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Test Bank for Operations Management Creating Value Along

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Test Bank for Operations Management: Creating Value Along

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Test Bank for Operations Management: Creating Value Along

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Solution manual for Operations and Supply Chain Management

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Test Bank for Operations and Supply Chain Management 9th
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Test Bank for Operations and Supply Chain Management

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Solution Manual for Operations and Supply Chain Management

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Solution Manual for Operations Management Sustainability

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Solution Manual for Managing Operations Across the Supply

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 of trade so that more firms compete for a larger, global market. The ease with which consumers can compare
products and prices online has also increased competitiveness.

1-5. Student answers will vary. The information can be accessed directly from the Internet or through the hyperlinks
provided in Chapter 1 of the text’s homepage located at www.wiley.com/college/russell.

1-6. Student answers will vary.

1-7. Students can begin this assignment by accessing Fortune’s homepage and referring to the Fortune 500 or
Global 500 by industry. The leaders in each industry are listed and there is usually some discussion of industry
concerns. Individual data on companies can be found at Hoover’s website (www.hoovers.com).

1-8. Student answers will vary.

1-9. Student answers will vary.

1-10. Student answers will vary. The information can be accessed directly from the Internet or through the hyperlinks
provided in Chapter 1 of the text’s homepage located at www.wiley.com/college/russell.

1-11. The WTO is an international organization that works to establish and enforce rules of trade between nations.
WTO agreements are ratified by the governing bodies of the nations involved. WTO’s dispute settlement
process interprets agreements and rules on violations, thereby avoiding political or military conflict. The group
promotes free trade and more recently, has helped developing nations enter the trade arena on more equitable
grounds. Currently, there are 147 member nations. Membership is achieved by meeting certain environmental,
human rights, and trade criteria, agreeing to abide by the rules of the organization, and being approved by two-
thirds of the existing membership. See www.wto.org

1-12. Student answers will vary. Access www.executiveplanet.com

1-13. Student answers will vary. Access www.transparency.org

1-14. Student answers will vary. Access http://www.justice.gov/criminal/fraud/fcpa/ for basic information.

1-15. Students will find a variety of answers for this question. In general, it is easy to find mission or vision
statements, but more difficult to find evidence of the mission or vision being applied.

1-16. Strategy formulation consists of four basic steps: (1) defining a primary task—what is the purpose of the firm?
What the firm is in the business of doing? (2) assessing core competencies—what does a firm do better than
anyone else? (3) determining order winners and order qualifiers—what wins orders in the marketplace? What
qualifies a product or service to be considered for purchase? (4) positioning the firm—what one or two
important things should the firm choose to concentrate on? How should the firm compete in the marketplace?
Student answers will vary. Most start-ups try too much too soon. It’s difficult to stick with what you do best.

1-17. Core competencies are the essential capabilities that create a firm’s sustainable competitive advantage. They
have usually been built up over time and cannot be easily imitated. For example, First National Bank, one of
our local banks, is known as a risk taker. Its core competence is its ability to size up the potential of investment
opportunities. Through its familiarity with local businesses and its experience in loan making, the bank has
developed the ability to predict which loans are worth taking extra risks.
Bonomo’s, a successful retail store, is known for having just the right item in stock for special occasions.
The store stocks a variety of stylish women’s clothing, but not too much of each style. They specialize in
knowing individual customers and even keep track of evening wear purchases so that no one else at a particular
party will be wearing the same dress.
Toyota emphasizes superior quality at a price below its competitors with its Lexus line of automobiles. To
establish a special reputation for quality over the lifetime of the car, the company set up separate sales and
service facilities. When it is time for servicing, Lexus owners can have their vehicle picked up and delivered
to their home or place of business. The car returns the same day, washed and vacuumed, often with a gift
certificate inside for a night on the town complements of the dealer.

1-18. While the answers to this question vary considerably, most students feel competent in the technical areas of
their major, but uncomfortable with their communication skills (both oral and written) and their ability to make
decisions. This opens the way for more project-oriented assignments from the instructor. The question also
helps students prepare for the inevitable interview question—what are your strengths and weaknesses?
1-19. Order qualifiers are characteristics of a product or service that qualify it to be considered for purchase by a
customer. An order winner is the characteristic of a product or service that wins orders in the marketplace—
the final factor in the purchasing decision.

1-20. a. Most companies approach quality in a defensive or reactive mode; quality is confined to minimizing defect
rates or conforming to design specifications. To compete on quality, companies must view quality as an
opportunity to please the customer, not just as a way to avoid problems or to reduce rework costs. The
manufacturer of Rolex watches competes on quality.
b. Companies that compete on cost relentlessly pursue the elimination of all waste. The entire cost structure
is examined for reduction potential, not just direct labor costs. High volume production and automation
may or may not provide the most cost-effective alternative. Wal-Mart competes on cost.
c. Flexibility includes the ability to produce a wide variety of products, to introduce new products and to
modify existing products quickly, and, in general, to respond to customer needs. National Bicycle
Industrial Company competes on flexibility.
d. Competing on speed requires a new type of organization characterized by fast moves, fast adaptations,
and tight linkages. Citicorp competes on speed.
e. Competing on dependability requires a stable environment, adequate resources, high standards for
performance, and tight control. Maytag competes on dependability.
f. Competing on service requires closeness to the customer, availability of resources, attention to detail, and
flexible operations. Ritz-Carlton competes on service.

1-21. Operations can play two important roles in corporate strategy: (1) it can provide support for the strategy of a
firm (help with order qualifiers), and (2) it can serve as a firm’s distinctive competence (win orders).

1-22. Strategic decisions in operations and supply chain management involve products and services, processes and
technology, capacity and facilities, human resources, quality, sourcing, and operating systems.

1-23. Policy deployment tries to focus everyone in an organization on common goals and priorities by translating
corporate strategy into measurable objectives down through the various functions and levels of the
organization. As a result, everyone in the organization should understand the strategic plan, be able to derive
several goals from the plan, and determine how each goal ties into their own daily activities.

1-24. The balanced scorecard examines a firm’s performance in four critical areas – its finances, customers,
processes and capacity for learning and growing. Although operational excellence is important in all four areas,
the tools in operations are most closely associated with process.

1-25. Student answers will vary.

1-26. Student answers will vary. The balanced scorecard worksheet in Table 2.1 is helpful. Finances might refer to
future income, customers to potential employers who are interested in both grades and experience, processes
to how students will raise their grades and gain experience, and learning and growing to developing skills in
several areas.
Solutions to Problems
1-1. The Blacksburg store is the most productive.

Store Annandale Blacksburg Charlottesville Danville

Sales volume $40,000 $12,000 $60,000 $25,000
Labor hours 250 60 500 200
Productivity $160 $200 $120 $125

1-2. a. Charlottesville is the most productive.

b. Based on productivity, the Blacksburg store should be closed. Other factors to consider include total
revenue, potential for growth, and options for reducing costs.

Annandale Blacksburg Charlottesville Danville

Sales volume $40,000 $12,000 $60,000 $25,000
Labor hours 250 60 500 200
Labor cost/hr $6.75 $6.50 $6.00 $5.50
Rent $1,800 $2,000 $1,200 $800
Productivity $11 $5 $14 $13

1-3. By number, Jim was more productive last year. By weight, Jim was more productive this year.

Last yr This yr
Hours fishing 4 6
Bass caught 12 15
Average weight 20 25
Bass/hr 60 62.5

1-4. Productivity could be measured by total account dollars per hour worked, new account dollars per hour worked
or existing account dollars per hour worked. Bates is the most productive based on total output. Albert and
Duong have the most new accounts, and thus the greater potential returns in the future. However, Duong cannot
work many more hours a week and Bates is only working half time. Bates has the potential to sell more if he
works more hours.

Agents Albert Bates Cressey Duong

New accounts $100,000 $40,000 $80,000 $200,000
Existing accounts $40,000 $40,000 $150,000 $100,000
Labor hours 40 20 60 80
Total $/hr $3,500.00 $4,000.00 $3,833.33 $3,750.00
$ New accts/hr $2,500.00 $2,000.00 $1,333.33 $2,500.00
$ Existing accts/hr $1,000.00 $2,000.00 $2,500.00 $1,250.00

1-5. The U.S. is the most productive.

Labor Hours Units of Output Productivity

U.S. 89.5 136 1.52
Germany 83.6 100 1.20
Japan 72.7 102 1.40

1-6. Omar should probably close the plant in Guadalajara because its multifactor productivity is the lowest, its labor
productivity is the second lowest, and its output is the least of the four plants.
 Units (in 000’s) Cinncinnati Frankfurt Guadalajara Bejiing
Finished goods 10,000 12,000 5,000 8,000
Work-in-process 1,000 2,200 3,000 6,000

Costs (in 000’s)

Labor costs $3,500 $4,200 $2,500 $800
Material costs $3,500 $3,000 $2,000 $2,500
Energy costs $1,000 $1,500 $1,200 $800
Transportation costs $250 $2,500 $2,000 $5,000
Overhead costs $1,200 $3,000 $2,500 $500

Labor productivity 3.14 3.38 3.20 17.50

Total productivity 1.16 1.00 0.78 1.46

1-7. Hall is the most productive in terms of rushing yards and touchdowns per carry. However, Dayne has highest
number of rushing yards and touchdowns. Using “carries” as the input variable skews the results. Productivity
is not always the best measure of performance.

Candidates Hall Walker Dayne

Rushing yards 2,110 3,623 6,925
# Carries 105 875 1,186
# Touchdowns 15 20 70

Yards/carry 20.10 4.14 5.84

Touchdowns/carry 0.14 0.02 0.06

1-8. Productivity decreases from week to week.

Installation 1 2 3
Square Yards 1,225 1,435 2,500
# workers 4 3 5
# hours 3 5 6
Square yds/hr 102.08 95.67 83.33

1-9.

Center 1 2 3 3c.
Pieces processed 1,000 2,000 3,000 5,000
Workers/hr 10 5 2 2
Hourly wage rate $5.50 $10 $12 $12
Overhead/hr $10 $25 $50 $80
Multifactor productivity 15.38 26.67 40.54 48.08

a. Work center # 3 is the most productive.

b. With a 10% raise in center 1, productivity goes down to 14.18 pieces per dollar spent.
c. With new equipment in center 3, productivity goes up to 48 pieces.
Install the new equipment.

1-10. Material productivity is stable over the 4 weeks. Labor productivity increases in week 2 and decreases in
weeks 3 and 4.
 Week 1 2 3 4
Units of output 2,000 4,000 5,000 7,000
# workers 4 4 5 6
Hours per week 40 48 56 70
Labor cost per hour $10 $10 $10 $10
Material (lbs.) 286 570 720 1,000
Material cost per lb. $4 $4 $4 $4

Labor productivity 1.25 2.08 1.79 1.67

Material productivity 1.75 1.75 1.74 1.75
Multifactor productivity 0.73 0.95 0.88 0.85

1-11. John is the most productive.

Jake Josh Jennifer John

# ads sold 100 50 200 35
# hours spent 40 15 85 10
Output/hr 2.50 3.33 2.35 3.50

1-12. Choose Cold Case.

Alaskan Brr Cold Deep

Seal Frost Case Freeze
Purchase cost
$3,270 $4,000 $4,452 $5,450
Daily energy consumption (kwh) 3.61 3.88 6.68 29.07
Cost per kwh
$0.10 $0.10 $0.10 $0.10
Daily energy cost $0.36 $0.39 $0.67 $2.91
Daily purchase cost $2.99 $3.65 $4.07 $4.98
Total cost $3.35 $4.04 $4.73 $7.88
Volume (cu ft) 25 35 49 79
Productivity (cu ft/$) 7.47 8.66 10.35 10.02
Cost/cu ft $0.13 $0.12 $0.10 $0.10
CASE SOLUTION 1.1: Visualize This

1. It is difficult to follow the four steps of strategy formulation for this case. Students will be able to easily
identify VT’s core competency but will struggle with its primary task, and without a product, it’s impossible
to determine an order winner and order qualifiers. “Developing the next generation of visualization tools” is
probably not a marketable task. Students will come up with a variety of ideas from their Internet search.

2. Student answers will vary depending on how the primary task is derived in question 1.

3. That’s the crux of the problem for this case. Isaac needs to find a way to keep his business going to obtain
the capital to pursue his dream. Great for class discussion.

4. (1) and (3) are more in keeping with VT’s earlier projects but require more hardware and do not promise
future business. (2) is the most time-consuming, least challenging, but most sustainable. (4) and (5) are the
most lucrative but do not advance VT’s knowledge of the field.

5. The selection of projects should reinforce the strategy determined by the student. This case is based on an
actual situation. The company chose projects (1) and (3). The museum job consumed so much time and
resources that the company had to turn down the bank training job. Without a “product” and no immediate
repeat business, the company folded and the owner went back to academe. A student took on project (5),
became quite successful and now has operations in three states.

CASE SOLUTION 1.2: Whither an MBA at Strutledge?

1. The board of Regents should look at the proposal carefully and identify first what they are trying to achieve
with this new program. If the program fits within their mission, and if they have the resources to pursue it,
they need to assess the likelihood of their success or failure. It doesn’t appear that the board has sufficient
information or insight to make the decision. A lot of questions remain. The focus of the program (i.e.,
interdisciplinary, problem solving, etc.) doesn’t seem like much of a focus at all. The desire to “try anything”
to get more students is troublesome. A new program that Strutledge can’t support would damage their
reputation. Strutledge needs to gather more information before a decision can be made.

2. Strutledge should go through the process of identifying its primary task. This would include the type of
students it wishes to serve and their future role in society (i.e., community, state, regional, national, global).
A clear assessment of Strutledge’s core competence is also needed. What special resources does the college
have? What is it best known for? How does it compare to other institutions of similar size and mission?

After those issues have been settled, the college needs to find out what its customers (i.e., students) look for
when deciding where to go to school. What are some basic requirements that Strutledge should meet (i.e.,
order qualifiers)? What factor prompts the final determination of which school to attend (i.e., order winner)?
If, as is hinted in the case, the ability to find employment upon graduation is important to prospective students,
then the college should gather information from potential employers about their needs. It may very well be
that an MBA program is needed in the area, but this needs to be determined from data. Only after the
determination has been made, that the area needs another MBA program, should Strutledge explore the
possibility of providing it. If the college concludes that it has the skills and resources necessary to pursue the
task, then it should try to position itself properly in the market and find a special niche for its particular MBA
program.

CASE SOLUTION 1.3 – Weighing Options at the Weight Club

A Balanced Scorecard for the Weight Club

 Dimension Objectives Key Performance Indicator Goal
Generate revenue for first-
Revenue % increase in revenue 30%
Finances
class facility

Growth Attract new customers % increase in customers 25%

Meet or exceed customer

Quality % customers satisfied 100%
Customers

needs

Build sustainable customer

Retention % membership renewals 75%
base

Incr. participation in
# exercise classes/week 12
exercise classes
Fitness
Increase use of personal
# client hours/week 100
trainers
% participation in customer
75%
Processes

Enhance client experience orientation

Client services # massage appointments/week 200
Time required for check-in 1 min
Facilitate use of services
Hours of child care/week 90%
% fully operational 95%
Maintain equipment in top
Equipment maintenance % on regular maintenance
working condition 60%
schedule
% new classes 25
Learning & Growing

Program development Develop professional staff

# innovative suggestions 30
% equipment new or updated 100%
Provide first-class facilities
Facility development Months until facility expanded/
and equipment 6
renovated
Develop management and
Organizational development # persons on Board of Directors 6
administrative skills
# full-time managers 3
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 “Oh well, when the other fellow starts something you’ve got to
keep up with him,” responded Tad with a grin. “I guess it was about
an even thing.”
Back in the hall Tad drew Rodney’s attention to a cabinet against
the wall under the broad, high window. “Trophy case,” he explained.
Inside, behind the glass doors, were a dozen or more footballs, each
inscribed with the score of the game in which it had been used. “The
winning team keeps the ball, you know,” said Tad. “Look at this one
over here. ‘M. H. 28; B. 9.’ That was a peach of a game, I’ll bet. That
was the second year your brother was captain. And here’s the one
the year before. ‘Maple Hill 12; Bursley S. C.’”
There were baseballs there, as well, and a few hockey pucks, and
against the back of the case some faded silk banners whose gold
lettering was well nigh illegible. The latter, Tad explained, were old
track trophies and dated back to what he called the dark ages. On
the walls about the trophy case and all the way down the stairs were
hung dozens of group photographs—football teams, baseball teams,
track and field teams, rowing crews, hockey teams, basket-ball
teams. Under each photograph was set down the year and, in most
cases, cabalistic letters and figures, as, under one group of lightly-
clad youths, the inscription: “M. H. 64½; B. 31½.”
“That’s the 1911 track team,” said Tad. “They slammed it into
Bursley good and hard, didn’t they?”
“Yes,” murmured Rodney. His gaze had wandered to a group of
football players, eighteen sturdy looking youths in togs of whom the
center figure, holding a football on his knees, looked strangely
familiar. It took a second look to identify the youth as Ginger Merrill,
for Ginger in the picture looked years younger, and of course was
without the carefully cared for mustache that nowadays adorned his
upper lip.
“That,” said Tad at Rodney’s shoulder, “was the team that won 12
to 6. That was your brother’s first year as captain. He was only a
Third Former then. Here he is the year before that.”
 Rodney looked where Tad pointed, and finally distinguished his
brother peering over the shoulder of a comrade from the rear row of
the group. He looked in that picture scarcely older than Rodney
himself at the present moment. Tad exhibited him several more
times—as captain of the victorious eleven which had sent Bursley
down to defeat by the 28 to 9 score, as a substitute on a hockey
seven, and as a member of a baseball team which had met defeat.
“Seems to be all over the shop,” grunted Rodney. “Wonder if he
ever did a lick of work when he was here.”
“Who cares?” asked Tad flippantly. “He did a heap of things that
counted just as much.”
“Better not let any of the faculty hear you say that,” laughed
Rodney. “They wouldn’t agree with you.”
“Faculties never did agree with me,” responded Tad, leading the
way down stairs. “I can’t stand the things. I’m in favor of abolishing
’em, Rod.”
 CHAPTER X
RODNEY JOINS THE SQUAD

“W ell, Stanley used to tell wonderful yarns about this place,”

said Rodney as they reached the lower hall, “but I didn’t
believe quite all he said then. I do now. It’s certainly a fine building.
Still——”
“Still what?” asked Tad jealously.
“Well, I don’t see what the idea is in putting so much expense into
a gymnasium, Tad.”
“Why not?”
“We-ell, it seems to me that a building that is used so little——”
“Used so little! Say, you want to come over here some evening
next week and see the gymnastic class at work! And pretty soon
they’ll begin the regular gym work. I guess, Rod, this place is as
much used as any building here. Why, I’ve seen this dressing-room
so full in spring that you couldn’t move around without treading on
some fellow’s toes!”
Tad secured a locker for Rodney and the latter changed to his
football garb. The trousers were a bit too tight at the waist, but by
lacing them not quite close they answered very well. The jacket
fitted better. As for jersey and shoes, Rodney furnished those
himself. Before he was dressed the other candidates began pouring
into the room, and the place, which had been almost deserted when
the two boys arrived, hummed like a beehive. Guy Watson nodded
to Rodney as he took a seat on a neighboring bench, and to
Rodney’s surprise the nod seemed to express toleration rather than
dislike. Captain Doyle came up and said a few words, and Stacey
Trowbridge smiled gravely across at him. A big chap with a good-
natured round face that broke into a dozen creases when he laughed
was Pounder, who played center. “‘Two Hundred Pounder,’ the fellows
used to call him,” explained Tad, “although he only weighs a hundred
and seventy or so. He’s a dandy center. The fellow with the bandage
on his head is Roger Tyson, left half. He’s a wonder. If we had ten
other fellows like old Roger we’d beat everything of our size in the
country.”
“What’s the matter with his head?” asked Rodney.
“Hurt it yesterday. Got an awful crack, they say. It was after you
went. He was down and out for five minutes. Are you all fixed? Let’s
start along, then.”
“I’m going to put you with the kindergarteners to-day, Merrill,”
announced Mr. Cotting when Rodney reported. “I guess you won’t
stay there long. Don’t try to overdo it to-day. Save your muscles.
Gordon, will you take charge of Merrill, please? By the way, you
might give me your name and so on first.” And the coach drew out
his memorandum book and Rodney supplied answers to the
questions he put. Then he trailed off with Gordon, who was fullback
on the first team, and joined a group of tyros at the further side of
the field. Most of them were Fourth Form boys, although there were
three or four older youths in the squad. Gordon was extremely
patient, but it wasn’t difficult to see that he didn’t love his task.
Teaching the rudiments to a group of beginners is rather
uninteresting work. Rodney passed the ball, caught it, fell on it,
practised starts, and went through the usual programme that
afternoon. In comparison with the performance of the others in the
squad his efforts were almost brilliant and Gordon viewed him with
hopeful interest. Once when the ball had eluded him and dribbled its
way to the sideline, Rodney, rescuing it, heard his name spoken, and
looked up to discover the twins standing nearby.
“You’re doing beautifully!” called Matty with enthusiasm. “We’re
awfully proud of you, Rodney, aren’t we, May?”
 “Awfully,” agreed May, calmly emphatic. “And we were sure all the
time that you could play, Rodney!”
“This isn’t playing,” scoffed Rodney. “Anyone can do this sort of
thing!”
He was glad when it was finally over and he could retire to a
bench under one of the stands, draw a blanket around him, and
watch the first and second squads trot about the field in signal work.
On the other side the twins were still looking on, Tad Mudge and
Warren Hoyt in attendance. The twins were not the only
representatives of their sex present, for amongst the spectators from
outside the school Rodney saw quite a number of girls. Later Rodney
joined the twins and Tad—Warren Hoyt had taken himself off—and
walked to the gymnasium steps with them.
“How did it go?” asked Tad with a grin.
Rodney shrugged. “All right. I’ve been through it before. I’m sort
of weak in the knees, though.”
“We thought you played very nicely indeed,” said Matty. “We
watched you all the time. You did much better than those other
boys.”
“I should think I might,” laughed Rodney. “They were all
beginners, I guess.”
“They want us to play croquet,” announced Tad. “I said I would if
you would. Want to?”
“Why yes, if there’s time. Won’t it be pretty late?”
“Not if you get a move on,” answered Tad. “We’ll go ahead. You
hurry up and come over. Matty and I will stand you and May. I’m a
fierce player, but it’s good fun.”
It was good fun, although there was only time before supper for
two hard-fought games, both of which were won by Tad and Matty.
It was Matty, however, who really won, for Tad was even weaker
than Rodney with a croquet mallet. Matty, playing rover, came back
and nursed Tad’s ball through the wickets, and while May later
performed the same service for Rodney, the luck was against them
and they had to accept defeat. On the way across to the cottage Tad
observed:
“I didn’t know you knew the Binner twins. Where’d you run across
them?” Rodney explained and Tad laughed at the picture of the girls
seated atop the fence posts. “They’re funny kids. They’re good-
hearted, though, and lots of fun. Rather pretty, too, eh?”
“I suppose so,” Rodney replied indifferently. “Have they a father? I
never hear them speak of him.”
“No, he died a long time ago I think. And Mrs. Binner is a sort of
an invalid, never goes out much, except to drive in a carriage. They
say she’s awfully nice, but I’ve never seen her. The kids go to high
school and are so smart that they jump a class every year, I guess.”
“They ought to be through pretty soon, then,” laughed Rodney. “If
they’re as clever in school as they are at croquet I can understand
it.”
“Say, can’t they play?” asked Tad admiringly. “Of course, it’s only a
girl’s game, but—hang it, it makes a fellow sort of mad to have
those kids beat him every time! And they can play a pretty decent
game of tennis, too. There’s a neighborhood court over on Dunn
Street. Some time we’ll take the twins and have a four-handed set.
By the way, we didn’t get our game this morning. I forgot it, did
you?”
“Yes, until about noon. I’ll play you to-morrow, if you like.”
“To-morrow’s Sunday, you idiot.”
“Well, we’ll try it some other time. I hope we have something
good for supper. I’m starved!”
Rodney’s first Sunday at school passed quietly and uneventfully.
There was church in the morning for everyone, the boys walking to
and from their chosen place of worship with one of the submasters.
Tad confided to Rodney that there were more Episcopalians than any
other denomination in school because the pews in the Episcopal
church had higher backs and you didn’t have to sit up all the time.
In spite of that attraction, however, Rodney joined the group of
fellows who, in charge of Mr. Cooper, attended service at the little
white Methodist church down by the river. It was a long way down
there and a longer way back, and when Rodney gained the cottage
once more he was quite ready for the Sunday dinner, which at Mrs.
Westcott’s was a very elaborate meal. Rodney topped off with two
dishes of ice cream and two slices of cocoanut layer cake and then
went upstairs and tried to write a letter home. But it was a
wonderful, warm September day and the outdoors called him. So,
after a brief struggle, he took his tablet and fountain pen downstairs
and found a shady spot under a pear tree at the side of the house.
Before he had written more than “Dear Mother and Dad,” however,
he was joined by Tom Trainor and Pete Greenough. A few minutes
later Tad added himself to the group, and Rodney laid his letter
aside. For an hour and more they lay on their backs on the grass
and talked, discussing idly and lazily all the hundred and one
subjects of interest to boys, from the incidents of church going to
the college football situation, including the catching of black bass
and the best way to get money from parents.
“I used to write that I wanted to get my hair cut,” confided Tad
reminiscently, staring up into the branches. “That did pretty well
when I was a youngster——”
“What are you now?” asked Pete Greenough slightingly.
“Shut up! Finally, though, mother wrote me that she had been
keeping a record and that I’d had exactly fifteen haircuts in four
months, and she was afraid my hair might get discouraged and then
I’d be bald. So I had to think up something else.”
“What?” asked Tom Trainor interestedly.
“Subscriptions to school societies and things. At Christmas
vacation father asked me how many societies I belonged to, and I
forgot and said one. That spoiled that.”
 “You know you were lying,” said Pete severely.
“Ye-es, I suppose I was, in a way. But I didn’t think of it then,
honest. I don’t do it any more. Now when I want extra money I
write and tell the truth.”
“What do you say?” asked Rodney.
“I tell them that Pete has borrowed all I had!”
“What do you think of that?” asked Pete indignantly. “I only owe
you seventy-five cents. And I’ll pay you the first money I get, you
fresh kid!”
“Please don’t Pete!” begged Tad. “If you do, I’ll have to think up
something else.”
“Just lend it to me instead,” suggested Tom helpfully. “I don’t
mind.”
“That wouldn’t be lending,” replied Tad. “That would be giving it.”
That letter of Rodney’s didn’t get written until evening.
 CHAPTER XI
KITTY SUPPLIES A SENSATION

O n Sunday Rodney had returned from church by way of River

Street and the sight of Doolittle’s Pharmacy had reminded him
that he had not yet kept his promise to Jack Billings. So on Monday
he slipped down the hill between Latin and English recitations to
settle his indebtedness. Young Mr. Doolittle didn’t remember him
until Rodney recalled the circumstances and informed him that he
wanted to pay for the four ice-cream sodas.
“Oh, you were the fellow that played the trick on Watson, eh?”
asked the clerk with a chuckle. “Say, maybe he wasn’t peeved about
it!”
“Was he? Well, he got them anyway.”
“Yes, he made believe he was going to pay for them himself, and
then when he and his friends had drank ’em he said I was to charge
’em to you.”
“That’s all right. Forty cents, wasn’t it?”
“He’s all the time doing things like that,” continued the clerk
grievedly. “Did I tell you about the time he got a bottle of liniment
off the shelf and emptied it into the sarsaparilla tank when I wasn’t
looking? Well, he did. And Deacon Whittier and Si Moon——”
“What?” laughed Rodney. “Who’d you say?”
“Si Moon; keeps the livery stable,” replied the other, puzzled by
the boy’s amusement. “Know him?”
“No, but I’m going to start a list of names. You’ve got some
corkers around here! What do they call Mr. Moon for short? Sirocer?”
 “They call him Si,” replied the clerk with the hauteur of one who
discovers that he has made a humorous remark and doesn’t know
what it was. “Don’t know what you mean about Si Rocker.”
“Never mind. What happened to old Si-moon?”
“He was sick as a horse, he and the Deacon, too. And——”
“Perhaps it was horse liniment?” suggested Rodney gravely.
“No, ’twa’n’t, it was Hipplepot’s Embrocation. I know because I
found the bottle behind the fountain there. ’Most half empty it was,
too. Might have killed ’em!”
“How did you find out Watson did it?”
“Why, he’d been in here a while before, and I just naturally
suspected him. And when I asked him he owned right up.”
“Well that was honest anyway, wasn’t it? He might have told a lie
about it.”
“Watson wouldn’t,” said the clerk grudgingly. “I’ll say that for him.
He’s a terror, all right, but he owns up to things. I nearly lost my job
that time, though.”
“Too bad. Well, here’s the money. Just cross off that bill, will you?”
and Rodney laid a half dollar on the counter. The clerk looked at it
doubtfully.
“What’s that for?” he asked.
“Why, to pay for those sodas.”
“Oh! They’re paid for. Thought you knew. Watson came down
Saturday and paid for ’em.”
“He did!” Rodney stared and thoughtfully returned the money to
his pocket. “I wonder what he did that for?”
“I don’t know. Said something about only being in fun the other
time. I just took the money and was glad to get it. There’s lots of
fellows up to school don’t pay up as well as he does.”
 Hurrying back up the hill Rodney wondered why Watson had
changed his mind, and debated whether to speak to him about it. He
finally decided to let the matter drop. Whatever Watson’s motive
might have been, Rodney had an idea that the older boy wouldn’t
care to be thanked.
It was two days after that that Phineas Kittson startled the school
and provided several days of amusement by announcing his
candidacy for a position on the football team. Rodney learned of it
first. He found Kitty frowning over a book of football rules that
afternoon after practice. Kitty looked up as Rodney came into the
room, nodded, and went back to his study. Rodney observed the
blue covered book curiously, until in a moment Kitty asked:
“Merrill, what do you mean when you say a ball is ‘dead’?”
“Why, that it isn’t—isn’t playable. Like when the fellow who has it
is tackled, you know, or when it goes over the goal line.”
“Oh. Seems to me the person who wrote these rules tried to make
them as difficult as possible. All mixed up, I call them. Silly.”
“Aren’t thinking of playing, are you?” asked Rodney smilingly.
Kitty turned down the corner of a leaf and nodded slowly. “Yes,
I’ve decided that I’ll have to try,” he replied calmly. “Got more time
this year. Reading in a paper yesterday that football is great
developer of the lungs. Don’t see why it shouldn’t be, eh? Course, a
fellow couldn’t rely on football alone. Have to take regular exercises,
too. It follows. But in its way, don’t see why football wouldn’t be—er
—beneficial. Would it seem so to you, Merrill?”
“Yes.” Rodney struggled to keep from laughing. “Yes, I’d say
football might develop the lungs beautifully.”
“Shall try it. Been trying to get the sense of that.” He nodded at
the rule book. “Guess you have to play the game to learn what it’s
all about though. Complicated. Contradictory. Can’t make heads nor
tails of it. What do you wear?”
 “Oh, you wear canvas breeches and a canvas jacket thing that
laces up the front. And a jersey underneath. And long stockings and
shoes with cleats.”
“Cost much?”
“Mm, that depends. Twelve dollars will do it, I guess.”
“Buy them in the village?”
“I think so. Yes, Tad told me I could get most everything here. I
forget what the name of the shop was.”
“Porgan’s, I guess.”
“Or Humpernickle’s,” suggested Rodney with a grin.
“Don’t know that. Think I’ve seen footballs and such things in
Porgan’s. Where’s Humpernickle’s?”
“Search me,” laughed Rodney, “but I’ll bet there’s a place of that
name here somewhere. When you going to start, Kittson?”
“Me? Oh, tomorrow, I guess. What do you do? Any—er—
formalities?”
“N-no, just—just go over to the field dressed for play and tell—”
Rodney’s grin wouldn’t be suppressed any longer—“tell Mr. Cotting
you want to try for the team.”
“I see. All right. Much obliged. Mind going down to Porgan’s after
school and helping me buy things?”
“Glad to,” replied Rodney gravely. “I say, do you mind if I tell the
fellows about it?”
Kitty stared across in mild surprise. “About me? No.” The tone
implied that Kitty didn’t see why he should mind! “Tell ’em if you
want to. Not important though, is it?”
“Oh, well, I only thought that—that they’d like to know.”
“Suppose they would. What time is it? Half past five! I’m late this
evening!” And Kitty gravely threw aside his jacket, pulled his faded
brown sweater over his head, attached his pedometer to his belt,
and set forth on his final stunt of the day, which was a little jaunt
down to the river and back up the hill at top speed.
Rodney left the room close on the heels of Kitty and burst into
Jack Billings’s room. Only Tom Trainor was there, Tom bending over
a book with both hands clutching desperately at his hair.
“Busy,” grunted Tom, without looking around.
“Don’t care if you are,” answered Rodney. “You aren’t too busy to
hear some news.”
“Yes, I am. Don’t want to hear any news. Get out, Rod!”
“It’s about Kitty.”
“Nothing is news about Kitty,” scoffed Tom. But he stopped tearing
his hair and looked around. “What is it?”
“He’s going out for the team!”
“What team?”
“Football!”
“Never!”
“He is! Honest injun, Tom!”
“Not Kitty!”
“Kitty!”
“Whoops!” Tom’s chair went over with a crash and he flew to the
hall. “Fellows! Pete! Stacey! Everybody this way!”
“Shut up!” came a wail from the closed door of Pete Greenough’s
room. But Stacey answered, and he and Tad tumbled into the hall.
“What’s up? Where’s the fire?” asked Tad.
“News, fellows! Glorious news! Kitty——”
Pete, who had opened his door and stuck his head out, groaned
and started back.
 “Hold on, Pete! Wait till you hear it! Kitty’s going to play football!”
There was a moment of intense silence. Then shrieks of delight
broke forth, and Tom and Tad clasped each other ecstatically and
danced along the hall. At that moment Jack Billings and Warren Hoyt
appeared on the stairs, and the news was broken to them very
gently by five voices shouting in unison. After that they piled into
Jack’s room and laughed and joked to their heart’s content.
“I know where I’m going to be to-morrow afternoon at three-
thirty,” announced Tad. “Right on the sideline, fellows, where I can
see it all!”
“That’s where we’ll all be!” gurgled Tom. “And he’s going down to
Porgan’s after school to-morrow to buy an outfit. Let’s all go along
and help, fellows!”
But Jack demurred. “That would be too strong,” he said. “It is
funny, but we don’t want to hurt old Kitty’s feelings. It’s going to be
funny enough anyway, without that.”
“That’s so,” Stacey agreed. “Besides,” and he smiled in his quiet
way, “he might take offence and quit then and there.”
Further discussion was halted by the sound of steps on the
stairway. The fellows grinned at each other and Warren Hoyt called:
“Is that you, Kitty? What’s this Merrill’s telling us?”
Kitty appeared at the doorway, breathing deeply and perspiring
freely, and observed them anxiously through his spectacles.
“About football?” he inquired. “Yes, I’m going to try it. I’ve read
that it is fine for the lungs. May be wrong though. What do you
think, Stacey?”
“Nothing better,” replied Stacey gravely.
“I think it’s fine of you,” said Tad earnestly. “Cotting will be so
pleased, Kitty!”
“Think so?” Kitty looked modest. “Of course I don’t know much
about it. Learn, though, I guess. Understand strength and stamina
are requisites of football. Got ’em. You fellows know that.”
“You bet we do, Kitty! I’d back you against Sandow any old day,”
declared Tom. “My word, but it’s a bully thing for the team!”
“Don’t know about that. Afraid it’ll take me a while to learn the—
er—fine points, eh?”
“Pshaw!” said Warren. “A fellow of your ability can learn the game
in a day, Kitty!”
“Suppose you’re kidding me,” replied Kitty good-naturedly. “Don’t
mind. May be an ass, but I’ll have a try at it.”
And Kitty, nodding with a final owl-like stare, took himself off.
 CHAPTER XII
COTTING IS PUZZLED

N ews travels fast in school, and by ten o’clock the next morning it
was known from one end of the campus to the other that
Kittson was going to report that afternoon for football practice. The
result was that every fellow who could possibly get to the field was
on hand long before the fateful hour of three-thirty. Tad, who had
the effrontery to walk to a point of observation some ten feet away,
declared later that it was worth a thousand mile journey to see the
expression on Coach Cotting’s face when Kitty informed him that he
would like to try for the team, please. Kitty, in brand new football
togs, with his trousers at least six inches too long for his short legs—
there had been no time to alter them—and his knotty calves incased
in green stockings, was a sight to behold. And yet there was no
suggestion of self-consciousness about him. Had you attired Kitty in
the uniform of a Scotch Highlander or a Turkish bashi bazouk he
would have shown no awkwardness. Kitty had a mind above clothes.
Coach Cotting, maintaining his composure with the utmost
difficulty, entered Phineas Kittson in his red book and consigned him
to the awkward squad. Rodney, who had just been promoted from
that aggregation, mourned the fact. He wanted so much to be near
when Kitty fell on his first ball.
The school at large cheered when Kitty followed his companions
down the gridiron, and after that, flocking closely along the side line,
they watched his every performance and offered him enthusiastic
applause and encouragement. Kitty knew well enough that he was
being joshed, but he didn’t mind. Fellows were always poking fun at
him for one thing or another. Let them! Kitty had his own ideals and
pursued them, his own views and held to them. No, Kitty didn’t mind
much. Not nearly so much as Gordon. The fullback stood the ribald
shouts and laughter and cheers as long as he could, and then
walked over to the throng and informed them that this was football
practice and not a funny show, and that if they didn’t shut up he’d
have Cotting put them out and close the gates. After that practice
proceeded more decorously.
Meanwhile Kitty was having his troubles. But the queer thing
about Kitty was that he had a funny notion that troubles were things
you could get the better of if you put your head down and worked
hard. So Kitty did as he was instructed to do to the best of his ability,
using up a good deal of unnecessary strength in the doing, and was
perhaps after all no more awkward than half a dozen others in the
squad. And Gordon, who had smiled for a while at first, soon came
to admire the fellow’s dogged courage and perseverance, and was
extraordinarily patient and gentle with him toward the last. By that
time the novelty had worn away for the spectators and the crowd
had thinned out, and Kitty’s return to the gymnasium in the wake of
the others was unattended by any demonstration. On the next day
he was again the cynosure of all eyes, as Tad so aptly put it, and
again on the day following. But after that the school decided that
the fun had worn thin.
On Friday Coach Cotting made the first cut, and some dozen
youths abandoned aspirations for that season. Strange to say,
however, Kitty, at the good-natured solicitation of Gordon, was
retained and became a fragment, a rather weighty fragment, of the
third squad. Rodney, too, was retained, and whether he was glad or
sorry he couldn’t make up his mind. He was confident that he would
never survive the next cut, and he begrudged the time that practice
took from his studies, although for that matter he couldn’t honestly
say that his class standing was suffering any. On the other hand, he
had discovered to his surprise that he was getting not a little
interested in football. He rather liked the camaraderie of it, and the
feeling of well-being that followed a hard afternoon out there on the
yellow turf and—yes, and he would have been less than human
otherwise—he liked the knowledge that less fortunate fellows
observed him with respect as one who had succeeded where they
had failed, and as one chosen to uphold the gridiron honor of Maple
Hill. And all the time he was growing to like it better he was telling
himself that no matter how hard he tried or how hard Coach Cotting
tried he would never become anything more than an indifferent
player. But meanwhile he did as best he could, and Cotting and
Captain Doyle puzzled over him considerably.
“He knows football,” said Doyle one day when he and the coach
were discussing Rodney, amongst other candidates, “but he doesn’t
seem to get beyond a certain point. He plays as well and not much
better than he did the first day, as far as I can see.”
“I can’t make him out,” acknowledged the coach. “He seems
willing enough to learn, and he seems to try hard enough, but he
gets no—no ‘forrader.’ Why?”
Doyle shook his head. “Blessed if I know. Guess he lacks football
instinct.”
“‘Football instinct,’” echoed the coach smilingly. “You’ve been
reading stories, Terry. ‘There ain’t no such critter’ as football instinct.
Instinct is a natural impulse. You may say that a boy has a natural
impulse toward athletics and, if he happened to come of athletic
parents, you’re probably right. But football hasn’t been played long
enough in this country to generate instinct, if you see what I mean.
Perhaps in another hundred or two hundred years boys may be born
with football instinct, but not now, Terry.”
“Well, it’s something,” replied the other vaguely, “and Merrill
doesn’t seem to have it.”
“Call it football sense,” said the coach. “He does as he is told and
as he has been taught, but he appears to have no initiative. In other
words, if he found himself during a game suddenly in a position
where he had to depend on his own resources, mental and physical,
he’d likely fail right there. Strange, too, that I was speaking to Mr.
Howe about Merrill yesterday. Howe has him in two classes, I think.
He said he’d never found a boy with a greater aptitude for learning
nor one with a more retentive memory. But then perhaps that proves
my contention. Merrill, I dare say, lacks imagination. Well, we’ll keep
him along for another week or so and see what happens.”
Maple Hill went down the river a few miles on Saturday and played
her first game of the season. Her opponent was Phoenixville High
School, an aggregation not at all formidable. In fact the contest was
looked upon as nothing more than a slightly glorified practice, and
for that reason Coach Cotting took along two complete elevens and
used every player at some time during the game. Phoenixville
managed to score a touchdown as the result of a fumble by a Maple
Hill substitute near the end of the last period, but the Green-and-
Gray ran up twenty-eight points and was well enough satisfied.
Neither Rodney nor Phineas was taken along that day. How Kitty
spent his afternoon I don’t know; probably, however, in taking a little
ten mile jaunt around the country; but Rodney, after declining the
invitation of Tom and Pete to follow the team as a rooter, remained
at home and joined Tad and the twins at tennis. Rodney had Matty
for a partner, and there were two hard fought sets. For some reason
Rodney’s strokes were less certain than usual and, although he
played perhaps as well as Tad, the opponents won each set, the first
7–5 and the second 9–7. Matty was not up to her sister on the
tennis court, and May’s better playing accounted for the double
victory. They had a jolly time, however, and afterwards Tad played
host at Doolittle’s and they consumed ice-cream sodas and talked
over the contests. Tad insisted that playing football had injured
Rodney’s tennis.
“It always does,” he said. “Your arm gets sort of stiff and set, you
see. A fellow has to keep his wrist pretty supple to do good
backhand work.”
Rodney agreed that possibly football was to blame. “As soon as
they let me go, I’ll try you again,” he said.
“Don’t worry. They won’t let you go, Rod. Why, you’re doing finely,
aren’t you?”
 “No, I’m not. I’m playing about as poorly as the rest of the duffers
in the second squad, I suppose. I guess another week will settle
me.”
At this there were lamentations from the twins. They had, it
seemed, made up their minds that Rodney was to be a football star
like his famous brother. “You oughtn’t to talk like that,” Matty
protested earnestly. “You—you must think you’re going to do well,
mustn’t he May?”
“Yes, indeed. What we think we are,” replied May gravely.
“I think,” laughed Rodney, “that I’m full of soda.” He pushed his
glass away.
“Don’t you like it?” asked Matty, viewing his unemptied glass.
“Yes, but I’ve got to walk up that hill yet. I’m thinking about that.”
“You don’t have to go back yet, do you? Let’s you and I play
against them at croquet. It’s only fair we should beat them at
something!”
So presently they toiled up the street to the little side gate in the
hedge, and after recovering from their exertion—for thirty games of
tennis leaves one rather disinclined for further effort for awhile—they
played three fairly hard games of croquet, of which Rodney and
Matty managed to win two.
A week later autumn announced her arrival. Rodney awoke one
morning to find a brisk wind blowing and the trees nearly bare of
foliage. Yellow and red and russet-brown leaves frolicked along the
roads and there was a keen nip in the air that lent zest to living.
After that football practice was less like hard labor, and the players
didn’t come off the field bathed in perspiration and feeling as though
they had emerged from a particularly strenuous Turkish bath. That
afternoon Coach Cotting drove his charges hard. As soon as the
candidates reached the field they were put to work punting or
catching, all, that is, save Stacey Trowbridge and Roger Tyson, who
put in the time trying goals from the field. At last, when all the
players were out, there was one lap around the track at a fast jog,
the pace being set by Mr. Cotting, who, clad in a faded green jersey
and an old pair of gray flannel trousers, trotted at the head of the
bunch. For several minutes one heard only the fall of many feet on
the cinders, the swish-swish of rasping canvas, and the breathing of
the runners. When the circuit was complete the several squads
assembled quickly and, under the direction of shrill-voiced
quarterbacks, went through twenty minutes of signal work. Then:
“All right!” called the coach. “Get your head guards!”
That was the signal for scrimmage, and the fellows hurried to the
sidelines and donned the black leather helmets. Somehow,
everything to-day was done on the jump. The brisk weather was
incentive enough, and the coach’s perfunctory “Look alive, fellows!”
was quite unnecessary. Later, though, when the second squad backs
appeared to have lost some of their snap, the coach’s voice rang out
harshly enough.
“Stop loafing, you backs! If I catch you at it again out you come!
And you don’t go back! Now get into it!”
The warning had the desired effect, for Coach Cotting kept his
word and every fellow knew it.
The third squad went over to the practice gridiron and played the
Third Form Team, and both Rodney and Kitty got into the game and
enjoyed it thoroughly. The Third Form Team had had only a few days
of practice under the direction of one of the submasters and so were
not formidable opponents. The third squad scored almost at will, and
in some fifty minutes of actual playing ran up forty-nine points
against their opponents, who, taking a long chance on a forward
pass that ought not to have worked but did, crossed the third
squad’s goal line for a solitary touchdown.
 CHAPTER XIII
THE FINAL CUT

M eanwhile, across on the main gridiron, Mr. Cotting was

hammering speed into his teams. The formation used this year
for the backfield differed somewhat from that of the previous season
and the players were having difficulty with it, simple though it was.
The left half, fullback and right half lined up behind quarter in a
slanting tandem in the order named, left half being to the left of
quarter, the fullback behind him and the right half at his right. From
this formation the order to shift—which became “Hep!” in the
quarterback’s vernacular—was followed by one or two quick jumps
to the right or left as the signal demanded. It was a good “shift
formation,” since it allowed the backs to get into position for the play
very quickly, and at the same time was capable of all sorts of
combinations. A jump to the right by the tandem changed what
seemed like an attack on the right of the opposing line to an attack
on the left, and, since it was only necessary for the backs to come to
momentary pause before the ball was snapped, the enemy had short
time in which to change its defence to meet the play at the
threatened spot. Even when the shift had taken the backs to the
right of their quarter there was, however, no certainty that the play
would hit that side of the line. Often enough left half and fullback
would plunge around quarter for an attack on the opposing tackle,
while the right half caused a diversion by banging straight ahead. Or
sometimes it was the left half who faked an attack on the other side,
leaving fullback and right half to charge at the enemy’s center. And it
lent itself excellently well to end running besides. But it was new as
yet and Coach Cotting had much fault to find with the execution of
the plays. And he wasn’t over kind that afternoon to the forwards of
either team.
 “Where were you going that time?” he demanded sharply of Tyson
after a line plunge had been smothered by the second.
“Through guard, sir.”
“No, you weren’t! You were over here at tackle. Why didn’t you
follow your signal?”
“There was no hole at guard, sir. That man was in the way, and so
——”
“I don’t care who was in your way, Tyson! The signal told you to
carry that ball through guard. If the hole wasn’t there for you that’s
none of your business. That’s up to the linemen. You go where
you’re supposed to. Now, then, whose place was it to open up that
hole? Yours, Doyle? All right, then it’s up to you. Now try it again.
And don’t try to push them back; get down and lift ’em up!”
The play was tried again, and this time a second squad back
plunged through and upset the runner in the line. The coach jumped
into the mêlée.
“Who got through then? Watson? That’s the way to do it, Watson!”
He thumped the second squad man on the back. “That was dandy!
You keep on playing like that and I’ll have you over on this side, by
jingo! Now, then, you first team, what have you got to say? Who let
that man through? That was you, Pounder. Look at him! Weighs half
what you do! Now you fellows quit this half hearted playing and get
down and work! I want to see that play go and go right! Same
signals, Quarter! And make it good!”
“A formation! 34—45—87! Hep!”
Back came the ball to Stacey, away plunged the fullback, the
pigskin went to Tyson at a hand pass and, following in the wake of
the big fullback, the right half tore through for three full yards, in
spite of the fact that the second knew where the attack was coming
and had concentrated its secondary defence there. The players
scrambled or were pulled to their feet, panting, and Mr. Cotting
voiced approval.
 “That’s better, fellows! Put some punch into it! All right now!
Fourth down and six to go!”
Then, with Gordon back and his arms outstretched for the ball for
all the world as though he meant to dropkick it over the crossbars,
now only twenty odd yards away, the pigskin went to Tyson again,
and that youth skirted the second team’s right end and, with the
coach crying “Cut! Cut!” finally found his opening and cut for a good
twelve yards and a first down.
And so it went for thirty minutes or so of the hardest sort of work,
with no let-ups. When a player showed signs of exhaustion he was
sent off and a substitute summoned on from the waiting line at the
edge of the field. There was no loafing that afternoon. And all the
time the coach’s sharp voice barked criticism or censure or, less
frequently, commendation. “Clean up that line, Second! Get under
’em! Put ’em back!” ... “Ball! Ball! Bring it back five yards here, First.
Don’t let me catch you doing that again, Watson! All right. Third
down and five to go!... Rotten! Rotten, Second! Look where your
guards were playing. Spread out your line! Try that again!” ...
“Signals! What are you giving ’em, Trowbridge? What? On their
twenty yard line? Use your brain, man!... Fuller! Fuller! Come in here
and play left tackle! Show these fellows how to hold that side of
your line!... Low, low! Play low, Second! That’s better!... Wynant,
where were you then? Fall asleep, did you? Start with the ball, man!
You were all out of the play!”
And even when finally the scrimmage was ended, the first having
earned a touchdown and a field goal and held their opponents
scoreless, there was still work for the centers, backs, and ends. The
other players trotted breathlessly back to the gymnasium, but a
dozen or so unfortunates remained for punting practice, the centers
to snap back the ball to the punters, the backs to catch and run the
pigskin back, and the ends to get down under the kicks and head off
the catchers. It was almost dark when the last thump of boot
against ball was heard and Mr. Cotting let them go. In the locker
room at the gymnasium fellows grinned tiredly at each other, and
shook their heads as if to say, “Don’t ask me what got into him to-
day! All I know is I got mine aplenty!”
But an hour or so later, refreshed by showers, trooping into
supper, the hard words and hard knocks were all forgotten, or,
remembered, had lost their sting. “That was some practice, old man!
Say, didn’t he rub it into us for fair? Bet you, though, we learned
more than we have all season so far, eh? He’s a little wonder when
he gets het up, what?” And bruises were exhibited proudly,
vaingloriously, while a wonderful glow of wellbeing encompassed
their wearied bodies as they satisfied gigantic appetites, and already
they were thinking of the morrow and looking forward eagerly to the
next practice, each fellow resolved in his heart to “show him a few
things next time!”
It’s a wonderful game, this football; wonderful for what it will do
for flabby muscles and hollow chests, but more wonderful still for
what it can do for flabby characters. There’s young Jones, for
instance, who came to school with a quick and mighty ugly temper,
an intolerance of anything savoring of discipline, and no especial
ambition beyond doing as he pleased and being as selfish as
fourteen years of spoiling at home had taught him to be. And there’s
young Smith, fat and flabby and lazy when he came up, with only a
sneering laugh for the form of school patriotism that caused other
boys to keep their bodies clean and healthy and to toil on gridiron or
diamond or cinder path for the glory of the school. Don’t look the
same to-day do they? They fought and struggled and matched
muscles and wits against each other this afternoon for a solid hour
or more, took hard knocks and gave them, sweated and panted for
breath, and rolled in the mud of a wet field, lost their tempers
perhaps now and then for a brief instant—they’re only youngsters
yet, after all. And now, side by side, they’re talking it over, laughing
at the mishaps, criticising the misplays, praising each other’s good
feats, each feeling for the other the respect—yes, and the affection,
too—that every brave warrior has felt for a worthy opponent since
the world began. Yes, it’s a wonderful game, this football, a
gentleman’s game.
Who misses or who wins the prize,
Go lose or conquer as you can;
But if you fail or if you rise
Be each, pray God, a gentleman!

Young Jones learned to accept criticism and submit to authority, to

govern his temper and consider the welfare of someone other than
his own selfish little self. I fancy it didn’t come very easily, just at
first; it was probably something of a shock to him to discover that on
the football field he was only one, and an inconsiderable one, of
many, and that no one cared a straw if he got a black eye. But he
learned and profited, and it did him a heap of good. And should you
ask him to-day about the young Jones that he used to be he’d
probably tell you frankly and succinctly that that boy was “a selfish
little brat!” And Smith worked the flabbiness out of his body and his
mind, and got rid of his fat and his laziness together. It didn’t take
him long to discover that his fellows had scant sympathy for his
views, and that his sneers met only disgust and dislike. Doubtless he
would have found himself ultimately without the aid of football, but
football turned the trick very expeditiously. Smith, they say, is in line
for the captaincy now. Success to him!
The second game of the season was played with Mumford
Preparatory School, and in the fourth period, when Maple Hill was
two scores to the good, Rodney had his first experience on the firing
line. He and two other third string men went in for a few minutes,
just before play ended. Rodney was trying for halfback. He was
given the ball but once, since Maple Hill was on the defensive most
of the time he played, and then managed to get the two yards
required for a first down. An instant later the whistle sounded and
Maple Hill was the victor by a 15 to 5 score. But if that brief
experience in the line up had not especially advanced Rodney’s
chance of being retained, although he could not be certain of that, it
had left him with a redoubled desire to make the team. Figuratively,
he had smelled the smoke of battle, and he wanted to fight again.
 And so it was with not a little anxiety that he awaited the next cut
in the squad. This had been looked for on Friday but had not come,
and it was now whispered about that it would be made Monday. On
Sunday Rodney observed to Kitty:
“Well, Kittson, I suppose you and I will get our walking papers to-
morrow. For my part it’ll be rather a relief—” There he stopped,
realizing that he had been about to say something very far from the
truth. Instead he ended: “A relief to know.”
Kitty, engaged on a letter, looked up and blinked through his
spectacles. “How do you mean, Merrill?” he asked.
“Why, Cotting’s going to make another cut to-morrow, they say.”
“Cut? You mean he’s going to let some of the football players go?”
“Yes, some of the second squad fellows. He’s got too many, you
see.”
“Really? Think he will keep you, don’t you?”
“I don’t believe so. I don’t see why he should. He’s got five
perfectly good backs without me.”
“Oh, I hope he will,” said Kitty earnestly. “I—I’d feel a bit
lonesome if you weren’t there, you know.”
Rodney stared. Then he laughed. “Well, you seem pretty sure of
your place, Kittson! It might just be that we’d both get fired.”
Kitty stared untroubledly and shook his head gently. “I don’t think
so. Team needs fellows like me. Too many weak chaps on it.
Cotting’s sensible, eh? You’ll see. Maybe I might say a good word for
you, what?”
“I don’t think you’d better,” replied Rodney soberly. “I hope he
does keep you, Kittson.” And, after a moment spent in reviewing the
events of the last week of practice, “I don’t see why he shouldn’t,
either,” added Rodney thoughtfully. “You’ve shown up pretty well, by
Jove!”
 Kitty blinked agreement. “For a beginner, eh? Seems so to me.
May be mistaken, though. Hope not. Like the game. Fine for the
chest. Fine for the whole body. Surprised me, really, what a lot of
exercise there was in it!” Kitty took a long, deep breath that
threatened to expand his lungs beyond the capacity of his Sunday
waistcoat, and patted his chest approvingly. “Great for the lungs,
Merrill!”
Monday afternoon Rodney entered the gymnasium in a funk. He
had watched Tracey and two other Vests start along, and then,
keeping behind them, had followed. He wanted to be alone when he
faced the little black bulletin board in the entrance of the
gymnasium. But in spite of his scheming he wasn’t, for when he
swung open the big outer door and passed into the little lobby
inside, two boys were in front of the board. One was Guy Watson
and the other Peterson, the right end. There were so many notices
of different kinds posted on the board that Rodney couldn’t see,
from where he stood a few feet away, whether the announcement of
the cut had been posted. He waited with his heart thumping a little
harder than usual, for the others to move away. And then he heard
Peterson say, with a laugh:
“Kittson! Well, what do you know about that, Guy?”
“That’s Gordon’s doings,” growled Watson, with a shrug of his
broad shoulders. He turned then and saw Rodney, and nodded.
“Hello, Merrill. Want to see the list?” he asked. “You’re down. Come
on, Jim.”
They went on through the swinging doors, leaving Rodney alone
in the lobby. So he and Kittson were both dropped! Well, now that
he knew, it wasn’t so bad. And it had been foolish of him to expect
anything else. Only—well, he had expected, or at least hoped! There
was no especial reason now for reading the list, since Watson had
told him, but he felt a desire to see for himself. As he stepped to the
board he wondered why Watson had not taken the opportunity to
sneer a little. He didn’t read the heading, but began with the names,
which were arranged alphabetically. “Anson, Atwell, Browne,
Burnham, Doyle——”
“Doyle?” Rodney read it again. How could they drop Doyle? Then
his eyes flashed to the top of the sheet and he read:
“Football candidates. The following are retained. Cotting, Coach.”
With a leap of his heart Rodney’s eyes swept down the list.
“Johnson, Kittson, Merrill——”
He wasn’t dropped! He still had a chance!
For a full minute he stood there with his eyes on that one word,
stood there until the sudden turning of the big latch behind him
warned him that others were coming. Then he pushed on through
the swinging doors, turned to the stairway, and took the stairs at
four bounds, stopping, however, at the foot to pull his features into
an expression of becoming calm before he entered the dressing-
room. The room was well filled, for most of the thirty-two fellows
who had been retained were already there, but the first figure that
Rodney’s gaze fell on was Phineas Kittson, Phineas in his new togs,
now somewhat soiled, with his ridiculous trousers dropping half way
to his feet. Kitty smiled and blinked at his roommate, and as Rodney
joined him he said:
“Saw your name on the board up there, Merrill. Awfully glad.
Cotting’s sensible, though. Said so right along. Better hurry. Most
half past.”
Rodney got into football attire in record time, his heart beating a
very happy tune, and raced across to the field. Stacey Trowbridge
saw him and walked to meet him.
“Glad you made it, Rodney,” he said kindly. “Good luck to you.”
Then he smiled and walked away. It was the first time Stacey had
called him by his first name. Rodney felt happier than ever, and a
little bit proud. To-day practice went with a vim. Even tackling the
dummy seemed rather good sport, and usually most of them hated
it. There was a full twenty minutes of scrimmage later. Rodney and
Kitty were on the second team, Kitty as substitute guard and Rodney
as substitute left half. Both got into the play in the second ten
minutes and both performed acceptably if not brilliantly. The coach
seemed to take a good deal of notice of Phineas, and more than
once instructed him. Slowness, Rodney gathered, was Kitty’s failing.
Had he but known it, lack of initiativeness was his own trouble. More
than once he was stopped with the ball for the simple reason that,
finding himself unable to gain where the signals indicated, he slowed
up, at a loss, and was brought down.
“Why don’t you fight, Merrill?” demanded the second team quarter
once. “Hang it, what do you stop for? This isn’t a game of tag!”
And Rodney, returning to his position, would make up his mind to
do better the next time. And when the next time came he would fail
in just the same way.
The first team ran away with the scrimmage game that afternoon,
piling up four touchdowns and kicking three goals after them, while
the second failed to get nearer to the other goal than the twelve
yard line. Two days later the tables were turned, for the second kept
the first from crossing their goal line, and then in the last two or
three minutes of play sent a neat kick from the field over the cross-
bar. Rodney played fifteen minutes that day, but I can’t honestly say
that much of his team’s success was due to his presence. Rodney
had a whole lot to learn yet. But “old Kitty” was making good.
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