof view were widely variant. Mr. Lindsay feltstrongly that the possession of ancestors whohad served their generation faithfully and well,pledged the descendants to the same ratio ofachievement. His constant fear was that heshould fail to maintain the standard which theforefathers had