Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 12, 1927 — page 122: what you’re looking at

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

596 half back position on the second team, with Brown in Steve’s accustomed place. The campus was on edge for the game. Already old grads were coming in, and crowds of pretty young girls were expected for the dance following. Gay placards hung all over the buildings and the grounds, with “‘ Beat State ” in large letters. Never was a school more primed for victory. Butcher had the final touch of pleasure in seeing Steve Ferris wander off alone, a disconsolate figure, for Steve now felt the depth of his isolation—this new hostility of his teammates weighed heavily on him. Merrick saw Germaine entering the drug store. He hurried in after her. Over sodas he waxed enthusiastic, but she remained unresponsive. Nettled at her coldness, he said spitefully: ‘“‘ Your hero left on his last day with tail dragging. I don’t see where you rate so high displaying a yellow shirker like Apollo.” “Don’t you call Steve yellow,” flared. “Why not?” he leered. ‘‘ Everybody else does.” “What do you mean?” “ What would I mean—that he’s gutless, afraid of his ‘ bootiful’ face, and all you got to do is say ‘ Look out, Apollo,’ and he slinks off like a beaten cur. Sure he’s yellow. The coach knows it, and put him on the third for to-morrow, so he’s got no chance of spoiling the game.” Germaine paled. She said, very low: “So that’s what the men meant by their subtle remarks and funny looks.” “Of course, that’s what they meant,” laughed Merrick. “ Everybody’s wise to him. And they got him where he belongs to-morrow—-on the bench.” “Tt seems that you are very happy about it,” said Germaine, thinking over. something. He leaned closer. “‘ Why shouldn’t I be? Now that you know what sort of a skunk your Apollo is, I mightn’t look so bad to you.” Her answer was to leave the store. _ That night, when Steve came over, his usual blithesomeness was missing. Ger- maine didn’t wait for him to speak. ‘Vou are relegated to the third team to- morrow, aren’t you?” she began. she ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “Yes. Who told you?” ‘“* Butcher Merrick.” “He would,” Ferris replied with sudden vehemence. ‘He told me why, too,” she went on in a low voice, filled with emotion. “He did that, too?” “Yes. He said you were ”—she paused for effect—* yellow.” “What!” Steve leaped to his feet. “ That’s a lie.” “He said every one knew it.” Steve hung his head. “So that’s what’s the matter with all the fellows,” he mut- tered. “Yes,” she retorted. ‘ And what are you going to do about it?” “What can I do?” he groaned. “What can you do? You can show some spirit. You can make the coach let you get in that game to-morrow.” “Oh, God,” he moaned, “ it’s awful.” “It’s awful the way you’ve allowed your- self to be a coward; to make a laughing stock of me; because you’re afraid—afraid of your beauteous face.” “Germaine,” he implored. She turned from him. ashamed. I could—die. I never thought it of you, Steve Ferris. To be ridiculed as a cheap Apollo. I wanted you to be a man, and you’re a—you’re a—Handsome Harold.” ‘* Germaine,” that?” “Of course I mean it. Do you think I want to be tied to a—an Apollo, sneered at by the whole campus as yellow? What of your wonderful looks! Forget them for once, and be a man.” Ferris mumbled incoherently. She stood adamant. “ Leave Apollo,” she said. Steve stumbled toward his room. Never could he have imagined that fiery, scornful little girl, lifting her tear-stained face to the sky, weeping and murmuring: “ Forgive me. If he only forgives me.” “Oh, I’m so he cried, “you. mean me, IV. Next afternoon when the whistle sounded Steve watched from the side lines, (e(0) DOOKS mie (EO)