CHAPTER XXIII
WON BY FOUR INCHES
"See 'em getting Hail Columbia from their coach because they madethat fool play! Next time it'll be different," growled the unhappyBellport backer.
"I hope so," replied the cheerful and optimistic Buster,composedly.
Frank, as he came in from the field, dusty and disheveled, lookedeagerly at a certain part of the grandstand where Helen satalongside her chum Minnie. Immediately both girls waved theirflags at him, and called out something, which, of course, wasutterly drowned in the furious shouting that arose.
But Frank would ten times rather have heard what they said than tolisten to the cheers of the multitude; for he knew that love andfriendship endure, while the admiration of the crowd is as fickleas the weather, praising one day and on the next condemning.
Both teams held earnest consultations during the interval betweenthe halves of the game. New plays were planned whereby advantagemight be taken of some supposed weak spot in the line of theenemy's defense. And singular to say, not a single change had asyet been made in the line-up, something remarkable indeed, when inother days half a dozen casualties must have resulted from thosefurious clashes. Doubtless there were those who suffered insilence, fearing lest they be taken out, if their real conditionwere made known; and every man was wild to finish in what promisedto be the most exciting football game that had ever happened inthe tri-school league.
"There they go to take position. Now for another heart-breakingperiod of suspense. But they've got the advantage. It's an up-hillfight for Bellport; six to nothing, and half the time gone. Ifthey can only keep the others from scoring it isn't necessary tomake any more," said Buster to Jack Eastwick.
"No chance for me to get into this game. That Shay is a sticker.But I candidly admit he's something of an improvement on myself,and I hope he holds out. But mark me, Buster, there's going to besome changes before the game ends," remarked the other, confidentially.
"What makes you say that, Jack?" asked his friend, curiously.
"Because those Bellport bulldogs have got blood in their eyes now.The coach has been combing them down, and they're just bound tocarry things before them, or die trying. It's going to be hotterthan ever, Buster."
"But Frank has been saying things, too. And our boys have thebenefit of the experience of one who was a terror on the lines ofPrinceton, my especial friend, Coach Willoughby," remarked Buster,proudly. "He's set 'em up a few capers that are going to surpriseour good Bellport friends. I'm game to stack up on Columbia. Ionly hope some of those Bellport players like Bardwell andBanghardt don't try foul tactics on us, like they did in baseball,that's all."
"The referee has his eye on 'em. He has been warned, and let themtry it at their peril. If those two dangerous half-backs are putoff the team it'll go to pieces in a hurry, mark my words. That'swhat I'm expecting it to end in."
But Jack was mistaken. Bellport knew the folly of attemptinganything that had a suspicious look. Brawn and strategy andagility must carry the day, no matter which side won.
Shrilly blew the whistle, and once more the ball, yellow nolonger, for it had been ground into the dirt, sailed through theair. There was an exchange of punts that ended when Bellport heldthe pigskin on her forty-yard line and the signal came for a playaround Columbia's left end.
"Watch out now, fellows!" warned Frank Allen. "Don't let 'em getthrough, or past you."
"Eighteen--twenty-seven--sixty--all together--fourteen!" chantedSnodgrass, and back the ball was snapped to him. In a flash hepassed it to Bardwell, who started as though to circle Shadduck atright end. And then that trick, so often worked, so effective whenit comes out right, and so futile when it does not, was tried.Bardwell passed the ball to Banghardt on the run, and the left-halfstarted for the end where Morris was.
How it happened none of the Columbia players, not even Morrishimself, could tell, but he was drawn in by the double pass andhis end was free to be circled by Banghardt. Even the Columbia twohalf-backs were fooled, and no excuse for it, either, as theyadmitted afterward, for they had often worked the play themselves.Be that as it may, Banghardt was past, and with no one between himand the goal line but Comfort.
But the full-back was a tower of strength, and with eagerlyoutstretched hands he waited the oncoming of the left half.
"Get him, Comfort! Get him!" pleaded the crowd.
Straight at the full-back came Banghardt, and then, with a suddenshifting, he turned aside, and Comfort grasped only the empty air,while the man with the ball, amid the wild, excited cries of theadherents of his school, while the grandstands fairly rocked underthe impact of thousands of stamping feet, touched down thepigskin.
"Touchdown! Touchdown for Bellport!" howled the enthusiasts, whilethe dazed Columbia team crawled out of the scrimmage and wonderedhow it had happened. So, too, did some of the Bellport playersthemselves wonder, for the play had come like a flash from a clearsky.
The goal was easily kicked, tying the score, and then the bigcrowd sat up and wondered what would come next.
"It's going to be a hot game all right!" was the general verdict.
"Here's where we beat you, Columbia!" called a Bellport supporter,as he turned to Buster with a grin on his face. "Oh we've got youin a hole dead sure. We've got your number."
"Oh, have you!" retorted Buster. "Wait. Don't count your chickensuntil they're out of the woods."
After the kick-off there followed some line smashing tactics onboth sides. Once Bellport was penalized for off-side play, andonce Columbia lost the ball for holding in the line. Bellport waslater penalized ten yards for a second offense in off-side work,and then the players seemed to realize the importance of beingcareful, and they got down to business.
How they ever stood the smashing, banging tactics, the fiercetackling, the eager runs, the line bucking, the giving and taking,only one who has played football, and who knows the fierce joy ofthe game, can understand. Nervous women cried out in alarm as theysaw the struggling mass and heap of boyish humanity. There wereseveral times when the play had to be stopped to allow the dashingof cold water over some unlucky chap, to bring him out of a halffaint, and the number of lads who lost their wind, and had to haveit pumped into them by artificial respiration was many.
But no one was seriously hurt, though Coddling had to leave thefield because of a broken finger and Harper was replaced at theColumbia right guard because he was so disabled from a fiercepiling-on of players that he was useless in the line.
Ten minutes more to play, and the score tied! Back and forth theplayers had surged, up and down the field, now kicking, nowplunging into each other's line, now circling the ends. It was themost fiercely contested game that had ever been played in theleague. The Columbia-Clifford contest was as nothing to it.
"Hold 'em, Tigers! Don't let 'em score again! Rip out anothertouchdown! Go at 'em!"
How the cohorts of Columbia begged and pleaded! No less did thefriends of Bellport.
A touchdown, a field goal, or a safety for either side now wouldwin the game and the championship. Which would it be? To whichside would it go. A thousand admirers of either team asked thosequestions.
Bellport had the ball, and had, by a smashing rush, carried itthree yards through Columbia's line. It was on the latter'sforty-yard line now, but it had been there before, and had notadvanced much farther. That last attack, though, had had powerbehind it.
"Look out!" warned Frank. "They may do us!"
The play looked to be another rush on the part of Bellport, andwith fierce and eager eyes her opponents watched for the slightestadvantage. Bardwell came on with the ball like a stone from acatapult. He hit the line between Shay and Daly, but he did not gothrough. With desperate energy, borne of despair, the guard andtackle held.
And then, wonder of wonders, probably because he was dazed by theimpact with which he hit the line, Bardwell dropped the ball. Likea flash Daly had fallen on it.
"Our ball!" he fairly howled, and when the crowd knew that t
heywent wild--that is, the Columbia contingent.
But the time had slipped by. There were but three minutes more ofplay.
"Quick now, fellows. Line up! Get a touchdown!" begged Frank."Break the tie!"
Into the play plunged the doughty captain himself for a ten-yardgain, for the shock of surprise at their misfortune still held theBellport players spellbound.
"Another like that!" cried the throng.
A fake kick netted eight yards additional, and then followed moreline bucking.
"A goal from the field," suggested Wallace, when time was takenout to allow Alpers to get back his end.
"No, straight up the field--rush it!" ordered Allen.
Once more he made a slight gain.
"One minute more!" warned the time-keeper.
"Oh, can we do it!" panted Wallace.
He called on Ralph West for a straight plunge between guard andtackle. The plucky left-half drew a long breath, and gatheredhimself for the tremendous energy he knew would be needed. Theywere but four feet from the goal line. The ball _must_ beshoved over if human lungs and muscles could stand the terrificstrain a moment longer.
Amid a solemn silence came the signal. Like a shot West plungedforward, with the ball tightly tucked under his arm.
Into the line he went, smash bang! Oh, what a great hole there wastorn for him by the strenuous Shay and Daly! Through it West went,and in vain did Lee and Bardwell try to stop him. As well try tostop a rushing torrent as the Columbia players now. They weregoing to have that touchdown or tear up the goal posts.
With the quickness that argued how well he knew the need of haste,West placed the ball down beyond and over his head after he hadfallen in a fierce tackle. Over the line--over--ah, was it over?The chalk-mark was obliterated at this point. Was it over?
"Touchdown!" howled the Columbia players madly.
"Never. It's not over!" retorted Bellport's men fiercely.
There was a wild dispute, and in the midst of it the whistle blew,ending the game.
Who had won? It would take a measurement to decide. The linesmencame hurrying up, while the crowd chaffed at the delay and did notknow who to cheer.
Anxiously the measure was taken, and while hearts wildly beat theannouncement was made.
"The ball is over by four inches. Columbia wins the touchdown!"
"Oh, wow!"
"Hurrah!"
"We win!"
"Eleven to six!"
"The silver cup is ours!"
And then such a riot of wild cries, such stamping of feet, suchwaving of banners and streamers of ribbon! The great championshipgame was won by Columbia! Columbia!
"Columbia! Columbia the Gem of the Gridiron!" came the eagershouts. And the players filed off the field.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE MESSAGE FROM TOKIO.--CONCLUSION
That Thanksgiving night Columbia went wild.
True, the first snow of the year began sifting down, and theground was covered with a white mantle; but such a little thing asthat could not quench the ardor of those happy fellows. And so forhours the town resounded with cheers and songs, while in severalplaces great bonfires along the banks of the Harrapin told of thegeneral rejoicing.
How could they help it when Columbia High had completed thegreatest year in all her history--first there was the winning ofthe baseball championship; then came the hotly contested inter-schoolrowing races, in which she won new laurels with her young athletes;and last but not least, both Clifford and Bellport had gone down tobitter defeat before her gridiron warriors!
Frank would have begged off, but even the girls insisted that itwould be a shame to spoil the fun. So he had to join in thefestivities, and shout with the rest of Columbia's brave sons andfair daughters, as the gigantic procession wound in and outthrough all the town, greeted by answering cheers from the equallyenthusiastic fathers and mothers from the windows.
"There's only one more thing we ought to scoop in this year," saidPaul Bird, as he and Frank stood with the girls and watched theantics of Herman Hooker and his band of comical players, whereinthe most astonishing stunts were indulged in with amazinginstruments manufactured for the occasion.
"You mean the hockey championship, I suppose?" returned Frank,smiling.
"Yes, and from the expression on your face, old fellow, I'm of theopinion right now that you mean to have a look-in on that later onwhen the river is frozen again."
Frank laughed and nodded.
"Some of us have been talking it over. You know Clifford has beenunbeaten in that line for years. They have the best skaters upthere in the State, they claim. If we think to accept theirstanding challenge this year it's up to us to put a better team onthe ice than last season," he remarked.
"Well, they did snow you under, for a fact. But experience showedthat there were two fellows on your team who ought never to havebeen there. They lost the match through their clumsiness. Isn't thatso, girls?" demanded Paul.
"Everybody said so," declared Helen; and Minnie nodded her heardto indicate that she was of the same opinion.
"Then it must be so," laughed Frank. "But those fellows are not onthe team this year. We've been keeping quiet about who is going toplay. The committee have selected a certain number of players, andthe best will be chosen in time. Mark my words, Paul, we mean totry and give Clifford the biggest kind of a fight this winter.Whether we can win or not depends on many things. Time will tell."
And time did tell, for what manner of hockey was played thatwinter on the ice-clad surface of the neighboring Harrapin can befound recorded in the next volume of this series of High Schoolsports, entitled: "The Boys of Columbia High on the Ice; or, Outfor the Hockey Championship."
When the first of December came around shortly after that greatThanksgiving Day game, Ralph West sought out Frank once more. Hisface told of excitement, and Frank was consequently ready toexpect some important news.
"Did you get your usual monthly allowance from Uncle Jim'soffice?" he asked.
"Yes, yesterday. I suppose he left word before he went that itshould be sent while he was away. But I've heard from him direct,"replied Ralph, his face glowing with the eager light of anticipatedhappiness.
"You have? A letter from China or Russia or Siberia, which?"
"You're away off, Frank. This was a cablegram. I just got it atthe office, for I have wandered in there often in hopes of such athing, and know the operator. It was from Tokio, and I supposeyour Uncle Jim must have followed Mrs. Langworthy and her brotherArnold Musgrove there. Perhaps they gave up all hope of getting toRussia through China. I don't know how that is, but here's what itsays," and he handed a message to Frank, who glanced down at thesewords:
"Leave here next steamer for States. Mrs. Langworthy accompaniesme. Keep up a good heart, for there is much joy in store for you.JAMES DECATUR ALLEN."
"Hurrah! that's glorious news, old fellow! From my heart Icongratulate you! Now, I know Uncle Jim well enough to feel surethat he'd never cable like that unless he was absolutely positiveof his ground. Like as not, that monster of an Arnold--why wasn'this name Benedict like the Revolutionary traitor, has confessed;for you don't notice his name among the expected travelers."
"Well, I don't know how I'll ever be able to stand the weeks thatmust pass before they get here in Columbia. You must help me,Frank, you and Helen," declared Ralph, gripping the hand of hischum almost savagely.
"We will, all right. The time will fly, because you're anticipatinghappy news. Just think of the extravagance of Uncle Jim, sendingnearly thirty words in a cablegram. It costs twenty-five cents aword to London, and goodness knows how many times that from Tokiohere. He knows what he's doing though, and I warrant you it's thelady's money that pays for that cablegram," whereupon Ralphimpulsively raised the paper to his lips and kissed it, then blushedlike a girl.
With such good and true friends around him, it may be sure thatRalph was not going to be left alone much of the time. They madehim join in all their sports, and with the coming of
winter adozen new things presented themselves to the boys and girls of oldColumbia High.
Minnie was happier than ever, since that little shadow wasremoved, and her former warm, friendly intercourse with Frank andHelen renewed. Many times she thought of how valiantly Frank hadstood there, holding the attention of that terrible bull, so as toallow her time to clamber out of harm's way; and never without ashudder, as she contemplated what a terrible thing might havehappened had the boy slipped when avoiding those rushes of theenraged animal.
Never would she allow that old red sweater to leave her possession.The very sight of it always made her sigh with satisfaction. Ithad undoubtedly had much to do with the savage attack of thatanimal, whose pasture she so unwittingly invaded; but had thatevent not happened, perhaps the mystery of that torn paper wouldnever have been explained.
Nothing could again cause her to ever doubt the fidelity of FrankAllen; and to the end of the chapter they must always be, as shehad said that day, "good friends, true friends!"
THE END.
Boys of Columbia High on the Gridiron : or, the Struggle for the Silver Cup Page 23