“You’ve got it right,” said Mr. Dana. “Here, let’s sit down; I want to talk to you.” He looked toward the bench and one of the Second Team fellows got up politely and moved to another seat. “Now tell me all about it. This is your first year, eh? Well, do you like it? Was I wrong when I used to tell you to come to Yardley?” “No, sir, I like it very much indeed.”
“That’s good. Getting on all right, are you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But, look here, Kendall— By the way, I can’t recall your last name, my boy. Was it Benson?”
“Burtis, sir.”
“Burtis, of course!” Mr. Dana slapped his knee. “And how are your folks, Burtis? Father and mother well, I hope? They’re nice people. We had a bully summer up there that time.”
“Yes, sir, thank you, they’re all well.”
“And the old spotted cow that chased me out[306] of the barnyard one morning? How’s she getting on?”
“She’s gone,” laughed Kendall. “We made beef of her.”
“How are the mighty fallen!” said Mr. Dana. “Burtis, that cow was one of the few persons—or things—I was ever afraid of!” He noticed the blue badge on Kendall’s coat and nodded at it. “What sort of a decoration is that? What noble deed have you performed to be allowed to wear that proud insignia?”
“It’s just a badge to get inside the ropes, sir. I was playing football on the Second Team for a while.”
“Second? Dear me, I thought you’d make the first and kick yourself to glory and fame, Burtis! Haven’t forgotten all we taught you about punting and drop-kicking, have you?”
“No, sir. I—I’ve still got that ball.”
“What ball is that?”
“The one you gave me when you left our place, sir.”
“I’d forgotten about it, Burtis. You still have it, you say. It must be getting a pension now, eh? But, look here, why didn’t you get taken on to the First Team, Burtis? If there was ever a team in need of a good punter, to say nothing of a drop-kicker, it’s this one right here. Why, Payson[307] told me not an hour ago that kicking was their weakest department.”
“I—I did try, Mr. Dana, but I had—bad luck.” And then Kendall told about his probation and how he had to give up football and how Dan Vinton had got him back onto the Second Team at the end of the season.
“Too bad.” Mr. Dana shook his head. “That sort of thing doesn’t pay, Burtis. Of course, I don’t object to a fellow having his fun, but it’s a mistake to get the Office down on you. See what it’s cost in your case. If you hadn’t got on probation you might have made the First and been out there now winning the game for us.”
“Yes, sir, I know; but it wasn’t really my fault. It—it was a sort of mistake.”
“Was it?” Mr. Dana smiled. “Well, don’t have too many of them. Mistakes are costly. Still kick pretty well, do you? We used to have great hopes of you at the farm, Burtis. Your legs seemed made for kicking a football and you seemed to get the hang of it remarkably well. Did you do the punting for the Second?”
“No, sir. I—I didn’t play much, you see.”
“Still, you might have kept in practice, Burtis,” responded Mr. Dana with a slight frown. “Why didn’t you?”
“I did practice a good deal. I used to come[308] down here in the mornings between recitations for a while.”
“That sounds more like the boy I used to know,” said the other approvingly. “You used to have as much stick-at-it as any lad I ever met. Did you get so you could do your forty yards all right?”
“Yes, sir, and forty-five lots of times. I tried dropping goals a good deal, though. I did seven out of ten from the thirty-five yard line one day.”
“That was from placement, of course. But even then it—”
“Oh, no, sir, that was drop-kicking. I’ve made placements from the forty, and once from the forty-three.”
“What! Look here, Burtis, did anyone see you do it?”
“Why, no, sir. I was alone.”
“And you mean to say that you can go out there and make a place-kick from, say, the thirty-five yards without trouble?”
Kendall looked doubtful. Mr. Dana’s earnestness made him feel uneasy. “Why—why, I don’t know, sir. I could do it, but I haven’t kicked lately. I guess it would soon come back to me.”
“But—why, look here, Burtis! Aren’t you eligible for the team?”
[309]
“I suppose so, sir.”
“Then—then I’m blest if I understand it,” muttered Mr. Dana. “Payson must be crazy!” He looked around him. Then, he took a firm hold on Kendall’s sleeve and pulled him to his feet. “You come with me,” he commanded. Kendall, wondering, followed. Mr. Dana reached down and scooped up a football with one hand and ducked under the rope. Kendall went after. Curious glances followed them to the corner of the stand, but in the next moment they were forgotten, for the Yardley team came trotting out onto the field and the Yardley cheer leaders scuttled to their places and seized their big blue megaphones.
“Now, fellows! Regular cheer for the Team! And everyone get into it. Ready! One! Two! Thr—”
Then off bounced the discarded megaphones, arms waved and the stand rocked with the burst of sound that followed. Blue flags fluttered and tossed against the rising bank of shouting youths and down below the big drum boom-boomed an accompaniment. Oh, Yardley wasn’t defeated yet, nor disheartened! The game was still to be won! So everybody into it! Make ’em hear you! Louder! Cheer, you fellows up there! Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom!
[310]
“Give ’em the Can-Can, fellows!” shouted a leader.
“Who can, can, can? We can, can, can! Anybody can, can beat old Broadwood! Who can, can, can? We can, can, can! Anybody can, can beat old Broadwood!”
But Broadwood’s supporters were not idle. The deep, booming cheers of the Green thundered across from the opposite stand and it was not until the whistle had blown and the ball was in the air that comparative quiet fell.
Yardley had made one change in her line-up. Jensen had replaced Stark at right tackle. Broadwood held Yardley for two downs; took a penalty for off-side play and wrested the ball away almost in midfield. Then she began her real attack. Reid and Rhodes, the heavy artillery, crashed into and through the Blue line for short gains, and Raynor, lighter and first cousin to a streak of lightning, broke around tackle and past the wings for yards at a time. Broadwood’s adherents shouted themselves hoarse with joy. Down past the thirty yards went the enemy, Yardley fighting stubbornly and contesting every foot of ground but yielding nevertheless. It was a terrific onslaught and Those Who Knew on the Yardley side looked grave. But down on the twenty-five the defense grew firmer, the gains shorter. The secondary[311] defense, playing close up, stopped what leaked past the outer breastworks. A yard now; then two; then—
“Third down; seven to go!” cried the umpire.
Yardley stood up to a man on the boards and shouted imploringly: “Hold ’em! Hold ’em! Hold ’em!” And from across the trampled field came the frenzied cries of the enemy; “Touchdown! Touchdown! Touchdown!”
Broadwood meant to try a forward pass, but the ball went back badly, trickled away from the quarter and was pounced on by Fogg. How Yardley yelled when they saw the Green’s quarter trot up the field with hanging head! Norton dropped back as if to kick, but Dan, running behind the line, took the ball at a toss from Simms and cut through between tackle and end. He was clean away before the play was solved, and then it was up to Saunders, the Green’s quarter to prevent a score. But near the forty-yard line Dan swung sharply past him as he dived, shook off a detaining hand and streaked straight down the field and under the crossbar for a touchdown, a half-dozen Broadwood pursuers trailing behind!
What a pandemonium broke loose then on the Yardley stand! Caps flew into the air, the big drum boomed, flags darted and snapped! Beyond the rope two cheer leaders, clasped closely together,[312] danced and cavorted, and the Second Team fellows were jumping around like maniacs. Near at hand, Mr. Payson strolling along the line, pulled his pipe from his pocket, filled it with steady fingers and took his first smoke that day. Even the fact that Hammel missed the goal failed to leaven the joy.
But Broadwood wasn’t ready to acknowledge defeat. Back she went as savagely as ever, but Yardley seemed to have found herself now and, while she couldn’t always stop the Green, she made the going much more difficult. Broadwood lost the ball presently on a fumble and Yardley started back the way she had come. Simms was holding nothing back now. Every play he knew was called on. But the opponents were well blessed with that football sense that enables a team to “size up” a play even while it is getting under way, and few of Payson’s pet tricks netted real............