Behind the Line: A Story of College Life and Football

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER XII

  ON THE HOSPITAL LIST

  Harvard's good showing thus far during the season convinced Erskine thatcould she hold the crimson warriors down to five scores she would bedoing remarkably well, and that could she, by any miracle, crossHarvard's goal-line she would be practically victorious. The team thatjourneyed to Cambridge on October 23d was made up as follows:

  Stone, l.e.; Tucker, l.t.; Carey, l.g.; Stowell, c.; Witter, r.g.;White, r.t.; Devoe, r.e.; Foster, q.b.; Fletcher, l.h.b.; Gale, r.h.b.;Mason, f.b.

  Besides these, eight substitutes went along and some thirty patrioticstudents followed. Among the latter was Sydney Burr and "Fan"Livingston. Neil had brought the two together, and Livingston hadreadily taken to the crippled youth. In Livingston's care Sydney had nodifficulty in making the trip to Soldiers Field and back comfortablyand safely.

  There is no need to tell in detail here of the Harvard-Erskine contest.Those who saw it will give Erskine credit for a plucky struggle againsta heavier, more advanced, and much superior team. In the first halfHarvard scored three times, and the figures were 17-0. In the secondhalf both teams put in several substitutes. For Erskine, Browning wentin for Carey, Graham for Stowell, Hurst for Witter, Pearse for Mason,and Bailey for Foster. In this half Harvard crossed Erskine's goal-linethree more times without much difficulty, while Erskine made the most ofa stroke of rare good luck, and changed her goose-egg for the figure 5.

  On the Purple's forty yards Harvard fumbled, not for the first time thatday, and Neil, more by accident than design, got the pigskin on thebounce, and, skirting the opposing right end, went up the field for atouch down without ever being in danger. The Erskine supporters went madwith delight, and the Harvard stand was ruefully silent. Devoe missed adifficult goal and a few minutes later the game ended with a final scoreof 34-5. Mills, however, would gladly have yielded that five points, ifby so doing he could have taken ten from the larger score. He wasdisappointed in the team's defense, and realized that a wonderfulimprovement was necessary if Robinson was to be defeated.

  And so the Erskine players were plainly given to understand the next daythat they had not acquired all the glory they thought they had. Theadvance guard of the assistant coaches put in an appearance in the shapeof Jones and Preston, both old Erskine football men, and took hold witha vim. Jones, a former guard, a big man with bristling black hair, tookthe line men under his wing and made them jump. Neil, Paul, and severalothers were taken in hand by Preston, and were daily put through avigorous course of punting and kicking. Neil was fast acquiring speedand certainty in the art of kicking goals from drop and placement, whilePaul promised to turn out a fair second choice.

  Jones, as every one soon learned, was far from satisfied with the lineof material at his disposal. He wanted more weight, especially in thecenter trio, and was soon pleading with Mills to have Cowan reinstated.The head coach ultimately relented, and Devoe was given to understandthat if Cowan expressed himself decently regretful and determined to dogood work he could go back into the second. The big sophomore, who, byhis frequent avowals, was in college for no other purpose than to playfootball, had simply been lost since his dismissal, and, upon hearingDevoe's message, eagerly came off his high horse and made a visit toMills. What he said and what Mills said is not known; but Cowan wentback into the second team at right-guard, and on Saturday was given atry at that position in the game with Erstham. He did so well that Joneswas highly pleased, and Mills found it in his heart to forgive. Theresults of the Erstham game were both unexpected and important.

  Instead of the comparatively easy victory anticipated, Erskine barelymanaged to save herself from being played to a standstill, and the finalfigures were 6-0 in her favor. The score was made in the last eightminutes of the second half by fierce line-bucking, but not before halfof the purple line had given place to substitutes, and one of theback-field had been carried bodily off the gridiron.

  With the ball on Erstham's twenty-six yards, where it had beendesperately carried by the relentless plunging and hurdling of Neil,Smith, and Mason, Erstham twice successfully repelled the onslaught, andit was Erskine's third down with two yards to gain. To lose the ball bykicking was the last thing to be thought of, and so, despite the factthat hitherto well-nigh every attempt at end running had met withfailure, Foster gave the ball to Neil for a try around the Erstham leftend. It was a forlorn hope, and unfortunately Erstham was looking forit. Neil found his outlet blocked by his own interference, and wasforced to run far out into the field. The play was a failure from thefirst. Erstham's big right half and an equally big line man tackled Neilsimultaneously for a loss and threw him heavily.

  When they got off him Neil tried to arise, but, with a groan, subsidedagain on the turf. The whistle blew and Simson ran on. Neil wasevidently suffering a good deal of pain, for his face was ashen and herolled his head from side to side with eyes half closed. His right armlay outstretched and without movement, and in an instant the trouble wasfound. Simson examined the injury quickly and called for the doctor, whoprobed Neil's shoulder with knowing fingers, while the latter's whiteface was being sopped with the dripping sponge.

  "Right shoulder's dislocated, Jim," said Dr. Prentiss quietly to thetrainer. "Take hold here; put your hands here, and pull toward yousteadily. Now!"

  Then Neil fainted.

  When he regained consciousness he was being borne from the field betweenfour of his fellows. At the locker-house the injured shoulder was laidbare, and the doctor went to work.

  The pain had subsided, and only a queer soreness remained. Neil watchedoperations with interest, his face fast regaining its color.

  "Nothing much, is it?" he asked.

  "Not a great deal. You've smashed your shoulder-blade a bit, and maybetorn a ligament. I'll fix you up in a minute."

  "Will it keep me from playing?"

  "Yes, for a while, my boy."

  Bandage after bandage was swathed about the shoulder, and the arm wasfixed in what Neil conceived to be the most unnatural and awkwardposition possible.

  "How long is this going to lay me up?" he asked anxiously. But thedoctor shook his head.

  "Can't tell yet. We'll see how you get along."

  "Well, a week?"

  "Maybe."

  "Two?"

  "Possibly."

  "But--but it can't! It mustn't!" he cried. The door opened and Simsonentered. "Simson," he called, "he says this may keep me laid up for twoweeks. It won't, will it?"

  "I hope not, Fletcher. But you must get it well healed, or else it maygo back on you again. Don't worry about--"

  "Don't worry! But, great Scott, the Robinson game's only a month off!"

  The trainer patted his arm soothingly.

  "I know, but we must make the best of it. It's hard lines, but the onlything to do is to take care of yourself and get well as soon aspossible. The doc will get you out again as soon as it can be done, butyou'll have to be doing your part, Fletcher, and keeping quiet andcheerful--"

  "Cheerful!" groaned Neil.

  "And getting strong. Now you're fixed and I'll go over to your room withyou. How do you feel?"

  "All right, I suppose," replied Neil hopelessly.

  Simson walked beside him back to college and across the campus and thecommon to his room, and saw him installed in an easy-chair with a pillowbehind the injured shoulder.

  "There you are," said the trainer. "Prentiss will look in this eveningand I'll see you in the morning. You'd better keep indoors for a fewdays, you know. I'll have your meals sent over. Don't worry about this,but keep yourself cheerful and--"

  Neil leaned his head against the pillow and closed his eyes.

  "Oh, go 'way," he muttered miserably.

  When Paul came in half an hour later he found Neil staring motionlessout of the window, settled melancholy on his face.

  "How bad is it, chum?" asked Paul. He hadn't called Neil "chum" for overa week--not since their quarrel.

  "Bad enough to spoil my chances for the Rob
inson game," answered Neilbitterly. Paul gave vent to a low whistle.

  "By Jove! I am sorry, old chap. That's beastly, isn't it? What doesPrentiss say?"

  Neil told him and gained some degree of animation in fervid protestationagainst his fate. For want of another, he held the doctor to account foreverything, only admitting Simson to an occasional share in the blame.Paul looked genuinely distressed, joining him in denunciation ofPrentiss and uttering such bits of consolation as occurred to him. Thesegenerally consisted of such original remarks as "Perhaps it won't be asbad as they think." "I don't believe doctors know everything, afterall." "Mills will make them get you around before two weeks, I'll bet."

  After dinner Paul returned to report a state of general gloom attraining-table.

  "Every one's awfully sorry and cut up about it, chum. Mills says he'llcome and look you up in the morning, and told me to tell you to keepyour courage up." After his information had given out, Paul walkedrestlessly about the study, taking up book after book only to lay itdown again, and behaving generally like a fish out of water. Neil,grateful for the other's sympathy, and secretly delighted at the healingof the breach, could afford to be generous.

  "I say, Paul, I'll be all right. Just give me the immortal Livy, willyou? Thanks. And you might put that tray out of the way somewhere andshove the drop-light a bit nearer. That's better. I'll be all right now;you run along."

  "Run along where?" asked Paul.

  "Well, I thought maybe you were going out or--somewhere."

  Paul's face expressed astonishment. He took up a book and settledhimself firmly in the wicker rocking-chair.

  "No," he said, "I'm not going anywhere."

  Neil studied in silence a while, and Paul turned several pages of hisbook. Then footsteps sounded on the stairs and Cowan's voice hailed Paulfrom beyond the closed door.

  "O Paul, are you coming along?"

  Paul glanced irresolutely from the door to Neil's face, which was bentcalmly over his book. Then--"No," he called gruffly, "not to-night!"