Right End Emerson

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER XXIV

  “WE’VE WON!”

  For nearly an hour Russell had sat, blanketed, tense of nerves, on thenarrow bench on the Alton side of the field and watched the fortunesof battle. There had been no scoring. Twice Kenly’s red-stockingedwarriors had threatened the home team’s goal, once trying a drop-kickfrom an almost hopeless distance and once piling up on the twenty-threeyards for three downs and no gain and then hurling a hit-or-missforward pass that, fortunately for the defenders, had missed! OnceAlton had rushed as far as Kenly’s eighteen yards where an off-sideplay had spoiled her chance of scoring. A desperate fake kick, withHarmon taking the pigskin around left end, had lost the ball on thenineteen. For the rest of the time the two teams had edged back andforth across the almost obliterated fifty-yard line, rushing, passing,punting, playing somewhat ragged football to be sure, but playing itvery desperately.

  Now the Gray-and-Gold was back in the gymnasium, sore and battle-scarred;weary, too, but not knowing it. And the minutes were ticking away fasttoward the second half. Manager Johnson, watch in hand, pale-faced andas nervous as a wet hen, walked a sentry beat between the door and thebenches. Coach Cade had said his say, and he and Captain Proctor and NedRichards were conferring soberly together.

  “Time’s about up, Coach!” called Johnson.

  The group of three broke up. The coach nodded to the manager and thenheld up his hand. “Same line-up,” he announced, “except Longstreth atright half and Emerson at right end. All right! You know what to do,fellows! Let’s get them this time!”

  There was a cheer, hoarse, deafening, and then they crowded eagerlyabout the door, pushing and shoving good-naturedly, laughing, pranking,until, outside, they waited for Mart Proctor to take the lead. Thenthey trotted back to the gridiron, while the long Alton cheer brokeforth from the stand.

  Russell, keeping close beside Jimmy, tugged his sleeve. “Jimmy,” heasked with dry lips, “Jimmy, did he say me at right end?”

  Jimmy turned and laughed at sight of Russell’s face. “Yes, you luckydog! For the love of Pete, don’t look like that, Rus! What’s thematter?” Jimmy knew, but pretended he didn’t. Russell grinned crookedlyand wet his lips with his tongue.

  “I--I’m scared!” he croaked.

  “Fine stuff! Hand it on! I’ll be with you pretty soon, son, and we’llshow those red-legs how to play football!”

  During the first half of the game McLeod had played left end and Lakeright. Harley had showed himself just as much at home on the left ofthe line as in his accustomed position, but Lake, first substitute, hadnot equaled him. Lake had been boxed far too often, and, once, when hehad missed a tackle almost under Kenly’s goal, the Cherry-and-Black’squarter had dodged his way along the side line to the forty yardsbefore he had been pulled down by Richards. Coach Cade had determinedto try a new right end for the third quarter. Perhaps when the fourthperiod began Lake would go back again. Meanwhile new blood might help.

  Kenly kicked off and Longstreth captured the short kick and was broughtdown with no gain. From the twenty-eight yards Alton began her journey.Kenly’s line from guard to guard was impregnable. That had been alreadyproved. Her tackles, too, were clever and not easily fooled. In short,gains through the Kenly line were few and far between, and Alton hadrecourse now to end runs and occasional forward passes. Russell’sstage-fright lasted through two plays. Then he forgot to be scared,forgot everything but his overmastering desire to serve and win. Afterall, this was not greatly different from playing against the first.Those red-legged, red-sleeved opponents seemed no more in earnest thanthe old opponents and played no more desperately. The big, square-jawedtackle who faced him at times was no more formidable than Mart Proctorhad been. In fact, Russell began to think that Mart was the better ofthe two, especially after Ned Richards, with a cunningly concealedball, whizzed inside the big tackle for four yards.

  Like the first half, the second proved the teams too evenly weightedand skilled for long gains by either side. Two yards, three, two yardsagain, and then a punt. Sometimes one or the other managed an endrun that brought a larger gain, but neither team made first down bystraight rushing until the third quarter was almost done. Then Kenlyworked a criss-cross of a pattern as old as the hills and got sevenyards through Stimson, placing the pigskin on Alton’s thirty-eight. Yettwo minutes later the Gray-and-Gold was again in possession and NedRichards’ voice was chanting his shrill signals.

  Back and forth across the middle of the field went the ball. Penaltiesfor off-side were many. There were a few for holding. Each teamsuffered about equally from these. The quarter came finally to an endand the rivals drew away and the ball was taken across the field anddeposited close to the forty-five-yard line. Raleigh and Mawson trottedon, then Linthicum. But Lake did not come back. It didn’t occur toRussell to give consideration to this fact. The whistle blew again andthe lines once more tensed. On the stands the prospect of a no-scoregame was already a favorite topic of discussion. The teams were toowell matched for anything short of a miracle to break the dead-lock.Alton accepted the likelihood with better grace than Kenly, for Alton,until a few days since, had looked for defeat, and anything short ofthat was to be accepted with thanksgiving. Kenly, however, knowing ofher ancient rival’s long-continued slump and realizing her own powers,had come to Alton looking not only for victory but a decisive andglorious one. Of the two forces it was Kenly Hall who saw the timeshortening and the game drawing to an inconclusive end with the lesssatisfaction.

  Once, soon after the last period started, Ned Richards brought theAlton stand to its feet with a thirty-yard run that, for one ecstaticmoment seemed to spell a touchdown. But he was spilled on Kenly’stwenty-four, and, although Alton chanted lustily for a score, tworushes made no headway, a forward-pass grounded and Linthicum’s effortat a drop-kick was a sad performance. Coach Cade began on his reservesthen, and from that moment new men appeared at short intervals. Jimmyjoined soon after the period started, and afterwards came Cravath andJohnston and Smedley and still others.

  Russell had long since proved Coach Cade’s wisdom. Harley McLeod was nomore fleet of foot under kicks than Russell, nor were there more gainsat Russell’s end of the line than at the other. At tackling Russellshowed himself earnest and certain, and no Kenly back, having caughtthe booted ball, moved after Russell’s arms had clutched him. He wasstreaked of face, sore of muscles, lame of leg, but gloriously happy.

  Kenly was becoming almost hysterical now in her mad efforts to score.Forward-passes that were on the face of them forlorn hopes sailedthrough the air. Twice the Cherry-and-Black almost made them good,but once Captain Proctor saved the day and once it was Russell who atthe last moment shouldered the expectant catcher aside. Alton triedher best to win, but she indulged in no risky plays. To keep the balland get a back away inside or outside tackle was now her only hopeuntil she could reach a point inside the enemy’s thirty yards. Oncethere, she would try a field-goal. But the backs couldn’t get away, atleast, not far. Kenly watched Harmon, and subsequently Mawson, as a catwatches a mouse. So, as through the former periods, the ball remainedwell inside the two thirty-five-yard lines and, so far as scoring wasconcerned, the game was already evidently at an end.

  The time-keeper announced four minutes, then two. The stands wereemptying. Kenly, who had risked all on her first-string men until now,began to hurl new warriors into her army. Every other moment the pauseswere prolonged by the appearances of hurrying, eager substitutes. Theshadows were deepening about the field and over on the Alton stand thehundreds of voices were singing the spirited pæan that is reserved forvictory. The ball was on Alton’s forty-six yards and it was the thirddown. Linthicum took the pass from Richards and hurled himself at righttackle for one scant yard. It was fourth down and five to go now. Jimmystepped back slowly, held forth his hands. Four times he had punted farand true, but this time it was to be different. Cries of “Hold ’em,Alton!” and cries of “Get through, Kenly! Block this kick!” broke forthhoarsely. Then the lines swa
yed, were torn into fragments. A Kenlyforward hurled himself high in air and met the kicked ball against hishelmet. The pigskin bounded back up the field toward the Alton goal.Half a dozen players tried for it and missed. Then, in the blue haze oftwilight, the watchers saw a figure detach itself from the mêlée andcut across toward the side line. Shouts of warning, of joy, of despairfloated up from the field. The scattered forms there, like hounds onthe track of the fox, sped helter-skelter after the fleeing player. Nowhe was blocked, now he had broken free again! Past midfield he went,heading in again toward the center of the trampled expanse. Friendand foe were about him and his flight seemed ended a dozen times.Yet always, by a sudden turn, a wrenching to left or right, a quickthrust of a straight arm, he managed to break away. Now he was outof the confusion, the field was trailing astern. He was passing thethirty-five yards under flying feet. Between him and the nearing goalno enemy lurked, for Kenly’s quarter had been drawn out of positionby the blocked kick. But that quarter was in hot pursuit a half-dozenstrides behind. Back of him the rest of the players were strung out formany yards.

  The fox faltered once near the twenty, and the nearer hound lessenedthe intervening space, but a third actor had joined them now. Closeto the fifteen yards he made his final desperate effort. Drawing evenwith the red-legged pursuer, he launched himself sidewise. Togetherthe two went down and rolled over, and the fox ran free! Another whiteline passed under his feet, and another. Bedlam had broken loose onthe Alton stand and that last faint streak was crossed to the wildexultation of victory! And having crossed the line, Russell set theball down and set himself down beside it. Then he closed his eyes whilethe nearer goal-post swayed like the mast of a vessel in a heavy sea!

  It was Jimmy who reached him first, Jimmy who, panting and exhausted,threw an arm about his shoulders and rubbed streaming eyes against adirty sleeve. “Oh, Rus!” muttered Jimmy. “Bless your heart, son! We’vewon! Do you get it, Rus? We’ve won the old ball game!”

  THE END