The Boys of Columbia High on the Gridiron Part 11

"Columbia! _Veni! vidi! vici!_ to-day we swallow the rooster!" came a concerted shout, as Herman Hooker got his cheer band in working order.

The emblem of the Clifford school was a rooster, while that of Columbia, like Princeton, was the tiger.

Immediately the Columbia fellows began booting an old ball about, and falling on it with reckless abandon, just as they had been taught to do by the coach.

"Look there, will you!" exclaimed a girl close to Minnie Cuthbert in the grandstand. "How nice and white the suits of Clifford seem, while our boys are dirty. They ought to be ashamed, I should think. We have just as good a laundry in Columbia as they have up above."

But to those who knew more about such things there was an atmosphere of strictly business about the soiled suits of Frank's team. They looked as though they were on the field for hard work, and not to show off, or "play to the gallery."

And the wise ones took stock of this fact. Some of the sporting men even began to hedge in their bets, and might have tried to even up all around, only that they happened to know of a secret upon which they were building great hopes.

And that secret concerned the signal practice of the Columbia eleven!

The Clifford boys were continually waving their hands to some people in the crowd they recognized. There was an air of a.s.surance about them that seemed to loudly proclaim the fact that they antic.i.p.ated no great trouble in putting the "Indian sign" on Columbia.

On the other hand, the home team seemed to notice nothing, save the fact that the ball was there to be shot around, and tumbled on heavily. They had a grim look, too, and in vain did the girls try to attract their attention, for it was rarely that one of the eleven so much as turned a look toward the spectators. All of their time was taken up in play, and observing their rivals.

"Just wait, and we'll dirty those sweet white suits some,"

chuckled Lanky, as he pa.s.sed the ball like lightning to Shadduck.

Minnie was watching one player intently. For the first time in a long while he did not look along the rows of faces until he saw her waving wildly, and doff his cap, or in this case, wave his hand, since he had no cap to lift.

She trembled with secret delight as she finally saw Frank raise his head when the ball was in another quarter. But when he made a motion with his hand, it was in a different direction entirely, and looking over, Minnie saw that Helen and Flo Dempsey sat there.

"They're getting ready to line-up. See, the referee has the two captains over by him. It's going to be a toss for position," cried one eager spectator.

"Not much choice to-day, though, since the wind is light,"

returned another.

"But there always is one side better than the other. The sun will be in the eyes of the fellows who lose. That may count for something. And the breeze may grow stronger as the game goes on.

There, Frank has won, for he's taking his men to the lower goal.

But that gives Clifford the kick-off. That looks bad."

"Oh, I don't know. It will only spur them on to working a little harder. Wait and see. I've got a hunch that Frank Allen has a surprise or two up his sleeve for these gay white birds from up river. I'm not worrying. I've seen that boy on the baseball field, and on the river in the boat races. He is all there with the goods, and they're a full yard wide. You hear me!" and the enthusiast jumped to his feet, to flap his elbows as though they were wings, while he emitted a shrill crow that caused a laugh to break out in the immediate vicinity.

"Now we're going to se some fun!" called a fellow who was waving the colors of Clifford with great vim.

And under the eyes of thousands of eager spectators, the rival elevens took the places a.s.signed to them to await the signal for play.

CHAPTER IX

A HARD FOUGHT FIRST HALF

Although there might be changes at any time during the progress of a fiercely contested game, the line-up at the start was as follows:

_COLUMBIA._

Comfort.

_F.B._

Allen, Captain. West.

_R.H.B. L.H.B._

Wallace.

_Q.B._

Shadduck. Oakes. Harper. Bird. Daly. Eastwick. Morris.

_R.E. R.T. R.G. Center. L.G. L.T. L.E._

_CLIFFORD._

Evans. McQuirk. Roe. Gentle. Ross. Adkins. Smith.

_L.E. L.T. L.G. Center. R.G. R.T. R.E._

Style.

_Q.B._

Coots. Wentworth.

_L.H.B. R.H.B._

Hastings, Captain.

_F.B._

Clifford was to kick off.

Hastings, the big captain, stood there, poising himself for the effort, and every eye was glued upon his really fine figure. Hastings knew it, and purposely lingered just a trifle longer than he would have done had there been no ma.s.s of spectators hedging in the field on all sides in a solid bank of humanity.

There was a shrill whistle, the referee's signal, and it called into life the twenty-two motionless figures that stood about the field. Big Hastings ran forward, glancing sharply about to see that his men were on the alert, and the next moment his shoe made a great dent in the side of the new yellow ball. Away it sailed into the air, far over toward Columbia's territory.

Straight toward Lanky Wallace, the plucky little quarter-back, it came, and Wallace was right under it. Into his arms, with a resounding "pung!" the spheroid landed, and, like a flash, the quarter pa.s.sed it to Jack Comfort for a return kick.

Comfort's toe found the pigskin as if his shoe belonged there, and back through s.p.a.ce went the twisting oval, in a long spiral curve, while the cohorts of both teams loosed the yells that had been long on tap.

"Oh, wow!"