CHAPTER XXI DYNAMITE TAKES IT ON THE CHIN
Never before had there been such excitement about a Hillcrest footballgame. By one o'clock in the afternoon, Hillcrest was deserted. Coaches,busses, trucks and private cars had been forced into service. AllHillcrest, professors, students, men, women, boys, and girls, everyonejourneyed to Naperville where the game was to be played.
When the time for the kick-off came, they were all there. Old grads werethere too, hundreds of them. One man had journeyed all the way from NewYork. Crimson banners and pennants fluttered in the breeze. The Collegeband roared, boomed and blared then settled down to, "Hail to Hillcrest!"Ah, yes, it was to be one glorious occasion.
A fine misty rain was blowing in from the east. But what of that?Blankets, heavy coats, and ulsters defied the weather. As for the team,they were all pepped up for the battle. Weather meant nothing to them.Bumps, bruises, even cuts would mean nothing to them. Nothing short of abroken leg could stop them today.
Today was the day of days. Year after year they had gone down to defeat.Today? Today! Just wait and see.
One thought disturbed Dave Powers as he took his place. Old Kentucky wasin his suit but his bright, new crimson jersey did not shine out from thefield. Instead it was hidden beneath a heavy gray blanket. Kentucky wason the bench. There, shivering from the cold, excitement, and bitterdisappointment, he awaited the kick-off.
"Your rib is about healed," the doctor had said to him. "However, if youshould go into the game, and be tackled and thrown hard, it might resultin permanent injuries."
Well, doctor's orders were doctor's orders, but to Kentucky, had it notbeen for his teammates, they would have meant nothing. What were a fewbroken bones to the loss of the year's game of games? It was Dynamite whohad said, "You stay out until I need you."
"But promise me," Kentucky pleaded, "if the battle goes against you andif you think I can help, promise you'll let me in."
"Help, kid?" Dynamite had exclaimed. "Of course you could help. You and Icould lick that Naperville bunch all by our lonesomes. And will I hollerif we are getting the worst of it? You better believe I will, son!"
All the same, as Dynamite went into the game it was with a wordlessprayer that little Kentucky might not be needed.
From the very start it was a thrilling game. From the first, too,Dynamite was to recall the words of Kentucky's passed on by Johnny:"Somebody's going to drop the ball."
Naperville led off with a great kick. Punch, who received the ball, wastackled almost at once, on the Hillcrest thirty-yard line. On two lineplunges, Hillcrest picked up seven yards. Then, as Bud Tucker, who playedin Kentucky's place at half, came round the left end, he was hit hard andthrown. The ball leaped from his grasp and was recovered by a Napervilleman.
"Ha! Ha! Big joke!" one of the opponents yelled. They had heard this froma defeated team. Now they evidently meant to use it against Hillcrest.
To have the ball in the opponent's hands on one's own thirty-seven-yardline at the start of a game is no joke. The hard-hitting Naperville steamroller crushed the Hillcrest line again and again. "First down and ten--"and scarcely a moment later once again, "First down and ten--" From thebleachers came a roar like the breaking of a wild sea:
"Hold that line! Hold that line! Hold that line!"
Kentucky sat like a mummy in his blanket, shuddering and mumbling tohimself.
Then, when it seemed that a touchdown was inevitable, once again,"somebody dropped the ball." This time it was little Artie Stark whorecovered. Hillcrest's ball on their own thirteen-yard line. A quickhuddle, a sudden snapping of the ball, a ducking of the head by PunchDickman, as if to run with it, then a leaping upward like the rise of asubmarine, and a quick kick that, catching the opponents off their guard,sent the ball rolling, all unmolested to Naperville's ten-yard line.
"Bravo! Bravo!" Shedding his blanket as a snake sheds its skin, Kentuckyleaped into a wild Indian dance.
But wait! Again that relentless beating back. There came line buck afterline buck that Hillcrest's slender line could not withstand. And afterthat, with startling suddenness, forward passes. Naperville, too, hadlearned how to invade the air.
One pass was complete, then a second. As this last pass was caught by aNaperville end, Dynamite too far away to do more than watch, saw him gocoursing straight down the field. The ball carrier was followed by hisown left-half.
"Punch is there," Dynamite congratulated himself. "He'll spill him. Andhow!"
He had spoken too soon. Punch did spill the runner, spilled him plenty,but the instant before Punch struck him, the runner threw a lateral tothe man who followed him. The lateral was good, Punch went down with theNaperville end. The trailing Naperville half went through for a touchdownand the Naperville rooters burst the head of their big bass drum fromsheer joy.
As for Old Kentucky, he shuddered more violently than ever. "Here!" Therewas a sharp, girlish voice close at hand. It was Jensie. She was holdingout a small jug filled with something piping hot. What was in the jug?Kentucky knew and Jensie too. What did it matter about the rest? He drankit all and shuddered no more.
The game went on. Reenforcements were sent in to the Hillcrest line. Thisstiffened up the game. For the rest of that quarter and all through thesecond quarter the teams took turns bucking lines, trying passes, andpunting on the fourth down. Neither team made great gains. At the end ofthe half the score stood at 7-0 against Hillcrest.
"Dynamite," the slim Kentucky boy whispered tensely as for a moment Davetook a place beside him on the bench, "you can't let them beat us! Youjust can't. All the old grads are here. They're burning up for a victory.I heard one of them say there'll be a training-table for the team nextyear if we win this game. A free training-table, Dynamite! Think whatthat'll mean to the boys who have to work! Let me come in, Dynamite. Justlet me!"
"They'd bust you in pieces," Dynamite grumbled.
"They'll never touch me," Kentucky's eyes shone with a strange light. "Noone ever has except that once and that--that was sort of an accident, youmight say."
"They'd get you, Kentucky. Those boys are out for blood. They'd murderyou and then Doc would have me up for getting you killed."
Kentucky made no reply. For a full moment he sat there in silence. "Allright, Dave," he said at last. His voice was low and flat.
"This is terrible," Dave thought to himself.
"Give us one more quarter," he pleaded after a moment of silence. "If wedon't score in the third quarter, you'll go in. I swear it.
"But one thing," he added in a low tone, "you'll swear on the Bible youwon't let them tackle you. You'll throw the ball away--anything at all."
"Swear it on a stack of Bibles," Kentucky grinned happily.
Never had Dave worked, hoped, and prayed for a scoring punch as he did inthat third quarter. Never did the team back him up with greaterdetermination. Never had they attempted such dazzling plays.
"Eighty-six," was the first order they received as they went into ahuddle.
"Eighty-six coming up," Artie Stark gasped.
The team lined up as usual, balanced formation. Punch Dickman droppedback as if for a punt. The ball was snapped to him. He held it for aperiod of seconds. Dynamite came sweeping in close behind the line ofscrimmage. Punch shot a shovel pass to him. He dashed round right end fora gain of five yards. As he was about to be tackled he shot it to RabbitJones. In the meantime Punch had followed Dynamite around right end. AsRabbit saw the end of his own eight-yard break for liberty, he lateralledit back to Punch and Punch went forward for a clean twenty yards.
"Yea! Yea! Yea!" came from the bleachers. "Touchdown! Touchdown!Touchdown!"
"Ninety-three," Dynamite whispered. They were in a huddle and out again.They snapped into position, five men behind the line, three a yard backof the line, and two others one yard farther back. Punch received theball. Artie Stark touched the ground. He was behind the line but thismade him a technical lineman. Bud Talliver, a q
uarter who was alsotemporarily quartered behind the line, took a short pass from Punch toshoot around left end for a gain of twelve yards and one more first down.
"Repeat," Dynamite whispered in the next huddle. There was a growing noteof confidence in his tone.
They did repeat and at once met with disaster. The right guard of theenemy smelled the play. Somehow he broke through to throw Bud so hardthat the ball bounced out of his hands and was lost to the enemy.
"No good!" Dynamite muttered. "But we gotta' score! We just gotta'score!"
There are some things in this life that "just must" be done but, in theend, because of circumstances beyond our control, cannot be done.Hillcrest did not score in that quarter.
Never in all his life had Dynamite been so disappointed, and never had helooked upon a more radiant smile than he saw on Kentucky's face as heapproached the bench.
"We'll get 'em," the mountain boy promised. "Two touchdowns in the lastquarter. It's written in the stars. I saw it in my forecast thismorning."
"You been studying the stars?" Dynamite asked.
"It's all written down in a book," Kentucky was shedding his blanket. Thehot drink from Jensie's brown jug was still coursing through his veins.
"But, Kentucky," Dynamite remonstrated, "perhaps Doc won't let you."
"He's gone," Kentucky grinned broadly. "Somebody's sick, an auto accidentor something. He left fifteen minutes ago."
Dynamite was sunk. "I'd rather we lost the game," he muttered.
By the time the whistle blew he had snapped out of that mood. Indeed hefelt more cheerful than he had at any time that day. Somehow, withoutKentucky at left half the picture had not been right. Now it was perfect."All the same," he muttered, "I'll not send him through the line. Thatwould be murder."
When the hundreds of Hillcrest enthusiasts saw the slim Kentucky boy risefrom his place on the bench, throw himself through a series of wildantics to set his blood racing, then walk quietly to his place behind theline, a strange silence came over them. This lasted for some twentyseconds then, like the coming of a wind storm in summer, there arose asound that increased second by second until at last it filled all thesky. Speaking of it long after, Punch Dickman said it made his earstingle. "It was a sign," he added. "A sure sign of victory."
But was it? At the start things went badly. Three line-bucks failed. Thepunt that followed shot straight into the air. Rabbit almost retrievedthe ball, but failed. Fighting like tigers, the Naperville boys battledtheir way to Hillcrest's twenty-yard line.
As Dynamite scanned the faces of his men, he read their doggeddetermination, but something else--a note of despair. Kentucky was notlike that. He was smiling. His eyes shone. His lips were parted. He wasmurmuring something. Dynamite listened. What he heard sounded strange:"It's a wet day. Somebody's going to drop the ball."
Then the thing happened. On a third down, the opposing team tried aforward pass. It struck the receiver's hands, seemed to rest there asplit second, then went spinning into the air. When it next came to rest,it was in Kentucky's hands. Like a rushing prairie fire he streaked downthe side line for the far away goal. Once again, in his own mind, he wasin old Nicodemus' pen. It was moonlight. A shadow approached him, aNaperville man. Flash! He was past that shadow. Another, another, andanother. Flash, flash, flash, he was past them all. Two tall, slimshadows stood out before him--the goal posts. Flash, he was past them aswell. Then, with a deafening roar in his ears, he came to rest standingup. A touchdown for Hillcrest. The kick was good. The score was tied.
"We can't let it stand there," Kentucky said tensely as Dynamite came up."We must not!"
"You're wonderful, Kentucky," his team mate whispered. "But think if onlyone of them had hit you!"
"Dynamite," the Kentucky boy whispered to his running mate, "I had threeuncles in the great war. Only one came back. Do you think they askedthemselves about machine gun bullets and shells? Football is war, Dave.
"Besides," he added, "they can't get me. Nobody can. Even old Nicodemuscouldn't."
The battle was begun once more. Enheartened, Dynamite took a chance. Heput his team through that five-men-back formation. Somehow it failed. Thetackle was thrown for a loss. Doggedly determined, he tried again. Onemore loss. Third down and seventeen to go. A punt and the enemy had theball.
By four brilliant forward passes Naperville carried the ball back toHillcrest's ten-yard line.
"Touchdown! Touchdown! Touchdown!" came from the right bleachers. "Holdthat line! Hold that line!" came from the left. The nerves of everyplayer on the field were stretched to the breaking point. Napervillecharged the line. No gain. They charged again. No gain. Flash! They shota pass. It never reached the receiver. With a leap that took him high inthe air, Dynamite caught the ball, then plunged head foremost into theoncoming wall of opponents. Never had a tree been blasted, nor a mountainexploded more perfectly than was that line torn away. Never had Dynamiteso deserved his nickname. He went through everything to their forty-yardline. There he was downed by the opponent's safety man.
"Dave," the Kentucky boy whispered, when next they prepared to line up."One minute to go. We--we gotta' have that touchdown. You--you know how.Don't think of me, Dave. Forget the bullets and shells. It's war, Dave.Let's go through together."
Dave set his teeth grimly. "It's a go, Kentucky!"
And they went through. Throwing all the force of his marvelouslydeveloped body in a line plunge, Dynamite blasted a hole so wide thatboth he and Kentucky went through.
But Naperville had been expecting a forward pass. Her ends and half-backswere a full twenty yards behind the line. Like a troop of wild bears,they sprang at the onrushing pair.
"They must not hit him!" Dynamite was saying to himself. "They must not."Hurling himself at the first man, he sent him spinning to the right. Hetipped the second to the left. The third he missed altogether. And allthis time the slim Kentucky boy hugged the ball and sped on behind him.Ten--twenty--thirty yards--for--
Dynamite struck something that was like a stone wall. He went down in aheap.
But Kentucky, racing like an escaped colt, sped on to the winningtouchdown.
And then the whistle blew.
The crowd would have rushed upon the field but officers held them back.All plays begun before the whistle must be completed. There must be atrial for the extra point.
As the players began lining up, they missed Dynamite. Suddenconsternation seized them as they discovered him lying quite senseless onthe field.
"He's out for good. That full-back smashed him. Take him off the field,"a doctor ordered.
"Kentucky, you may call the play," the coach said quietly.
"All right, boys," Kentucky whispered in the huddle, "a line plunge. Makeit a good one."
"A line--" Rabbit Jones who started to speak, felt a hand over his mouth.
A line plunge it was, and a good one, but not good enough. The scorestood 13 to 7 and all Hillcrest went wild--all but one, Dynamite.
They would have picked Kentucky up and carried him on their shoulders,those Hillcrest fans, but the boy would not have it. "Dynamite," heshouted. "Save all that for good old Dynamite. He knew it was he or I,and he--he took it." There were tears in Kentucky's eyes--and the crowdloved him for it.
"Kentucky," Coach Dizney dropped in beside the slim boy as the teammarched off the field, "you may ride back to Hillcrest in my car. Yourfriend, Jensie Crider, rode over with us." There was a strange, new lightof friendliness in his eye.
"I--" Kentucky hesitated, "I sort of reckoned maybe I'd ought to seeabout Dynamite."
"Dynamite is all right," was the coach's reply. "He's in good hands. He'swith Doc Owslie. He's a fine, dependable doctor. Besides--" he wastempted to say more but stopped at this. "The other might not be true."
"Al--all right," Kentucky agreed. "That will be grand!"
Johnny Thompson had somehow felt from the beginning that this was to be aHillcrest victory. No one in all the world would have given so much towatch it from the
sidelines. This had been impossible. There would be, heknew right well, a grand and glorious celebration in the old home townafter the game. The team would be back. All their admirers and all thegirls of the school would be there and all the old grads. Were they towander from place to place down town? By no means! The old Blue Moon wasthe spot for this jollification. And he should be prepared.
Having bought out an entire bakery, he had rented its ovens. Into theseovens on great dripping pans, he thrust two legs of beef, five leg o'lambs, three hams and a half dozen pork loins.
"We'll have hot sandwiches for all," he said to Aunt Mandy, his coloredcook. "Hot ones for all. And you, Aunt Mandy, all I ask of you is threehundred little turnover pies, all mince."
"Lands o' livin', child," Aunt Mandy exclaimed. "Three hundred!"
"Three hundred."
"All right, son, three hundred comin' up." And three hundred it was.
Ah yes, it was a grand and glorious feast Johnny prepared. One thing heforgot, the big room at the Blue Moon could scarcely accommodate sixtypeople standing up. And a mighty horde in trucks, busses, and privatecars, some even on bicycles was pouring toward the Blue Moon at sunset.
"Kentucky," the coach said with a side-wise glance at the boy as theircar glided toward home, "I gave you a chance at being captain of theteam. In that last play, you could have called for a goal kick. Punchwould have sent it over for that other point. You called for a line-buck.How come?"
"Well you see," there was a tremor in Kentucky's voice--he loved thecoach and feared his displeasure more than almost anything in the world,"you see, coach, I overheard you tell Dynamite he'd played great ballthis season, which he had, and that, if he won that game you'd see thathe got the ball for himself for a keepsake. That--that I thought wasswell.
"But you see, coach," Kentucky was desperately in earnest now, "you seethere was a big crowd heading for the gate, just back of the goal. If wetried for a goal, we'd make it all right but the ball would go into thecrowd and then--somebody'd plug a hole in that ball, let out the air andtuck it under his coat. So-o--"
"So you passed up your chance to give Dynamite a break."
"Yes--yes. That's it. It was all right wasn't it, coach? Wasn't it now?We--we didn't need the point. The game was over and we--we'd won andeverything."
"Yes, Kentucky." There was a wide smile of approval on the coach's face."It was more than all right. It was sporting! Just grand, Kentucky!"
"I--I'm glad," Kentucky murmured. Kentucky had been worried aboutDynamite but the instant he climbed from the car he spotted him. He wasstanding at the edge of the gathering crowd. Grinning a broad grin hesaid, "'Lo, Kentucky. Who won the game?
"It's all right, old Kentuck," he laughed. "I'm not a ghost. It takesmore than a Naperville man to knock me out for keeps. That fellow rammedhis head up under my chin and put me to sleep, that's all. When I wokeup, I felt better than ever. I'd had a good rest." He laughed merrily.
When Johnny saw the crowd, he called loudly for help. The team respondedto a man. They carried two steaming legs of beef, five leg o' lambs,three hundred pies and all the rest of the feast to the big gym floor.There everybody feasted to his heart's content.
Who was to pay the butcher and baker? In such a jam there was neithertime nor opportunity to collect nickels, dimes, and quarters. Johnny hadbeen too busy to notice such a trifling detail. It was not, however,entirely neglected.
"And now," a big burly grad, wearing a tall paper hat exclaimed, "weshall proceed to pass the basket."
Seizing one handle of a huge baker's basket, he invited a pal of otherdays to join him, and together they made the rounds. The clink of silverand the flutter of green paper was heard and seen in every corner of thebroad floor.
At last, hunting up Johnny, they set the basket before him. The leadersaid:
"With the compliments of an admiring throng to the good scout whodiscovered our winner, Old Kentucky."
Then such a shout as went up from the throng. "Give and it shall be givenunto you," Johnny thought as he tried in vain to swallow a lump in histhroat.
"Well, Kentucky, old boy," Johnny said as they sat by the big glowingstove in the Blue Moon sometime later, "the big war is over. All you gotto do now is study and help me here a little. All I got to do is to keepmaking this place a success. The old Blue Moon," he murmured these lastwords softly.
"Yes," the slim boy agreed, "that's all, but somehow, Johnny, that makesme feel like a plumb flat tire."
"That," said Johnny in an impressive tone, "is just the way I feel."
Did the old Blue Moon and Hillcrest hold them both? When Johnny satdreaming of Panther Eye and his two strange companions of another world,did he always succeed in dismissing them from his memory?
Your guess is as good as ours, but if you really want to know you willhave to read that other book _The Seal of Secrecy_. What was the seal andwhat the secret? Read and see.
Transcriber's Notes
--Copyright notice provided as in the original printed text--this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.
--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and dialect unchanged.
--In the text versions, delimited italics text in _underscores_ (the HTML version reproduces the font form of the printed book.)
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