CHAPTER XII
THE FIRST GAME
The three chums looked at each other. Phil felt of Sid's curiouslystiffened hand.
"I don't see how it could be the liniment," he said. "I've used it rightalong. It's the same thing doc gave me. You must have hurt your handworse than you thought."
"I guess I did," admitted Sid. So skilfully had Gerhart carried out hisdastardly plot that even his unusual visit to the room of the trioattached no suspicion to him. The breaking of the bottle of linimentdestroyed one link in the chain against him, and it would be difficultto trace anything to Gerhart now.
Dr. Marshall looked grave when he saw Sid's hand.
"That is very unusual," he said. "It must have been something you put onit. The muscles and tendons have been stiffened. There is a drug whichwill do that, but it is comparatively rare. It is sometimes used, inconnection with other things, to keep down swelling, but never to softena strain. Are you sure you used only the liniment I left for Clinton?"
"That's all," declared Tom.
"Let me see the bottle," said the physician, as he twirled his glassesby their cord and looked puzzled.
"We can't; it's all gone," explained Phil, and he told of the accident.
"Humph! Very strange," mused Dr. Marshall. "I'm afraid you'll not beable to use your hand for a month, Henderson. You have every indicationof having used the peculiar drug I speak of, yet you say you did not,and I don't see how you could have, unless it got in the liniment bymistake. And that it did not is proved by the fact that Clinton used thesame liniment without any ill effects. Only that Parsons used a rag torub with, his hand would be out of commission, too. It is very strange.I wish there was some of the liquid left. I will see the druggist whoput it up. Possibly he can explain it."
"Well, I'm glad I didn't put any on my shoulder," said Phil. "It wouldhave been all up with me and football, then."
"It certainly would," admitted Dr. Marshall. "Let me look at yourdislocation."
"When can I get into the game again?" asked Phil anxiously, after theinspection.
"Humph! Well, I think by the middle of the week. It is getting alongbetter than I expected. Yes, if you pad it well you may go into lightpractice to-morrow, and play in a game the end of the week."
"Good!" cried Phil. "Then's when we tackle Fairview Institute for thefirst game of the season!"
The next day a notice was posted on the bulletin board in the gymnasium,stating that the 'varsity eleven would line up against the scrub thatafternoon in secret practice. Then followed a list of names of thoseselected to play on the first team. It was as follows:
_Left-end_ TOM PARSONS _Left-tackle_ ED KERR _Left-guard_ BOB MOLLOY _Center_ SAM LOOPER _Right-guard_ PETE BACKUS _Right-tackle_ BILLY HOUSENLAGER _Right-end_ JOE JACKSON _Quarter-back_ PHIL CLINTON _Right half-back_ DAN WOODHOUSE _Left half-back_ JERRY JACKSON _Full-back_ HOLLY CROSS
"Hurrah, Tom! You're at left-end!" cried Phil, who, with his chum, wasreading the bulletin.
"I'm glad of it. Are you all right for practice?"
"Sure. Come on; let's get into our togs."
On the outer fringe of football players stood Langridge and Gerhart.There was surprise on their faces at the sight of Phil getting ready toplay.
"Something went wrong," whispered Langridge to his crony. "Your schemedidn't work."
"I see it didn't," admitted Gerhart with a scowl. "I wonder where theslip was?"
But when he heard of the peculiar ailment from which Sid Hendersonsuffered, Gerhart knew.
"I lost that chance," he said to Langridge, "but I may see another toget square with Clinton, and, when I do, I'll not fail. It's too late,maybe, for me to get in the game now, but I'll put him out of it, anddon't you forget it!"
Phil was a little stiff in practice, but he soon warmed up, and the'varsity eleven played the scrub "all over the field."
"That's what I like to see," complimented the coach. "Now, boys, playthat way against Fairview on Saturday, and you'll open the season witha victory. I want you to win. Then we'll have a better chance for thechampionship. The schedule is different from the baseball one, you know.We don't play so many games with Boxer Hall and Fairview as we did inthe spring, consequently each one counts more. Now I'm going to giveyou some individual instruction."
Which the coach did very thoroughly, getting at the weak spots in eachman's playing, and commenting wisely on it, at the same time showing himhow he ought to play his position. There was practice in passing theball, falling on it, kicking and tackling.
"We want to do considerable work in the forward pass and the on-sidekick this season," the coach went on. "I think you are doing very well.Parsons, don't forget to put all the speed you can into your runs, whengetting down on kicks.
"You Jersey twins don't want to be watching each other so. I know youare fond of one another, but try to forget that you are brothers, and bemore lively in the game."
Jerry and Joe Jackson joined in the laugh that followed.
"As for you, Snail Looper," continued Coach Lighton, giving the centerthe name he had earned from his habit of prowling about nights andmoving at slow speed, "you are doing fairly well, but be a littlequicker. Try to forget that you're a relative of the _Helix Mollusca_.You backs, get into plays on the jump, and take advantage of themomentum. That's the way to smash through the line. Now then, we'll trysignals again. Clinton, keep a cool head. Nothing is worse than gettingyour signals mixed, and you fellows, if you don't understand exactlywhat the play is, call for the signal to be repeated. That will savecostly fumbles. Now line up again."
They went through the remainder of the practice with a snap and vim thatdid the heart of the coach and the captain good. The scrub team waspretty well worn out when a halt was called.
"Do you think you will beat Fairview?" asked Ford Fenton of Tom a littlelater, when the left-end and Phil were on their way to supper, after arefreshing shower bath.
"I hope so, Ford. But you never can tell. Football is pretty much agamble."
"Yes, I suppose so. But my uncle says----"
"Say, are you going to keep that up this term?" demanded Phil wearily."If you are, I'm going to apply to the courts for an injunction againstyou and your uncle."
"Well," continued Fenton with an injured air, "he was football coachhere for some time, and my uncle says----"
"There he goes again!" cried Tom. "Step on him, Phil!"
But Ford, with a reproachful look, turned aside.
"I don't see why there's such a prejudice against my uncle," he murmuredto himself. But there wasn't. It was against the manner in which thenephew ceaselessly harped on what his relative said, though Ford wasnever allowed to tell what it was.
The Randall eleven was fairly on edge when they indulged in lightpractice Saturday morning, preparatory to leaving for Fairview, wherethe first game of the season was to take place.
"Feel fit, Tom?" asked Sid, who had to carry his left hand in a sling.Dr. Marshall had been unable to learn anything from the druggist thatput up the liniment, and the cause for the queer stiffness remainedundiscovered.
"As fit as a fiddle," replied the lad. "How about you, Phil?"
"I'm all to the Swiss cheese, as the poet had it. Is it about time tostart?"
"Nearly. We're going in a special trolley. Does your shoulder pain youany?"
"Not a bit."
"I suppose--er--that is--er--your sister will be at the game?" venturedTom.
"Of course. She's as daffy about it as I am. If she had been a boy she'dhave played. Miss Tyler will be there, of course?" Phil questioned inturn.
"I don't know--I suppose so," answered Tom. "Oh, of course. She and yoursister will probably go together."
"Yes, they're great chums. I wonder why I didn't get a letter from dadto-day? He promised to write every night. I ought to have received one.I'd like to k
now how my mother is."
"Well, no news is good news," quoted Tom. "Let's start. I get nervouswhen I have to sit around."
There was a large crowd on the grandstand at the Fairview gridiron whenthe Randall team arrived. The seats were rapidly filling up, and when, alittle later, the visiting eleven trotted out for practice, they werereceived with a burst of cheers.
"What's the matter with Randall?" demanded Bean Perkins, who had beenchristened "Shouter" from the foghorn quality of his tones. He generallyled the college cheering and singing. Back came the usual reply thatnothing whatever ailed Randall.
"There's a good bunch out," observed Tom to Phil as they passed the ballback and forth. "Look at the girls! My, what a lot of them!"
"And all pretty, too," added Phil. "At least, I know one who is."
"Who?"
"Miss Tyler."
"I know another," spoke the left-end.
"Who's that?"
"Your sister. She's prettier than the photograph."
"You'd better tell her so."
"I did."
"Whew! It doesn't take you long to get down to business. But come on.They're going to line up for practice," and the two ran over to jointheir teammates.
What a mass of color the grandstands and bleachers presented! Mingledwith the youths and men were girls and women in bright dresses, wavingbrighter-hued flags. There were pretty girls with long horns, tied withstreamers of one college or the other. There were more pretty girls withlong canes, from which flew ribbons of yellow and maroon--Randall'scolors. There were grave men who wore tiny footballs on their coatlapels, a knot of ribbon denoting with which college they sided.
Massed in one stand were the cheering students of Randall, bent onmaking themselves heard above the songs and yells of their rivals. Norwere the girls of Fairview at all backward in giving vent to theirenthusiasm. They had songs and yells of their own, and, under theleadership of Madge Tyler, were making themselves heard.
Tom, in catching a long kick, ran close to the stand where the Fairviewgirls were massed. Madge was down in front, getting ready to lead themin a song.
"Hello!" cried Tom to her, as he booted the pigskin back to Ed Kerr.
"Sorry I can't cheer for you this time!" called Madge brightly.
"Well, I'm sorry we will have to push the Fairview boys off the field,"retorted Tom.
"Oh, are you going to do that?" asked a girl behind Madge, and Tom, whohad been vainly looking for her, saw Ruth Clinton.
"Sorry, but we have to," he replied. "Aren't you ashamed to cheeragainst your own brother?"
"Oh, I guess Phil is able to look after himself," said Ruth. "Is hisshoulder all right, Mr. Parsons?"
"Doing nicely."
Just then the referee's whistle blew to summon the players frompractice.
"I'll see you after the game," called Tom, and as he glanced from Ruthto Madge, he saw the latter regarding him rather curiously from herbrown eyes. With a queer feeling about the region where he imagined hisheart to be, he ran across the field.
"Remember--fast, snappy play!" was the last advice from Coach Lighton."You're going to win, boys. Don't forget that!"
From the stand where the Randall supporters were gathered came thatenthusing song--the song they always sang at a big game--"_Aut vincereaut mori_"--"Either we conquer or we die!"
"Keep cool and smash through 'em," spoke Captain Cross to his players,as the referee and other officials took their places.
It was Fairview's kick-off, and a moment later the ball came sailingthrough the air. Holly Cross caught it, and, well protected byinterference, began to rush it back. But the Fairview players, byamazing good play, managed to get through, and Holly was downed after arun back of twenty yards.
"Now, boys, all together!" called Phil, as he eagerly got into placebehind big Snail Looper, who was bending over the ball. Then thequarter-back rattled off a string of signals for Jerry Jackson, the lefthalf-back, to take the ball through the opposing left tackle and end.
Back came the ball, accurately snapped by the center. Jerry Jacksonwas on the alert and took it from Phil as he passed him on the run.Kindlings Woodhouse smashed in to make a hole for his brother back, whoclosely followed. Captain Cross, on the jump, took care of the opposingleft-end, and with a crash that was heard on the grandstand, one of theJersey twins hit the line. The game was fairly begun.
A Quarter-Back's Pluck: A Story of College Football Page 12