CHAPTER XVII GLIDING TOWARD FRESH ADVENTURE
Artie Stark was carried off the field in triumph. This was natural enough. Dynamite did not in the least begrudge him the honor, for had it not been his spectacular run in the last minute of the game that saved the day? How many had seen Dynamite’s wild plunge through the line, the plunge that broke up the opponent’s play? Very few. Such things are not seen. It is the lad with the long run to his credit who receives the cheers. Dynamite did not care. He did not so much as think of it. His mind was occupied with other matters. He and Johnny Thompson walked off the field together.
“Poor Kentucky,” Dynamite was saying. “He doesn’t seem to have any luck.”
“All the same,” Johnny replied quietly, “it was he who won today’s game.”
“That’s just it,” his generous hearted companion agreed. “To think of practically putting the game on ice, then being smashed up!
“I only hope,” he added soberly, “that it’s not too bad. We sure don’t get the breaks. Just when we’re all keyed up and ready to go after anything, then to lose our best man!”
“And next Saturday,” Dynamite groaned afresh, “we’re up against St. Regis, the lightest, fastest team in the Little Seven. Think what it will be with Kentucky out of the game. But then,” he sighed, “it may not be so bad.”
“You’ll get over to the infirmary and see him won’t you?” Johnny asked.
“I’ll see you later,” Johnny turned to the right. “Have to get over to the Blue Moon. The place will be a wild scramble.” It was, all of that and more. Plenty of work for everyone. The Blue Moon was coming to be a huge success.
Four hours Johnny worked at top speed. Dishing up ice cream, pouring out steaming hot chocolate, slicing buns for hot dogs, directing his three helpers, he found little time for thinking. When, however, the last straggler had wandered through the open door and Aunt Mandy had said, “If you all don ob-ject, I’ll be agoin’ on home,” Johnny found time to think of many things. As his eyes moved swiftly over the place, taking in his three candy cases, all but emptied in a single evening, as they rested on the polished counter and the shining table, a feeling of joy and pride swept over him. He had said to the hostile world, “Here I am, ready for work. Shove over. Make me a place.” The world had answered, “There is no place.” He had replied, “O. K. then I’ll make myself a place.”