CHAPTER XIII.
THE TARDY QUARTERBACK.
The members of the Oakdale football team were gathering at the gymnasiumto dress and prepare for the game. Singly and in groups they camehurrying in to open their lockers and drag forth suits, cleated shoes,shin guards, head pieces, nose protectors and other paraphernalia. Somewere in high spirits, while others, as if impressed by the importance ofthe approaching contest, appeared somewhat serious and grim. ChipperCooper, always volatile and lively, persisted in perpetrating some verybad puns, being finally given a call-down by Sile Crane, who was wearingan almost funereal face.
“Oh, cut it aout,” remonstrated Sile. “Yeou’ll make us all sick withyeour senseless slop. If yeou’ve got an idee it’s goin’ to be any picnictrouncin’ them Barville fellers this arternoon, yeou’re away off yeourbase.”
Chipper’s retort was particularly atrocious. “I would not _debase_myself by such a thought,” he said.
Harry Hopper let fly a shoe, which Cooper deftly dodged. “You’ll bemurdered some day if you don’t quit it,” declared Harry.
“It wouldn’t be murder,” said Chub Tuttle, carelessly spilling peanutsfrom his pocket as he flung his coat aside; “it would be a noble deedfor the general public good. No jury would ever convict a feller forkilling Coop in a frenzied moment, following one of his allegedwitticisms.”
“The assassin sure would escape on the plea of temporary insanity,”laughed Rodney Grant.
“I tell yeou, fellers, we’ve got to play some if we trim Barville,” saidCrane. “I’ve got it straight from Len Roberts that they’re goin’ to chawus up.”
“In the name of a good old English poet, let them Chaucer,” snickeredCooper, flinging himself into a defensive attitude. “Come on, you basescoundrels; I defy you.”
“Roberts is a big wind-bag,” was the opinion of Jack Nelson. “He’salways blowing about what Barville is going to do.”
“But they’ve got a coach,” said Crane. “Last year we had one, but thisseason, without Roger Eliot to raise the spondulicks, we couldn’t gitone. They’ve got some new players, too, that are said to be rippers. Itell yeou, boys, I’m worried.”
“It’s just as bad to worry as it is to be overconfident,” said BenStone, the captain of the eleven, appearing among them. “It’s my opinionthey’ve been trying to get our goat by setting afloat a lot of hot airabout the strength of their team and their wonderful new players. If wego onto the field feeling a bit shy of them, which is doubtless whatthey want, they will try to get the jump on us at the start. But we’renot going to let them work that trick. Has anyone seen Sage? I wonderwhere he is.”
Fred Sage, who was usually one of the first to be on hand, had notarrived, and when, a short time later, he still remained absent, thecaptain’s wonderment took on a touch of anxiety.
“Here, Hooker,” he called to Roy, who, as a substitute, was getting intohis armor, “do you know anything about Sage? He isn’t around.”
“I’ve been wondering where he was,” confessed Hooker. “I haven’t seenhim since I left him in front of his house this forenoon.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Jack Nelson maliciously, “he’s suffering from anattack of indigestion. Wild duck is pretty heavy food, you know.”
“Look out,” retorted Roy, “that you don’t have to eat crow yet.”
Another five minutes passing, and the quarterback failing to arrive,Stone decided to send out for him.
“Here, Tommy,” he called to Tommy Shea, the mascot of the team, “you gofind Sage and tell him to get a move on. We must have our regularwarming up before the game, and I’ll guarantee Barville is on the fieldnow. I can’t see what’s happened to keep him away. Stir yourself,Tommy.”
As the little fellow dusted out of the gymnasium there came through themomentarily opened door the sound of a hearty Barville cheer, which,doubtless, proclaimed the advent of the visitors on the adjacent field.
“They must have plenty of confidence in their team,” said Bob Collins,“for they’ve certainly sent over a big bunch of rooters. People havebeen coming from Barville in all sorts of turnouts for the past twohours.”
“All the more gate money for us,” exulted the optimistic Cooper. “Infancy I can hear the merry jingle of their quarters. They can give us asmany as they please, but we’ll give them no quarter to-day.Nevertheless, without Sage we’d be a quarter short, and we’d feel itbefore the end of the first half. Mercy! I surrender! Spare me!”
No one paid the slightest attention to him, however, which led himdisgustedly to mutter something about casting pearls before swine.
In a short time Tommy Shea returned, followed closely by Sage, whoseface was flushed and who betrayed some tokens of unusual excitement. Atleast, this was what the watchful Piper thought, and he became, ifpossible, more watchful than ever.
“Met him on the way, captain,” the mascot reported to Stone.
“You’re late, Fred,” said Ben sharply. “We’re ready to go out now, allbut you. Anything the matter?”
“No—no, nothing the matter,” was the somewhat faltering answer, as Sagebegan ripping off his clothes, having given Tommy Shea the key to openhis locker. “I had—some things to do at home, and I didn’t—I didn’trealize it was so late.”
“Lame excuse,” whispered Piper to himself. “Something has happened,sure. He’s in a perfect stew.”
While Fred was hurriedly preparing for the field, Stone called theothers around him and talked to them earnestly, laying out a plan ofcampaign for the first quarter. At first he addressed them all in ageneral way, after which he singled out individual members of the elevenand gave each one advice and instructions. Ere he had gone through thelist Sage was completely dressed for the game and apparently drinking inthe captain’s words, although to Piper it seemed that he listened with adistinct effort which betrayed a tendency of his mind to wander.
“Just a word to you, Sage,” said Stone in conclusion. “Keep thingsmoving on the jump. Don’t waste any time over your signals when we’re onthe offensive. I have an idea that Barville will try to rush us off ourfeet at the start, and we mustn’t let them do that. We’ll hammer themhard as we can with straight football to begin with, and hold back ourtrick plays for use in emergencies. Of course if we quickly get withinstriking distance of their goal, and they hold us for a down thatdoesn’t give us a proper gain, you may see fit to try a trick or to workthe forward pass. Now come on, everybody; let’s go out with a snap andshow that we’re alive.”
From the gymnasium to the players’ entrance of the field was only ashort distance, and Ben led his sturdy followers at a swift pace. Thevisitors were practicing at one end of the field, watched and encouragedby the surprisingly large gathering of Barville supporters who hadfollowed them to Oakdale. As the shocky-haired locals dashed out intothe open space they were given a lusty cheer by the majority of theassembled spectators. At once two footballs were put into use by them,and they went at the work of warming up with commendable method andginger.
It was a hazy autumn afternoon, the sky being overcast with a filmyveil, through which the sun shone with a muffled orange glow. A temperedsouthwest wind was blowing steadily, but not with sufficient vigor togive much advantage to the defenders of the western goal. For thespectators on the seats, light outer wraps were needed, even though theair was not crisp enough to make first-class football weather.
With their coach watching them closely, the Barville lads were making animpression by their snappy practice, in which short dashes, every manstarting fast and running low, seemed to be a particular feature.
Stone took this in at a glance, even while he did not appear to give therival team as much as momentary attention. It was a reminder, however,that for the past week he had striven constantly to drill into the headsof his teammates the necessity for rapidity in both assault and defence,and the advantage of hitting the opposing line low and hard.
Among the follo
wers of professional sports there can be no such genuineloyalty and enthusiasm as that shown by the adherents of school andcollege teams; for, as a class, the supporters of such teams are, likethe players, heart and soul in the game. In most cases the contestantsthey are backing and on whom they pin their hopes are known to thempersonally, which fact establishes between them such friendly personalrelations as seldom exist between masses of spectators andprofessionals; and always a well-earned victory is a thing to berejoiced over by the satisfied supporter of the triumphant team, like apiece of personal good fortune.
The referee for this game came from Clearport, and was equallyacceptable and satisfactory to both teams, having demonstrated in othercontests his absolute impartiality and fairness. At the proper moment hewalked briskly out upon the field and held a low-spoken consultationwith the two captains. A coin was tossed, and, Oakdale obtaining thechoice, Ben took the western goal.
The cheering of the spectators sank to a murmur, and was followed by afew tense moments of silence as the youthful gladiators spread out overthe outlined chalk marks and made ready for the kick-off. Barville hadbeen given the ball, and the referee placed it carefully upon a littlesoft mound of earth formed by his own hands at the exact center of thefield. A short distance away Copley, the fullback, who was to make thekick, balanced and steadied himself, his eyes fastened on the hugeyellow egg. The referee retreated; the whistle sounded. With tensedmuscles, the players crouched a bit, ready for the dash.
Copley advanced, quickening his steps. With perfect judgment, he cameinto position with the proper stride, swung his lusty right leg withvigor, and, following the plunk of his foot against the ball, thepigskin went sailing and soaring far into Oakdale’s territory.