Right End Emerson

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER XII

  BACK IN HARNESS

  Jimmy was at the store in the morning and Russell went over the stockwith him, explaining cost marks and various other matters that shouldform part of a clerk’s knowledge. Jimmy was, for once, not in the leastflippant, and Stick, when he finally appeared to release Russell fora recitation, appeared to view the new employee more leniently thanRussell had dared hope he might. Jimmy’s duties were not to begin untilthe morrow, and presently he and Russell hurried back to the Academytogether.

  “Your friend Stick seems rather a Gloomy Gus,” observed Jimmy on theway, “but perhaps by kindness and forbearance we may cheer him up. Ishe taking the afternoon watch to-day, Rus?”

  “Yes, I’m going back after this class, and he’s going to stay fromthree to five-thirty. Stick’s not a bad sort, but he doesn’t put hisbest foot forward very often.”

  “I didn’t think to notice his feet,” replied Jimmy thoughtfully.“Well, here’s where we part. Oh, by the way, what about my attire? Doyou think I ought to--well, dress for the part to-morrow? Something,say, a trifle modish, eh? Gray trousers and frock-coat, maybe, with alavender tie and a single black pearl in it. Or do you think the usualmore negligent dress would answer?”

  “I’d go in for simplicity,” answered Russell, grinning. “What you haveon looks all right. Besides, customers might think you bought thoseknickers in the store, and that would be quite an advertisement, eh?”

  “Right-o! Well, see you this afternoon, doubtless. So long, MisterEmployer!”

  There was nothing very dramatic about Russell’s return to the footballfold. A hurried and curt-spoken Gaston welcomed him with a suddensmile and a brief congratulatory nod. “Fine, Emerson!” he called as hepassed. “B Squad for you.”

  Followed half an hour’s work that proved to Russell very conclusivelythat he was in no good shape for the task ahead of him. He hadlost a fortnight’s training and the fact was evident. Long beforesignal drill was done he was aching in most of his muscles andpuffing like a grampus. He was glad indeed of a short respite on thebench before the squad walked across to the first team gridiron,where, although the time for scrimmage had arrived, a squad underleadership of Ned Richards was still hustling down the field, Ned’svoice, sharply imperative, rising above the tones of Coach Cade andCaptain Proctor, trailing behind and rapping out criticism. Thatbunch, reflected Russell as he paused with his companions to form asweatered and blanketed group along the edge of the field, was thefirst team’s A Squad, although there were two players on it whosepresence surprised him. These were Crocker, at left end in place ofLake, and Greenwood, at full-back. Joe Greenwood was Sid’s brother,a heavy, dark-complexioned youth who had played with Russell on lastyear’s second. Russell hadn’t thought him varsity material, but hewas displacing the veteran Browne. Possibly, though, Browne was onthe hospital list or in trouble at the Office: Russell hadn’t beenfollowing football very closely.

  The rest of the squad were first-string men: Butler, playing atleft tackle for Captain Mart Proctor, Rowlandson, Nichols, Stimson,Putney, McLeod, Richards, Harmon, Moncks. Across the sunlit field,the substitutes’ bench showed far fewer huddled forms than had satthere last week, indicating that the first cut had taken effect. Inthe stands a score or so of onlookers were scattered, their hands moreoften than not thrust deeply in their pockets, for the afternoon waschill in spite of the flood of late sunlight. Captain Proctor detachedhimself from the followers behind the squad as it trotted past down thecenter of the gridiron and cupped his hands.

  “Ready for you in five minutes, Gaston!” he called. “Help yourself tothe field, will you?”

  Steve Gaston nodded and tossed a ball to the turf. “Pass it around,” heordered crisply, “and keep moving.”

  So the second team players strung out along the edge of the gridironin two roughly formed ranks and, walking briskly, shot the ball fromone to another, frequently tripping over a trailing blanket when thepigskin eluded them and bobbed across the turf. Finally there was thehoarse squawking of a horn and Manager Johnson was signaling them. Twosweatered substitutes were unsnarling the chain. From the stand came arat-a-tat of chilling feet against the boards.

  “Second team’s ball,” announced Coach Cade through his small megaphone.“We’ll take this goal!”

  “Yah,” derided the scrub’s captain sotto-voce as he pranced about,limbering his legs, “why don’t you let us toss for it, Tightwad?”Russell grinned as his glance met Falls’. “They haven’t kicked off tous for a week,” the captain added ruefully, yet smiling. “Come on,fellows! Let’s take it away from them!”

  “You take right end, Emerson,” ordered Coach Gaston. “Look out forHarmon on forward passes, boy. All right, Second! Go to it! You fellowswho aren’t playing, keep your blankets on. You’ll be wanted beforethis ruckus is through.”

  The second lined up across the field for the kick-off, a whistleshrilled and big Jim Newton, center, lifted the ball well toward thefirst team’s goal. Russell, following down under the kick, scanningwarily the hastily forming enemy interference, told himself that it wasgood to feel the sod underfoot again, to hear the soft rasp of canvasand creak of leather. Then he was swinging on a heel to dash across thefield toward where Moncks, the pigskin clutched tightly, was comingalong behind his interference. It was not Russell who stopped Moncks,but Captain Falls. The best Russell could do was topple Richards, indoing which he got a fine rap on the side of his head that, partlybroken by the edge of his helmet, was yet hard enough to make hissenses swim for a moment. When he got unsteadily to his feet again theteams were lining up near the thirty-five-yard line. Behind each teamwas its coach, and their voices were already to be heard. Russell,skirting the first team line to his position, saw that Captain Proctorwas at his place again. Then Ned Richards yelped the signal, the linesswayed, met, there were gasps and grunts, an angry, stifled exclamationfrom Wells, the scrub’s right tackle, a hoarse bellow from Falls,and Harmon was crashing out of the welter of brown canvas bodies.Russell, playing out and back, sprang in, eluded the savage spring ofan interferer and got his man, aided by Reilly, a half. But Harmon washard to stop, and both tacklers gave ground for another yard ere therunner was down. Russell, blocking with one knee Harmon’s attempt tothrust the ball forward, muttered: “No, you don’t!” Then the whistlepiped just as reënforcements plunged down on the group. Harmon had madefour yards outside Wells, and Wells was mad. He muttered aloud as hecrouched with swaying arms at the end of the line, and Russell caughthis threatening, taunting words.

  “Come on! Try that again, you big stiff! I’ll put that long nose ofyours on the blink for keeps! Send it this way, Ned! Come on, youSore-Heads! Oh, you would, eh?”

  This latter remark was to Mart Proctor, who had feinted inside Wellsas the ball was snapped. There was an ecstatic moment for Wells, andthen Mart deposited him neatly against his guard and tore outside him.Russell, already crossing behind the backs, left the invader to Reillyand met the play which was coming through left tackle. It was Greenwoodthis time, and the full-back added another three yards to the total. Onthe next attempt there was a fumble by Moncks, recovered by Richardsfor a yard loss. Then first team punted, Richards dropping the ballin Goodwin’s arms on the scrub’s twenty-yard line and the left halfreeling off seven strides before he was downed by Crocker.

  Carpenter, the scrub quarter, made two on a wide run and then Reilly,red-headed and hard-fighting, squirmed through Rowlandson for threemore. But that ended the advance and Kendall punted well into enemyterritory. First gained three on a criss-cross, Harmon carrying, andthen Richards passed diagonally across the line to McLeod, and thelatter, catching the heave unchallenged, went half-way to second’sgoal before Carpenter stopped him. Play was held up while first teamand second team coaches criticized and instructed, and while Russell,his last breath about gone, sat on the ground and longed for the hornto sound the end of the period. Then he was up again, almost on hisfifteen-yard line, set for a forward pass that didn’
t materialize.Harmon carried past Wells once more and fought and squirmed to thescrub’s twenty-one. Falls went down the crouching line and slappedperspiring backs and implored his men to hold, and Gaston, deep-voiced,shouted to Goodwin to close in and watch that guard! Then came theplay again, and, over the heads of his plunging team-mates, Russellsaw Richards, ball in hand, trotting back and back, saw Harmonsneaking fast across the turf to the left, saw Squibbs dash headlongat Richards, saw the latter side-step, calmly, smilingly, and saw theright arm go back for the long throw. All about him were warning voicesas he forced his tired legs and tuckered lungs to new exertion.

  “_Pass! Watch that man! Stop that throw!_”

  Russell, running, glanced back. Overhead was the ball, a dozen yardsahead was Harmon, walking sidewise, hands ready. Behind Russellstreamed the field, coming fast but too late to get into the play.Carpenter was closing up the gap between his position and the sideline. Russell called on his flagging strength for one last supremeeffort. Harmon had stopped, was facing the descending ball, had raisedhis arms. Russell was still a good six yards distant and he knew thatHarmon would be off before he could reach him. There was but one chanceand he took it. Throwing his arms high, he leaped into the air, hopingagainst hope. But fortune was with him. The flying pigskin grazed hisleft hand. The touch of it was so light that Russell scarcely felt it,but it served to deflect the ball. Harmon swayed to the right, theball spurned his eager grasp and went trickling, bouncing across theturf toward the side line. Russell paid no further attention to it. Heeased himself gently to the ground and turned onto his back. A minutelater Lawrence pulled him to his feet and put a strong arm under hisshoulders.

  “Good work, Emerson,” he panted. “Better step out. Gaston’s looking.All right now?”

  “Yes,” said Russell faintly. “I’m--fearfully--soft!”

  “Yes,” said Russell faintly. “I’m--fearfully--soft!”]

  They made their way back to the forming line-up, but Coach Gastonintervened. “That’ll do, Emerson,” he called. Then, turning to the farside of the field, “Tierney!” he bawled. “Tierney! Hurry up!”

  Russell yielded his helmet and went off with drooping head. He washeartily ashamed of himself. He had lasted some eight minutes only!Of course the reason wasn’t far to seek: a fellow can’t play footballif he isn’t conditioned; and Russell realized that he was very farfrom conditioned. A summer spent largely indoors hadn’t, he thoughtruefully, prepared him very well for what was before him. He sank downin the line of waiting substitutes and wondered if he would ever gethis breath fully back again!

  Of course first team went over. Having reached the twenty yard line,it wasn’t to be held by anything the second had to offer in the wayof argument. Moncks got a good gain through center and Harmon made itfirst down on the scrub’s sixteen. From there, using concealed plays,the first wore down the defense until, on fourth down, with the ballon the five yards, Richards faked a forward and passed to Moncks andthe latter raced around the second’s left for a touchdown. The periodended soon after and the second team players joined the substitutesand huddled into blankets and listened to a grave discourse on theirshortcomings and failures from the coach.

  When the second period started Steve Gaston put on almost a new eleven.Russell didn’t go in again, but sat on the turf, wrapped in a fadedgray blanket, and saw Tierney play right end. And Tierney did verywell, Russell thought, even if he did let Harmon get safely off withanother forward pass that paved the way for the first team’s secondscore. For that matter, Russell had almost done the same thing himself.He was still wondering why he had been caught flat-footed on that play!

  Coach Cade likewise called on his second-string players for the lastperiod, and on his third-string as well. Russell saw with satisfactionthat when Jimmy Austen supplanted Mawson at left half--Harmon had notstarted the last period--his punting, if not in the least phenomenal,was very good. Russell got a case of mild heart-failure every timethe ball went to Jimmy for travel by the aerial route, for Jimmy wasdeliberate to a fault. It looked as though he simply hated to partfrom that ball until at least two of the enemy were almost upon him.But he had Fortune with him to-day, and of his four punts not one wasblocked and each went its way as he fore-ordained it to; forty yards,forty-five and, once, a magnificent fifty-odd. At carrying the ball,though, Jimmy met with less success, and after each of his severalattempts Russell heard the incisive voice of the coach dealing outrebuke.

  Second didn’t score that afternoon, didn’t approach to scoring, indeed,and, afterwards, Steve Gaston’s quiet thoughtfulness indicated that hewasn’t any too well pleased. Steve had yanked Squibbs and Emerson backto the fold and added two other unknown quantities in the persons ofa brace of sophomores who had messed about with last year’s freshmanteam. So far, so good, but the second team was still far from thehard-fighting, bull-dog aggregation that he was working for. He toldhimself that the weight was there, and the aggressiveness, and theknowledge sufficient for his ends, but that for some reason the fellowsweren’t using them. He wondered if there was some way in which tomake the team forget that they were doing battle with their fellowsand really fight! Of the crowd, Wells was the only one who exhibitedthe proper spirit. When Wells went into action friendship ceased. PutWells in football togs and he would have fought to a finish with hisgrandmother! Sometimes Steve had to call the tackle down for “slanging”too much, but he always hated to do it. If he could only get the restof the team into the same frame of mind he would, he felt, have a realeleven, an eleven that would make history.

  On the way out of the gymnasium he caught sight of Russell and hailedhim. “I used you a bit hard this afternoon, Emerson,” he said, “butI wanted to see how you showed up, and there isn’t much time forcoddling.”

  “I’m afraid I showed up pretty poorly,” said Russell. “I had no idea afellow could go stale so soon, Gaston.”

  “I know.” Gaston nodded. “You were all right, though. Get some one towork out the kinks in your muscles to-night. A good hot bath will help,if you get right into bed afterwards. I’ll let you off easy to-morrow.How did the team strike you?”

  Russell hesitated, for it hadn’t occurred to him before to considerthat subject. “Pretty fair,” he said at last. “It’s early yet.”

  “It’s never early when it comes to getting a team in shape,” respondedthe coach. “I’ve got the stuff there, Emerson, but I don’t get it out.I will, though, by ginger! I’m going to make that bunch deliver thegoods. Well, good night. Take care of yourself.”