The High School Left End Part 28

Tottenville's quarter got after fleeting d.i.c.k too late, for the whole movement had been one of startling trickery.

One Tottenville halfback was too far away to make an obstructing dash in time.

In dodging the other halfback d.i.c.k dashed on as though not seeing the fellow. This, however, was all trick. Just in the nick of time Prescott, still holding the ball, ducked and dodged far to the left, getting around his man.

Tottenville's fullback was now the sole hope of the home team.

Prescott, however, dodged that heavy fellow, also.

From the Gridley boosters on the grand stand went up a medley of yells that dinned in the young left end's ears. Panting, all but fainting, d.i.c.k was over the enemy's goal line and he had the ball down.

When Dave had emerged from that fruitless clumping he had a broad grin on his face. He saw that while d.i.c.k was not yet over the goal line, only the fullback was in the way and the fullback was no match for d.i.c.k in the matter of speed.

Then the yells told the rest. Back came the ball. Captain Wadleigh nodded to Dave to kick the goal.

Captain Grant looked utterly wild. He had a.s.sured everyone in Tottenville who had asked him that the Gridley "come ons" would be eaten alive. And here-----!

Dave made the kick. After going down in that bunch Darrin was not at his best. Body and nerves were tired. He failed to kick the goal.

Hardly, however, had the two teams been started in a new line-up when the time keeper did his trick. The game was over.

That last kick had failed, but who cared? The score was eleven to two!

Ere the players could escape from the field the Gridley boosters were over on the gridiron.

d.i.c.k and Dave were bodily carried to dressing quarters. Wadleigh, who had shown fine generalship in this stiff game was cheered until the boosters went hoa.r.s.e.

"Gentlemen," cried Coach Morton, raising his voice to its fullest carrying power as the dressing quarters filled, "it's probably too early to brag, but I feel that we've got an old-fashioned Gridley eleven this year."

"Ask Grant!"

"Ask anybody in Tottenville!"

The first yell was sent up by Ripley, the second by another subst.i.tute.

All the Gridley members of the team were excited at the close of this game. Not even their weariness kept down their spirits.

Herr Schimmelpodt didn't attempt to enter quarters. He was now too much of a "sport" to attempt that. But he stood just outside the door, vigorously mopping his shining, wet face.

There were two extra places in the German's hired car. Dave, of course, was asked to fill one of these, and Captain Wadleigh was invited to take the fifth seat.

More dejected than ever were Bert Dodge and his chum, Bayliss, as they slouched away from the grounds. They did not attempt to invade the gridiron and join in the triumphal procession to quarters.

"You can't seem to down that fellow Prescott," muttered Bayliss, in disgust. "Just as you think you've got him by the throat you find out that he's sitting on your chest and pulling your hair."

"Oh, I don't know," growled Dodge sulkily. "He may have his weak spot, and it may be a very weak spot at that."

The pair moped along until they reached the garage in which they had left the runabout.

Bayliss was standing near the doorway, while Bert inspected the machinery of the car.

"Pest! Look out there," muttered Bayliss, stepping back from the open doorway.

"What is it?" demanded Bert. "Oh, I see! Old Schimmelpodt brought the beggar Prescott over here in an auto. That's how the fellow managed to get into the game, after all. Well, what of it all, anyway?"

"That car is running along slowly, and it has a full-sized crowd in it," muttered Bayliss, going closer to his crony. "Wadleigh, Prescott and Darrin---and maybe the chauffeur is a thick friend of theirs."

"What on earth are you driving at?" demanded Dodge, glancing up.

"Bert, I don't believe I'm wholly stuck on the scheme of us driving back to Gridley. There are too many lonely spots along the road.

"Do you think they'd a.s.sa.s.sinate us?" jeered Bert.

"I---I think Wadleigh may have formed the notion of stopping us and giving us a thrashing," responded Bayliss.

"Bosh!" snapped Dodge quickly.

Yet, none the less, he paused and looked thoughtful.

"There's more than one road to Gridley, old fellow," muttered Bert uneasily. "You see Schimmelpodt and that mocker didn't pa.s.s us on the way here."

"But I think they're likely to have guessed our road," persisted Bayliss. "There was an ugly look on Wadleigh's face, too, as that car drove past here."

"But old Schimmelpodt wouldn't stand for anything disorderly and---unlawful," urged Bert.

"I don't know about that," retorted Bayliss significantly. "That old German has gone crazy over High School sports. He might stand in for 'most anything. You know, he offered your Dad to give you a spanking this afternoon."

The thought of Herr Schimmelpodt's big and capable-looking hands caused Bert to shiver a bit uneasily. Yet he didn't want to admit that he was scared. He glanced at his watch.

"We've time to catch the regular train back, I suppose, Bayliss."

"Let's do it, then," begged the other.

"Will you pay a chauffeur to take this car home, then?"

"I'll pay half," volunteered Bayliss eagerly.

"All right, then; if you're pretty near broke, we'll divide the cost," agreed Dodge.

An arrangement was easily made with the owner of the garage.

Then, the charges paid, this pair of cronies, who considered themselves much better than the usual run of High School boys, hurried over to the railway station.

The train was waiting by the time that the pair arrived. Bert and Bayliss hastily purchased tickets, then boarded the handiest car. The train proved to contain few people except the Gridley student body and boosters from that town.

"Here, what are you fellows doing in here?" angrily demanded Purcell, as the cronies entered one of the cars.

"We're going to ride to Gridley, if you've no objections," replied Bert, with sulky defiance.