A Quarter-Back's Pluck: A Story of College Football

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  THE GAME

  With a mighty swing of his foot Snail Looper sent the ball well intoBoxer territory. Lamson, their right half-back, caught it in hisarms, and, with a good defense, began to rush back with it. Over thechalk-marks he came, but Tom Parsons was rushing toward him, and dodgingthrough the intervening players he made a vicious tackle, bringingLamson to the ground with a thud on Boxer's thirty-eight-yard line.There was a quick line-up, and Stoddard, the full-back, made a good tryto encircle Joe Jackson at right end. But the Jersey twin and his matespiled up on the mass of Boxer players with such good effect that hardlythree yards were gained; and at this showing of the defense of Randall apunt was decided on.

  Pinstock, Boxer's left half-back, made a magnificent drive, and HollyCross had to skip nimbly back to catch it. But once he had the pigskinin his grasp he eluded the Boxer ends, and was well toward the center ofthe field before he was downed.

  "Our ball!" cried Tom gleefully, and then there came the chance forRandall to show what she could do.

  "Signal!" cried Phil, and his companions wondered at the odd note thathad crept into his voice. It was not of the confident style of ordersthat the quarter-back was wont to give. But, as the string of numbersand letters came rattling out, Phil, in a measure, recovered control ofhimself. He gave the word for Kindlings to take the ball at Boxer'sleft-end, and smash! into the line went the brawny right half-back. Hegained ten yards so quickly that Boxer Hall was fairly stunned, and whenHolly Cross ripped out eight yards additional the crowd of Randallsupporters were in a mad frenzy of delirious joy.

  "Swat 'em! Swat 'em! We have got 'em!" howled Bean Perkins, and forthfrom hundreds of throats came booming that song.

  Grasshopper Backus and Dutch Housenlager opened a great hole betweentheir opposite guard and tackle, and into this breach Jerry Jackson waspulled and hurled for several yards, until he fell under a crushingweight of husky players at Boxer's thirty-yard-line. Once more Phil'svoice sang out in a signal, and back he snapped the ball to Holly Cross,who, like some human battering ram, went through for five yards more. Itlooked as if Randall was going right down the field for a touch-down,and Bean Perkins and his cohorts rendered the "Down the Line" song withgood effect.

  A touch-down might have resulted from the next play, but unfortunatelyfor Randall Jerry Jackson made a fumble, and in their anxiety several ofhis mates held in the line. There was a prompt penalty enforced, andback to the forty-yard line the pigskin was taken, where it was turnedover to Randall for another try. Randall's hard work had not gained hermuch, and there was an ominous silence on the part of the cheeringthrong. Once more came rushing tactics, and they succeeded so well thatin two downs the ball was carried to Boxer's thirty-yard line. ThenHolly Cross decided to try for a field goal, but the wind carried it toone side, and his mates groaned. So did Bean Perkins and his comrades.

  "Isn't that a shame!" exclaimed Madge Tyler to Ruth Clinton.

  "Hush, Madge!" answered Ruth. "I want to watch the game. I can't talk. Iwant to see what Phil does. I'm afraid he'll be hurt."

  "Aren't you worried about Tom Parsons, too?"

  "Yes--of course. Aren't you?"

  "Not so much."

  Ruth looked at her friend sharply, but there was no time for furthertalk, as Boxer had brought out the ball to their twenty-five-yard line,and elected to line up with it instead of punting. At Randall's linethey came, smashing with terrific force, but so well did Holly and hisplayers hold that only four yards were made. Another attempt broughteven less gain, and then Boxer had to kick. Kindlings saw the ballcoming toward him, and managed by a desperate effort, to get it in hisarms. Back he rushed to the forty-three-yard line, where he fell under ahuman mountain.

  The first play tried by Randall after this was a forward pass, and theball went out of bounds. Holly Cross kicked a twisting punt, and whenLamson, the Boxer right half, caught it, Tom Parsons downed him almostin his tracks, so swiftly did the left-end get down under the kick.

  "Go through 'em!" implored Captain Stoddard to his men, and at the linethey came smashing with crushing force. For the first time since theplay had begun Randall seemed to give way. Holes were torn in her line,and through the openings the backs came rushing. They had gained fifteenyards, in almost as good style as had Randall in the initial play, whenthey varied the smashing work by a try around Tom's end. But he wasalert, and got his man in the nick of time. Another try at center failedto result in a gain, and Boxer Hall had to kick.

  Jerry Jackson rushed the ball back for a good distance, and then, witha fierceness that the Boxer Hall lads could not seem to withstand,Randall came at their line, going through for substantial gains onevery try.

  "That's the stuff! That's the stuff!" cried Dutch Housenlager during abreathing spell, when one of the Boxer Hall players had to be walkedabout to recover his wind. "Eh, Phil? Aren't we putting it all overthem?"

  "I--I guess so," answered Phil, and he passed his hand over his head asif he was dazed.

  "Somebody hit you?" asked Tom, blaming himself for not having kept acloser watch over his chum.

  "No--no; I'm all right."

  The injured player limped back into line, and the game went on. Smash!bang! came the Randall players, and they went up to the ten-yard linewith scarcely a stop. In vain did the cohorts of Boxer Hall implore themto brace. It seemed that they could not. But, just as it looked for allthe world as if the ball would be carried over by Holly Cross, for itwas decided to smash through and not kick, the brace did come, and theRandall players had to give up the pigskin. In a jiffy Captain Stoddardhad punted out of danger. There was an exchange of kicks, and it endedwith Boxer getting the ball on her forty-yard line.

  Then, all at once, a new spirit seemed infused into her players. Theycame at Randall with a viciousness that argued well for their spirit.It was rough work, not noticeable, perhaps, but Tom felt that what hefeared was about to happen; that some plan was afoot to injure Phil. Heplayed in as far as he dared, but the opposite end was constantlydrawing him out.

  At the line came Lamson, the Boxer right-half. He ripped out five yards,bowling over Sam Looper with such force that the Snail had to have alittle medical treatment. He barely recovered in the two minutes, andwas a bit wobbly when the attack was again directed at him. But HollyCross and Jerry Jackson leaped in to his aid, and stopped the advance.Then Boxer went around right-end, and had ten yards before they werestopped. The game looked to be going the other way now, and there werestrained looks on the faces of the Randall players and their supporters.As for the cheering contingent of Boxer Hall, they made the air ringwith their song: "It's Time We Did a Little Business Now!"

  "Don't let 'em get through you. Hold 'em! Hold 'em!" cried Holly. "Braceup, boys!"

  Randall tried to, but Boxer had found a weak place between Snail Looperand Grasshopper Backus, and kept hammering away at it, until they hadadvanced the ball to the fifteen-yard line. Then Boxer Hall played aneat trick. There was every indication that a try for a field goal wasabout to be made, and Holly Cross got back. Instead, there was a doublepass, and a play between tackle and right-end. Through the Randall lineburst Frothon, the right-tackle, with the ball tucked under his arm.Holly Cross saw him just in time, and made a dive for him. But theRandall full-back's foot slipped, and he went down, making a vain grabfor Frothon, who sped on, and planted the ball behind the goal posts.Boxer Hall had made the first touch-down, and the crowd of supporterswent wild, while there was corresponding gloom on the grandstands whereRandallites were gathered. The goal was missed, and a scrimmage hadhardly begun after the next kick-off before the whistle blew. The halfwas up.

  What a buzz of excitement there was in the grandstands! Every one seemedtalking at once.

  "That was hard lines," remarked Ford Fenton to Sid, next to whom he wassitting. "If our fellows had only been a little quicker then, this wouldnever have happened. My uncle says----"

  "Fenton!" exclaimed Sid so fiercely that Ford almost turned pale, "i
fyou mention 'uncle' again during this game, I'll throw you off thegrandstand," and, as Fenton was rather high up, he concluded to keepquiet.