Part 26 (1/2)
Dave suddenly saw the captain of the Lemingtons make a certain sign to some of his men.
”They are up to some trick!” he cried to his chums, and hardly had he spoken when the ball went into play, through center and across to the left end. It was picked up like a flash, pa.s.sed to the quarter-back, who was on the watch for it, and carried toward the Oak Hall line with a rush.
”A touchdown for Lemington!”
”That's the way to do it!”
”Now, Higgins, make it a goal!”
Amid a wild cheering, the pigskin was brought out for the kick, and the goal was made.
”That's the way to do it!”
”Now for another touchdown!”
Again the pigskin was brought into play. But while it was still near the center of the field the whistle blew and the first half of the game came to an end.
Score: Lemington 6, Oak Hall 0.
It must be confessed that it was a sorry-looking eleven that straggled into the Oak Hall dressing-room to discuss the situation.
”You want more snap!” cried John Rand, the manager.
”They put up a trick on us!” grumbled Nat. ”They got that touchdown by a fluke.”
”Well, I wish we could make one in the same way,” retorted Rand. Since being elected manager, he had had anything but an easy task of it to make the eleven pull together. Some of the old players wanted Dave, Roger, Phil, and the others back, and threatened to leave unless a change was made.
”This looks as if Oak Hall was out of it,” whispered Phil to his chums, during the intermission.
”Oh, I don't know,” returned Dave. ”A touchdown and a goal isn't such a wonderful lead.”
At the beginning of the second half it was seen that Guy Frapley and his fellow-players were determined to do something if they could. But they were excited and wild, and the captain could do little to hold them in.
Several times they got confused on the signals, and once one of the new ends lost the ball on a fumble that looked almost childish. Inside of ten minutes, amid a mad yelling from the Lemington supporters, the ball was forced over the Oak Hall line for another touchdown, and another goal was kicked. Then, five minutes later, came a goal from the field.
”Hurrah! That's the way to do it!” yelled a Lemington supporter.
”Fifteen to nothing!” cried another. ”Thought Oak Hall knew how to play football!”
”They ought to play some primary school kids!”
”You shut up!” screamed Nat Poole, in sudden rage. ”We know what we are doing!”
”You ought to be an ice-man,--you're slow enough,” retorted the Lemingtonite, and this brought forth a laugh, and made Nat madder than ever.
Again the ball was placed in play, and this time Oak Hall did all it could to hold its own. But it was of no avail. Lemington carried the air of victory with it, and its confidence could not be withstood. Again the ball was shoved over the line for a touchdown, and again the goal was kicked, amid a cheering that was deafening.
”It's a slaughter!” murmured Roger.
”I am afraid so,” answered Dave. ”Too bad! I am sorry for the school!”
”So am I,” said the senator's son, and Phil and Ben nodded gravely.