Center Rush Rowland

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Barbour Ralph Henry. Center Rush Rowland

CHAPTER I. ROWLAND ARRIVES

CHAPTER II. A CHANCE ACQUAINTANCE

CHAPTER III. GETTING SETTLED

CHAPTER IV. FOUND – A ROOMMATE

CHAPTER V. SCHOOL BEGINS

CHAPTER VI. THE ENEMY CALLS

CHAPTER VII. THE FIGHT

CHAPTER VIII. IRA DECLINES AN INVITATION

CHAPTER IX. AN ULTIMATUM

CHAPTER X. ON THE FOURTH SQUAD

CHAPTER XI. IRA RENEWS AN ACQUAINTANCE

CHAPTER XII. IN THE LINE-UP

CHAPTER XIII. A CONFERENCE

CHAPTER XIV. HARD KNOCKS

CHAPTER XV. PARKINSON HAS A CHANGE OF HEART

CHAPTER XVI. IRA PLANS

CHAPTER XVII. THROUGH THE ENEMY’S LINE

CHAPTER XVIII “OLD EARNEST”

CHAPTER XIX. CALLERS

CHAPTER XX. BEFORE THE GAME

CHAPTER XXI. PARKINSON SCORES

CHAPTER XXII. COACH DRISCOLL APOLOGISES

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“Not what you’d call a very good beginning,” thought Ira, ruefully, as, followed by the somewhat puzzled looks of the group in front of the gymnasium, he made his way across the campus. “It was his fault, though. There wasn’t any call for me to stand around idle and get jabbed in the nose. Just the same, it would have been better if I’d gone on about my business instead of trying to get a rise out of them. Guess what you need to do, son, is keep your hands in your pockets and your mouth shut!”

For the following hour he was very busy. Mrs. Anstruther regretfully informed him that all her rooms were engaged, and the same announcement awaited him at Baker’s. It was at the latter house that the mysterious symbols were satisfactorily explained. “R,” he was told, meant that the house offered rooms only, while “R & B” stood for room and board. Ira mentally called himself an idiot for not having guessed as much. At a little past one he gave up the search long enough to perch himself at a counter in a lunch-room on School Street. A sign over the doorway held the inscription “The Eggery,” and, judging from the fact that fully half the patrons in sight were boys of ages from fourteen to twenty, it was the favourite resort for hungry Parkinsonians. There were many small tables at the back, but all were occupied, and Ira finally found an empty stool in front of the long counter. The school colours, brown and white, were lavishly displayed, and there were many framed photographs of school teams and numerous unframed posters on the walls. These, however, interested Ira less than the neat sign which proclaimed the restaurant’s offerings, for he had eaten his breakfast on alighting from the Portland train in Boston, and that had been quite early, and he was now extremely hungry in spite of the warmth of the day.

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Outside, Johnston chatted merrily as he conducted his companion around the corner of Main Street and finally brought up before a three-story house set close to the sidewalk. It showed evidences of past grandeur, but the buff paint was peeling away from the narrow porch and stores had been built close to it on either side. The first floor was occupied by a tailor’s establishment on the right and by the agency of a spring-water company on the left. Johnston gaily pointed out the convenience of having your trousers pressed on the premises as they waited in the hallway. Presently, in response to the tinkling of a faraway bell, footsteps creaked on the stairs and a tall and angular woman came into sight.

“Good afternoon and everything,” greeted Johnston. “You don’t remember me, Mrs. Magoon, but we were very dear friends once. I used to come here to call on Dan Phillips a couple of years ago.”

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