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قراءة كتاب A Quarter-Back's Pluck: A Story of College Football
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
A Quarter-Back's Pluck: A Story of College Football
href="@public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@40668@[email protected]#CHAPTER_XXVII" class="pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">Woes of a Naturalist
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
| “Smash and hammer; hammer and smash!” |
| “The pigskin struck him full in the back” |
| “Clarence McFadden, He Wanted to Waltz” |
| “There was a rush to where Phil lay” |
A QUARTER-BACK’S PLUCK
CHAPTER I
MOVING DAY
Phil Clinton looked critically at the rickety old sofa. Then he glanced at his chum, Tom Parsons. Next he lifted, very cautiously, one end of the antiquated piece of furniture. The sofa bent in the middle, much as does a ship with a broken keel.
“It—it looks like a mighty risky job to move it, Tom,” said Phil. “It’s broken right through the center.”
“I guess it is,” admitted Tom sorrowfully. Then he lifted the head of the sofa, and warned by an ominous creaking, he lowered it gently to the floor of the college room which he and his chum, Sid Henderson, were about to leave, with the assistance of Phil Clinton to help them move. “Poor old sofa,” went on Tom. “You’ve had a hard life. I’m afraid your days are numbered.”
“But you’re not going to leave it here, for some measly freshman to lie on, are you, Tom?” asked Phil anxiously.
“Not much!” was the quick response.
“Nor the old chair?”
“Nope!”
“Nor the alarm clock?”
“Never! Even if it doesn’t keep time, and goes off in the middle of the night. No, Phil, we’ll take ’em along to our new room. But, for the life of me, I don’t see how we’re going to move that sofa. It will collapse if we lift both ends at once.”
“I suppose so, but we’ve got to take it, even if we move it in sections, Tom.”
“Of course, only I don’t see——”
“I have it!” cried Phil suddenly. “I know how to do it!”
“How?”
“Splice it.”
“Splice it? What do you think it is—a rope ladder? You must be in love, or getting over the measles.”
“No, I mean just what I say. We’ll splice it. You wait. I’ll go down cellar, and get some pieces of board from the janitor. Also a hammer and some nails. We’ll save the old sofa yet, Tom.”
“All right, go ahead. More power to ye, as Bricktop Molloy would say. I wonder if he’s coming back this term?”
“Yep. Post graduate course, I hear. He wouldn’t miss the football team for anything. Well, you hold down things here until I come back. If the new freshmen who are to occupy this room come along, tell ’em we’ll be moved by noon.”
“I doubt it; but go ahead. I’ll try to be comfortable until your return, dearest,” and with a mocking smile Tom Parsons sank down into an easy chair that threatened to collapse under his substantial bulk. From the faded cushions a cloud of dust arose, and set Tom to sneezing so hard that the old chair creaked and rattled, as if it would fall apart.
“Easy! Easy there, old chap!” exclaimed the tall, good-looking lad, as he peered on either side of the seat. “Don’t go back on me now. You’ll soon have a change of climate, and maybe that will be good for your old bones.”
He settled back, stuck his feet out before him, and gazed about the room. It was a very much dismantled apartment. In the center was piled a collection of baseball bats, tennis racquets, boxing gloves, foils, catching gloves, a football, some running trousers, a couple of sweaters, and a nondescript collection of books. There were also a couple of trunks, while, flanking the pile, was the old sofa and the arm chair. On top of all the alarm clock was ticking comfortably away, as happy as though moving from one college dormitory to another was a most matter-of-fact proceeding. The hands pointed to one o’clock, when it was, as Tom ascertained by looking at his watch, barely nine; but a little thing like that did not seem to give the clock any concern.
“I do hope Phil can rig up some scheme so we can move the sofa,” murmured the occupant of the easy chair. “That’s like part of ourselves now. It will make the new room seem more like home. I wonder where Sid can be? This is more of his moving than it is Phil’s, but Sid always manages to get out of hard work. Phil is anxious to room with us, I guess.”
Tom Parsons stretched his legs out a little farther, and let his gaze once more roam about the room. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation, as his eye caught sight of something on the wall.
“Came near forgetting that,” he said as he arose, amid another cloud of dust from the chair, and removed from a spot on the wall, behind the door, the picture of a pretty girl. “I never