CHAPTER XI
CLIFFORD'S LAST HOPE
"Why doesn't the fool run?" cried one man, quivering withsuspense.
"It's too late now! See, he's going to tackle the brute! He's gothis hands out ready! Gee! what nerve!" bellowed another, this timefrom Clifford.
A third laughed harshly, for the strain had been beat on everyone.
"Its all off, fellows. That's _his_ dog!" he shouted.
"Well, I'll be hanged! Look at him jumping up to lick the boy'sface, will you? Did you ever? This takes the cake!"
The crowd had by this time discovered that it was a false alarm,and by degrees the hysterical feeling wore off, though there weremany who would not soon forget the awful sense of fear that hadalmost paralyzed their systems.
Kaiser had apparently broken loose long after Bones had left home,and determined to find his beloved master, had trailed him to thefootball field.
Possibly the faithful animal believed that there might be furtherneed of his services, and that there were more fellows in need oftrimming.
Of course the game had to be delayed until Bones could lead Kaiseraway, and secure him in a little room under the grandstand. Thecrowd howled and cheered as he went by, and Shadduck grinned inhis usual happy fashion, feeling that for once at least he was inthe exact limelight--thanks to Kaiser!
Once more the two opposing teams faced each other on the field.The rushers were crouched, ready to spring forward as soon as theball had been put into play. Comfort prepared to send in his bestkick, after which the whole field would be in motion in the madendeavor to urge the ball toward the goal of the opposing side.
Jack was a famous punter and also a gilt-edged drop-kicker. He hada peculiar spiral kick that was calculated to be exceedinglypuzzling to the enemy. And since much depended upon how far hesent the oval into the enemy's territory, all eyes were eagerlyglued upon him now.
"Plunk!"
Away sailed the ball with the most erratic motion the Clifford menhad ever seen in all their experience. Some ran this way, and thensuddenly changed their course, as they realized the deceivingnature of the ball's aerial flight. But the Columbia ends knewjust how the full-back would send the ball, and they shot for thespot, determined to reach there almost as soon as the enemy, andcut short his advantage for a run.
Coots managed to catch the ball, and darted back with it, but wasdowned, almost in his tracks, by a fierce tackle on the part ofShadduck, who had slipped through the interference.
"Down!" howled Coots, after he had recovered his wind. The playerslined up, while Style began calling off the signals. The Columbiaplayers braced for the attack they knew would soon come. And comeit did. Their line tottered and wavered under the smashing impact,but it held, and Wentworth was hurled back for a slight loss.
"That's the way to do it!" cried Frank, in delight. "Hold 'emagain, fellows, and they'll have to kick!"
Once more Clifford, in desperation, for she wanted to keep theball, tried for another advance, this time around her opponent'sleft end. But Morris and Shay were on hand, and nailed the playerbefore he had gone two yards.
"They've got to kick!" came the cry, and indeed that was the onlyplay left for Clifford. Still, it might be a fake one, and Franksignalled this to his men, so that they might be on the alert. ButComfort ran away back, and it was well that he did, for the ballwas booted well into the Columbia territory.
The full-back caught it and managed to rush back fifteen yardsbefore he was fiercely downed.
"Now's our chance, fellows!" called Frank, while Paul Bird cameup, took the pigskin and waited for Lanky to give the signal.
"I-m-p-o-r-t-a-n-c-e!" spelled out the quarter.
Instantly after the last letter was given, there was a suddenmovement. The center had flashed the ball to Allen, who startedfuriously around the outside of the Clifford line. West wasrunning diagonally, and passed him. Many did not notice that asthey crossed Frank dexterously passed the ball to Ralph, but kepton running and dodging as though he still held it.
The trick was not a new one by any means, but when well done itwas apt to deceive at least a portion of the rattled opposition;so that several of the Clifford players were, for the instant,really in doubt as to which of the two half-backs carried theball.
Thus in the beginning the force of pursuers was divided. Ralph wasa sprinter, and could avoid interference in a manner that wassimply marvelous. He had the entire bunch against him, trying toblock his play, but with wonderful skill managed to dodge each inturn, until when finally brought down he had reached the enemy'sten-yard line!
A burst of applause from the eager spectators; then againabsolute silence, for once more the heavily breathing players hadgathered in battle array. Again came a hot scrimmage. The ball wasover the side lines now, and out of bounds. So it had to bebrought in. Clifford had it for a change, but the conditions weredesperate with them now, with their home goal close behind. Let aColumbia player once get his hands on the oval, and the chanceswere he could carry it over the line for a touchdown.
The man who did the thinking in this emergency knew his business.When the next scrimmage was on, many of the spectators wereastonished to see a Clifford player jump away from the melee withthe ball in his grasp, and hurl himself deliberately across hisown line.
Immediately the crowd gave expression to their feelings. Somecheered, while others groaned, as the play was understood best.
"Why, that man is a traitor to his team!" exclaimed one indignantfellow.
A Columbia graduate, who happened to be sitting next to thespeaker, gave him a look of contempt, as he remarked:
"On the contrary he proved to have an exceedingly clever head onhim. Stop and think for just a minute. They were close up toClifford's goal. The chances were ten to one in that scrimmagethat Columbia would get the ball, and with the next play carry itacross the line. That meant a touchdown. Then if they could kick agoal, as is likely, they would count six. As it is now, Columbiagets only two because that quick-witted fellow put it over his ownline. More than that, the next play is back at the twenty-fiveyard line; so you see how easily Clifford gets out of a badcorner."
As little time as possible was lost getting in position again. Soeager were both sides to accomplish things that they begrudged thefleeting seconds.
The tide of battle surged back and forth. Dozens of plays werepulled off that it would take many chapters to describe. But whatcheered the enthusiasts of the home team was the fact that most ofthe work was being done on hostile territory!
In between times when there was no need of silence the raucousvoice of Herman Hooker could be heard, as he led his band aroundback of the crowd, and shouted again and again in unison thethrilling yell of Columbia, with the intention of stirring theblood in the veins of each player, and investing him with renewedpluck and zeal.
As if it were needed, when each one of those sturdy champions hadalready been keyed up to top-notch speed. Time was slipping away,and despite the almost superhuman efforts of Clifford they couldnot seem to get the ball over that strenuously defended line oftheir opponents.
In vain did the rooters urge them on to renewed efforts. Columbiaseemed to have thrown up a stone wall in front of her goal lines,and no matter what strenuous plays were called off they were metwith a stubborn tenacity that robbed them of results.
Only seven more minutes remained of the second half. Columbiaadherents were jubilant. They already began to discount a victory,and were winding up preparatory to making the air ring with theirshouts.
The wise ones kept close watch of the play. They had knownoccasions just like this when the winning team became overconfident, and the last few minutes witnessed their utter rout.
Would it happen so in this case? Clifford was exerting everyeffort to bring about such a happy condition of affairs. Frank hadwarned his men against the slightest slackening of speed orvigilance. No game is won until the referee's signal announcesthat the end has come.
Now the determined Clifford
hosts had carried the ball over intothe territory of their rivals. Columbia was visibly weakeningbefore these fearful plunges, and it seemed as though flesh andbone could not hold out against them. Seconds counted now. Howdesperately Frank and his backers fought to ward off thethreatening evil. Every lawful tactic that would bring about delaywas brought into bearing. Twice had the ball gone out of bounds,which necessitated a new alignment, and consequent passage ofthose precious seconds.
Columbia was on the defensive; but it was a splendid exhibition ofharrying play they put up, thanks to the instructions of CoachWilloughby. On their fifteen-yard line they faced the Cliffordcrew for the last struggle. Despite the prediction of the man whohad declared them a great second-half team, Clifford had failed toadd to their score during the half hour that had elapsed, thatlone touchdown standing to their credit.
"Boys, we want a bigger score than this!" called Captain Alleneagerly, when time was taken out to enable some wind to be pumpedback into Style. "We've got thirteen points, and they have five.It's too close a margin. We've got time enough to make anothertouchdown."
"If we can get the ball," added West.
"We've _got_ to get it!" cried the captain. "It's the firstdown. Hold 'em, and throw the man with the ball for a loss if youcan. They may kick on the second down instead of waiting for thethird. Then we'll have 'em."
The whistle blew and Style came slowly back into the line. He waspale and weak, as the manner in which he gave the signals showed.There were anxious looks on the faces of his mates, and glancesof eager expectation on those of his opponents.
Wentworth came smashing for a hole he expected would be opened upbetween Daly and Shay, but Shay was ready and did more than hispartner to block off the play. Wentworth was hurled back, andthere was a net loss of two yards to Clifford.
"Look out for a kick!" warned Frank.
It came, for Clifford was desperately afraid, and Comfort got theball. Tucking it under his arm, with head down, he started for thegoal line, well protected. The enraged Clifford players managed toget at him, however, and he was downed after he had coveredfifteen yards. But it was a good run back, and Columbia had theball, and there were still several more minutes to play.
"At 'em now, fellows! Tear 'em apart!" cried Lanky Wallace.
He called for Ralph West to take the ball around Smith, as thequarter had noticed the weak defense the right end was putting up.
Around circled West, and he made a good gain before he was downed.Again came smashing plays--several of them, Columbia keepingpossession of the ball. In vain did Clifford brace and hold. Itwas useless. She was being shoved right up the field. Her men wereexhausted and discouraged. Columbia's were eager and triumphant.
"Touchdown! Touchdown!" came the insisting cries from thespectators. The ball was on Clifford's fifteen-yard line.
"Touchdown it is!" declared Wallace grimly.
He called his signal with snap and vim. Frank got the ball andmade a desperate dive for a big gap that was opened up between Roeand McQuirk. Forward he staggered while Shadduck and Oakes managedto circle around to form interference for him.
"He's through! He's through!" came the cry, and indeed the captainwas through the Clifford line, and legging it toward the goal.Hastings started after him, but slipped and fell. Then, like aflash, Wentworth emerged from the tangle of players and set offafter Allen. He came on like the wind, and managed to slip pastShadduck, but Oakes was on the alert and tackled off the pluckyClifford right-half.
Then it was all over but the shouting. With the fall of Wentworthended Clifford's hopes of preventing another touchdown, while asfor her own hopes of making one they had vanished some time ago.Allen touched down the ball. Amid frenzied cheers the goal waskicked, making the score nineteen to five in favor of Columbia.There was preparation for another kick-off, but before it could bemade the whistle blew; and the game had passed into history.
Boys of Columbia High on the Gridiron : or, the Struggle for the Silver Cup Page 11