The Crimson Sweater Page 8

  CHAPTER VII

  COACHES AND PLAYERS

  October went its way, a period of bright, crisp, golden weather filledwith hard work for the football players. There were defeats andvictories both in that early season, but on the whole the team showed upfairly well. Burlen and Warren and Pryor returned to practice at the endof their probation and, although each was more or less stale, theirpresence in accustomed positions heartened the team. Otto Ferris, too,returned, but his advent was not portentous, since the best he could dowas to make the second as a substitute back. Bacon still held his placeat quarter, although in two games he had been kept out of the play, hisposition being filled by Roy. The latter had done excellent work, but hehad not had the experience gained by Bacon, and this, together with thefact that he and Horace did not work smoothly together, made it prettycertain that Bacon would go into the game with Hammond. Roy was notgreatly disappointed, for he had scarcely dared hope to make the firstteam that Fall. Next year Bacon would be gone from school, and then,barring accidents, the place would be his. Meanwhile, ever mindful ofhis promise to Jack Rogers, Roy worked like a Trojan on the second andran that team in such a way that a score against the first at leastevery other day of practice became something to expect. Had Roy beenable to work with Horace as he did with Forrest, Bacon's position wouldnot have been so secure. Roy was like a streak of lightning when he oncegot away for a run, and, like a streak of lightning, was mighty hard tocatch. At this he quite outplayed Bacon. The latter seldom managed tomake his quarter-back runs tell, but he knew his men from longexperience and used them like a general.

  Chub Eaton, inspired by his friendship for Roy, became a regularattendant at practice and even travelled on more than one occasion to aneighboring town with the team. Chub, however, didn't approve of Roy'spresence on the second.

  "It's all poppycock," he declared warmly. "You can play all around Baconand I don't understand why Cobb and Jack don't see it. You're tooeasy-going, Roy. You ought to make a kick; tell 'em you want what'scoming to you; make 'em give you a fair try-out on the first. I tellyou, my young friend, you don't gain anything in this world by beingover-modest. Get out and flap your wings and crow a few times till theytake notice of you!"

  At all of which Roy smiled calmly.

  The two had become inseparable. Whenever it was possible they weretogether. In the evening they sat side by side in the study room andafterwards Roy spent his time on the edge of Chub's bed in the JuniorDormitory until the bell rang. There were many stolen hours in thecanoe and always, rain or shine, Sunday afternoon found them on theriver, floating down with the stream or paddling about the shoresengaged in wonderful explorations.

  Roy had recovered from his first nervousness regarding studies and wasgetting on fairly well. He was never likely to astonish any of theinstructors with his brilliancy, but what he once learned he rememberedand he was conscientious where studies were concerned. His mothermentioned the scholarship less frequently nowadays in her letters andhis father asked sarcastically whether they taught anything besidesfootball at Ferry Hill, but was secretly very proud of his son's successin that line.

  So November came in with a week of chill, wet days, days when outdoorpractice meant handling a slippery ball and rolling about in puddles ofwater, but which sent them in to supper with outrageous appetites.

  Green Academy came and saw and conquered, Pottsville High School wassent home beaten, Cedar Cove School was defeated by a single point--Jackhimself kicked the goal that did it--and lo, the schedule was almost atan end, with only the big game of the season, that with Hammond, loomingup portentously ten days distant!

  The whole school was football mad. Every afternoon of practice saw boysand instructors on the field either playing or watching; only severeillness kept a Ferry Hill student away from the field those days. Everyafternoon some graduate or other appeared in a faded brown sweater andafter watching practice awhile suddenly darted into the fracas and laiddown the law. And there were long and earnest consultations afterwardsbetween the grad and Jack and Mr. Cobb, and fellows who were not toocertain of their places trembled in their muddy shoes. And there werechanges, too, in the line-up, and more than one pair of muddy shoeseither went to the side-line or scuffled about with the second. But onlyone of the changes became permanent; for Mr. Cobb had selected well. Roynever forgot the day when Johnny King made his appearance.

  It was just a week to a day before the Hammond game. Roy was one of thefirst on the field that afternoon, but Jack and Mr. Cobb were ahead ofhim, and with them was a big, broad-shouldered youth in his shirtsleeves. Roy groaned in sympathy with the first team, knowing fromexperience that they would have an unpleasant time of it. The grad hadthe look of a chap who knew football, knew what he wanted and was boundto have it. Then the players assembled, went through a few minutes ofcatching and punting and signal line-up, and finally faced each other intwo eager, determined lines. Mr. Cobb blew his whistle and the firstcame through the second for a yard outside of left tackle. By this timeRoy had learned the identity of the graduate, and when he could heexamined him with interest, remembering what Jack Rogers had told of thelast year's captain. For awhile King had little to say; he merelyfollowed the game as it went back and forth in the middle of the field.Then came a try around the second's left end and Roy, running in,brought the first's left half-back to earth. The tackle was a hard oneand the half-back lost the ball and sprang to his feet to find Royedging toward the first's goal with it under his arm. It was thesecond's first down then, and Roy sent full-back crashing against theopposing left-guard for a yard and a half. That began an advance thatthe first was unable to stay. Roy was everywhere, and time and again,when the whistle had blown, he was found at the bottom of the heap stilltrying to pull the runner ahead. But a fumble by the second'sleft-tackle, who had been drawn back for a plunge, changed the tide andthe ball went back to the first almost under her goal posts. A halt wascalled, Johnny King conferred a moment with Mr. Cobb and Roy wassummoned to the first, Bacon slipping across to the other line. But Roycould have told King then and there that the change wouldn't pay, for heknew Horace Burlen. And it didn't. King frowned and puzzled during threeplays. Then his brow lighted.

  "Change those centers," he commanded.

  Forrest, amazed and embarrassed by the unexpected honor, changed placeswith Horace.

  "Somebody tell him the key number for the signals," said King. "Forrest,let's see you wake up; you're slower than you were last year. Now get inthere and do something!"

  And Forrest smiled good-naturedly and bent over the ball.

  Things went better at once, and, Forrest and Roy working together likewell fitted parts of a machine, the ball went down the field on straightplays and over the line for the first score. But Forrest had to work,for Horace, smarting under the indignity of a return to the second,fought over every inch of the ground. The ball was taken from the firstand given to Bacon. And then there was a different story to tell. Baconpiled his men through center, Horace getting the jump on Forrest everytime and crashing through in spite of the efforts of the secondarydefense. King shook his head and frowned. Then he called Jack Rogers outof the line and talked to him for a minute, while the players repairedbroken laces and had their heated faces sponged off. Roy, making therounds of the men, cheering and entreating, caught by accident a portionof the conversation between the two.

  "That's where you've made your mistake," King was saying sorrowfully."You've failed to see the possibilities in Forrest. Slow? Sure he is;slow as an ice wagon! But you could have knocked a lot of that out ofhim. He's too good-natured; I know the sort; but mark my words, Jack, ifyou can get him mad he'll play like a whirlwind! Oh, it's too late now;Bacon and Burlen are your best pair. Only--well, there's no useregretting. You've picked a pretty good team, old man, and if you canginger them up a bit more, get more fight into them next Saturday,you'll stand to win. Remember this, Jack; a fresh center that knows thegame, even if he is slow, is better than a tuckered one. Give Forrest achanc
e in the second half, if you can; and put Porter in with him.They're a good pair. Too bad Porter can't work better with Burlen; he'sa streak, that kid! Well--"

  Roy moved out of hearing and presently he and Forrest were back on thesecond and they were hammering their way down the field again. The firstfifteen-minute half ended with the ball in possession of the second onthe first's twenty-yard line. The players trotted to the side-line andcrept under their blankets and sweaters, King and Rogers and Cobbtalking and gesticulating a little way off. Roy found himself next toForrest. The center, rubbing thoughtfully at a strained finger, heaved asigh.

  "Sorry I disappointed Johnny," he said. "But, shucks! Why, I couldn'tstand up ten minutes against that Hammond center! I know what I'm goodfor, Porter; I don't try to deceive myself into thinking I'm a greatplayer; only--well, I'm sorry I couldn't do better for Johnny King."

  "You'll do a heap better next Saturday," answered Roy.

  "Pshaw! They won't let me into it!"

  "You wait and see," said Roy. "And if you go in I guess I will. And ifwe do get into it, Forrest, let's show them what we can do, will you?"

  Forrest turned and observed the other's earnest countenance smilingly.

  "I'll do the best I know how," he said good-naturedly, "but I guessthey'll do better to leave me out."

  "Oh, you be hanged!" grunted Roy. "You'll fight or I'll punch you!"

  "Oh, I guess I'll get my fill of punches," laughed Forrest. "They saythat Hammond center is a corker at that game!"

  "I believe you're scared of him," taunted Roy.

  But Forrest only shook his big head slowly.

  "Oh, I guess not," he answered. "Come on; time's up."

  The first scored again soon after play was resumed, Jack Rogers gettingthrough outside left-tackle for a twelve-yard plunge across the line.Then the ball went to the second and, with the injunction to confine hisplays to straight plunges at the line, Roy took up the fight. But thefirst were playing their very best to-day; perhaps the presence of theold captain had a good deal to do with it; at all events, the second'sgains were few and far between and several times it lost the ball onlyto have it returned by order of the coaches. They were trying out thefirst's defense and although twice Roy stood inside of the first'sten-yard line, the practice ended without a score for the second.

  "I thought you'd made the first that time," said Chub as he and Roywalked back to the campus together later. "You would have, too, ifHorace hadn't passed like an idiot."

  "I knew he would," said Roy. "There wasn't much use trying to doanything with him in front of me. If only Forrest would get some snapinto his playing! Great Scott, he's a regular tortoise!"

  "Well, there's a week yet," said Chub hopefully. "There's no tellingwhat may happen in a week."

  "There won't anything happen as far as I am concerned," answered theother a trifle despondently.

  Nor did there. When practice was over on Thursday Roy stood with thesecond and answered the cheer given them by the first, and afterwards heand Forrest walked over to the gymnasium together trying not to feelblue.

  "Well, that's over with for this year," grunted Forrest. "Tomorrow we'llbe gentlemen and strut around in some decent clothes." He lookedthoughtfully at his torn and faded brown jersey. "I guess this is thelast time I'll wear you, old chap," he said softly.

  But Forrest was mistaken, for the next afternoon he and Roy and fourother members of the second were out on the gridiron again walkingthrough plays and learning the new signals of the first. Jack Rogerswasn't going to lose the morrow's game on account of lack of players.There was a solid hour and a quarter of it, and when Roy went to bed athalf-past nine, a half hour earlier than usual, formations and signalswere still buzzing through his brain.

  The gridiron, freshly marked, glistened under bright sunlight. Novembercould not have been kinder in the matter of weather. There had been nohard freeze since the rains and the field was as springy under foot asin September. Over on the far side a big cherry and black flagfluttered briskly in the breeze and beneath it, overflowing from thesmall stand onto the yellowing turf, were Hammond's supporters. Oppositewere the Ferry Hill hordes under their brown and white banner and withthem a sprinkling of townsfolk from Silver Cove. Here were Doctor Emery,Mrs. Emery and Harry, the latter armed with a truculent brown and whitebanner; nearby was Mr. Buckman acting as squire to a group of ladiesfrom the town. Beyond was Roy, one of a half-dozen blanketed forms;still further along, squatting close to the side-line, was Chub Eaton,and from where he sat down to the farther thirty-yard line boys withbrown and white flags and tin horns were scattered. And between theopposing ranks were two dozen persons upon whom all eyes were fixed.Eleven of them wore the brown jerseys and brown and white stripedstockings of Ferry Hill School. Eleven others wore the cherry-coloredjerseys and cherry and black stockings of Hammond Academy. Two more werein ordinary attire save that sweaters had taken the places of coats.These latter were the officials, both college men, the umpire showing inhis sweater the light red of Cornell, and the referee, by the samemeans, proving allegiance to Columbia. The two teams had been facingeach other for fifteen minutes, during which time the ball had hoveredcontinuously in mid-field. And now for the fourth time it had changedhands and Bacon was crying his signals. From the Ferry Hill supporterscame a rattling cheer; "Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah!Ferry Hill! Ferry Hill! Ferry Hill!"

  "Even Harry joined her shrill voice, the while she wavedher flag valiantly."]

  And from across the field of battle swept back, mocking and defiant,Hammond's parody "Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah rah, rah! Very Ill!Very Ill! Very Ill!"

  Then cheers were forgotten, for Kirby, Ferry Hill's full-back, wastearing a gash in the red line outside of right-guard. He was almostfree of the enemy when Pool, the opposing quarter, dragged him down. Buttwelve yards is something to gladden the heart when for a quarter of anhour half-yard gains have been the rule. Ferry Hill forgot to cheer; shejust yelled, each boy for himself, and it was more than a minute beforeChub, leading, could get them together. This time Hammond forgot to mockand instead sent up a long, lusty slogan that did her credit:

  "Rah, rah, rah! Who are we? H-A-M-M-O-N-D! Hoorah, Hoorah! HammondAcademy! Rah, rah, rah!"

  Another break in the cherry-hued line and Ferry Hill was down on theopponent's thirty-yard line Jack Rogers holding the ball at arm's-lengthas he lay on the turf with half the Hammond team upon him. Then came twounsuccessful attempts to get through the center, followed by adouble-pass that barely gained the necessary five yards. Chub was busynow and so were all the others on that side of the gridiron. Even Harryjoined her shrill voice, the while she waved her flag valiantly. Againthe Brown charged into the enemy's line, but this time her attack wasbroken into fragments and Whitcomb was borne back for a loss of sixyards. A tandem on right-tackle failed to regain more than a yard of thelost ground and Pryor, left half-back, fell back for the kick. It was apoor attempt, the ball shooting almost straight into air. When it camedown the Hammond right-tackle found it, fought his way over two whitestreaks and was finally pulled to earth on the forty-yard line. Then thetide of battle turned with a vengeance. Back over the field wentHammond, using her heavy backs in a tackle-tandem formation with tellingeffect. The gains were short but frequent. The wings caught the worst ofthe hammering, for at center Hammond found it impossible to gain,although Jones, her much-heralded center-rush, was proving himself agood match for Horace Burlen. Jack Rogers, at left-tackle, was a hardproposition, but Fernald, beside him at left guard, was weak, and not afew of the gains were on that side. On the other side Hadden at tacklewas playing high, and although Gallup was doing his best to break thingsup, that wing gave badly before Hammond's fierce onslaught. The backssaved the day time and again, bringing down the runner when almost clearof the line. Hammond tried no tricks, but pinned her faith to straightfootball, relying upon an exceptionally heavy and fast set of backs.Down to Ferry Hill's twenty-five yards swept the line of battle, slowly,irrevocably. T
here, Bacon shrieking his entreaties and Jack hearteningthe men with slaps on backs and shoulders, the brown-clad line heldagainst the enemy and received the ball on downs.

  Maybe Ferry Hill didn't leap and shout! Down the side-line raced Chuband his companions, waving flags and awakening the echoes withdiscordant, frenzied tootings on their horns. And Mr. Cobb, quietlychewing a grass-blade, smiled once and heaved a sigh of relief.

  The Brown's first attempt netted scarcely a yard. Her second, aquarter-back run, came to an inglorious end, Bacon being nailed wellback of the line. Then, with six yards to gain on the third down, Pryoronce more fell back for a kick. This time he got the ball off well andthe opponents went racing back up the field. Hammond's quarter gatheredit in, reeled off some ten yards and was brought down by Warren. Onceagain the advance began, but now there were fewer gains through the leftof the brown line; Fernald had found his pace and he and Jack Rogerswere working together superbly. The other side was still vulnerable,however, and soon, before the fifty-five-yard line had been passed, theFerry Hill supporters saw with dismay that Hammond was aiming herattack, and not without success, at the center of her opponent's line.Horace Burlen was weakening, and although Fernald and Gallup, on eitherside, were aiding him all in their power, Hammond's tandem plungedthrough his position again and again for small gains. Bacon's voice,hoarse and strained, coaxed and commanded, but down to the forty yardswent the cherry and black, and from there to the thirty-five, and fromthere, but by shorter gains now, to the thirty.

  "Hold 'em! Hold 'em! Hold 'em!" was the cry from the wavers of the brownand white banners. But it was far easier said than done. Once morewithin sight of a score, Hammond was desperately determined to reachthat last white line. To the twenty-five yards she crept, and then shewas almost to the twenty. A long plunge through center and the fifteenwas close at hand. And then, while the wearied and battered defensecrawled to their feet, a whistle shrilled sharply and the half was over!And Jack Rogers as he limped across the trampled turf to the benchthanked his star for the timely intervention.

  The players disappeared through the gate to the gymnasium, followed byMr. Cobb and a handful of graduates. On the other side of the gridironthe Hammond warriors, wrapped in their red blankets, sat in a long rowand were administered to by rubbers and lectured by coaches. On theFerry Hill side the boys were singing the school song and interspersingit with cheers and blasts of tin horns. Chub sought out Roy.

  "Everybody says you'll go in this half," he whispered. "If you do, sockit to 'em!"

  "I won't get in unless Forrest does," answered Roy.

  "Well, he's sure to, isn't he? Why, Horace is almost done up already!"

  "Maybe, but ten minutes of rest brings a fellow around in great shape,and I wouldn't be surprised if he lasted the game out."

  "Last nothing! Look at the way Hammond was plowing through him! Say,that's a great tandem of theirs, isn't it?"

  "Pretty good."

  "Pretty good! I should think so!"

  "It wouldn't be so much against a team that got started quicker. Ourline's too plaguey slow and half of them are playing away up in the air.Look at Hadden! Rogers ought to make him get down on his knees. Hello,here they come."

  "Can we keep them from scoring, do you think?" asked one of thesubstitutes anxiously as the brown-stockinged players trotted backthrough the gate.

  "Yes, I guess so," Roy answered. "But I don't believe we can scoreourselves."

  "Well, a tie is better than being beaten," said the first youthhopefully.

  "No it isn't," said Chub. "It's the meanest kind of an ending. You'vedone nothing and the other fellow's done nothing and you're no betteroff than you were when you started. We played eleven innings withHammond year before last and quit six to six. My, but we were mad! Andtired! I'd rather they'd licked us."

  "Hope I get a show," muttered the other wistfully. He was a substituteend and only his lack of weight had kept him off the team.

  "There's Cobb laying it down to 'em," whispered Chub. "Watch his finger;you'd think he was in class, eh? Any new men going in? Yes there's--No,it isn't, either. Blessed if every man isn't going back! Oh, hang!"

  "Some of them won't be there long, I guess," said Roy.

  "Well, I must go back and get some noise. The lazy chumps don't halfcheer. Hope you get on, old chap. So long!"

  Presently the Ferry Hill cheer was ringing across the field, and Chub,his coat thrown aside, was out on the side-line leading as only hecould. Over the fading white lines the two teams arranged themselves.From the Hammond side came a last burst of noise. Spectators scurriedback to points of vantage. The referee raised his hand.

  "Ready, Ferry Hill?"

  Jack answered "Ready!"

  "Ready, Hammond?"

  "All right," called the Cherry's right-end and captain.

  The whistle sounded and the game was on again.

  The greater part of the second half was almost a repetition of thefirst. Both teams were playing straight football and it would bedifficult to say which was the more aggressive. For a time, the ball wasin Ferry Hill's territory, and then for another ten minutes, inHammond's. There were many nerve-racking moments, but each side,whenever its goal seemed in danger, was lucky enough to get the ball ondowns and, by a long punt, send it out to the middle of the field.

  Jack Rogers kicked off to Hammond's left half-back who made fifteenyards behind good interference and landed the ball on his ownthirty-five yards. Back went the right-tackle, the tandem swept forwardand broke into fragments against the Brown's left wing. No gain. Oncemore it sprang at the line and this time went through between Gallup andHadden for two yards. Third down and three to go. A fake kick gave theball to the right half and that youth reeled off four yards before hewas downed. The next attack, at the center, netted a yard and a half;the next, at the same place, two yards; the rest of the distance wasgained outside of left tackle. So it went for awhile and once more theball was in Ferry Hill territory.

  Hammond was plugging steadily now at center and right side, Burlen,Gallup and Hadden all receiving more attention than they coveted. Atlast a long gain through Hadden left that youth crumpled up on the turf.The whistle blew and a big sub, tearing off his sweater, raced onto thefield. Hadden was up in a minute, only to discover that his way ledtoward the side-line. The sub, Walker, was a trifle harder propositionfor Hammond, and for awhile that side of the line showed up well, but bythe time the tide had swept down to the thirty-five-yard line Hammondwas once more gaining almost as she liked through right-tackle andguard. There were no gains longer than four yards, and such wereinfrequent owing to the good work of the backs, but almost every attackmeant an advance, and not once did Hammond fail of her distance in threedowns. But on the thirty-yard line Ferry Hill called a halt. The playwas directly in the middle of the field and the goal-posts loomed upterribly near. Hammond's first try failed, for Bacon guessed the pointof attack and Ferry Hill threw her whole force behind Burlen. Foiledthere, Hammond tried right-tackle again, shoved Walker aside and wentthrough for a scant two yards. It was third down, and over on theside-line Roy measured the distance from cross-bar to back-field andwatched for a place-kick. But Hammond, true to her plan of battle, madeno attempt at a kick but sent her tandem plunging desperately at theline. It was a mistake, as events proved, to point the tandem at JackRogers, for although the attack gained something by being unexpected, itfailed to win the required distance. Jack gave before it, to be sure,and spent a minute on the ground after the whistle had blown, but whenthe referee had measured the distance with the chain it was found thatHammond had failed of her distance by six inches!

  Bedlam let loose on the Ferry Hill side as Bacon ran in from hisposition almost under the goal-posts, clapped his hands and cried hissignals. Pryor fell back to the fifteen-yard line, there was abreathless moment of suspense, and then the ball went arching up thefield, turning lazily over and over in its flight.

  Hammond captured it on her forty yards but was downed by the Ferry Hilllef
t-end. Then it began all over again, that heart-breaking,nerve-racking advance. And this time the gains were longer. At centerHammond went through for a yard, two yards, even three. Once a penaltycost Hammond five yards, but the distance was regained by a terrificrush through Gallup, that youth being put for the moment entirely out ofthe play. Later, down near Ferry Hill's forty-five-yard line, a fumbleby Pool, the plucky, hard-playing Hammond quarter, cost his side tenyards more. And although Pool himself managed to recover the ball itwent to the opponent on downs.

  I think that fumble was in a measure a turning point in the game.Hammond never played quite as aggressively afterwards. She had gained awhole lot of ground at a cost of much strength, only to be turned backthrice. It began to look as though Fate was against her. And a minutelater it seemed that Fate had decided to favor her opponent. For whenPryor kicked on first down the breeze suddenly stiffened and took theball over the head of Pool. The latter turned and found it on the boundnear the ten yards, but by that time the Ferry Hill ends were upon himand he was glad to call it down on his fifteen yards. The sight of thetwo teams lined up there almost under Hammond's goal brought joy to thehearts of the friends of the Brown, and the cheering took on a new tone,that of hope. But the ball was still in the enemy's hands and once morethe advance began. They hammered hard at Burlen and gained theirdistance. They swooped down on Walker and trampled over him. They thrustGallup aside and went marching through until the secondary defense piledthem up in a heap. But it was slower going now, there was more timebetween plays, and knowing ones amongst the watchers predicted ascoreless game. And there was scarcely twelve minutes left.

  Roy, his blanket trailing from his shoulders as he moved crouching alongthe border of the field, prayed for a fumble, anything to give his sidethe ball there within striking distance of the Hammond goal. But Hammondwasn't fumbling to any extent that day; wearied and disappointed as theywere, her players clung to the ball like grim death. On her twenty-fiveyards she made a gain of three yards through center and when the pile ofwrithing bodies had been untangled Horace Burlen still lay upon the sod.Roy turned quickly toward Forrest. That youth was watching calmly andchewing a blade of grass. Failing to catch his eye, Roy looked for Mr.Cobb. Already he was heading toward them. The substitute end tied anduntied the arms of the brown jersey thrown over his back with nervousfingers. But the coach never looked in his direction.

  "Forrest!" he called. And Forrest slowly climbed to his feet.

  "Porter!" And Roy was up like a flash, had tossed aside his blanket andwas awaiting orders.