Part 28 (2/2)

If a fellow was ill, he couldn't be expected to play football. He even got as far as wondering what particular and peculiar malady he could a.s.sume, when he put the idea aside.

”No use lying about it,” he muttered. ”Got to face the music, Ned! It was your own fault. Maybe Mulford will let me down easy. I wouldn't like to queer myself for next year. Gee, though, what'll the school think?”

And Ned groaned aloud.

While he had slept, five vehicles had pa.s.sed him, and as many persons had seen him lying there asleep in the sun and idly conjectured about him. But now, when he needed help to conquer the interminable three miles that stretched between him and the town, and although he constantly turned his head to gaze hopefully back along the dusty road, not a conveyance appeared. Before long, since he had unwisely started at too great a speed, he was forced to sit down on a rock and rest. He was very nearly out of breath and the perspiration was trickling down beneath his cloth cap. A light breeze had sprung up since he had dropped asleep, and it felt very grateful as it caressed his damp hair and flushed face.

Perhaps those three miles were nearer four, because when, tired, dusty, and heart-sick, he descried the tower of the Congregational church above the leafless elms and maples of the village, the gilded hands pointed to twelve minutes past three. Even had he arrived in time, he reflected miserably, he would never have been able to serve his team-mates and his school, for he was scarcely able to drag one foot behind the other as he finally turned into the yard.

The place appeared deserted, grounds and buildings alike, as Ned unhesitatingly made his way across to the gymnasium. He had long since decided on his course of action. No matter whether he had failed his coach and his schoolmates, his duty was still plain. As late as it was, he would get into his togs and report at the field. But when, in the empty locker-room, he paused before where his football togs should have been, he found only empty hooks. The locker, save for towels, was empty!

At first he accepted the fact as conclusive evidence of his disgrace-thought that coach or manager or an infuriated student body had removed his clothes as a signal of degradation! Then the unlikelihood of the conclusion came, and he wondered whether they had really been there. But of course they had! He remembered perfectly hanging them up, as usual, yesterday afternoon. Perhaps some one had borrowed them, then. The locker had been unfastened, probably, for half the time he forgot to turn the key in it. Wondering, he made his way out of the building, undecided now what to do. But as he reached the corner a burst of cheers floated to him from the play-field. His head came up.

It was still his duty to report, togs or no togs! Resolutely he set out on Summit Street, the sounds of battle momentarily growing nearer as he limped along.

By the entrances many automobiles and some carriages lined the road.

Above the stand the backs of the spectators in the top row of seats looked strangely agitated, and blue flags waved and snapped. A fainter cheer came to him, the slogan of Farview, from the farther side of the field. He heard the piping of signals, and a dull thud of leather against leather, then cries and a whistle shrilling; and then a great and triumphant burst of cheering from the Blue side.

He hurried his steps, leaped the low fence beside the road, and came to a group of spectators standing at the nearer end of the long, low grand stand. He could see the gridiron now, and the battling teams in mid-field. And the scoreboard at the farther end! And, seeing that, his heart sank. ”Hillman's 7-Visitors 9” was the story! He tugged the sleeve of a man beside him, a youngish man in a chauffeur's livery.

”What period is it?” he asked.

”Fourth,” was the answer. The man turned a good-natured look on the boy's anxious face.

”Been going about four minutes. You just get here?”

Ned nodded. ”How did they get their nine?” he asked.

”Farview? Worked a forward pa.s.s in the second quarter for about thirty yards, and smashed over for a touch-down. They failed at goal, though.

That made 'em six, and they got three more in the last quarter.

Hillman's fumbled about on their thirty, and that bandy-legged full-back of Farview's kicked a corking goal from field. Gee-say, it was some kick!”

”Placement or drop?”

”Drop. Almost forty yards, I guess. There they go again!” The chauffeur tiptoed to see over a neighbor's head. Ned, past his shoulder, had an uncertain glimpse of the Maroon and White breaking through the Blue's left side. When the down was signaled, he spoke again.

”How did Hillman's score?” he asked.

”Huh? Oh, she got started right off at the beginning of the game and just ate those red-legs up. Rushed the ball from the middle of the field, five and six yards at a whack, and landed it on the other fellow's door-sill. Farview sort of pulled together then and made a fight; but that big chap, Pope, the full-back, smashed through finally, right square between the posts. After that he kicked the goal. Guess the red-legs had stage-fright then, but they got over it, and our fellows haven't had a chance to score since. Pope had to lay off last quarter.

They played him to a standstill. Mason's mighty good, but he can't make the gains Pope did. First down again! Say, they aren't doing a thing but eating us up!”

Ned wormed himself to the front of the group, and came to anchor at the side of a tall policeman, close to the rope that stretched from the end of the stand well past the zone line. By craning his neck he could look down the length of the field. White-sweatered, armed with big blue megaphones, Brewster and Whipple and two others, cheer leaders, were working mightily, although the resulting cheers sounded weak where Ned stood. The teams were coming down the field slowly but surely, the Blue contesting every yard, but yielding after every play. The lines faced each other close to the thirty now. Across the gridiron, Farview's paeans were joyful and confident, and the maroon-and-white flags gyrated in air. Well back toward his threatened goal, Hop Kendrick, white-faced and anxious, called hoa.r.s.e encouragement. Ned clenched his hands and hoped and feared.

A line attack turned into an unexpected forward pa.s.s, and a tall Farview end came streaking down just inside the boundary. Hop was after him like a shot; but Deering, who had taken Pope's place, ran him out at the fifteen-yard line. The Maroon and White went wild with joy. The teams trooped in on the heels of the diminutive referee, and the ball was down just inside Hillman's fifteen. Ned looked the Blue team over. Save for Corson and White, the line was made up of first-string men, but the back field was, with the single exception of Mason, all subst.i.tutes: Kendrick, Boessel, and Deering.

A plunge straight at the center gave Farview two more precious yards, Kewpie, apparently pretty well played out, yielding before the desperate attack. Three more yards were gained between Emerson and Stevenson on the left. Third down now, and five to go! Evidently Farview was determined on a touch-down, for on the nine yards, with an excellent chance for a field goal, she elected to rush again. But this time the Blue's center held, and the Farview left half, when friend and foe was pulled from above him, held the pigskin scarcely a foot in advance of its former position. It was Hillman's turn to cheer, and cheer she did.

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