Part 26 (1/2)

CHAPTER XXI

THE ”ANTIDOTE” IS ADMINISTERED

[Ill.u.s.tration]

High up against a fair blue sky studded with fleecy clouds streamed a banner of royal purple bearing in its center a great white E--a flare of intense color visible from afar over the topmost branches of the empty elms, and a beacon toward which the stream of spectators set their steps. In the tower of College Hall the old bell struck two o'clock, and the throngs at the gates of Erskine Field moved faster, swaying and pus.h.i.+ng past the ticket-takers and streaming out onto the field toward the big stands already piled high with laughing, chattering humanity.

Under the great flag stretched a long bank of somber grays and black splashed thickly with purple, looking from a little distance as though the big banner had dripped its dye on to the mult.i.tude beneath.

Opposite, the rival tiers of crowded seats were p.r.i.c.ked out lavishly with the rich but less brilliant brown, while at the end of the enclosure, where the throngs entered, a smaller stand flaunted the two colors in almost equal proportions.

And between stretched a smooth expanse of russet-hued turf ribbed with white lines that glared in the afternoon sunlight.

The college band, augmented for the occasion from the ranks of the village musicians, played blithely; some twelve thousand persons talked, laughed, or shouted ceaselessly; and the cheering sections were loudly contending for vocal supremacy. And suddenly on to this scene trotted a little band of men in black sweaters with purple 'E's, nice new canvas trousers, and purple and black stockings; and just as suddenly the north stand arose and the Robinson cheers were blotted out by a mighty chorus that swept from end to end of the structure and thundered impressively across the field:

”_Erskine! Erskine! Erskine! Rah-rah-rah, rah-rah-rah, rah-rah-rah!

Erskine! Erskine! Erskine!_”

It was repeated over and over, and might, perhaps, have been sounding yet had not the Robinson players, st.u.r.dy, brown-clad youths, ambled onto the field. Then it was Robinson's turn to make a noise, and she made it; there's no doubt about that.

”_Rah-rah-rah! Robinson! Rah-rah-rah! Robinson! Rah-rah-rah! Robinson!

Robinson! Robinson!_”

The subst.i.tutes of both teams retired to the benches and the players who were to start the game warmed up. Over near the east goal three Erskine warriors were trying--alas, not very successfully!--to kick the ball over the cross-bar; they were Devoe and Paul and Mason. Nearer at hand Ted Foster was personally conducting a little squad around the field by short stages, and his voice, shrilly cheerful, thrilled doubting supporters of the Purple hopefully. Robinson's players were going through much the same antics at the other end of the gridiron, and there was a business-like air about them that caused many an Erskine watcher to scent defeat for his college.

The cheers had given place to songs, and the leader of the band faced the occupants of the north stand and swung his baton vigorously.

Presumably the band was playing, but unless you had been in its immediate vicinity you would never have known it. Many of the popular airs of the day had been refitted with new words for the occasion. As poetic compositions they were not remarkable, but sung with enthusiasm by several hundred st.u.r.dy voices they answered the purpose. Robinson replied in kind, but in lesser volume, and the preliminary battle, the war of voices, went on until three persons, a youth in purple, a youth in brown, and a man in everyday attire, met in the middle of the field and watched a coin spin upward in the sunlight and fall to the ground.

Then speedily the contesting forces took their position, the lines-men and timekeeper hurried forward, and the great stands were almost stilled.

Erskine had the ball and the west goal. Stowell poised the pigskin to his liking and drew back. Devoe shouted a last word of caution. The referee, a well-known football player and coach, raised his whistle.

”Are you ready, Erskine? All ready, Robinson?”

Then the whistle shrilled, the timekeeper's watch clicked, the ball sped away, and the game had begun.

The brown-clad skirmishers leaped forward to oppose the invaders, while the pigskin, slowly revolving, arched in long flight toward the west goal. It struck near the ten-yard line and the wily Robinson left half let it go; but instead of rolling over the goal-line it b.u.mped erratically against the left post and bobbed back to near the first white line. The left half was on it then like a flash, but the Erskine forwards were almost upon him and his run was only six yards long, and it was Robinson's ball on her ten-yard line. The north stand was applauding vociferously this stroke of fortune. If Erskine could get possession of the ball now she might be able to score; but her coaches, watching intently from the side-line, knew that only the veriest fluke could give the pigskin to the Purple. And meanwhile, with hearts beating a little faster than usual, they awaited the first practical test of the ”antidote.”

Robinson lined up quickly. Left tackle dropped from the line, and taking a position between full-back and right half, formed the center of the tandem that faced the tackle-guard hole on the right. Left half stood well back, behind quarter, ready to oppose any Erskine players who managed to get around the left of their line. The full-back who headed the tandem was a notable line-bucker, although his weight was but 172 pounds. The left tackle, Balcom, tipped the scales at 187, while the third member of the trio was twenty pounds lighter. Together they represented 525 pounds.

Opposed to them were Gillam and Mason, whose combined weight was 312 pounds. Gillam stood between left-guard and tackle, with Mason, his hands on the other's shoulders, close behind.

The Robinson quarter stared for an instant with interest at the opposing formation, and the full-back, crouched forward ready to plunge across the little s.p.a.ce that divided him from the opponents' territory, looked uneasy. Then the quarter stooped behind the big center.

”_Signal!_” he called. ”_12--21--212!_”

The ball came back to him. At the same instant the tandem moved forward, the Erskine guard and tackle engaged the opposing guard and tackle, and Gillam and Mason shot through the hole, the former with head down and a padded shoulder presented to the enemy, and the latter steadying him and hurling him forward. Then two things happened at the same moment; the ball pa.s.sed from quarter to tackle, and Gillam and the leader of the tandem came together.

The shock of that collision was plainly heard on the side-lines. For an instant the tandem stopped short. Then superior weight told, and it moved forward again, reenforced by quarter and right end; but simultaneously the Erskine quarter and left half made themselves felt back of Mason and Gillam, and then chaos reigned. The entire forces of each side were in the play, and for nearly half a minute the swaying ma.s.s moved inch by inch, first forward, then backward, the Robinson left tackle refusing to believe that their famous play was for once a failure and so clinging desperately to the ball, the center of a veritable maelstrom of panting, struggling players. Then the whistle sounded and the dust of battle cleared away. Robinson had gained half a yard.

The north stand cheered delightedly. It had only seen the Robinson tandem stopped in its tracks, and did not know that in the struggle just pa.s.sed Erskine had used a new and novel defense for the first time on any football field, had vindicated her coaches' faith in it, and brought surprise and dismay to the brown-clad warriors and their adherents. If it had known as much as Mills and Jones and Sydney about the ”antidote”