He had done just that. The Blue Moon was a success, would be more and more of a success in the months to come. It had become an institution, and part of old Hillcrest. Yes, he, Johnny Thompson, was a part of something big and fine. It was wonderful, this association with some of the finest young people in the world.
“I made a place,” he whispered proudly. “A place for myself and Kentucky.”
Kentucky, the name awakened him. How was Kentucky? He must know. Slamming the stove drafts shut, snapping off the lights, twirling the key in the door, he was away to the heating plant, hoping to find Dynamite.
He was not disappointed. “It might be worse,” the big boy said soberly. “General shock and one cracked rib. The doc has him all taped up. Sure can’t play next Saturday.
“That,” he added slowly, “is not so bad. We can afford to take one more licking. But when it comes to week after next, when we go up against our ancient rival, Naperville, for that final game of the season, and, like as not, for the championship, then, if Kentucky’s out for good, it’s going to be just too bad!”
“We’ll do the best we can for him,” said Johnny. “And here’s hoping the best is good enough.”
Dynamite’s dire prophecy regarding the St. Regis game was not without foundation. At the very beginning, playing on their own field, St. Regis took the lead. But then, with two “pony” teams pitted against one another and with Hillcrest’s best pony in the paddock, or rather on the bench, what chance did they have? Hillcrest took a good licking and Kentucky took it hardest of all. At the end the score stood 21 to 6.
Seeing how down-hearted the mountain boy was, Johnny Thompson said, “Never mind, Kentucky old boy, about the middle of the week, when trade is lightest, we’ll step on the starter and go spinning back to our beloved hills. There are some things down there I’d like to look into a little further. What do you say?”
“That,” said Kentucky, with a broad grin, “will be somethin’.” His grin was even broader than Johnny had expected it to be. Little wonder, for this boy had thoughts all his own. He was thinking, “Doc won’t let me go out on the field and practice, ’fraid I’ll get this old rib bumped again. Down in the mountains Doc has nothing to say about it. I’ll just slip out into the moonlight for a little practice with old Nicodemus.” He chuckled a wise chuckle. But to Johnny he said never a word.