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Updated: June 12, 2025
Amy and Bob Chase, pausing to translate a Latin inscription over the entrance to one of the buildings, became detached from the others and were discovered by Mr. Detweiler, who, having made an unsuccessful attempt to find a college friend who was instructing at Claflin, was on his way to the gymnasium.
Clint smiled uncertainly. "I reckon I'm not a fair judge," he replied after a moment's hesitation. "I suppose not. But tell me, can you play tackle pretty well?" "I've got along all right so far, I think. Of course, Cupples's been at it longer than I have, Mr. Detweiler." "What in your judgment is the biggest asset a tackle can have, Thayer?" "Brains, sir." "Hm; yes, that's so. Now, look here."
You're not a perfect tackle yet, my boy, but we've all got hopes of you and we expect you to give a good account of yourself against Claflin. And I expect to see you play better Saturday by fifty per cent than you've played yet. How do you feel about it?" Clint couldn't have said just how he did feel, and was relieved when, seeing his embarrassment, Mr. Detweiler went on encouragingly.
Amy agreed that he was, and narrated two or three anecdotes concerning Penny to prove it. Mr. Detweiler evidently found Amy's discourse amusing and drew him out until he was in the full flood of his eloquence. But when they had been there a half hour or so their host abruptly switched the conversation. "I want to talk shop with Thayer a little," he announced. "You won't mind, Byrd?
He was often discouraged, sometimes angry, always tired out when work was over, but he kept on trying. Mr. Detweiler dogged his footsteps every minute, or so it seemed to Clint. Returning from practice the coach would frequently range himself alongside and deliver one of his brief lectures. Sometimes he would intercept him between locker and shower and tell him something he had forgotten earlier.
"Of course I know who Detweiler is," said Gilbert, a trifle indignantly. "But there might be more than one, mightn't there? How did I know " "More than one Detweiler!" exclaimed Amy horrifiedly. "Is there more than one Washington? More than one Napoleon? More than one Huxley? More than one Thackeray? More than one one Byrd?" "You bet there are!" asserted Black. "There are jays and parrots!"
Robey, that gentleman cast a speculative look over him, nodded and said briefly: "See Mr. Detweiler, Thayer." Clint sought the assisting coach. "Mr. Robey told me to report to you, sir." "Yes." Mr. Detweiler viewed him much as Coach Robey had, as though trying to see not only what showed but what was inside as well. The only difference was that Mr. Detweiler smiled. "Well, Thayer, now let's see."
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