Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 73: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE POOR -FISH. “You ‘““you’re made. you for life.” “Yes, it did,” I shot back at him. “It fixed me fine for the time being, but my name’s going to be mud this year. We got- ta team that looks like a set of second-hand harness. We might get a fifty-fifty break with some of these teams like Sheridan and W. and M., but listen, son, our grand en- trée at Harvard this year’s going to be a funeral procession. If we walk out we'll . be lucky.” Eddie sighed, then shot a smoke wreath twisting out before him. ‘‘ Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you beat ’em,”’ he said. “ Im- agine beatin’ Harvard two years runnin’.”’ “Throw that pipe away,” I says, get- ting up; ‘“‘ you’re smokin’ hop.” should worry,” says Eddie; That Harvard win fixed IV. . Wett, I don’t know how things would have panned out if it hadn’t been for Chuck Blaisdell’s sister. Chuck was my first assistant, in facl my right-hand man, handling the second team and coaching the varsity ends and fullback. He had been a bearcat at both positions in his day, and had big league football ambitions, being ambitious to coach at one of the big uni- ' versities. the game. and did a little stock dabbling to keep his dough working. He was at Centerville only because his sister was in her last year at the Cora Higgins School for Girls, a swell Southern finishing school two miles from Centerville. It’s about a month after the night I had the talk with Eddie Maloney about Hali- but Haines when Chuck chugs up to my house in his Winsome Six and gives me a whistle. “Come on out for a ride,” he says; “ wanna talk with you.” I needed a little air, so I tossed on a cap and sweater and strolled out. We had just barely won our first games with two very rank prep’ schools, and I had been nursing a headache trying to dope out some kind of a miracle by which my ham-and- eggers could be made to look respectable against a real team. He had a lotta jack, but loved In the off season he traveled: 863 “ Let ’er go,” I says, climbing in. “ Take me as far from this football team as you can.” ‘You aren’t discouraged, are you?” says Chuck. “Foolish question to ask an umpire, son,” I says. ‘ After lookin’ at ball players for fifteen years nothin’ can discourage you.” We rolled along for a while on white gravel roads through the prettiest country God ever made, and the smell of the trees was like perfume, when Chuck finally slows down to a nice easy roll, and says: ‘“ What do you know about this bird Haines?” “You mean ‘ Halibut ’ Haines?” I says. “The boy that says ‘ thee ’ and ‘ thou,’ ” says Chuck. “* That’s Halibut,” I says. “‘ I don’t know nothin’ about him except that he shoots fast craps.” “Then, I want to tell you something,” says Chuck; and he did. Ill say it was something. I almost fell out of the car. ‘“ And your sis swears to it?” I says. “ Absolutely,” says Chuck. ‘‘ She and her roommate’s been with him every after- noon on the old public ball: field, and she says he hired some shines to help, too.”’ ‘“My gosh!” I says. “ And me weepin’ my eyes out for a football player.” ** Sis knows football,” says Chuck, “ and she swears he’s a wonder. Says he doped out how Harvard could have beaten Cen- terville last year if they had only had one man to develop like he’s sevens him- self.” All I could do was gasp: “ I eae why Maloney didn’t find it out.” ‘““T suppose he saw him miss a couple of tackles and discouraged him,” says Chuck. ‘“ And you say he’s been doing this every afternoon on the quiet?” “ Almost every afternoon,” says Chuck, “and sis tells me he did it all last winter on a beach up in Maine with fishermen helping him.” T sat up. suppose?” “ Why,” laughed Chuck, ‘‘ some days it “Tn all kinds of wind, too, I was ten below zero.” ‘Good gosh!” I says. ‘“ Don’t tell a soul. We'll save him for Harvard.” COMcMOOoKS CO