CHAPTER IV
FOOTBALL PRACTICE
For a few seconds no one spoke after Dick Hamilton had mentioned hisplan for improving the Kentfield eleven. But at length, with along-drawn sigh of satisfaction, Innis remarked:
"Dick; you're a trump!--a brick!--an ice-cream brick on a hotday!--you're all to the mustard!--a----"
"Cut it out!" cried our hero, "can't you see how I'm blushing? Butseriously, fellows, is my plan all right?"
"I should say it was!" exclaimed Paul Drew.
"But look at what it's going to cost," objected George Hall. "Those Yaleand Princeton coaches are high-fliers--that is, if you can get them tocome--and then besides their salary, we'll have to board 'em. Though Is'pose we could put 'em up at the Pig, provided they won't scrap all thewhile over different training plans."
"Oh, I fancy that part will be all right," remarked Teddy Naylor.
"But do you think you can get any Yale or Princeton coaches to comehere--to Kentfield--with her poor, old, broken-down team--that isaccording to Anderson," spoke Frank Rutley.
"Well, of course we'll have to take a chance on that," replied Dick. "Ifwe can't get men from those two colleges we can try some others. But dadis an old Princeton grad. and I have sort of a distant forty-secondcousin who was once a star half-back at Yale. I might get them to put ina good word for us."
"Hurray!" cried Innis in the excitement and exuberance of the moment."That's the stuff! Now we'll wipe up the ground with those Blue Hillsnobs! Whoop-la!"
He shot out a sturdy fist, and squarely hit a football that Teddy Naylorwas balancing on his hand. The spheroid flew straight and true acrossthe room, and caught John Stiver on the chin. Stiver at that momenthappened to be looking at the sporting page of a paper and did not seethe ball coming. Consequently it was quite a surprise, and he went overbackward against Paul Drew, both going down in a heap.
"I say, who did that?" cried John, as he arose with the symptoms ofwrath in his eyes.
"I did, old chap!" confessed Innis contritely. "You see I felt so good Iwanted to start something. I beg your pardon."
"Granted. But you certainly started something all right," remarked Johngrimly. "There goes Drew's nose bleeding. You sure started something allright."
"Oh, I don't mind," responded Dick's roommate, as he went to a toiletroom to staunch the flow of blood. "If we get a good team and play somestiff games I'll probably have worse than this before the season isover."
Innis went out with Paul to assist in attending to the bleeding member,and the others resumed their football talk. There was but one opinionabout Dick's plan--everybody said it was just what was needed, and toall suggestions that it would cost a mint of money, the youngmillionaire declared that it would be worth all it cost him.
"What's the use of having a fortune if you don't spend it?" he askedwith a smile. "Though I suppose if my Uncle Ezra hears about my latestscheme he'll try again to kidnap me, to stop me from carrying it out.But he isn't here, is he Grit, old boy?" and Dick stooped over to pethis bulldog, who crouched at his feet, the animal being an honorarymember of the Sacred Pig Society.
Grit growled at the mention of the name of Uncle Ezra. He had a deepantipathy to that gentleman, and with reason, for Mr. Larabee hateddogs, and kicked Grit on the sly every time he got the chance.
"Then it's all settled," remarked Dick, when Paul and Innis had comeback to the general room. "I'll get busy writing some letters, and we'llsee what we can do. It's lucky the season hasn't started yet, for wehave plenty of time to get into shape."
"Yes, and we'll not only do up Blue Hill good and brown, but we'll putit all over Mooretown and some of the other teams in the MilitaryLeague," declared Innis. "But you fellows must get at practice, and tryand harden yourselves. I wish Bert Cameron was here--I don't know howhe's going to take to this new coaching idea."
"Oh, Bert won't mind," declared Jim Watkins. "He'll be only too glad tobe relieved of the coaching, for I heard him say he was trying for anextra exam. in maths, and he needs all the time he can get."
Bert, who was a star football player, had given up active participationin the game to act as coach for Kentfield. But, as his chums well knew,he had not the necessary time to devote to the work of telling them whatto do and how to do it, and the team suffered in consequence.
However, the mention of this gave Dick an idea. He did not want to hurtthe feelings of Bert, and, when the coach entered the club a littlelater the matter was mentioned to him.
"Go ahead, grand idea," he declared and his enthusiasm was not forced."I know I haven't been keeping you fellows up to the mark, and I'll beglad to see some one here who can. Besides, I need all the time I canget to bone away at my maths."
"Then I'll go ahead," declared the young millionaire. "I'll have the newcoaches here in a week if I can get them, and I'll meet any financialdemand they make."
"That's the way to talk!" cried Paul, clapping his chum on the back withsuch energy that Dick uttered a protest.
When our hero turned in at taps that night, his mind was filled with twomain thoughts. One was the future of the football team, and the otherwas the trouble that threatened his father. Then another remembrancecame to him.
"I wonder who that Mr. Duncaster is that we so nearly ran over?" musedDick. "He must know dad. He's a queer sort of a character, I guess."
Dick little thought of what an important part in the future of himselfand his father this same Mr. Duncaster was to play.
"Well, I'll see if I can get any more information from Porter about thedeal his father is in," said Dick to himself, as he turned over tocompose himself for sleep. "There must be more than one man in the game,and it's up to me to find out who the others are, so dad can be on hisguard. I hope he doesn't lose control of the trolley, for a lot of smallinvestors have put all their money in it, and if other interested menget hold of it the investors might lose all they have. I guess that'swhy dad is so worried. I'll cultivate the acquaintance of Porter andWeston, though I don't care much for them."
A better day for football practice could not have been desired. Therewas just enough crispness in the air, and the gridiron, newly markedwith its chalk-lines was green under the autumn sun as a crowd of cadetsreleased from drill and studies, flocked over the campus, shouting andlaughing.
"Line up there, you scrubs!" called Paul Drew. "This is where we walkall over you. Here, Dick, catch this!" and he kicked a puzzling spiraltoward the young millionaire.
Dick made a jump for the ball, but it slipped through his fingers.
"Wow! Rotten!" he cried. "That wouldn't do in a game."
"That's right," agreed Innis. "But you're no worse than the rest. Lookat Watkins miss that drop kick he tried to make."
Shouts of derision from the scrub greeted the effort of Watkins to bootthe pigskin. The scrub, in spite of its unenviable position, had beendoing better in practice than the regular team. Captained by Tom Coletonthe lads had scored many a touchdown on their superiors, and they wereproud of it.
"Line up, fellows!" called Teddy Naylor, the Varsity captain. "We'll seewhat we can do."
The game at Kentfield was played under the old rules of halves, insteadof quarters, and, in fact, all the teams in the Military Leaguepreferred that style.
Goals were chosen, and it was announced that two ten minute halves wouldbe played. Dick was to play at quarter-back, John Stiver at lefthalf-back, Ray Dutton at right half-back, Paul Drew at left guard,George Hall at right tackle, Teddy Naylor at full-back, Frank Rutley atleft tackle, Jim Watkins at centre, Innis Beeby at right guard, SamPorter as left end, and his crony, Jake Weston, at right end.
The scrub were to kick off, as Teddy wanted to see how well his mencould rush back the ball. Not that he expected much, but somehow, underthe stimulus of the new plan proposed by Dick, there was a moreconfident feeling among members of the Varsity eleven, than had existedin some time.
"I think we'll surprise 'em to-day," remarked Paul Drew, as he took hisplace beside Ji
m.
The signal was given, and Hal Foster made a big dent in the side of theball. It came sailing toward the spread-out Varsity team, and was caughtby Dick. He started back over the chalk marks, well protected byinterference.
"Grab him! Don't let him get past you!" called Tom Coleton, who was incharge of the scrub. Dick's helpers shoved aside several impetuous ladswho tried to break through to tackle him, and it looked as though hemight make a sensational run. But when Bart Gerard slipped past PaulDrew, and got in to the running lad, there was a quick, fierce tackle,and Dick went down heavily.
"Not so bad! Line up!" cried Bert Cameron, who stole a few minutes fromhis studies to come out and see how the play was going.
"Get ready, fellows!" cried Dick, as he took his place behind Jim, whilethe big centre leaned over and prepared to snap back the ball when thesignal was given.
Dick called out a string of numbers which indicated that Ray Dutton wasto take the ball between the left guard and tackle of the scrub. Theball came back, and with all his might Dutton leaped for a hole thatBeeby and Hall made for him. On and on he struggled pushing and beingpushed.
"Brace, fellows! Brace!" implored Coleton, and his men tried, but therewas no withstanding the fierce rush of the Varsity. Through they went,and when Dutton was finally stopped he had gained five yards.
"It's been some time since we did that," commented Dick, as he lookedback at the ground covered--ground whereon were strewn fallen playersfor the rush had been a fierce one.
Again came the line up, and again the advance with the ball, Stivertaking it this time for a run around end. He made a good gain. Thenfollowed more rushing tactics, until, when in reasonable distance ofthe goal, Dick gave the signal for a try for one from the field.
Straight and true the ball came back to Teddy Naylor, and the nextinstant it was booted over the crossbar.
"Wow!" cried Beeby capering about. "That's the stuff. Now if that wasagainst Blue Hill I'd stand on my head!"
"Impossible, old chap--I mean impossible to stand on your head--you'renot balanced right," panted Dick, for the last few minutes of play hadbeen strenuous. "But it was good work all the same."
"You can't repeat it," declared Coleton, half chagrined yet glad thatthe Varsity was picking up.
But the Varsity did even better, for they rolled up two touchdowns inthat half, a thing they had been unable to do since practice started.
They did not have things all their own way, however, for the scrubplayed so fiercely and with such desperate energy in the next half, thatthey, too, got a touchdown, and would have had another but for asplendid tackle Porter made.
"Good!" cried Teddy encouragingly, for Porter was not a good player, andwould not train properly. But he had been picked on the team early inthe season, when available material was scarce, and the captain did notlike to drop him now. His fine stopping of the man with the ball,however, showed what he could do when he tried.
The play was resumed. There were only a few more minutes left, and thescrubs were trying with all their might to score again, while, on theirpart, the Varsity was trying to stop them. The scrub had the ball on theVarsity twenty-five yard line, when the signal came for a play throughcentre.
Dick half guessed that it was coming, and when the man with the ballmade his appearance in the hole torn for him, our hero met him with asuddenness that shocked them both.
"I've got you!" cried the young millionaire. There was a revolvingstruggle, and then something hit Dick on the head. It became black allaround him, and he went down in a limp heap, while he heard some onecrying:
"Get up, fellows, Hamilton's hurt!"
Dick Hamilton's Football Team; Or, A Young Millionaire On The Gridiron Page 5