CHAPTER XXVIII
"LINE UP!"
Paul, looked at Dick Hamilton with something a little short ofopen-mouthed wonder. He could not understand him. He realized the vitalnecessity of the Hamilton forces getting control of the trolley stockthat Mr. Duncaster held. Now, when the opportunity offered, Dick calmlyturned it down.
"Do you know what you're saying, Dick?" asked his roommate. "This is theonly chance you'll have--perhaps to save your father's fortune."
"I know it."
"And you're not going?"
"What? And desert the team in the face of the biggest game of the year?I guess not. Dad wouldn't want me to."
"Some one can play in your place--perhaps for half the game. You couldgo out in an auto and back in a short time."
"Of course I might, but I'm not going to," and the young millionaire,who might not be a lad of wealth much longer, calmly looked to see ifhis canvas jacket needed any last attention. "If I went out there itwould take some time to arrange about the transfer of the stock, and Inever could get back in season to play the game. Besides I want to startoff with the boys from the first kick against Blue Hill."
"I don't blame you--but--it's a big price to pay."
"I know it, but it's worth all it will cost. Why I couldn't leave now,practically in the face of the enemy. I may not be a whole lot to theteam, and probably there are fellows on the scrub who can playquarter-back as well, if not better, than I can. But I've trained withthe boys all season. I'm their captain, however unworthy, and I've gotto stick by 'em. It would be treason to go now. I've got to stick."
"But can't you do something? Can't you send Duncaster some word? He sayshe leaves to-night. Telegraph him that you'll see him directly after thegame. Explain how things stand, and maybe he'll make allowances."
"I will," decided Dick, "but I haven't much hope. He is very much setagainst football, and he has no especial love for me. I can't understandwhy he should give in about the stock. Perhaps he feels that he mustclose up some of his business matters if he is going away. Then, too,dad's offer may be better than the one Porter made him. I can'tunderstand it, but I'll take a chance and send him a wire, asking him tomeet me after the game."
"Have you got the cash to pay for the stock?" asked Paul.
"Oh, I can give him a check to bind the bargain, and dad can settle withhim later. I haven't as much in the bank as I had, for I let dad investit in the electric line."
"Then you stand to lose too, if you don't get Duncaster's stock."
"Yes, but what of it? If we win this game, and Kentfield is the championof the league, I'd be willing to lose almost all I had. I fancy dad leftan offer with Mr. Duncaster, better than his first one, of an advance often per cent., and instructed the crabbed old chap to let him know whenhe was ready to accept it. Instead, he sends me word, and I--well, I'mnot going--that's all. That is not until after the game. It's what dadwould want me to do--he'll understand," said Dick softly.
"Well, you've got nerve--that's all I've got to say," complimented Pauladmiringly.
Dick wrote his telegram, and he took the precaution to give Toots themoney to prepay it.
"Duncaster might refuse it, if it went collect," he remarked with a grimsmile. "I can't take any chances. Then, Toots, arrange to have a speedytaxicab waiting for me at the end of the game. I'll make a bee-line forHardvale as soon as the last whistle blows," he explained to Paul. "Wantto come along?"
"Sure."
It was almost time to go out on the gridiron now. Dick gave one briefand half-regretful thought to the opportunity he might be missing. Thenhe murmured:
"Well, the game--from now on!"
He had no idea of wiring his father the news, but he felt that after allit would be better to explain it personally.
"If dad was only where he could make a jump to Hardvale he could clinchthe deal," he mused, "but it's impossible."
"Hark! What's that?" cried Paul as they were about to leave their room.It was the sound of a swelling, boisterous cry--a joyful shout--achallenge.
"The Blue team has arrived!" exclaimed Dick. "Come on! Now for thebattle!"
Already there was quite a crowd in the grandstands, and more people werearriving every minute. The ticket takers had their hands full, and theushers were as busy as bees. For rumors of the fierce game that waslikely to be played had prevailed for the last two weeks, and there wasevery indication of a record-breaking crowd.
"Our treasury will be filled!" cried the manager of Kentfield withexultation. "This is a great day for us--even if we don't win."
"We're going to!" declared Dick with conviction.
As Dick turned around he saw a tall, well-formed young man approachinghim. Something about the face seemed familiar, and, as the newcomersmiled, Dick remembered.
"Hello, Larry Dexter!" he exclaimed. "Where in the world did you blowfrom? Sent to report the game?"
"No, but I wish I was. I'm up here on a mystery case and, as I had alittle time to spare I thought I'd see you fellows win. I heard aboutthe game. Go in and beat!"
"Thanks! We're going to try. Say, but I am glad to see you, Larry. Comeon over here and I'll see that you get a good seat. Or would you ratherbe on the side lines?"
"On the side lines I think." And Dick soon arranged so that his reporterfriend would have a good place.
"See you later," he called as he went back on the field.
"I'm afraid not," answered Larry. "I'll have to get away in a hurry.I've got an appointment, but I'll stay long enough to see you pile up agood score," and though Dick looked for his friend after the game, hedid not see him.
"Who is that?" asked Paul, as Dick joined him.
"That's Larry Dexter. One of the best reporters in New York. I met himwhen I was there, right after I got my fortune. He's a fine chap. Butit's about time for the Blue Hill crowd to arrive."
Those of you who have read my Larry Dexter Series need no introductionto the hero of those books. Larry was a farm boy, who had an ambition tobecome a reporter on a big New York paper. In the book "From Office Boyto Reporter," I told how he did this, and in the other books of theseries I related some of his strange adventures.
The Blue Hill cadets had come on a special train, and the team drove upfrom the station in a large carry-all that had been provided for them byDick and his chums. A few days before the game the plans had beenchanged so as to bring the contest to Kentfield instead of having it onthe Blue Hill gridiron.
"Well, you're on time, I see," said our hero, as he shook hands withCaptain Haskell of Blue Hill. Haskell had been newly elected, to takethe place of a friend who had unexpectedly been called away.
"Yes, and we're got our winning suits on."
"Well, we'll see about that," responded Dick with a quiet smile. "Now ifyou'll step over here we can arrange the details, and then both sidescan have some practice."
"Sure," and a little later with the two coaches representing Kentfield,and two from Blue Hill, the captains conferred.
"I presume Blake will be all right for umpire," said Mr. Norton one ofthe visiting coaches.
"You mean George Blake--who umpired in our last game?" asked Mr. Spencerquickly.
"That's the one."
"We'd prefer some one else," said Mr. Spencer quietly, before Dick couldinterpose the objection that was on his lips.
"You don't like him? Why?" asked Captain Haskell quickly, with somewrath.
"Because he doesn't see all that goes on in the line," was the calmanswer of the Princeton coach. "I don't believe it is necessary to saymore."
"Well, if I----"
"It's all right," broke in Coach Norton for Blue Hill. "If you object tohim, we'll take some one else. How will Jacob Small do?"
"Of Lehigh?"
"Yes."
"We'll accept him gladly," assented Mr. Spencer. "Now as to the otherofficials," and they were quickly settled upon.
"Heads or tails?" asked Dick, as he prepared to spin the coin for choiceof goals.
"
Um--heads," spoke Captain Haskell quickly, as the quarter went spinninginto the air.
"Heads it is," announced Dick without a tremor in his voice. The firstlittle indication of fate had gone against him, but it could not behelped. He hoped to get the choice, as there was no wind blowing, andnaturally no advantage in goals, so that the winner of the toss couldelect to have the other side kick off if he liked. Dick had planned tolet Blue Hill kick if he had won the say of the spinning coin, but itwas not to be. Which would Haskell select?
There was a moment's hesitation as the rival captain tested the windwith a moistened, up-lifted finger. Then he announced his choice.
"We'll take the north goal. You fellows can kick off!"
"All right," spoke Dick and he tried not to show the littledisappointment in his voice. "Then as it's all settled we can get topractice."
Dick had hoped to get possession of the ball immediately after the kickoff and by a series of whirlwind rushes demoralize his opponents. Now hewould have to change his plans.
"Well, we'll see how we can hold them," he said to Paul, as they wentover to their side of the field to run through some plays.
There was fast, snappy, preliminary work. Dick paused once or twice toobserve his opponents.
"No sign of them going stale," he reflected.
The hour for play had come. The officials had settled all the details.The new ball had been blown up, and the cover laced tightly. Carrying itin his hand the referee advanced to the centre of the field and handedit to Dick.
"Are you ready?" the official asked.
The young millionaire nodded.
"Line up!" called the referee as Dick handed the ball to Innis Beeby tokick off.
Dick Hamilton's Football Team; Or, A Young Millionaire On The Gridiron Page 29