Dick Hamilton's Football Team Or A Young Millionaire On The Gridiron Part 42

Thus in a flash he outlined his policy and sent the leather hurling back over the heads of the half-maddened Blue Hill lads who were chagrined at their fumbling.

"Come on!" cried the captain of the Kentfield lads. "We want to down their man in his tracks if we can."

It was almost done, and in fact the runner only managed to gain a few yards before he was fiercely thrown by Innis Beeby.

Again came that seemingly wearying, and never-ceasing attack on the line. But d.i.c.k's men were on the alert, and though another attempt was made through Paul he held firmly.

The pace was beginning to tell though, and panting breaths and palpitating hearts murmured their story. d.i.c.k resolved on more kicking if he got a chance at the ball. But it seemed that he was not to get it--at least right away. Once more up the field it was being advanced by short sharp rushes. Blue Hill seemed content to keep on with her bulldog playing, perhaps trusting that her men would last longer than would d.i.c.k's.

There was no denying the strength of the opponents of Kentfield. They were trained to the second, and the two coaches whom d.i.c.k's money had secured began to be a little direful of the result.

"Can they stand it?" asked Mr. Spencer of his colleague.

"Well, if they don't they're not what I think them to be," was the convincing answer.

The cheers and songs of the Blue Hill contingent seemed to give them added strength. They still had the ball, in spite of all the efforts of d.i.c.k and his men to hold them, to force a kick, or to get through and block the plays. Steadily and surely the leather was nearing the fatal line.

"Look out boys! Look out!" warned d.i.c.k. "Play hard."

He himself was working like a Trojan, getting into every opening, taking all kinds of hard knocks, really doing more than his share. Nor were there any shirkers in all the eleven. Hal Foster, at full, instead of staying back to be on the watch for kicks, or to block men who got through his mates, played well in. There was need of it, for Kentfield was being shoved back, and every ounce of weight to back her up told.

"Hold boys, hold!" begged and pleaded d.i.c.k desperately. He saw his goal line being menaced and it seemed as if Blue Hill, as she came nearer striking distance, grew wild with desire to cross it.

The fatal play came with such suddenness that it almost took the heart from d.i.c.k's cadets. After a smash at centre, which was hurled back, and a try between left tackle and guard, which netted only a yard, there was a quick shift to one side on the part of the Blue Hill players.

An instant later d.i.c.k saw Rud Newton, the stocky left half-back burst through with the ball under his arm. Like a flash the young millionaire sprang to tackle him, but he was not quite heavy enough, and Rud broke away. Full-back Foster was now d.i.c.k's only hope, but to his dismay he saw that Hal had been drawn in, and was now hopelessly entangled in the ma.s.s of his own and the opposing players.

There was not a soul between Newton and the Kentfield goal, and toward it the left half was now sprinting with all his speed. d.i.c.k gave a gasp, sprang to his feet and was off after him like a flash. But Newton had too much of a start, and the best the captain could do was to vainly touch him with outstretched hand a yard from the goal line. In another second Newton was over and had touched down the ball.

The first score had been made against Kentfield and the heart of d.i.c.k was sore as he slackened his pace and watched his own men and those of Blue Hill running up to witness the first act of the drama that meant so much to all of them.

CHAPTER x.x.x

THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN

Wild cries of delight, victorious shouts, the shrill voices of the girls, mingling with the hoa.r.s.er tones of the men and youths, the waving of flags and banners, the shaking of canes adorned with the Blue Hill colors, showed the appreciation of the first gain in the battle.

"Yah! I thought your team was such a much!" yelled an ardent Blue Hill supporter to some Kentfield cadets in the stand next to him.

"So it is," was the cool answer, though there was a sore heart back of it. "We never play our best until the other team gets a touchdown.

That's the only look-in your fellows will have."

"Oh, it is; eh?" demanded the other with a hoa.r.s.e laugh. "Well, just watch our boys rip you all to pieces from now on."

The goal was kicked, making the score six to nothing against our friends, and d.i.c.k saw dubious looks on the faces of his chums.

"This is nothing!" he cried gaily. "It's the only taste of the honey-pot that we'll let them have. Come on now, we've got time to make a touchdown this half."

Play was resumed after the kick-off, and an exchange of punts followed, both sides seeming willing to take this method of regaining their strength, which had been almost played out.

When Blue Hill got the ball after a series of brilliant kicks that had delighted the spectators, she once more began her rushing tactics. But either some of her men were careless, or they were too eager, for they got off side, and there was some slugging which the alert umpire saw, and as a penalty the ball went to d.i.c.k's side.

"Now rush it up," he called eagerly, and then began such a whirlwind attack that Blue Hill was fairly carried off her feet. Right up the field from her own thirty-five yard line did d.i.c.k's men carry the pigskin, until on Blue Hill's twenty yard mark the young millionaire decided for a try for a field goal. It was a magnificent attempt but failed, and before any more playing could be started the whistle blew, ending the half.

Rather dejectedly d.i.c.k and his team filed to the dressing rooms. The two coaches met them.

"It's all right! It's all right!" cried Mr. Spencer. "You boys couldn't do better. You haven't made any mistakes. Keep on the same way next half and you'll have them."

"I hope so," murmured d.i.c.k.

"I know it!" declared Mr. Martin with conviction. "They can't keep up their pace, and they haven't any good subs to put in."

"That's right," agreed his colleague. "The way you carried the ball up the field after their touchdown showed what you could do. If there had been time you'd have scored. They can't stand that smashing attacking business, but you can hold them if you try. Then, at the right time, get the ball and take it up. One touchdown and goal will tie the score, and another touchdown will win the championship for you."

"Boys, will we do it?" cried d.i.c.k, turning to his cadets as they surrounded him in the dressing rooms under the grandstand.

"Will we?" cried Innis Beeby. "Will a duck eat corn meal, boys?"

"Sure!" came the enthusiastic answer.

Back again on the gridiron trotted the twenty-two st.u.r.dy lads to indulge in a little limbering-up practice before the second half should start.

Then came the warning whistle.

"They'll kick off this time," said d.i.c.k to his men, "and that will give us the ball. We want to rush it right up the field without giving 'em time to catch their breaths. Try the sequence plays again, they worked well."

With a resounding "pung" the leather sailed into Kentfield territory.

Beeby caught it and began a rush back that was not destined to last long, for with great fierceness he was tackled by Lem Gordon, and heavily thrown. But Beeby was as hard as nails, and arose smiling, keeping his foot on the ball.

"Now boys, play like mustard," called d.i.c.k, as a signal for the sequence plays, none other being given. The successive rushes that followed fairly carried the Blue Hill players off their feet, and so impetuously did d.i.c.k and his men smash into the line, going through centre, between guards and tackles, and around the ends that, inside of five minutes of play, the ball was on Blue Hill's ten yard line.

"Wow! Wow! Wow!" yelled enthusiastic Kentfield "rooters," and from being glum they were now wild with delight and eagerness.

"Touchdown! Touchdown!" came the imperative demand.

"Hold! Hold 'em!" pleaded the Blue Hill throng.

"They ought to make it now or never," said a gray-haired man as he half rose to watch the next play. "They must shove it over if they work as they have all the way up the field."

d.i.c.k paused for a moment. He was deciding on the next play. Blue Hill was frantic and might take any unfair advantage. The Kentfield men were like hounds after a stag--it seemed that nothing could keep them back.

d.i.c.k sent Ray Dutton through centre for five yards.

He came back into the line gasping, for he had been tackled hard.

"Only a little more now, fellows!" yelled the captain. "Nothing can stop us now."