The only possible subst.i.tutes were Hepworth and Biggs, neither of them first cla.s.s men but pa.s.sable, and Fatty Rose. The two former, however, had gone for the day to Calgary, and Fatty Rose was hopelessly slow.

Sam discussed the distressing situation with such members of the team as could be hastily got together.

"Dere's dat new feller," suggested Joe.

"That's so," said Vial, familiarly known as Bottles. "That chap Sykes, Farwell's friend. He's a dandy dribbler. He could take Ca.s.sap's place on left wing and let Ca.s.sap take goal."

With immense relief the team accepted this solution of the difficulty.

But gloom still covered Sam's face. "He's only been here two weeks," he said, "and you know darn well the rule calls for four."

"Oh, hang it!" said Bottles, "he's going to be a resident all right.

He's a real resident right now, and anyway, they won't know anything about it."

"Oh, cut it out," said Sam, suddenly flaring into wrath. "You know we can't do that sort of thing. It ain't the game and we ain't goin' to do it."

"What ain't the game?" enquired Larry, who had come upon the anxious and downcast group.

Farwell told him the calamitous news and explained the problem under discussion. "We'd play Sykes, only he hasn't been here a month yet, and Sam won't stand for it," he said.

"Of course Sam won't stand for it, and the Captain is right," said Larry. "Is there n.o.body else, Sam?" Sam shook his head despondently.

"Would I be any good, Sam? I am not keen about it, but if you think I could take Ca.s.sap's place on left wing, he could take goal."

Sam brightened up a little. "Guess we can't do no better," he said doubtfully. "I mean," he added in answer to the shout of laughter from the team--"Aw, shut up, can that cackle. We know the Master hates football an' this is goin' to be a real fightin' game. He'll get all knocked about an' I don't want that. You know he'll be takin' all kinds of chances."

"Oh, quit, Sam. I am in pretty good shape," said Larry. "They can't kill me. That's the best I can do anyway, so let's get to them."

The situation was sufficiently gloomy to stir Joe to his supremest efforts and to kindle Sam's spirit to a blazing flame. "We don't need Sykes nor n.o.body else," he shouted to his men as they moved on to the field. "They can wear their boots out on that defence line of ours an'

be derned to 'em. An', Bottles, you got to play the game of your life to-day. None of your fancy embroidery, just plain knittin'. Every feller on the ball an' every feller play to his man. There'll be a lot of females hangin' around, but we don't want any frills for the girls to admire. But all at it an' all the time." Sam's little red eyes glowed with even a more fiery hue than usual; his rat-like face a.s.sumed its most belligerent aspect.

Before the match Larry took the Eagle Hill captain, a young Englishman who had been trying for ten years to make a living on a ranch far up among the foothills and was only beginning to succeed, to his mother, who had been persuaded to witness the game. They found her in Kathleen's care and under instruction from young Farwell as to the fundamental principles of the game. Near them a group of men were standing, among whom were Switzer, Waring-Gaunt, and Jack Romayne, listening to Farwell's dissertation.

"You see, Mrs. Gwynne," he said, "no one may handle the ball--head, feet, body, may be used, but not the hands."

"But I understand they sometimes hurt each other, Mr. Farwell."

"Oh, accidents will happen even on the farm, Mrs. Gwynne. For instance, Coleman this morning had a horse step on his foot, necessitating Larry's going on."

"Is Lawrence going to play?" said Mrs. Gwynne. "Ah, here he is.

Lawrence, are you in good condition? You have not been playing."

"I am not really very fit, Mother, not very hard, but I have been running a good deal. I don't expect I shall be much use. Sam is quite dubious about it."

"He will be all right, Mrs. Gwynne," said Farwell confidently. "He is the fastest runner in the team. If he were only twenty pounds heavier and if he were a bit more keen about the game he would be a star."

"Why don't they play Sykes?" inquired Kathleen. "I heard some of the boys say this morning that Sykes was going to play. He is quite wonderful, I believe."

"He is," replied Larry, "quite wonderful, but unfortunately he is not eligible. But let me introduce Mr. Duckworth, Captain of our enemy."

Mrs. Gwynne received the young man with a bright smile. "I am sorry I cannot wish you victory, and all the more now that my own son is to be engaged. But I don't understand, Larry," she continued, "why Mr. Sykes cannot play."

"Why, because there's a League regulation, Mother, that makes a month's residence in the district necessary to a place on the team.

Unfortunately Sykes has been here only two weeks, and so we are unwilling to put one over on our gallant foe. Got to play the game, eh, Duckworth?"

Duckworth's face grew fiery red. "Yes, certainly," he said. "Rather an awkward rule but--"

"You see, Mother, we want to eliminate every sign of professionalism,"

said Larry, "and emphasise the principle of local material for clubs."

"Ah, I see, and a very good idea, I should say," said his mother. "The Eagle Hill team, for instance, will be made up of Eagle Hill men only.

That is really much better for the game because you get behind your team all the local pride and enthusiasm."

"A foolish rule, I call it," said Switzer abruptly to Kathleen, "and you can't enforce it anyway. Who can tell the personality of a team ten, twenty or fifty miles away?"

"I fancy they can tell themselves," said Jack Romayne. "Their Captain can certify to his men."

"Aha!" laughed Switzer. "That's good. The Captain, I suppose, is keen to win. Do you think he would keep a man off his team who is his best player, and who may bring him the game?" Switzer's face was full of scorn.

"I take it they are gentlemen," was Romayne's quiet rejoinder.

"Of course, Mr. Romayne," said Mrs. Gwynne. "That gets rid of all the difficulty. Otherwise it seems to me that all the pleasure would be gone from the contest, the essential condition of which is keeping to the rules."

"Good for you, Mother. You're a real sport," said Larry.

"Besides," replied his mother, "we have Scripture for it. You remember what it says? 'If a man strive for masteries yet is he not crowned except he strive lawfully.' 'Except he strive lawfully,' you see. The crown he might otherwise win would bring neither honour nor pleasure."

"Good again, Mother. You ought to have a place on the League committee.

We shall have that Scripture entered on the rules. But I must run and dress. Farwell, you can take charge of Duckworth."

But Duckworth was uneasy to be gone. "If you will excuse me, Mrs.

Gwynne, I must get my men together."

"Well, Mr. Duckworth," said Mrs. Gwynne, smiling on him as she gave him her hand, "I am sorry we cannot wish you a victory, but we can wish you your very best game and an honourable defeat."

"Thank you," said Duckworth. "I feel you have done your best."

"Come and see us afterward, Mr. Duckworth. What a splendid young man,"

she continued, as Duckworth left the party and set off to get his men together with the words "except he strive lawfully" ringing in his ears.

"She's a wonder," he said to himself. "I wonder how it is she got to me as she has. I know. She makes me think--" But Duckworth refused even to himself to say of whom she made him think. "Except he strive lawfully"

the crown would bring "neither honour nor pleasure." Those words, and the face which had suddenly been recalled to Duckworth's memory reconstructed his whole scheme of football diplomacy. "By George, we cannot play Liebold; we can't do it. The boys will kick like steers, but how can we? I'm up against a fierce proposition, all right."

And so he found when he called his men together and put to them the problem before him. "It seems a rotten time to bring this matter up just when we are going on to the ground, but I never really thought much about it till that little lady put it to me as I told you. And, fellows, I have felt as if it were really up to me to put it before you. They have lost their goal man, Coleman--there's no better in the League--and because of this infernal rule they decline to put on a cracking good player. They are playing the game on honour, and they are expecting us to do the same, and as that English chap says, they expect us to be gentlemen. I apologise to you all, and if you say go on as we are, I will go on because I feel I ought to have kicked before. But I do so under protest and feeling like a thief. I suggest that Harremann take Liebold's place. Awfully sorry about it, Liebold, and I apologise to you. I can't tell you how sorry I am, boys, but that's how it is with me."

There was no time for discussion, and strangely enough there was little desire for it, the Captain's personality and the action of the Wolf Willow team carrying the proposition through. Harremann took his place on the team, and Liebold made his contribution that day from the side lines. But the team went on to the field with a sense that whatever might be the outcome of the match they had begun the day with victory.

The match was contested with the utmost vigour, not to say violence; but there was a absence of the rancour which had too often characterised the clashing of these teams on previous occasions, the Eagle Hill team carrying on to the field a new respect for their opponents as men who had shown a true sporting spirit. And by the time the first quarter was over their action in subst.i.tuting an inferior player for Liebold for honour's sake was known to all the members of the Wolf Willow team, and awakened in them and in their friends among the spectators a new respect for their enemy. The match resulted in a victory for the home team, but the generous applause which followed the Eagle Hill team from the field and which greeted them afterward at the dinner where they occupied an honoured place at the table set apart for distinguished guests, and the excellent dinner provided by the thrifty Ladies' Aid of All Saints Church went far to soothe their wounded spirits and to atone for their defeat.

"Awfully fine of you, Duckworth," said Larry, as they left the table together. "That's the sort of thing that makes for clean sport."

"I promised to see your mother after the match," said Duckworth. "Can we find her now?"