The Half-Back Part 15

In the Hillton quarters life was less cheerful during the ten minutes of intermission. After the fellows had rubbed and redressed, Remsen talked for a minute or two. There was no scolding, and no signs of either disappointment or discouragement. But he cautioned the team against carelessness, predicted a tied score at the end of fifteen minutes, and called for three-times-three for Hillton, which was given with reviving enthusiasm. A moment later the team trotted back to the field.

"Touch her down, Touch her down, Touch her down again!

H-I-double-L-T-O-N!"

chanted the wearers of the crimson; and--"St. Eustace! St. Eustace! St.

Eustace!" shouted the visitors as they waved their bright blue banners in air. The whistle piped merrily, the ball took its flight, and it was now or never for old Hillton!

Stephen Remsen joined the string of subst.i.tutes and found a seat on the big gray blanket which held Browne and Clausen. From there he followed the progress of the game.

Outwardly he was as happy and contented, as cool and disinterested, as one of the goal posts. Inwardly he was railing against the fate that had deprived Hillton of both the players who, had they been in the team, could have saved the crimson from defeat. Wesley Blair joined him, and with scarce a word they watched St. Eustace revert to her previous tactics, and tear great gaping holes in the Hillton line, holes often large enough to admit of a coach and four, and more than large enough to allow Allen or Jansen to go tearing, galloping through, with the ball safe clutched, for three, five? or even a dozen yards!

No line can long stand such treatment, and, while the one-hundred-and-fifty-pound Greer still held out, Barnard, the big right-guard, was already showing signs of distress. St. Eustace's next play was a small wedge on tackle, and although Barnard threw himself with all his remaining strength into the breach he was tossed aside like a bag of feathers and through went the right and left half-backs, followed by full with the ball, and pushed onward by left-end and quarter. When down was called the ball was eight yards nearer Hillton's goal, and Barnard lay still on the ground.

Whipple held up his hand. Thistelweight--a youth of some one hundred and forty pounds--struggled agitatedly with his sweater and bounded into the field, and Barnard, white and weak, was helped limping off. For awhile St. Eustace fought shy of right-guard, and then again the weight of all the backs was suddenly ma.s.sed at that point, and, though a yard resulted, the crimson wearers found cause for joy, and a ringing cheer swept over the field. But Littlefield at left-guard was also weakening, and the tackle beside him was in scarce better plight. And so, with tandem on tackle, wedge, or guard back, St. Eustace plowed along toward the Hillton goal, and a deep silence held the field save for the squad of blue-decked cheerers on the seats.

Remsen looked at his watch. "Eighteen minutes to play," he announced quietly. Blair nodded. He made no attempt to disguise his dejection.

Clausen heard, and suddenly turned toward the coach. He was pale, and Remsen wondered at his excitement.

"Can't we tie them, sir?" he asked breathlessly.

"I'm afraid not. And even if we could they'd break loose." Clausen paid no heed to the sorry joke.

"But they'll win, sir! Isn't there anything to do?" Remsen stared. Then he smiled. "Failing an extraordinary piece of luck, my lad, we're already beaten. Our line can't hold them; we have no one to kick, even should we get a chance, and--"

"But if Blair was there, sir, or March?"

"It might make a difference. h.e.l.lo! there they go through tackle-guard hole again. Lord, six yards if an inch!" Blair groaned and rolled over in despair. The whistle sounded, and as the pile of writhing youths dissolved it was seen that Tom Warren was hurt. Out trotted the rubber.

The players sank exhausted to the ground and lay stretched upon the sward, puffing and panting. Two minutes went by. Then Whipple called for Clausen.

"Clausen," cried Remsen turning, "go in and--" But Clausen was not to be seen. "Clausen!" cried a dozen voices. There was no response, and Browne was taken on instead, and Warren, with an ankle that failed him at every step, struggled off the field.

"What's become of Clausen?" asked Remsen. But no one could answer.

The play went on. With the ball on Hillton's twenty-yard line a fumble gave it to the home team, and on the first down Browne gathered it in his arms and tried to skirt St. Eustace's left end, but was thrown with a loss of a yard. A similar play with Wills as the runner was tried around the other end and netted a yard and a half. It was the third down and four and a half yards to gain. Back went the ball to Post and he kicked. But it was a poor performance, that kick, and only drove the pigskin down the side-line to the forty-yard line, where it bounded in touch. But it delayed the evil moment of another score for St. Eustace, and the seats cheered.

"Twelve minutes left," announced Remsen.

Relentless as fate the St. Eustace forwards surged on toward the opposing goal. Two yards, three yards, one yard, five yards, half a yard, always a gain, never a check, until once more the leather reposed just in front of the Hillton goal and midway between the ten and fifteen-yard line. Then a plunge through the tackle-guard hole, followed by a tandem on guard, and another five yards was pa.s.sed. The cheering from the wearers of the blue was now frantic and continuous.

There was two years of defeat to make up for, and victory was hovering over the azure banner!

"Eight minutes to play," said Remsen. "If we can only keep them from scoring again!" Suddenly there was a murmur from the seats, then a cry of surprise from Remsen's side, then a shout of exultation that gathered and grew as it traveled along the line. And around the corner of the stand came a youth who strove to lace his torn and tattered canvas jacket as he ran. Remsen leaped to his feet, dropping his pipe unnoticed, and hastened toward him. They met and for a moment conversed in whispers.

"It's Joel March!" cried Blair. "He's going to play!" exclaimed a dozen voices. "But he can't," cried a dozen others. "He's on probation." "He is! He is! He's going on! He's going to play!"

And so he was. Whipple had already seen him, and had sunk to the ground nursing an ankle which had suddenly gone lame. "Time!" he cried, and obedient to his demand the referee's whistle piped. "Give your place to Post, Wills!" he commanded, and then, limping to Joel, he led that youth apart.

"Can you play?" he asked hoa.r.s.ely.

"Yes."

"Then get in there at full-back, and, O March, kick us out of this b.l.o.o.d.y place! I'll give you the ball on the next down. Kick it for all you're worth." He gave Joel a shove. "All right, Mr. Referee!" The whistle sounded.

Forward charged St. Eustace. But, gathering encouragement from the knowledge that back of them stood a full who would put them out of danger if the opportunity were given him, Hillton stood fast.

"Second down, five yards to gain!" cried the umpire.

Again the wearers of bedraggled blue stockings surged and broke against the line. And again there was no gain. Back of Hillton, less than eight yards away, lay the goal-line. Desperation lends strength. Huddled together, shoulder to shoulder, the backs bracing from behind, the crimson-clad youths awaited the next charge. It was "the thin red line"

again. Then back went the ball, there was a moment of grinding canvas, of muttered words and smothered gasps, of swaying, clutching, falling, and "Down!" was heard.

"Hillton's ball; first down," announced the umpire.

What a cheer went up from the grand stand! What joy was in Remsen's heart as the St. Eustace full-back went trotting up the field and Greer stooped over the ball! Then came a pause, a silence. Every one knew what to look for. Squarely between the posts and directly under the cross-bar stood Joel March, his left foot on the goal-line. Back came the ball, straight and low into Joel's outstretched hands. The line blocked long and hard. One step forward, an easy, long swing of his right leg, and Joel sent the ball sailing a yard over the upstretched hands of the opposing line and far and high down the field.

There it was gathered into the arms of the St. Eustace full-back, but ere that player had put his foot twice to ground he was thrown, and the teams lined up on St. Eustace's forty-five-yard line. Then it was that the G.o.d of battle befriended Hillton; for on the next play St. Eustace made her first disastrous fumble, and Christie, Hillton's right end, darted through, seized the rolling spheroid, and started down the field.

Five, ten, fifteen, twenty yards he sped, the St. Eustace backs trailing after him.

"A touch-down!" cried Remsen. "No, the half's gaining! He's got him! No, missed him, by Jove! A-ah!"

The run was over, and Christie lay panting on the ground, with the triumphant St. Eustace half-back sitting serenely on his head; for, although the latter had missed his tackle, Christie had slipped in avoiding him. But cheers for Christie and Hillton filled the afternoon air, and the two elevens lined up near St. Eustace's twenty-five-yard line, yet well over toward the side of the field.

"If it was only in the middle of the field," groaned Blair, "a place-kick would tie the score. How much time is there, Mr. Remsen?"

"About two and a half minutes," answered Remsen. "But I've an idea that, middle or no middle, Whipple's going to signal a kick."

"It can't be done," answered Blair with conviction, "drop or placement!

March is only fair at goals, and at that angle--"

"What's the matter with the man?" cried Remsen; "what's he up to?" For the Hillton backs were cl.u.s.tered well up behind the line as though for a wedge attack. And as Remsen wondered, the ball was put in play, the line blocked sharply, and Christie left his place at right end, and skirting behind the backs received the ball by a double pa.s.s _via_ right half-back and ran for the middle of the field, the backs helping the end and tackle to hold the St. Eustace right line. Christie gained the center of the gridiron and advanced a yard toward the opponent's goal ere the St. Eustace right half-back reached him. Then there was a quick line-up, and Joel took up his position for a kick.

"Well done, Whipple!" cried Remsen and Blair in a breath.

"But the time!" muttered Remsen, "does he know--"

"One minute to play!" came the ominous announcement.

Then, while a snap of the fingers could have been heard the length of the field, Whipple glanced deliberately around at the backs, slapped the broad back of the center sharply, seized the snapped ball, and made a swift, straight pa.s.s to Joel. Then through the Hillton line went the St.

Eustace players, breaking down with vigor born of desperation the blocking of their opponents. With a leap into the air the St. Eustace left-guard bore down straight upon Joel; there was a concussion, and the latter went violently to earth, but not before his toe had met the rebounding ball; and the latter, describing a high arc, sailed safely, cleanly over the bar and between the posts! And then, almost before the ball had touched the ground, the whistle blew shrilly, and apparent defeat had been turned into what was as good as victory to the triumphant wearers of the Hillton crimson!

Hillton and St. Eustace had played a tie.

And over the ropes, rus.h.i.+ng, leaping, shouting, broke the tide of humanity, crimson flags swirled over a sea of heads, and pandemonium ruled the campus!

And on the ground where he had fallen lay Joel March.

CHAPTER XIV.