Glengarry Schooldays [71]
up his lines, and with another crack of his whip, cried, "Salute ze ladies!" when, with true equine courtesy, they rose upon their hind legs and gracefully pawed the empty air. Finally, after depositing his load amid the admiring exclamations of the crowd, he touched their tails with the point of his whip, gave a sudden "Whish!" and like hounds from the leash his horses sprang off at full gallop.
One after another the teams from the Front swung round and emptied their loads.
"Man! what a crowd!" said Hughie to Don. "There must be a hundred at least."
"Yes, and there's Hec Ross and Jimmie Ben," said Don, "and sure enough, Farquhar Begh. We'll be catching it to-day, whatever," continued Don, cheerfully.
"Pshaw! we licked as big men before. It isn't size," said Hughie, with far more confidence than he felt.
It was half an hour before the players were ready to begin. The rules of the game were few and simple. The play was to be one hour each way, with a quarter of an hour rest between. There was to be no tripping, no hitting on the shins when the ball was out of the scrimmage, and all disputes were to be settled by the umpire, who on this occasion was the master of the Sixteenth school.
"He's no good," grumbled Hughie to his mother, who was even more excited than her boy himself. "He can't play himself, and he's too easy scared."
"Never mind," said his mother, brightly; "perhaps he won't have much to do."
"Much to do! Well, there's Jimmie Ben, and he's an awful fighter, but I'm not going to let him frighten me," said Hughie, savagely; "and there's Dan Munro, too, they say he's a terror, and Hec Ross. Of course we've got just as good men, but they won't fight. Why, Johnnie 'Big Duncan' and Don, there, are as good as any of them, but they won't fight."
The mother smiled a little.
"What a pity! But why should they fight? Fighting is not shinny."
"No, that's what the master says. And he's right enough, too, but it's awful hard when a fellow doesn't play fair, when he trips you up or clubs you on the shins when you're not near the ball. You feel like hitting him back."
"Yes, but that's the very time to show self-control."
"I know. And that's what the master says."
"Of course it is," went on his mother. "That's what the game is for, to teach the boys to command their tempers. You remember 'he that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city.'
"O, it's all right," said Hughie, "and easy enough to talk about."
"What's easy enough to talk about?" asked the master, coming up.
"Taking a city," said Mrs. Murray, smiling at him.
The master looked puzzled.
"Mother means," said Hughie, "keeping one's temper in shinny. But I'm telling her it's pretty hard when a fellow clubs you on the shins when you're away from the ball."
"Yes, of course it's hard," said the master, "but it's better than being a cad," which brought a quick flush to Hughie's face, but helped him more than anything else to keep himself in hand that day.
"Can't understand a man," said the master, "who goes into a game and then quits it to fight. If it's fighting, why fight, but if it's shinny, play the game. Big team against us, eh, captain?" he continued, looking at the Front men, who were taking a preliminary spin upon the ice, "and pretty swift, too."
"If they play fair, I don't mind," said Hughie. "I'm not afraid of them; but if they get slugging--"
"Well, if they get slugging," said the master, "we'll play the game and win, sure."
"Well, it's time to begin," said Hughie, and with a good by to his mother he turned away.
"Remember, take a city," she called out after him.
"All right, muzzie, I'll remember."
In a few moments the teams were in position opposite each other. The team from the Front made a formidable show in weight and muscle. At the right of the forward line stood the redoubtable Dan Munro, the stocky, tricky, fierce captain of the Front team, and with him three rather small boys in red shirts. The defense consisted of Hec Ross, the much-famed and
One after another the teams from the Front swung round and emptied their loads.
"Man! what a crowd!" said Hughie to Don. "There must be a hundred at least."
"Yes, and there's Hec Ross and Jimmie Ben," said Don, "and sure enough, Farquhar Begh. We'll be catching it to-day, whatever," continued Don, cheerfully.
"Pshaw! we licked as big men before. It isn't size," said Hughie, with far more confidence than he felt.
It was half an hour before the players were ready to begin. The rules of the game were few and simple. The play was to be one hour each way, with a quarter of an hour rest between. There was to be no tripping, no hitting on the shins when the ball was out of the scrimmage, and all disputes were to be settled by the umpire, who on this occasion was the master of the Sixteenth school.
"He's no good," grumbled Hughie to his mother, who was even more excited than her boy himself. "He can't play himself, and he's too easy scared."
"Never mind," said his mother, brightly; "perhaps he won't have much to do."
"Much to do! Well, there's Jimmie Ben, and he's an awful fighter, but I'm not going to let him frighten me," said Hughie, savagely; "and there's Dan Munro, too, they say he's a terror, and Hec Ross. Of course we've got just as good men, but they won't fight. Why, Johnnie 'Big Duncan' and Don, there, are as good as any of them, but they won't fight."
The mother smiled a little.
"What a pity! But why should they fight? Fighting is not shinny."
"No, that's what the master says. And he's right enough, too, but it's awful hard when a fellow doesn't play fair, when he trips you up or clubs you on the shins when you're not near the ball. You feel like hitting him back."
"Yes, but that's the very time to show self-control."
"I know. And that's what the master says."
"Of course it is," went on his mother. "That's what the game is for, to teach the boys to command their tempers. You remember 'he that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city.'
"O, it's all right," said Hughie, "and easy enough to talk about."
"What's easy enough to talk about?" asked the master, coming up.
"Taking a city," said Mrs. Murray, smiling at him.
The master looked puzzled.
"Mother means," said Hughie, "keeping one's temper in shinny. But I'm telling her it's pretty hard when a fellow clubs you on the shins when you're away from the ball."
"Yes, of course it's hard," said the master, "but it's better than being a cad," which brought a quick flush to Hughie's face, but helped him more than anything else to keep himself in hand that day.
"Can't understand a man," said the master, "who goes into a game and then quits it to fight. If it's fighting, why fight, but if it's shinny, play the game. Big team against us, eh, captain?" he continued, looking at the Front men, who were taking a preliminary spin upon the ice, "and pretty swift, too."
"If they play fair, I don't mind," said Hughie. "I'm not afraid of them; but if they get slugging--"
"Well, if they get slugging," said the master, "we'll play the game and win, sure."
"Well, it's time to begin," said Hughie, and with a good by to his mother he turned away.
"Remember, take a city," she called out after him.
"All right, muzzie, I'll remember."
In a few moments the teams were in position opposite each other. The team from the Front made a formidable show in weight and muscle. At the right of the forward line stood the redoubtable Dan Munro, the stocky, tricky, fierce captain of the Front team, and with him three rather small boys in red shirts. The defense consisted of Hec Ross, the much-famed and