The Jester of St. Timothy's Part 19

Out came St. Timothy's, and then there was a cheer. The two teams went rollicking and tumbling up and down the field for a few moments; then Collingwood and the Harvard captain met in the centre, Mr. Barclay tossed a coin, and the players went to their positions. Mr. Barclay blew a whistle; the game began.

From that time on Irving trotted up and down the side lines, his heart twittering with pride and anxiety. After every scrimmage, after every tackle, he looked apprehensively for a curly light head; he was always glad when he saw it bob up safely out of a pile. Through all the press and conflict, he watched for it, followed it-just as, he thought in one whimsical moment, the French troopers of Macaulay's poem watched for the white plume of Navarre.

If he had known even less about the game than he did, he must still have seen that for Harvard his brother and Ballard, the fullback, were playing especially well. Ballard, with his hard plunges through the centre and his long punts, was the chief factor in Harvard's offensive game; Lawrence was their ablest player on the defense.

After the first ten minutes St. Timothy's made hardly an attempt to go round his end, but devoted their a.s.saults to the centre and other wing of the line.

If there was one thing for which Collingwood, the best football player in the School, had achieved a special reputation, it was the fleetness and dexterity with which he could run the ball back after punts. He was known as the best man in the back field that St. Timothy's had had in years. So when Ballard prepared for his first kick, the spectators looked on with composure.

It was a fine kick; the ball went spiraling high and far, but Collingwood was under it as it fell, and Dennison was in front of him to protect him.

Yet Lawrence, rus.h.i.+ng down upon them, was too quick, too clever; Dennison's attempt to block him off was only a glancing one that staggered him for the fraction of an instant; and the ball had no sooner struck in Collingwood's arms than Lawrence launched himself and hurled the runner backwards.

"Whew! What a fierce tackle!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed a boy near Irving admiringly.

"I think Lou did well to hang on the ball," responded his friend.

Irving heard; he went about greedily drinking in comments which that tackle had evoked. He found himself standing behind Westby and the other subst.i.tutes, who, wrapped in blankets, trailed up and down the field keeping pace with the progress of their team.

"No!" Briggs, one of the subst.i.tutes, was saying. "Was that Kiddy Upton's brother? He's a whirlwind, isn't he?"

"Looked to me as if he was trying to lay Lou Collingwood out," returned Westby sourly.

At once Irving's cheeks flamed hot. He put out his hand and touched Westby's shoulder; the boy turned, and then the blood rushed into his cheeks too.

"Was there anything wrong about that tackle, Westby?" Irving asked.

"It just seemed to me he threw him pretty hard."

Irving spoke to the three or four other subst.i.tutes standing by.

"I don't know much about football; was there anything wrong with that tackle-that it should be criticised?"

"It looked all right to me," said Briggs.

"If there is any question about it, I shall want to talk to my brother-"

"Oh, it was all right," Windom spoke up. "It was a good, clean, hard tackle-the right kind. Wes is always down on the enemy, aren't you, Wes?"

Westby stood in sullen silence. The next play was started; St. Timothy's gained five yards, and in the movement of the crowd Irving and Westby were separated.

For a few moments Irving's thoughts were diverted from his brother, and his joyous excitement was overshadowed by regret. He felt less indignant with Westby than sorry for him; he knew that the boy had repented of his hasty and intemperate words. If he would only come up and acknowledge it-so that he might be forgiven!

Then Irving put Westby out of his mind. St. Timothy's had kicked; Ballard had recovered the ball for Harvard on St. Timothy's forty-yard line, and then Warren, the quarterback, had made a long pa.s.s straight into Lawrence's hands; Lawrence started to run; then, just as Chase and Baldersnaith were bearing down for the tackle, he stopped and hurled the ball forward and across to Newell, the other Harvard end.

It sailed clear over the heads of the intervening players; Newell had been signaled to, had got down the field and was ready for it; three St.

Timothy's players ran to get under the ball, but instead of blocking Newell off and merely trying to spoil his catch, they all tried to make the catch themselves; they all leaped for it. Newell was the quickest; he grabbed the ball out of the air and went down instantly, with the three others on him-but he was on St. Timothy's ten-yard line.

It was a brilliant pa.s.s and a brilliant catch; St. Timothy's stood looking on disconsolate, while the Harvard players gathered exultantly for the line-up. Three rushes through tackle and centre and one run round Lawrence's end carried the ball across St. Timothy's line for a touchdown. Ballard kicked the goal.

There was no more scoring that half. In the second half St. Timothy's kicked off; Harvard got the ball and set about rus.h.i.+ng it back up the field. They had gained ten yards and had carried the ball forty yards from their own goal, when they lost possession of it on a fumble. The spectators cheered, and began shouting,-

"Touchdown, St. Timothy's, touchdown!"

There was more shouting when, with Collingwood interfering for him, Dennison broke through the Harvard left tackle and made fifteen yards.

Then Collingwood made a quarter-back kick which Morrill captured on the Harvard five-yard line.

The St. Timothy's cheering broke out afresh, Scarborough leading it.

Irving joined in the cheer; he was glad to see Collingwood and the others making gains-provided they did not make them round Lawrence's end.

On the five-yard line the Harvard defense stiffened. On the third down the ball was two yards from the goal line.

"Everybody get into this next play-everybody!" cried Collingwood appealingly; he went about slapping his men on the back. "Now then-twelve, thirty-seven, eighteen."

There was a surge forward, a quivering, toppling ma.s.s that finally fell indecisively. No one knew whether the ball had been pushed across or not. No one wanted to get up for fear it might be pushed one way or the other in the s.h.i.+fting.

Barclay and Randolph, who was umpire, began summarily dragging the players from the pile, hauling at an arm or a leg; at last Dennison was revealed at the bottom hugging the ball-and it was just across the line.

Then all the St. Timothy's players capered about for joy, and the spectators shouted as triumphantly as if it had been the St. John's game; the Harvard team ranged themselves quietly under the goal.

Dennison kicked the goal, and the score was tied.

For the next ten minutes neither team succeeded in making much progress.

St. Timothy's were playing more aggressively than in the first half; twice Kenyon, the Harvard halfback, started to skirt round Lawrence's end, but both times Baldersnaith, the St. Timothy's tackle, broke through and dragged him down. Baldersnaith, Dennison, Morrill, and Collingwood were especially distinguis.h.i.+ng themselves for the School.

At last, after one of the scrimmages, Dennison got up, hobbled a moment, and then sat down again. Collingwood hurried over to him anxiously.

"Wrenched my ankle," said Dennison. "I guess I'll be all right in a moment."

Waring, the Fifth Former, who acted as water-carrier, ran out on the field with his pail and sponge. Mr. Barclay examined the ankle, then turned to Collingwood.

"I think he could go on playing," he said. "But if I were you I'd take him out now and save him for the St. John's game. You don't want to risk his being laid up for that."

Dennison protested, but Collingwood agreed with Mr. Barclay. He turned and called, "Westby"; and as Westby ran out, Dennison picked himself up and limped to the side-line.

It was Harvard's ball in the middle of the field. Though it was only the first down, Ballard dropped back to kick.

"Now then, Wes, hang on to it," Collingwood cried as he and Westby turned and ran to their places in the back field.

Westby had a faint hope that the kick might go to Collingwood; he didn't feel quite ready yet to catch the ball; he wanted to be given a chance to steady down first. But he knew that was exactly what the Harvard quarterback intended to prevent.

The ball came sailing, high and twisting; he had to run back to get under it. Then he planted himself, but the ball as it came down was slanted off by the wind, so that he had at the last to make a sudden dash for it; it struck and stuck, hugged to his breast, and then over he went with a terrific shock, which jarred the ball from his grasp.

Irving had seen the play with mingled joy and sorrow. It was his brother who had made the tackle; it was Newell, the other Harvard end, who had dropped on the fumbled ball.

Westby and Lawrence got to their feet together; Lawrence's eyes were dancing with triumphant expectation; the ball was Harvard's now on St.

Timothy's twenty-yard line. And Westby went dully to his position, aware of the accusing silence of the crowd.

"All right, Wes; we'll stop them," Collingwood said to him cheerfully.