The New Boy at Hilltop | Page 6

tall, athletic-looking youth with reddish-brown hair
was crossing the floor with a ball under each arm. Joe stopped him and
said a few words and presently they both walked over to where
Kenneth sat. Joe introduced the captain and the new candidate.
"Joe says you've played the game," said Jim inquiringly in a pleasant
voice as he shook hands. Kenneth was somewhat awed by him and
replied quite modestly:
"Yes, but I don't suppose I can play with you fellows. Still, I'd like to
try."
"That's right. How are you on throwing baskets?"
"Well, I used to be pretty fair last year."
"Good enough. If you can throw goals well, you'll stand a good show of
making the team as a substitute. You'd better get out there with the
others and warm up."

III
Kenneth's first week at Hilltop passed busily and happily. There had
been no more talk on Joe's part about getting rid of his roommate. The
two had become fast friends. Kenneth grew to like Joe better each day;
and it hadn't taken him long to discover that it was because of Joe's
ability to squirm out of scrapes or to avoid detection altogether rather
than to irreproachable conduct that Dr. Randall looked upon him as a
model student.
Basket-ball practice for both the Upper and Lower House teams took
place every week-day afternoon. Kenneth had erred, if at all, on the
side of modesty when speaking of his basket-ball ability. To be sure, he
was light in weight for a team where the members' ages averaged
almost sixteen years, but he made up for that in speed, while his
prowess at shooting baskets from the floor or from fouls was so

remarkable that after a few practice games had been played all Lower
House was discussing him with eager amazement and Upper House
was sitting up and taking notice. At the end of the first week Kenneth
secured a place on the second team at right guard, and Grafton Hyde,
whose place in a similar position on the first team was his more by
reason of his size and weight than because of real ability, began to
work his hardest.
The closer Kenneth pressed him for his place the more Grafton's dislike
of the younger boy became evident. As there was the length of the floor
between their positions in the practice games the two had few
opportunities to "mix it up," but once or twice they got into a
scrimmage together and on those occasions the fur flew. Grafton was a
hard, rough player and he didn't handle Kenneth with gloves. On the
other hand, Kenneth asked no favors nor gave any. Naturally Grafton's
superior size and strength gave him the advantage, and after the second
of these "mix-ups," during which the other players and the few
spectators looked on gleefully and the referee blew his whistle until he
was purple in the face, Kenneth limped down to the dressing room with
a badly bruised knee, a factor which kept him out of the game for the
next two days and caused Grafton to throw sarcastic asides in the
direction of the bench against which Kenneth's heels beat a
disconsolate tattoo.
Four days before the first game with Upper House--the championship
shield went to the team winning two games out of three--Lower House
held an enthusiastic meeting at which songs and cheers were practiced
and at which the forty odd fellows in attendance pledged themselves for
various sums of money to defray the cost of new suits and
paraphernalia for both the basket ball and hockey teams.
"How much do you give?" whispered Kenneth.
"Five dollars," answered Joe, his pencil poised above the little slip of
paper. Kenneth stared.
"But--isn't that a good bit?" he asked incredulously.

"It seems so when you only get twenty dollars a month allowance,"
answered Joe ruefully. "But every fellow gives what he thinks he ought
to, you know; Graft usually gives ten dollars, but lots of the fellows can
only give fifty cents."
"I see," murmured Kenneth. "'What he thinks he ought to give, eh?
That's easy."
The following afternoon Upper and Lower Houses turned out en masse
to see the first of the hockey series and stood ankle-deep in the new
snow while Upper proceeded to administer a generous trouncing to her
rival.
"Eat 'em up, Upper! Eat 'em up, Upper!" gleefully shouted the
supporters of the blue-stockinged players along the opposite barrier.
"Oh, forget it!" growled Joe, pulling the collar of his red sweater higher
about his neck and turning a disgusted back to the rink. "That's 14 to 3,
isn't it? Well, it must be pretty near over, that's one comfort! Hello, here
comes Whipple. Gee, but he makes me tired! Always trying to mix
with the