Left End Edwards Part 26

Steve carried out his part of a forward-pa.s.s play with excellent precision later and seemingly had a clear field and a touchdown in sight for a moment. But Milton managed to upset him on the thirty yards, and the gain--Steve had negotiated four white lines before the 'varsity quarter got him--eventually went for naught, since Marvin fumbled a minute later and Sawyer squirmed through and captured the ball.

Neither side scored nor came very near it in that period. Steve, who was having the time of his life, beamed joyously when the whistle, starting the third period, found him still in the line-up. He had feared that "Boots" would put Sherrard back. But Steve didn't realise the kind of a game he had been putting up. If he had he would have credited "Boots"

with more sense. Tom, with two brand-new facial contusions to his credit, was relegated to the bench for the last round. Perhaps "Boots"

thought it only fair to allow Gafferty some of the decorations that Fowler and others were handing out!

The first tried a kicking game in order to reach striking distance and, since she always had the better of the argument there, forced the second slowly and very surely back past the middle of the field. Then Marvin, realising the futility of pitting Freer and himself against Norton and Williams and Milton, either one of whom could outpunt the second from five to ten yards, started a rus.h.i.+ng game on his thirty-five yards, swinging Harris and Freer around the ends for small gains and himself taking the pigskin for a delayed plunge through centre that put the scrubs on their forty-five-yard line and gave them their first down of the period.

But the next three tries pulled in only six yards, and Freer punted. For once he had plenty of time and the oval travelled far down into the enemy's territory and was caught by Kendall, who took it back a scant five yards before Turner, the second's left end, got past the hastily-formed interference and upset him. The 'varsity made four through the left side of the line and got her first down on a fake kick that caught the second napping. She again secured her distance on three tries, and the lines faced each other near the middle of the field.

What happened then was never definitely explained. Whether Milton fumbled the pa.s.s from centre or whether Still missed the toss from Milton, history doesn't record. Not that it matters, however. The fact is that the ball was suddenly seen to go rolling back up the field as though animated by a desperate desire to score a touchdown on its own hook. The 'varsity backs. .h.i.t the line hard and went tumbling through, to the frenzied shouts of "Ball! Ball!" from Milton and the opponents. The latter, trying to get past the 'varsity and gain the bobbing pigskin, got so inextricably mixed up with the enemy that the ball went on rolling around, under the pranks of the helpful wind, for a heart-breaking length of time. Then, as it seemed, every fellow on the field started for it at once!

Steve had made a wild attempt to get through inside of Andy Miller, but Miller had sent him sprawling, and when he got to his feet again he was one of the last in the mad rush. How it happened that Eric Sawyer, not overly fast on his feet, reached the pigskin first, or, at least, finally, is a mystery. But it was Eric who at length plunged out of the confusion, ball in arm, shook off three or four tacklers and started hot-footed toward the distant goal. By some unusual burst of speed he not only got a clear start of the rest, but shot past Steve before that youth could intercept him. Marvin had followed the others toward the 'varsity's goal and now between Eric and the final white lines, some forty-five yards distant, lay a clear field. And Eric, spurred on by the knowledge that here was perhaps the one chance of his lifetime to make a spectacular run for half the length of the gridiron and score a touchdown, worked his st.u.r.dy legs as they had probably never been worked before!

But he was not to go unchallenged. The enemy was hot on his track, Steve in the lead. And with the enemy, doing their best to upset or divert the pursuit, came a half-dozen of the 'varsity. It was a wildly confused race for a minute. Then the slow-footed ones dropped behind and the procession consisted of Eric, running desperately some five yards ahead of Steve, Steve pounding along at his heels, Williams striving to edge Freer toward the side of the field, Marvin leading Captain Miller by a scant yard, and one or two others dropping gradually away as the race progressed. Near the twenty-five-yard line Williams managed to upset Freer and went down with him in the effort, Andy Miller drew even with Marvin, and Eric glanced behind him for the first time, at the same moment heading a bit further toward the centre of the gridiron.

That move lost him a stride of his lead, and Steve made a final spurt that took just about all the breath left in his body. On the fifteen yards his hand went out gropingly, touched Eric's back and fell away.

Near the ten-yard line Steve launched himself forward and his arms settled about Eric's thighs, slid down to his knees and tightened. Eric went down, dragged forward another yard and then, panting and weak, gave it up. Then Marvin settled ungently on his back, to make a.s.surances doubly sure, Andy Miller threw him off very promptly and Steve rolled over on his back and fought for breath.

The rest of the teams came panting up, the audience along the side-line howled and cheered gloriously, if a trifle breathlessly, having itself raced down the field in an effort to keep abreast of the drama, and delighted members of the second team lifted Steve to his tottering feet, thumped him on the back and shrieked praise into his singing ears.

After that, with the ball on the second's eight yards, the 'varsity should have scored easily. And yet, so gallantly did the scrubs dig their toes into the trampled turf that thrice the 'varsity was held for a scant gain and, finally, with one down remaining, Williams dropped back to the twenty-yard line and dropped a field-goal.

"Boots" was almost moved to tears and looked as though he wanted to embrace each and every member of his team. For what was a puny three points when the second had six to its credit? The things that Miller said were extremely derogatory, while Coach Robey walked back to the middle of the field with a disapproving air. In the four minutes that remained, there was football played that _was_ football! The 'varsity, smarting under impending defeat, went at it with a desperation that promised everything. That it failed of what it promised was only because the second, buoyed up by the knowledge of victory in its grasp, fought like veterans. There was some fierce playing during those two hundred and forty brief seconds, and the fellow who finally trudged off the field without a scar felt himself dishonoured. Subst.i.tutes were thrown into the fray by both sides, although "Boots," having fewer men to call on, was handicapped. Steve went out in favour of Sherrard soon after the kick-off, and Tom relieved Gafferty. The coaches raged and urged, the rival captains scolded and implored and the quarters danced around and acted like wild-men. And then, suddenly, the ball was seized, a whistle blew and it was all over. And the panting players, tense of face, dripping with perspiration, drew apart to view each other at first scowlingly and then with slowly spreading grins, taking toll of their own injuries and the enemy's.

"Good work, second," said Mr. Robey. "That's all for to-day. Get your blankets and run all the way in."

CHAPTER XX

BLOWS ARE STRUCK

The second went off jubilantly. Steve was a hero for an hour. In the locker room "Boots" said some nice things to them, pointed out a few faults and took himself away just as the first team and its subst.i.tutes came piling in. Most of them looked pretty grim about the mouths.

Evidently in the few minutes that Mr. Robey had detained them on the field, they had been provided with food for thought. Andy Miller encountered Steve on his way to the bath.

"That was good work, Edwards," he said heartily. "You fellows certainly put it over us to-day." He shook his head ruefully. "We ought to have got that touchdown in the last period." Then he smiled grimly, and, "We'll get you to-morrow, though," he said with conviction. "How's everything with you?"

"Fine and dandy, thanks," replied Steve heartily.

"Good! You haven't been around to see me, by the way. You and Hall must think a confidence-man isn't a proper acquaintance."

"We're coming around soon, Miller. The fact is, I--well, I made such a mutt of myself that last time----"

"Oh, nonsense! That's all right, Edwards. Don't let that worry you.

Besides, you took my advice, I guess, and that squares it. Mind if I give you some more, by the way?"

"Of course not! I wish you would."

"Only this, Edwards. On defence don't watch the ball. They'll tell you to, but don't do it. Watch your opponent. Watch his eyes. He will tell you when the ball's snapped. He's got to watch it and you haven't, and then if you keep your eyes on him you can guess where he's coming almost before he starts. It may sound cheeky for me to tell you this, because, as a matter of absolute fact, Edwards, you played all around me to-day----"

"Oh, piffle, Miller!"

"Yes, you did," insisted the captain grimly. "I know it, if you don't.

But you try what I tell you to-morrow and see what a jump you'll get on the other fellow. Come around and see me soon, you and Hall."

Andy moved away and Steve hurried on to find a shower before the new crowd claimed them all. He was pretty well f.a.gged out this afternoon, and for once the thought of that swimming cla.s.s didn't appeal. But after a tepid shower and then a hard rush of ice-cold water over his tired body, he felt different. Coming out of the bath he almost collided with Eric Sawyer. Eric had a nasty cut over his right eye that gave him a peculiarly ugly expression, and it was soon evident that Eric's temper was as ugly as his appearance.

"h.e.l.lo, fresh," he growled, scowling at Steve and barring his way in the narrow pa.s.sage. "What call had you to b.u.t.t in on me to-day?"

"I was playing the game, that's all," replied Steve coolly.

"You think you're a wonder, don't you? Well, you wouldn't have got me if I hadn't slipped. And the next time you interfere with me on the field or anywhere else I'll fix you for keeps. Now you mind that, you fresh young kid."

"You're a wonder at making threats, Sawyer," returned Steve angrily.

"Why don't you do something besides talk?"

"I'd give you a good thras.h.i.+ng if you weren't so small," Eric growled.

"Oh, that's all right," replied Steve airily. "We can't all have piano legs, you know."

"Say, you let my legs alone! For two cents I'd tell what I know about you, you cheater, and we'd see how long you'd stay so c.o.c.ky!"

"What you know about me?" laughed Steve. "You go right ahead and tell anything you want to, Sawyer. Whatever it is, it's a lie, I guess."

"Oh, is it? It's a lie that you swiped Upton's blue-book with his composition in it, I suppose. It's a lie that you were going to use it until Daley went up to your room and found it, I dare say. It's----"

"Yes, it is a lie, and you know it, Sawyer," flamed Steve. "If you tell any story like that around----"

"I'll tell what I please, kid, and you can't stop me." Several fellows came along the pa.s.sage, viewing the two curiously, and Eric dropped his voice a note. "You stop bothering me, Edwards, or I will tell, and if I do, this place will be too hot for you. We don't like cheaters here----"

Steve sprang at him madly, but Eric stepped aside and Steve's blow went past.

"None of that!" warned Eric in a low, ugly voice. "Ah, you want it, do you?"

Steve hit again and Eric countered and got in a blow on the younger boy's neck that sent him staggering against the wall. Then arms wrapped themselves around Steve and a voice said:

"Here, what's up, Eric? Cut it out, Edwards!"

Steve, struggling, found himself in the firm grasp of Innes, the big first team centre-rush. "He called me a cheat!" he cried angrily. "You let me go, Innes!"

"So he is a cheat," returned Eric contemptuously. "He swiped Carl Upton's French composition and was going to hand it in as his own if Daley hadn't caught him at it!"

"That's a lie!" cried Steve. "Ask Mr. Daley himself! You're saying it because I kept you from making that touchdown, you--you----"

"Hold on, Edwards!" said Innes. "Don't call names." By this time the pa.s.sage had filled with fellows, among them Andy Miller. Miller pushed forward.