Left Guard Gilbert Part 11

"I guess he won't. He's a sort of a pup, but he isn't mean enough for that. Gee, but it almost ruined my appet.i.te for breakfast!"

"Even if Josh did find out," said Tim as they turned into Wendell, "he wouldn't do much to us, I guess. It wasn't our fault the fire was late in getting started, and the paper calls us heroes----"

"I don't believe it does. That's some of Josh's nonsense. I'm going to get a copy of the _Times_ and see what it does say."

"Take my advice and let the _Times_ alone," advised Tim. "Why, I wouldn't be seen with a copy of it in my possession! It would be circ.u.mstantial evidence, or corroborative evidence or something horrid, and I'd get pinched for sure. You keep away from the _Times_, dearie."

There was a good deal of interested speculation as to the ident.i.ty of the four youths who had partic.i.p.ated in the rescue of Farmer Corrigan's dwelling, but the general opinion was to the effect that the local paper had erred. One fellow made the suggestion in Don's hearing that if faculty would look it up and see who had leave of absence Sat.u.r.day night they might spot the chaps. Don sincerely hoped the idea wouldn't occur to Mr. Fernald!

But interest in the matter soon waned, for Brimfield was to play Benton Military Academy that afternoon and what sort of a showing she would make against that very worthy opponent was a far more absorbing subject for speculation. Benton had been defeated handily enough last year, but reports from the military academy this Fall led Brimfield to expect a hard contest. And her expectations were fulfilled.

Benton brought at least a hundred neatly uniformed rooters along and the field took on a very gallant appearance. The visitors seemed gaily confident of victory and from the time they marched into the field and took their places in the stand until the kick-off there was no cessation of the songs and cheers from the blue-clad cohorts. Coach Robey started his best men in that game and, as was quickly proved, needed to. The first period was a bitterly contested punting duel in which Rollins, and, later, St. Clair came off second best. But the difference in the kicking of the rival teams was not sufficient to allow of much advantage, and the first ten-minute set-to ended without a score. In fact, neither team had been at any time within scoring distance of the other's goal line. When play began again Benton changed her tactics and started a rushing game that for a few minutes made headway. But a fumble cost her the ball and a possible score on the Maroon-and-Grey's twenty-yard line and the latter adopted the enemy's plan and banged at the soldiers' line for fair gains. A forward pa.s.s brought the spectators to their feet and gained twenty-two yards for Brimfield, Steve Edwards being on the receiving end of a very pretty play. But Benton stiffened presently and Brimfield was forced to kick.

That kick spelled disaster for Brimfield. Rollins dropped back to near his own thirty yards and sent a remarkable corkscrew punt to Benton's twenty. It was one of the prettiest punts ever seen on the Brimfield gridiron, for it was so long that it went over the quarter-back's head, so high that it enabled the Maroon-and-Grey ends to get well down under it and was nicely placed in the left-hand corner of the field. The Benton quarter made no effort to touch it while it was bounding toward the goal line, for with both Edwards and Holt hovering about him a fumble might easily have resulted, and it was only when the pigskin had settled down to a slow, toppling roll and it was evident that it did not mean to go over the line that the Benton quarter seized it. What happened then was little short of a miracle. Both Captain Edwards and Holt took it for granted that the quarter-back meant to drop on the ball and call it down, and, since there was no necessity to smother the opponent, each waited for the other to tackle and hold him. But the first thing anyone knew the Benton quarter had the ball in his hands, had squirmed somehow between Edwards and Holt and was speeding up the middle of the field!

Between him and the fifty-yard line friend and foe were mingled, and to win through seemed a preposterous undertaking. And yet first one and then another of the enemy was pa.s.sed, team-mates formed hasty interference for the runner and, suddenly, to the consternation of the Brimfield stand, the quarter, with the ball snuggled in the crook of his left elbow, was out of the melee, with a clear field before him and two Benton players guarding his rear. Crewe made a desperate effort to get him near the thirty-yard line, but the interference was too much for him, and after that, although Brimfield trailed the runner to the goal line and over, there was no doubt as to the result. And when the Benton quarter deposited the ball squarely between the posts and laid himself down beside it friend and foe alike arose from their seats and cheered him long and loudly. Never had a more spectacular run been made there, for not only had the quarter practically traversed the length of the field, but had eluded the entire opposing eleven.

Benton deserved to secure the odd point by kicking goal, but goal-kicking was the quarter-back's business and he was far too tuckered to try, and so the player who did make the attempt failed miserably, and Benton had to be satisfied with those six points. Probably she was, for she cheered madly and incessantly while the period lasted and then spent the half-time singing triumphant paeans. And those military academy chaps could sing, too! Brimfield, a bit chastened, listened and applauded generously and only found her own voice when the Maroon-and-Grey warriors trotted back again.

Carmine had given place to McPhee at quarter and Holt to Cheep at right end. Otherwise Brimfield's line was the same as in the first half.

McPhee opened his bag of tricks soon after play began and double-pa.s.ses and delayed-pa.s.ses and a certain fake plunge at guard with quarter running wide outside the drawn-in end made good gains and took the ball down the field with only one halt to Benton's twenty-three yards. There the military academy team solved a fake-kick and St. Clair was laid low behind his line. Rollins made up the lost distance and a little more besides, and finally, with the ball on Benton's nineteen yards on fourth down, Captain Edwards called for a try-at-goal and Rollins dropped back to the thirty. Fortunately the Maroon-and-Grey forwards held back the plunging enemy in good style, Rollins had all the time he wanted, the pigskin dropped neatly over the bar, and the score-board figures proclaimed 6 to 3.

Benton kicked off and once more Brimfield started up the field, St.

Clair, Tim Otis and Rollins banging the line from end to end and Edwards varying the monotony by sweeping around behind and launching himself off on wide runs. But the advance slackened near the middle of the field and an attempted forward pa.s.s was captured by Benton. That play brought the ten-minute period to an end.

Benton tried the Brimfield centre and got through for four yards, hit it again and made three and placed the ball on the home team's forty-yard line. Time was called for Brimfield and Danny Moore trotted on to administer to Gafferty. The left guard was soon on his feet again, although a trifle unsteady, it seemed, and Benton, with three yards to gain, swung into the other side and pushed a half-back through for the distance. Carmine replaced McPhee and Holt went back to end position.

Benton once more thrust at Gafferty and, although the secondary defence plugged the hole, went through for two yards. Time was again called and this time the trainer led Joe Gafferty off the field, the latter protesting bitterly, and Harry Walton was hurried in. Benton tried a forward pa.s.s and made it go for a small gain and then, on third down, got past Thayer and reached the eighteen before Carmine tipped up the runner. Across the gridiron, Benton's supporters yelled mightily and a second touchdown looked imminent.

Benton fumbled and recovered for a two-yard loss and then sent that heroic quarter up the field to try a drop kick. It looked easy enough, for the ball was near the twenty-eight yards and in front of the right hand goal post. Captain Edwards implored his men to block the kick and comparative quiet fell over the field. Back shot the ball and the quarter's foot swung at it, but the left side of the Benton line crumbled and Hall and Crewe flung themselves into the path of the ball.

Four seconds later it was snuggled under Tim Otis's chest near the thirty-five yards, for Tim had followed the forwards through and trailed the bouncing pigskin up the field.

That misadventure seemed to take the heart out of the visitors, and when Brimfield, with new courage and determination, smashed at her line she fell back time and again. Subst.i.tutes were sent in lavishly, but although the right side of the Benton line stiffened for awhile, the left continued weak. Coach Robey sent in Compton to replace Steve Edwards and, later, Howard for St. Clair. With the best part of five minutes left, Brimfield hoped to put over a winning touchdown, and the backs responded gallantly to Carmine's demands. Near the enemy's forty-yard line Rollins threw a neat forward to Holt and the latter raced along the side of the field for a dozen yards before he was forced over the line. That took the ball to Benton's twenty-one. Two tries at the line netted but six yards and Compton took the pigskin on an end-around play and just made the distance.

Brimfield hammered the enemy's left wing and reached her five-yard line in three downs, but Benton, fiercely determined, her feet on the last line mark, was putting up a strong defence. Tom Hall, captain pro tem., and Carmine consulted. A forward pa.s.s might succeed, and if it did would win the game, but Benton would be watching for it and neither Holt nor Compton was a brilliant catcher of thrown b.a.l.l.s. A goal from the field would only tie the score, but it seemed the wisest play. So Rollins dropped back to the twenty and stretched his arms. But Benton was sure a forward was to result and when the ball went back her attempts to block the kick were not very enthusiastic. That was fortunate for Brimfield, for Thursby's pa.s.s had been short and Rollins had to pick the ball from the turf before he could swing at it. That delay was almost his undoing, since the Benton forwards were now trickling through, and it was only by the veriest good fortune that the ball shot between them from Rollins's toe and, after showing an inclination to pa.s.s to the left of the goal and changing its mind in mid-air, dropped over the bar barely inside the post. Brimfield cheered and the 3 on the board changed to 6. Coach Robey called Rollins and Tim Otis out, replacing them with Martin and Gordon.

Brimfield kicked off once more and, with a scant minute and a half to play, the Maroon-and-Grey tried valiantly to add another score.

Carmine caught on his twenty and took the ball to the thirty-six before he was stopped, and Brimfield cheered wildly and danced about in the stand. Plugging the line would never cover that distance to the farther goal line and so Carmine sent Gordon off around the left end. But Gordon couldn't find the hole and was run down for no gain. A forward pa.s.s, Carmine to Compton, laid the ball on the forty-eight yards. Howard slid off right tackle for six and, on a fake-kick play, Martin ran around left end for seven more. Brimfield shouted imploringly from the stand and, across the field, Benton cheered incessantly, doggedly, longing for the whistle.

The Benton team used all allowable methods to waste time. The timekeeper hovered nearby, his eyes darting from the galloping hand of his watch to the players. "Twenty-nine seconds," he responded to Tom Hall's question.

Carmine clapped his hands impatiently.

"Signals now! Make this good! Left tackle over! 27--57--88--16! Hep!

27--57--88----"

The backs swung obliquely to the right, Carmine dropped from sight, his back to the line, Benton's left side was borne slowly away, fighting hard, and confusion reigned. Then Carmine whirled around, sprang, doubled over, through the scattered right side of the enemy's line, challenged only by the end, who made a desperate attempt at a tackle but failed, and, with only the opposing quarter between him and the goal line, raced like the wind. About him was a roaring babel of sound, voices urging him on, shouts of dismay, imploring shrieks from behind.

Then the quarter was before him, crouching with out-reached hands, a strained, anxious look on his dirt-streaked face.

They met near the twenty-yard line. The Benton quarter launched himself forward. Carmine swung to the left and leaped. A hand groped at his ankle, caught, and Carmine fell sprawling to the turf. But he found his feet like a cat, wrenched the imprisoned ankle free and went staggering, stumbling on. Again he fell, on the five-yard line, and again the Benton quarter dived for him. But Carmine was not to be stopped with the line only five short yards away. He wrested himself to his feet again, the arms of the Benton quarter squirming about his knees, plunged on a stride, dragging the enemy with him, found his legs locked firmly now, struggled desperately and then flung himself sidewise toward the last white streak. And as he fell his hands, clasping the ball, reached forward and a whistle blew.

It was said afterward that a half-inch decided that touchdown. And the half-inch was on the wrong side of the line! Carmine wept frankly when he heard the decision and Tom Hall had to be held away from the referee, but facts were facts and Carmine had lost his touchdown and Brimfield the victory by the width of a finger!

Benton departed joyously, cheering and singing, and Brimfield tried hard to be satisfied with a drawn game. But she wasn't very successful, and for the next few days the referee's decision was discussed and derided and regretted.

What sorrow Don felt was largely mitigated when, after supper that evening, Steve Edwards found him in front of Billings. "You come to us Monday, Don," said the captain. "Robey told me to tell you. Joe Gafferty's got a rib caved in and is out of it for a fortnight at least.

Get Tim to coach you up on the signals. Don't forget."

As though he was likely to!

CHAPTER X

TIM EXULTS AND EXPLAINS

WHEN Don told Tim the latter insisted on performing a triumphal dance about the room to the tune of "Boola." When Don squirmed himself loose Tim continued alone until the droplight was knocked to the floor at the cost of one green shade. Then he threw himself, panting but jubilant, on his bed and hilariously kicked his feet in air. Don observed him with a faint smile.

"You wooden Indian, you!" exclaimed Tim, sitting up and dropping his feet to the floor with a crash. "There you stand like a--a graven image, looking as though you'd just received an invitation to a funeral! Cheer, you idiot! Make a noise! Aren't you tickled to death?"

"You bet I am!" replied Don.

"Well, do something, then! You ought to have a little of my Latin temperament, Don. You'd be a heap easier to live with. If it was I who had just been waited on humbly by the first team captain and invited to join the eleven I'd--I'd make a--a noise!"

"What do you think you've been doing?" laughed Don. "You'll have Horace in here in a minute. Steve says you're to coach me on the signals."

"Tomorrow!" Tim waved his hand. "Time enough for that, Don. Just now it behooves us to celebrate."

"How?" asked Don.

Tim thought long and earnestly. Finally, "Let's borrow Larry Jones's accordion and serenade Josh!" he said.

"Let's not. And let's not go to a fire, either! Think of something better, Timmy."

"Then we'll go out and bay at the moon. I've got to do something! By the time Joe's got his busted rib mended you'll have that left guard position nailed to the planks, Don."

"How about Walton?" asked Don dubiously.

"A fig for Walton! Two figs for him! A whole box of figs! All you've got to do is speed up a bit and----"

"Suppose I can't?"

"Suppose nothing! You've _got_ to! If you don't you'll have me to fight, Donald. If you don't cinch that position in just one week I--I'll take you over my knee and spank you with a belt! Come on over to Clint's room. Let us disseminate the glorious tidings. Let us----"

"I'd rather learn the signals," said Don. "There's only tonight and tomorrow, you know."

Tim appealed despairingly to the ceiling with wide-spread hands.

"There's no poetry in his soul," he mourned, "no blood in his veins!" He faced Don scornfully. "Donald P. Gilbert is your name, my son, and the P stands for Practical. All right, then, draw up a chair and let's have it over. To think, though, that I should have to sit indoors a night like this and teach signals to a wooden-head! I wooden do it for anyone else.