A Boy Knight Part 28

The Stanley crowd shot back their yell, "Stanley, Rah! Stanley, Rah!

Rah! Rah! Stan....ley!"

The Stanley squad noticed Mulvy, but most of them thought he was crippled and would not last long. None guessed the real reason of his absence in the first half.

Again the whistle blew, the teams took their formation, and with a mighty kick by Stanley the ball was in play. For a few moments there was no apparent difference in Regal's play. But soon it was noticed that they were going like a well-oiled machine. Stanley, too, seemed to be playing a better game. It was good football all around. They were well matched. It was to and fro again, but now there was no looseness on Regal's side. Any gain that was made against them was due to good work by Stanley, not to poor play by Regal.

Frank was playing well to the rear. All of a sudden Stanley got the ball, pa.s.sed it to the fleetest runner, made an opening for him and gave him a clear field to Regal's line. Only Mulvy stood between him and a touchdown. The runner was tall and fast, fifteen pounds heavier than Frank, a big margin where a boy is concerned. He came tearing down the field with the ball. Frank rushed right across his path, stood his ground with a tigerish gleam and posture, and when his man approached, tackled him low, sending him sprawling to earth, the ball rolling away to one side. The coach leaped into the air, gave the bench a bang with his hand that drew blood, and exclaimed between his teeth, "Grit."

The Regal crowd fairly went wild. Gaffney swung his arms like a wind mill, and worked his megaphone like a factory whistle, but it was all lost. Unmarshalled cheers shook the stand. Yells, shouts, slaps on the back, frenzy. It was Regal's first chance to let loose. The nervous tension was at the breaking point. It needed just this play to act as a safety valve. When Gaffney at last could get a hearing, he yelled--"A Rah Rah for Mulvy." With an enthusiasm that inspired the team on the field, they yelled:

"Mulvy, Mulvy! Rah, Rah, Mul . . . vy!"

"Another," shouted Gaffney.

"Mulvy, Mulvy! Rah, Rah, Mul . . . vy!"

"Now one for Regal, whoop it up, boys."

"Regal, Regal, Rah, Rah, Regal!"

The ball was snapped back to Bob, who gave it a kick that sent it right over the goal for three points. Again pandemonium. Again cheers. Stanley followers were beginning to get nervous. 8 to 3 was not dangerous, but it was the way Regal was going at it. "What a difference one man makes," was heard on all sides.

The teams lined up again. Both were playing at top speed. They swayed to and fro. There were no slips, no mistakes. It was give and take, with the results about even. It kept on that way until the whistle blew and the third quarter was over.

The Regal crowd occupied the short interval cheering its team uninterruptedly. Stanley did the same.

The whistle blew again, and the battle was renewed. If Stanley could hold the score as it was, the victory was hers. Out from her side of the stands came the concerted yell,

"Stanley, hold! Stanley, hold! Stanley, hold!"

And that was their game. They held well. Eight minutes of the quarter had pa.s.sed, and it began to look as if nothing could get through Stanley. It looked like her game. Then something happened.

The ball was pa.s.sed to Mulvy. With the grace and speed of a hound, he made for the enemy line. Hardly had he started when a big Stanley player got right in front of him. By clever dodging Frank got by him. He had just struck his stride when another opponent dashed across his path ready to spring at him. Frank came on full tilt, and just as a plunge was made for him, he stopped short, turned aside and the tackler went digging into the ground.

The crowd was wild now. Only one man stood between Mulvy and a touchdown, and victory. The coach was pulling his hat to pieces. The Regal followers were frantic with antic.i.p.ation.

But Stanley's best tackle was waiting for Mulvy. He had seen how the other two were fooled, and was ready for every emergency. He was a cool, active big chap with lots of football instinct. Frank knew him. He had seen him play often. But on he ran like a deer, his hair blown back by the wind, his nostrils distended and his eyes aglow and determined. As he got near the barrier, he made as if he were going to keep right on.

He came at top speed to within a foot of the tackle; then just as the tackle crouched low and sprang at him, Frank fell sidewise to the ground, rolled over, and before the tackle could rise, jumped to his feet, ran at full speed and crossed the line!

Lunacy was the word to describe what followed. Madness seized the crowd.

Hats in the air, good hats. Fellows thumped one another, jumped up and down, yelled and bawled and screamed and cried. Hysteria was let loose.

Regal knew that the game was won. The score now stood 9 to 8. As the teams were playing, Stanley could not score again. Regal took the ball and brought it down the field to try for a goal. Bob kicked it, and it went sailing just outside the mark. But no one minded. The fellows rushed to position for the continuation of the game. All the way down to their formation, it was nothing but "Bully Boy, Mulvy." "You saved the day, Mulvy." "You're a brick, Mulvy."

And from the crowd it was, "Mulvy, Mulvy! Rah, Rah, Mul....vy!" now from one section of the Regal stand, now from another.

The whistle blew, the fight was on again. Stanley made desperate efforts to regain the lead. Once or twice they almost succeeded in breaking through. The yell from their followers now took another form. "Stanley, gain! Stanley, gain! Stanley, gain!" They tried hard. They kept on trying to the very end. The whistle blew, the game was over, Regal was Interscholastic Champion!

The noise that now broke out made all the previous demonstration seem mild in comparison. The Regal section of the stands was one ma.s.s of frenzied humanity. Men, women and boys yelled and slapped and thumped.

Anything that could make a noise was commandeered and set in operation.

It was temporary lunacy. The tense strain of nearly two hours let itself off in hysterically jubilant celebration.

But the real frenzy was on the field. The coach was fit to be caged. He yelled and bawled and danced. He pummelled everybody and everything within reach. All the reserve players were cheering and howling, boy fashion. The team itself was just one big satisfied smile. Their joy was too great for expression. They hugged one another. All of them tried to hug Frank at once.

"O let up," he yelled. "This is worse than the game." He tore himself loose. But not for long. He was blocked everywhere. The team surrounded him again, pitched him on the shoulders of the stoutest two, spite of his opposition, and marched off to the dressing room.

"What's the matter with Mulvy? He's all right! Who's all right?

Mul....vy!" They repeated that over and over again. As they got near the stand, the crowd took it up, Gaffney leading. "What's the matter with Mulvy? He's all right! Who's all right? Mulvy!"

About a hundred Regal boys with Gaffney at their head marched to Frank's home yelling, "What's the matter with Mulvy? He's all right! Who's all right? Mul....vy! Regal! Rah, Rah, Regal!--Mul. . . .vy!"

They pa.s.sed the rectory on their way to Frank's house. Gaffney yelled out, "Here, fellows, let's give a good one for Regal and Mulvy." The cheer rang out,

"Regal! Regal! Rah, Rah, Regal. What's the matter with Mulvy? He's all right! Who's all right? Mul....vy! Regal! Regal! Rah, Rah, Regal!

Mulvy!"

Father Boone heard the yell and went to his window. It was the first news he had of the game. That yelling told him of victory, even before he heard what they were shouting. A defeated team goes home quietly. Not so the victors. He was glad beyond expression. Four of the boys on the team were graduates of the Club. It was a great victory. But what touched him particularly was that other yell he heard. Regal was music to his ears, but Regal and Mulvy! That meant that Frank had done his share--more than his share. As he got to the window, the crowd was moving on. Every now and then he caught the refrain, "What's the matter with Mulvy? He's all right."

"Yes, he is all right, thank G.o.d," he said to himself.

All through Parkville the crowd marched. They were killing time until Frank should show up. Then they had their plans. After going to the High School, and giving the Regal Rah, and the Mulvy Rah, they paraded up and down the Avenue and over the cross streets until everyone knew that Mulvy was "all right." They waited and waited for Frank. But no Frank showed up.

Finally Gaffney said, "I know that kid. He has given us the slip. It's getting dark, fellows, let's go up to his house and give him a good yell and then scatter." So on they marched to Frank's home. It was bedlam as soon as they got there. They yelled and yelled until the whole neighborhood was out. That was what they wanted.

Mr. Mulvy had just got home from his office. Mr. and Mrs. Mulvy and Frank's two elder brothers and his sisters came to the windows to see what was up. They had not heard of the result of the game. Mrs. Mulvy had just finished telling how they sent for Frank. What was their astonishment then to hear the yell,

"Regal! Regal! Rah, Rah, Regal! Mul. . . .vy! What's the matter with Mulvy? He's all right! Who's all right? Mul. . . .vy!"

Mr. Mulvy looked suddenly at Mrs. Mulvy. The big tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Why, what's the matter, dear, you should be proud and happy?"

"I am. But you don't understand."

(VI)

About ten minutes later, when the crowd had dispersed, Frank came quietly along the Avenue and over the street to his home. To his surprise the rooms were all lighted. He opened the door and received such a warm welcome that it took his breath away. All rushed at him to shake him by the hand and pat him on the back and kiss him. All but his mother. His eyes ran over the room in search of her. He saw her in the big arm chair, her ap.r.o.n to her eyes, wiping away tears which only he understood. He ran into her arms. Neither said a word. They just embraced. Then she kissed him on the forehead. "You _are_ all right, Frank," was all she said.

Of course, he told them all about the game. But it was not until d.i.c.k and Ned and Tommie came in to congratulate him that they heard his part in it. d.i.c.k was a word painter, and he drew such a picture of the game and of a "certain player" in it that a certain player blushed. But the father and mother and the sisters and brothers of a "certain player"

started in all over again to maul him, and tell that player what they thought of him.

After dinner, with Tommy and d.i.c.k and Ned all present, Frank had to go down to the Club. He didn't want to--he knew how the fellows would maul him. But he did feel that Father Boone would expect him to be there.

The a.s.sembled fellows were hoping he would drop in. The boys who had resigned were there, too. Frank's n.o.ble conduct had refuted all charges against himself and the Club. The crowd, knowing his quiet ways, feared that he would not come. But when he arrived, it was the same old thing over again. Cheers, hand-shakes, howling, thumping, the way that boys have of saying what they most want to say.

After a while, he went upstairs. Father Boone was expecting him. He entered smiling. Father Boone was smiling too. But as they looked at each other in silence, the strong man and the brave boy saw tears in each other's eyes. They grasped hands. And they looked, as it were, each into the other's soul. For they understood.

For a long time they sat in silence, pensive, peaceful. At length Father Boone broke the silence. It was no word of congratulation, no reference to the game.