Part 29 (2/2)
”_Signal!_” he cried for the third time; but no signal was forthcoming.
Instead Graham sped the ball back to him, steady and true, and the Robinson line, almost caught napping, failed to charge until the oval had settled into Reardon's hands and had been placed upon the ground well c.o.c.ked at the goal. Then the Brown's warriors broke through and bore down, big and ugly, upon Pea.r.s.e and Smith; but Neil was stepping toward the ball; a long stride, a short one, a long one, and toe and pigskin came together. Pea.r.s.e was down and Smith was shouldering valiantly at a big guard. Two blue-clad arms swept upward almost into the path of the rising ball; there was a confused sound of cras.h.i.+ng bodies and rasping canvas, and then a Robinson man bounded against Neil and sent him reeling to earth.
For an instant the desire to lie still and close his eyes was strong.
But there was the ball! He rolled half over, and raising himself on his left hand looked eagerly toward the posts. The pigskin, turning lazily over and over, was still in flight. Straight for the goal it was speeding, but now it had begun to drop. Neil's heart stood still. Would it clear the cross-bar? It seemed scarcely possible, but even as despair seized him, for an instant the bar came between his straining eyes and the dropping ball!
A figure with tattered purple sleeves near at hand leaped into the air, waving his arms wildly. On the stand across the field pandemonium broke loose.
Neil closed his eyes.
A moment later Simson found him there, sitting on the thirty-five-yard line, one arm hanging limply over his knee, his eyes closed, and his white face wreathed in smiles.
Erskine 10, Opponents 6, said the score-board.
CHAPTER XXIV
AFTER THE BATTLE
”You'll not get off so easily this time,” said the doctor.
”No, sir,” replied Neil, striving to look concerned.
He was back on the couch again, just where he had been four weeks previous, with his shoulder swathed about in bandages just as it had been then.
”I can't see what you were thinking about,” went on the other irritably, ”to go on playing after you'd bust things up again.”
”No, sir--that is, I'm sure I don't know.” Neil's tone was very meek, but the doctor nevertheless looked at him suspiciously.
”Humph! Much you care, I guess. But, just the same, my fine fellow, it'll be Christmas before you have the use of that arm again. That'll give you time to see what an idiot you were.”
”Thank you, sir.”
The doctor smiled in spite of himself and looked away.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Erskine vs. Robinson--The Second Half.]
”Doesn't seem to have interfered with your appet.i.te, anyhow,” he said, glancing at the well-nigh empty tray on the chair.
”No, sir; I--I tried not to eat much, but I was terribly hungry, Doc.”
”Oh, I guess you'll do.” He picked up his hat; then he faced the couch again and its occupant. ”The trouble with you chaps,” he said severely, ”is that as long as you've managed to get a silly old leather wind-bag over a fool streak of lime you think it doesn't matter how much you've broke yourselves to pieces.”
”Yes, it's very thoughtless of us,” murmured Neil with deep contriteness.
”Humph!” growled the doctor. ”See you in the morning.”
When the door had closed Neil reached toward the tray and with much difficulty b.u.t.tered a piece of Graham bread, almost the only edible thing left. Then he settled back against the pillows, not without several grimaces as the injured shoulder was moved, and contentedly ate it. He was very well satisfied. To be sure, a month of invalidism was not a pleasing prospect, but things might have been worse. And the end paid for all. Robinson had departed with trailing banners; the coaches and the whole college were happy; Paul was happy; Sydney was happy; he was happy himself. Certainly the bally shoulder--ouch!--hurt at times; but, then one can't have everything one wants. His meditations were interrupted by voices and footsteps outside the front door. He bolted the last morsel of bread and awaited the callers.
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