Frank Armstrong at Queens Read online

  CHAPTER VIII.

  QUEEN'S MEETS BARROWS AT FOOTBALL.

  In spite of Horton's appeal for good playing, the sample of footballthat the First team gave was anything but encouraging. The coach wasall over the field, exhorting his charges to their best efforts, buttheir best efforts fell very far short of what he wanted.

  After the kick-off, the First had made some good gains through theSecond's Line. Then Dutton missed his signals and lost a lot ofground. He stood dumbly with the ball in his hands while the opposingtackle came ripping through the line, seized him around the waist,and ran him ten yards back towards his own goal before Dutton couldyell "down."

  "Isn't that the limit of all things?" said the Wee One to Frank.They were sitting together on the bleachers with a bunch of othercritics, passing judgment on the playing, good and bad, as they sawit enacted before them. The Wee One was a critic of no mean calibre."Isn't that the limit of all things? If they could only perform anoperation on the thing that Dutton calls his head and get some greymatter from a jackass and insert it, he might possibly remember someof the signals,--at least such little ones as 'straight through theline,' which is about all he's good for anyway."

  "Guess Horton's going to have apoplexy now, isn't he?" inquiredFrank, as he watched the coach striding about among the players,shaking his clinched fists. But Horton recovered himself, andcommanded another scrimmage. This time the First pulled itselftogether, and under the urgings of the quarter and the vigorouscoaching of Horton, tore through the Second for great gains. It wasfast and furious, slang, bang, up-and-at-it-again football, and theSecond was retreating down the field, doing its best to hold itsground, but being swept aside by the rushes of the giant Dutton.

  It was first down on the Second's ten-yard line, and it looked likea touchdown. The First was about to take revenge for the rebuffs theSecond eleven had been giving them for several days.

  "Now," shrilled Chip at the top of his lungs, "put it over.16--32--11."

  "Hillard's signal for a tackle-shaving play," translated the WeeOne, and Hillard was off like a shot for, say what you might abouthis uncertainty with the ball, he was extremely fast on his feet,and when he was able to hang onto the ball he could be depended onto make ground. But poor Hillard, whose star had been bright thatafternoon, was in so great a hurry to start that he missed themore important matter of securing the ball firmly. It dropped tothe ground. He made a step in its direction, but misfortune uponmisfortune, kicked it with his foot and sent it rolling towards theend of the line where an alert end of the Second team pounced upon it.

  The whistle in Horton's lips shrieked savagely, a signal to stopplay. The First eleven gathered together stupidly, and scowled backsavagely at the members of the Second, who stepped around elasticallyand grinned broadly.

  "I wouldn't be in Hillard's place for a row of apple trees all infull bloom," ventured the Wee One. "Something's coming to him, allright. What did I tell you?" as Horton raised his voice so everyonecould hear it:

  "Hillard, you may go to the sideline. I've got to have some onewho can keep his fingers around a ball. You've thrown away all thegood work your team has done. I won't need you again for some time."Horton delivered his sentence in a calm voice, and then turnedtowards the sidelines where some of the substitutes were seated."Where's that Freshman who played on the Second yesterday afternoon?"he said. "Hey, there, Turner, take Hillard's place. We'll see if youcan hold the ball."

  "Hurray!" cried Frank, jumping to his feet in excitement, "Jimmy'sgoing to get his chance. That's great, and he's got it in spite ofMr. Dixon."

  "And that will peeve Dixon," chuckled the Wee One. "There they go."

  Jimmy was on the field in a flash, and his sweater was slung behindhim as he ran.

  "Now," said Horton, "I'm going to give you a chance here, and ifyou make good you may get in the game to-morrow. Your businessis just now to follow your signal, and hold onto the ball. Thesignals are the same you have been playing under. Come on." And thewhistle sounded. "Here, First eleven, take this ball again on thefifteen-yard line and try it."

  On the very first play, Dixon gave the ball to Jimmy, who, followingclose behind his tackle, who opened a convenient door in the opposingline, went half the distance to the goal line.

  "Good work!" shouted the coach.

  Dutton on the next down sliced between tackle and guard, and gotthree yards and first down.

  "I hope they don't put it up to Jimmy to make that four yards," saidFrank, "it looks like a mile."

  "Well, I'll bet Chip gives him the ball. He won't give him anythingeasy to do, and Chip would rather not score than let him cinchHillard's place."

  The Wee One was right, for the next instant Jimmy had the ball, andwas ploughing into the line with his head down. Then he was lost ina heaving mass, but somehow slipped out of it, emerged free, andthrew himself across the goal line. The First had scored. "Good work,Freshman," said the coach, but the quarterback turned and walked upthe field sulkily.

  For the rest of the afternoon's practice Jimmy fairly outdid himself.When he went into the line the ball seemed to be a part of him, andhe rarely failed to make his distance. With his short, strong legs,thick neck and powerful back, he bored and squirmed through thesmallest holes. On defence he was in every pile, and generally at thebottom of it.

  "That boy has real football instinct," said Horton to Mr. Parks,who came down to the gridiron to look on. "He is green yet, but heis going to make a good one, you will see. He doesn't know anythingabout carrying the ball, yet he carries it, and he doesn't knowanything about the science of tackling, but he stops his man. Whereon earth he learned what he has, I don't know."

  And Mr. Parks agreed that a new football player had come to town.

  Practice finally ended. Horton's "That's enough for to-day," broughtFrank scampering down from the stand to walk joyfully along besidehis old playmate to the gymnasium.

  "Knew you could do it, Jimmy," he said, as he trudged along with theperspiring hero of the afternoon, who was well hooded up in a blanketto keep the rather chilly October breeze off his overheated body. "Itwas great to see you." Frank's eyes fairly shone with pleasure. Hetook a greater pride in it than if it had been his own success.

  "Glad I gave up the game," said Lewis, now in everyday clothes. "Twogreat football players in one room would have been more than Warrencould have supported, eh Frank?" Frank was so happy that he wouldhave agreed to anything that afternoon.

  Barrows came down in great force the next afternoon, and the lightblue of the Academy was flaunted everywhere on the yard of oldQueen's. The followers of Barrows freely boasted a coming victory fortheir eleven, and, if truth must be told, the eleven was worthy ofthe confidence expressed. Barrows Academy drew from an older class ofboys than did the Queen's School, many of its inmates on graduationgoing directly into business, for which it, in a measure, fitted them.

  "Did you see those giants on the Barrows team?" quoth the Wee One,meeting Frank on his way to a geometry recitation. "They must haveimported them from the foundry."

  "It's a fact, they do look mountainous alongside some of ourfellows," admitted Frank, "but we ought to know more football, wecertainly have the best coach."

  "The coach part of it is all right," said the Wee One, "and we knowfootball, or, at least, ought to, but we don't seem to be able to getit out of our system."

  The game was set for three o'clock, and long before that hour therewas an exodus of the entire school, for class-room work on Saturdaysclosed at noon. The game was considered something of a test forQueen's, which had been playing very erratic ball all the year. Therewas a good deal of grumbling about the way that the Gamma was runningthings through its captain, Harding, and Chip Dixon, who seemed tohave a powerful influence over Harding. A good many thought that thebest players in the school were not having a fair trial, but as yetthere had been no open revolt. Real rebellion against the rule ofGamma Tau still held off, but there were grumblings on the horizonwhich indicated a storm if
things did not improve. And to-day was achance for the crowd in control to show that they were playing thekind of ball expected from such a school as Queen's with such a coachas Horton.

  Frank escorted Jimmy to the gymnasium that afternoon, where the teamswere to dress for the fray, and the Freshman halfback was in a feverof excitement. Frank buzzed along with encouragement in every word.

  "If I can only hang onto the ball," Jimmy would say, "but I had anotion yesterday two or three times that Dixon was trying to makeit hard for me to get the pass. Once I nearly dropped it, and I wasscared to death, for the coach was right alongside of me. My heartwent as far down as my shin guards for sure."

  "I'll watch him for any tricks like that," thought Frank, but toJimmy he said never a word. It might only be Jimmy's imagination inhis excitement.

  "All I've got to say to you," said Horton to his charges when theywere dressed and ready, "is to attend to business and play as ateam, and think about what you are doing. These fellows are biggerthan you, and you will have to outwit them. Use your heads and keeptogether. Now, skip."

  In the first collision of the game, the big fellows from Barrowsswept the lighter Queen's School back as though they were made ofpaper, and screams of delight rose from the stand where had gatheredthe hosts of Barrows. Down the field they went--five yards throughtackle, ten yards around the end, five yards through center. Twicethe attack had bowled Jimmy over after breaking down the line, andtwice he had been able to stop the rush dead, without a gain. Once hehad the joy of pushing the Barrows' halfback through the hole he camefor at a loss of a yard.

  "Look at Jimmy Turner, the Freshman," shouted the Wee One. "If theywould all play like that kid we'd have a chance."

  "What's Dutton doing,--Oh, what's he dreaming about? Missed his man.Did you ever see such a dope?"

  "Turner got the Barrows' chap that time. Good for Jimmy."

  "Hold 'em, Queen's, hold 'em."

  But the Barrows' attack was not wonderfully varied, and little bylittle the advance was cut down as the Academy eleven began toapproach the Queen's goal.

  "Get together, get together, Queen's, and stop them," begged CaptainHarding, and working like one, the boys responded to his cry.

  It was third down on Queen's 12-yard line, with a yard to go, andthe Barrows' backs held a consultation. The stands speculated asto whether they would try to carry it, or try a drop kick. For thelatter piece of football, the aggressors were in a good position. Butfinally they elected to rush, and settled carefully down to position,balanced on their toes, and alert for the signal. If they could maketheir distance, it looked hopeless for Queen's, for the remainingyards to go for a touchdown would be easy, so the spectators figured.

  The whistle shrieked, and the lines came together with a bang.Humphrey, the Barrows quarter, who had been playing a fine gameand directing the team like a general, now made his first mistake.Thinking that the going was too hard through the line, he sent hisfleetest halfback on a delayed pass out around right end. For amoment it looked as though he had made a master stroke. Campbell,the Queen's right end, was drawn in because he believed the play wasto be made on the other side of the line, but Jimmy had interpretedcorrectly, too late, however, to warn Campbell. The Queen's tacklecame through hard, and halted the Barrows' runner a minute, just longenough to let Jimmy get under way.

  The Barrows' back ran behind an interference of the fullback, halfand quarter, and it looked like a hopeless task to break this compactmass. Jimmy followed the interference out, crowding it back as wellas he could, watching his chance. Suddenly he realized that therunner with the ball was outdistancing not only Jimmy himself, buthis own interference. Jimmy felt that he could not handle them all,and he could not hope to get through the interference alone and gethis hands on the runner. He did the only thing possible,--that is,he threw himself with unerring instinct against the knees of theinterference, in a kind of side-dive. The effect was instantaneous.The interference was running so closely massed that there was nochance for them to dodge, and they went down over the Freshman's bodyin a tangle. The runner with the ball was so close that he, too, wentsprawling, heels over head, and before he was able to get to hisfeet, big Boston Wheeler had pinned him down. It was Queen's ball.

  How the Queen's stand did yell: "Turner, Turner, oh, you Turner!"

  "Three cheers for Turner!"

  "Rah, rah, rah, Turner, Turner, Turner!"

  One might have thought there was only one man on the Queen's Schooleleven. At the cheers for Turner, although his halfback's action hadprobably saved the team from a score, Dixon's face took on a sourlook. There was too much Turner in the game to suit him. It was amalicious eye he turned on Jimmy.

  From this point, Queen's took up the march down the field, andsteadily, as Barrows had come into Queen's territory, so steadilydid the Queen's eleven fight their way back, and gradually it beganto dawn on the partisans of Queen's School that they had a chance.Five yards here and five yards there brought the play quickly to theAcademy's 20-yard line. A penalty for holding set them back, but on apretty fake kick Dutton went straight through center to the five-yardline.

  "Touchdown, touchdown," yelled the Queen's bleachers.

  "Good old Queen's, we have got the Wheel-barrows where we want them."

  "All over, but the shouting."

  First down and on the enemy's five-yard line. It looked certain.

  But there are many slips in football as well as in the everydaywalks of life, for on the next play there was a fumble, and anindescribable scramble to recover it. And when the scramble wasover, an Academy boy was found on top of the leather. A groan wentup from the Queen's crowd. Down among the tumbled players two stooderect, one was Turner and the other Dixon, and the former had hisfists clinched.

  "Turner fumbled," said some one.

  "Did you see what happened?" Frank cried, excitedly, to Patterson,with whom he was sitting.

  "Don't you think I have any eyes?" said the Wee One, indignantly. "Itwas a dirty trick. He gave the signal and threw the ball at Jimmy'shands. Didn't give him a chance to get it. It was a deliberate trick,a contemptible trick," he added.

  A few minutes later the half ended, and Queen's came to thesidelines. Horton was raging.

  "Turner, you disappointed me. Right in the time we wanted you most,you failed us."

  "It wasn't----" began Jimmy.

  "I don't want any excuses," said Horton, sharply. "Hillard, go in atright half and finish the game there."