Left Guard Gilbert Part 31

"Signals! Signals!"

Then a moment of silence save for the gasping breath of the players. The Claflin quarter shouted his signals, the ball sped back, the lines heaved. Straight at the left guard position plunged the back. "_Stop him!_" growled Peters. The secondary defence leaped to the rescue. Back went the man with the ball. "_Down!_" he cried in smothered tones. The referee pushed in and heeled the mark.

"Second down! A foot and a half to go!"

Don knew now that if he had fooled Danny Moore he had not fooled the Claflin quarter-back. That quarter knew or guessed that he had been hurt and was playing for him. Don gritted his teeth and ground his cleats into the sod. Well, they'd see!

The signals again, broken into by Steve Edwards's shrill voice in wild appeal. Steve was wellnigh beside himself now. Peters was growling like a bear in a cage. Then again the plunge, hard and quick, the whole Claflin backfield behind it! Don felt an intolerable pain as he pushed and struggled. Despair seized him for an instant, for he was being borne back. Then someone hurtled into him from behind, driving the breath from his lungs, and he was staggering forward.

Peters was yanking him to his feet, a wild-eyed Peters mouthing strange exultant words. "They can't do it! No, never! Not if they were to try all night! We put 'em back again, Gilbert! We'll do it again! Come on, you blue-legged babies! Try it again! You'll never do it!"

Don, dazed, swaying giddily, groped back to his place. Thayer was muttering, too, now. Don wondered if they were all crazy. He was quite certain that he was, for otherwise things wouldn't revolve around him in such funny long sweeps. Then his mind was suddenly clear again. The Claflin quarter was hurling his signals out hurriedly, despairingly, fighting against time. Don didn't listen to those signals for he knew where the attack would come. And he was right, for once more the blue right guard and tackle sprang at him to bear him back. And then the runner smashed into sight, wild-faced for an instant before he put his head down and charged in. But Don didn't yield. Peters, roaring loudly, was fighting across him, and, front and rear, reinforcements hurled themselves into the melee. Don closed his eyes, every muscle in his body straining forward. A roar of voices came to him only dimly. Ages pa.s.sed.

He wondered if Danny Moore had nothing better to do than eternally swab his face with that beastly old sponge! Why didn't he pick on some other fellow? Don felt quite aggrieved and tried to say so, but couldn't seem to make any sound. Then he realised that he had forgotten to open his lips. When he did he got a lot of cold water in his mouth and that made him quite peevish. He tried to raise his right hand, changed his mind about it and raised his left instead. With that he pushed weakly at the offending sponge.

"Take it away," he muttered. "I'm--drowned."

"Can you walk or will we carry you?" asked Danny in businesslike tones.

"Walk," said Don indignantly. "Let me up." Recollection returned. "Did they make it?" he gasped.

"They did not. Lie still a bit."

"Yes, but----" Don's voice grew faint and he closed his eyes again. The sponge gave a final pat and disappeared. "What--what down was that?"

asked Don anxiously.

"Third."

"Then--then they've got another! Help me up, Danny, will you? We've got to stop them, you know. I don't believe they--can do it, do you? We put them back twice, you know."

"Sure you did," said the trainer soothingly. "Here you are, Tim. Take his feet. And you get your arm under his middle, Martin. So! Careful of the shoulder, boys. He's got a fine broken blade in there!"

"Wait!" Don kicked Tim's hands away from his ankles as, raised to a sitting posture by Danny and Martin, his puzzled glance swept the field.

"Where's--where's everyone?" he gasped.

"If you mean the team," laughed Tim, "they're beating it for the gym."

"Oh!" said Don. "But--but what happened? They didn't"--his voice sank--"they didn't do it, did they, Tim?"

"Of course they didn't, old man! We pushed them back three times and we'd have done it again if the whistle hadn't saved them!"

"Then we won!" exclaimed Don.

"Surest thing you know, dearie! If you don't believe it listen to that band of wild Indians over in front of the gym! Now are you ready to be lugged along?"

"Yes, thanks," sighed Don.

THE END