CHAPTER VII
TWO YARDS TO GO
"Hold 'em, Lakeville!"
The crowd surged against the rope that had been stretched along thesides of the football field where the Lakeville and the Grant Cityhigh-school teams were playing the first game of the season. It was avacant lot at the north of town; not an ideal ground, by any means, butput in order for the sport by being cleared of rocks and stubble andmarked with broad stripes of whitewash.
"All ready, Chick!" "Are you ready, Bert?" "Signal!" "What's thesignal?" "Steady there." "Signal?"
The Grant City team, which seemed to have occasional spells of confusedconversation, appeared all at sea as the ball was about to be put inplay.
"Signal?" "Hey, signal!"
The left guard and tackle of the visitors rose from their crouch,apparently uncertain as to the play. At that instant, however, the ballwas passed. Logically, with two men out of the play, Lakeville shouldhave had no trouble in stopping the runner with the ball. But hecrashed through the Lakeville line between right tackle and end, pastPeter Barrett, on secondary defense, in spite of that youth's franticdive, and so free till, some twenty-five yards distant, Bunny, who wasplaying back, wriggled through the interference and plumped the runnerto earth.
On the side lines, Substitute Rodman Cree dug his finger nails into hispalms. "It's a trick play," he muttered. "They don't seem to understandit themselves, but they gain every time they try it. What's the secret?"
"Three minutes of the half left!" Horace Hibbs, acting as officialtimer, squinted inquiringly at the two teams. "If our boys don't stopthat maneuver, Grant is going to score, sure as shooting."
"It's the third time, too," Rodman put in, "but they always gain theirdistance--and more. I wish I could figure it out."
Following his resolution of the morning, he had come to the gamewithout hope of playing, but with the fixed intent to do everything inhis power for the team. So far, he felt he had failed.
True, before the game started, his quick eye had noted that the cordused by the linesmen for measuring downs was almost a yard short. Thisfact he had pointed out to Mr. Sefton, acting linesman for Lakeville,and the mistake had been corrected. It was Rodman, too, who before thegame had discovered and levered away a small boulder, hidden near oneof the goal posts. In the case of Bennett, the substitute halfback, whosquatted on the side lines and followed each play with the movementsof his body, thus wearing himself out before he was put in the game,Rodman had induced the boy, by a joking remark or two, to stretch outand relax until he was wanted. But he felt that these aids were reallynothing at all. Wasn't it impossible, after all, to do anything worthwhile for the team when you weren't the coach, and couldn't play, andwhen everybody had lost faith in you?
But, at least for the moment, he forgot his difficult task in the smashof the play that was bringing the first half to an end. The ball hadtouched Lakeville's thirty-yard line, when Jump intercepted a forwardpass and ran it back a third of that distance. A sturdy drive byBarrett brought fifteen more; a forward pass netted another substantialgain; three line plunges left Lakeville but twenty-five yards to go.
"Six--eight--five--seven--three!" cried Bunny at quarter. Likewell-oiled bits of machinery, the Lakeville eleven clanked into thekick formation, with Bunny back to receive the pass. Professor Lelandshook his head.
Rodman saw the gesture and understood. Because the Lakeville team waslighter, the coach had ordered a kicking game, with a try for goal fromthe field whenever the eleven was well within the enemy's territory.Twice before, however, Bunny's attempts had failed; there was noreason to expect him to put the ball over the goal this time.
The long pass was made and caught. Bunny dropped the pigskinpoint-down, caught it with his toe as it touched the ground, and kickedit toward the looming goal posts. It went short and wide.
"He can't do it." The coach was talking for his own benefit. "I wasafraid he couldn't."
Rodman plucked up courage. "No, he can't, of course. I knew hecouldn't."
The coach turned to the substitute. "What do you mean, Cree? I thoughtPayton was a friend of yours."
"He is, sir; my best friend. But don't you see why he can't get off agood drop-kick?"
The whistle had blown to signal the end of the half. Both teams weretrooping off the field. But Professor Leland, after turning as if tojoin the eleven, stopped by Rodman's side.
"Look here, Cree, if you know any reason why Payton can't kick as wellin a game as he can in practice, suppose you tell me now, before Iinstruct the boys not to follow this plan of play in the second half."
"Yes, sir, I'll tell you." Rodman's voice was joyous. At last, he wasable to do something worth while. "Look at the sun. The game startedlate, and now it shines toward the west goal, directly in Bunny's eyesevery time he kicks. See that sun? Then there's the wind. It isn'tmuch of a wind, sir, but it's kicking up a lot of dust, which alwaysblows toward Bunny--into his eyes. But that isn't all." His words camefast; he was afraid the coach would leave before he was done. "ThoseGrant City fellows, sir, have three corking fine players at center andguards, and our line doesn't take care of them. They get Roundy excitedand nervous, and he passes the ball high and wild. That means the kickis sent off in a good deal more of a hurry than it should be. And Buckisn't playing close enough to the line to stop that right tackle."
Professor Leland nodded. "I believe you are right, Cree. I've noticeda few of those points myself, but you've seen more than I have. Allright; we'll give Bunny another chance at a goal from the field."
The talk between halves to the team was full of encouragement. "We'redoing well," the coach told them; "mighty well. But we are going to dojust a little better. We must score on that team, and we must hold it.Now in this business of field goals--"
To the unmixed delight of Rodman, Professor Leland made use of the veryarguments which the substitute had brought up a minute before. "Whenthey kick off to us this half, as they will, I want the ball rusheddown the field to a point where we can try another drop for goal. Then,Payton, because we shall have changed goals, your eyes will be free ofdust; Claxton will handle that tackle; Jones and Turner will take careof the combination at center, which will allow you, Magoon, to make thebest pass of your life. We can do it all, I know."
As the boys stretched out to rest for the remainder of the period,Rodman's satisfaction was marred by only one thought. Although hehad done his part to aid the team, neither Bunny nor the others knewanything about it. And it was their friendship and respect he wanted.
"Old Leland is the boy!" Roundy commented lazily to Bunny. "He saw whatwas wrong, and he fixed it up, too. He's the kind of coach to have."
"We all know that," Bunny responded fervently.
"Why, you can't kick into the sun and dust any more than you can fly;but I couldn't tell him so."
It was on the tip of Rodman's tongue to explain the origin of thesuggestion. In spite of the impulse, however, he kept silent.
"All ready to save the day, Cree?" jeered Buck. "You'd be all right, atthat, except that you'd probably stumble over the whitewash on the goalline and drop the ball."
It was hard to keep his temper under these flings with which BuckClaxton favored him from time to time. So far as his naturally friendlynature was capable of hating anybody, Rodman had begun to hate Buck.Above everything else, he was glad that Professor Leland was the coach,instead of Buck, and that he himself was working for the whole schooland not for Buck Claxton.
At the same time, he admitted to himself that Buck was not a badcaptain, despite his tendency to fumble in a crisis. With RoundyMagoon at center, Turner and Bi Jones at guards, Kiproy and Collinsat tackles, Sheffield and Jump Henderson at ends, and a back fieldcomposed of Barrett and Collins at halves, Buck Claxton at full, andBunny at quarter, the Lakeville High football team was developing intoa snappy, hard-fighting eleven. They were sure of themselves.
When the whistle called them out on the field again, Rodman noted thatthey trotted forth wit
h a jauntiness which matched very favorably thedo-or-die expression of the Grant City players.
"Everybody in it!" shouted Buck, as the team made ready to receive thekick-off.
Jump caught the punt, running back the ball at an angle and passingit to Sheffield, who drilled to the middle of the field before he wasstopped. Capping this gain came a series of short, sharp plunges, tillthe distance to Grant's goal was halved.
"Six--eight--seven--five--thirteen!"
At the warning of the key number, seven, Bi and Turner crowded closerto Roundy at center, while Buck played close to the line to blocka threatening tackler. Guarded on both sides, with wind and sun athis back, and with a sure, swift pass to handle, Bunny drop-kicked aperfect goal.
The first points had been scored. The count stood: Lakeville, 3; GrantCity, 0.
The crowd, made up largely of Lakeville people, shouted joyously, threwhats into the air, and celebrated with much squawking of auto horns.After she had yelled herself hoarse, Molly climbed from the Sefton carto exchange a word with Rodman.
"Isn't it glorious?" she cried. "We're winning our first game. S. S.told me what Professor Leland said about Bunny's kicking. Wasn't thatjust too smart for anything?"
Rodman's face lengthened. He wanted very much to tell Molly that theadvice was the result of his observations. But something, he could nottell what, checked the words.
"We're getting them, all right," he said, instead. "All we have to donow is to hold when they begin to batter against our line."
"Oh, we can do that." Molly nodded confidently. "You wait and see."
Following the kick-off, the battle raged uncertainly in the middle ofthe field. Near the end of the third quarter, however, Grant City tookthe ball on downs, and began a steady onslaught that was formidable.Then, when the Lakeville line seemed to have braced, Rodman came to hisfeet like a puppet on a string. There it was again! Grant was callingfor its trick play.
"Signal! What's the signal?" called a confused voice. "All ready,Bert?" "Dig into 'em!" "Signal?" "Wait a minute!" "Hold it!" "Signal!"
Grant's right guard and tackle stood up straight in their places,looking helplessly toward the quarterback.
"Signal?"
Like the flare of a flashlight, the mystery cleared in Rodman's mind.Why, of course, that was the answer! Why couldn't Buck solve it, orBunny, or some one of those players in the Lakeville line, alreadyglancing up at the confused babel of voices. Surely, they must seethrough such an obvious device.
They must--No! Back whirled the ball; forward shot the compactinterference and runner. Before the wiry half was tackled, he hadcovered a cool fifteen yards. It was first down again for Grant.
An unworthy thought burned in Rodman's brain. Why should he tell CoachLeland about the play? Why not put the problem squarely up to the squadat the end of the quarter, when, by previous agreement, it would bepermissible to talk with them? In that way, all of the fellows wouldsee they had been mistaken in him; would be forced to realize that hewas some good, even if he couldn't make the team. Why should he allowthe coach another chance to walk off with borrowed laurels?
His forehead creased with trouble wrinkles while his consciencewrestled with the question. No-o!... It wouldn't be the thing to do,after all. He was still a member of the football squad. As such, it washis business to acquaint the coach, or whoever was in charge of theteam, with any helpful information. Simple loyalty demanded that.
"First down; ten yards to gain!"
As he foresaw, Grant did not attempt the trick again. It was a cleverplay, but its abuse would certainly lead to discovery. Probably,indeed, if they were shrewd--and somebody with brains was undoubtedlyin command of the visiting eleven!--they would not try it until theywere within striking distance of the goal. Then, unless checked, itwould mean a sure touchdown and the game.
Twice more Grant City made small gains. As they lined up for the nextplay, time was called, with the ball in possession of the visiting teamon Lakeville's thirty-yard line.
Rodman started. He must warn the coach at once.
"Professor Leland!"
At that very moment, Mr. Gorse, who was refereeing, called to the coach.
"Just a second, Cree." Throwing a hasty word of advice to the team, thecoach started across the field toward the referee.
Fifteen seconds passed. Professor Leland was still arguing some pointwith Mr. Gorse. Thirty seconds! The conversation went on.
Well, if he couldn't talk to the coach, he must put the matter squarelybefore the next man under him. But the person now in charge of the teamwas Buck Claxton; and Buck--well, Buck was Buck! He couldn't bringhimself to tell Buck anything. He even started to squat again on hisblanket, when, quite to his own surprise, he found himself walkingover to the side of the captain. After all, as long as he practicedwith the squad, he must be loyal.
"Oh, Buck!"
"Well?" snapped Claxton. "What d'ye want?"
Rodman hesitated, tempted at the last second to turn back with themessage undelivered. But once more a better impulse prevailed. In avoice purposely low, that the others might not overhear, he offered hisexplanation.
"That play where the whole Grant team gets to talking before the ballis passed--watch it! I thought first it was some trick, but it's reallyonly a straight plunge by their half. The reason they gain is becausethey throw you fellows off by yelling for the signal and all that.Part of the line stands up and looks at the quarterback. You all thinkthey are mixed on the signal, but they aren't. The reason it worksis because they catch our team when it doesn't expect the ball to bepassed, when our own guard and tackle have straightened up a little,too, to see what's going on. Yes, they do! I've been watching 'em. Butthey don't realize it."
Buck tried vainly to interrupt, but there was no checking the torrentof Rodman's words.
"They get all your attention off the game, and then, bingo! the ball isput in play. It's a fact, Buck! Remember now, if they start jabberingat each other, and one side of the line begins to stand up straight,that means the play is going right through there. Remember that--"
He was still talking earnestly when the whistle blew, with Buck, hisface stolid, staring steadily at the ground and scraping marble ringsin the dust with his right shoe-toe.
"Ready, Lakeville!" shouted the captain; and the game was on again.
A lucky fumble brought the ball into the home team's hands, and Bunnypunted out of danger. After that, steadily and surely, with all theadvantages of weight and experience, the Grant eleven began to grindits way down the field. Desperately, Lakeville crouched and set itself;still more desperately, Grant City ploughed onward. The formations wereslow and deliberate; the visitors risked no fumble or error. Often thegains were only a foot or two, but each fourth down found another tenyards covered. Rodman realized that some keen brain was directing theteam, balancing time against gains, and playing for one touchdown thatwould turn the threatened defeat into a victory.
"Curtains!" groaned Specs somewhere in the background, quite loudlyenough for Rodman to hear. "Curtains! Hold 'em, fellows! Hold 'em!"
"Three minutes to play!" announced Horace Hibbs.
"If we can only hold them from that goal!" muttered Coach Leland.
"Grant's ball! First down; ten yards to gain!"
A plunge through center netted three of them; a wriggling half eeledaround right end for another two; the same play on the other sidebrought the total to eight. Lakeville was fighting gallantly, butsuperior weight was beginning to tell.
"Fourth down; two yards to gain."
Already the ball was in the very shadow of the goal posts. If thisfinal attack succeeded, it meant a touchdown. Rodman Cree shivered inhis blanket. Suppose they tried the trick play now. Would Buck--
"What's the matter, Billy?" "Ready there, Chick!" "Signal!" "What's thesignal?" "Never mind!" "Hold her!"
The right tackle and guard of the Grant City team straightened up.
"Signal?" called a bewildered voice.
Rodma
n gripped his fists tight. Was it to go through, even after he hadwarned Buck? But suddenly, hard and high above the din from the Grantline, the Lakeville captain's voice rang clear:
"Get down, Bi! On the job, Kiproy! They're coming through you! It's theright half! Everybody together now! _Stop him!_"
The ball was snapped. Like a battering-ram, the right half of theGrant team, pocketed in perfect interference, catapulted against theLakeville line,--against Bi and Kiproy, backed by Peter Barrett andBuck Claxton. For just the fraction of a second, the line wavered,threatening to snap. Then it tautened into a stone wall, against whichthe runner crashed and fell back. There was no gain. The trick hadfailed. It was Lakeville's ball almost on her goal line.
Bunny punted out of danger. Grant City had just time to line up forone weak charge before the whistle announced the end of the game. Bychecking that one play, Lakeville had prevented a touchdown and hadwon, 3 to 0.
In the minds of the victorious players, there was no doubt as to thefellow who deserved the credit. Scouts and all, they hoisted Buck totheir shoulders, cheering him as they marched around the field.
From where he stood, Rodman Cree could see Molly leaning from thecar and waving her pennant. On the side lines, Clarence Prissler wasexecuting a war dance of his own. In the midst of a group of girls,Marion Genevieve Chester was leading the school cheer. And it was allfor Buck!
Nobody knew what Rodman had done, of course, except the coach and Buck;and evidently they weren't going to tell. For a bitter moment, Rodmanargued with himself. Should he go on with the thankless job?
Across his brain flashed the memory of a sentence he had read in theScouts' "Handbook", "_A Scout is loyal._" It was one of the twelvelaws; it meant him, too, whether he was a Scout or not. It was a lawthat applied to everybody all over the world. He didn't have to be aScout to keep that law.
With a stiffening of his shoulders, he lifted his head, as if to stareall Lakeville in the face.
"I'm going to keep on," he said, "whether anybody knows what I am doingor not. I may not be a Scout, but I'm as loyal as any one of them. I amloyal to the school, and to the team, and to everybody who has a claimon me. Yes, and I am going to keep on being loyal."
They were giving three cheers for Buck now, with Specs, clad in hisstreet clothes, leading them all. Before he knew it, Rodman was addinghis voice to the praise.
"And I wouldn't be anything else," he said suddenly. "I wouldn't beanything else."
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