THE FIRST GAME
The three chums looked at each other. Phil felt of Sid's curiously
stiffened hand.
"I don't see how it could be the liniment," he said. "I've used it right
along. It's the same thing doc gave me. You must have hurt your hand
worse than you thought."
"I guess I did," admitted Sid. So skilfully had Gerhart carried out his
dastardly plot that even his unusual visit to the room of the trio
attached no suspicion to him. The breaking of the bottle of liniment
destroyed one link in the chain against him, and it would be difficult
to trace anything to Gerhart now.
Dr. Marshall looked grave when he saw Sid's hand.
"That is very unusual," he said. "It must have been something you put on
it. The muscles and tendons have been stiffened. There is a drug which
will do that, but it is comparatively rare. It is sometimes used, in
connection with other things, to keep down swelling, but never to soften
a strain. Are you sure you used only the liniment I left for Clinton?"
"That's all," declared Tom.
"Let me see the bottle," said the physician, as he twirled his glasses
by their cord and looked puzzled.
"We can't; it's all gone," explained Phil, and he told of the accident.
"Humph! Very strange," mused Dr. Marshall. "I'm afraid you'll not be
able to use your hand for a month, Henderson. You have every indication
of having used the peculiar drug I speak of, yet you say you did not,
and I don't see how you could have, unless it got in the liniment by
mistake. And that it did not is proved by the fact that Clinton used the
same liniment without any ill effects. Only that Parsons used a rag to
rub with, his hand would be out of commission, too. It is very strange.
I wish there was some of the liquid left. I will see the druggist who
put it up. Possibly he can explain it."
"Well, I'm glad I didn't put any on my shoulder," said Phil. "It would
have been all up with me and football, then."
"It certainly would," admitted Dr. Marshall. "Let me look at your
dislocation."
"When can I get into the game again?" asked Phil anxiously, after the
inspection.
"Humph! Well, I think by the middle of the week. It is getting along
better than I expected. Yes, if you pad it well you may go into light
practice to-morrow, and play in a game the end of the week."
"Good!" cried Phil. "Then's when we tackle Fairview Institute for the
first game of the season!"
The next day a notice was posted on the bulletin board in the gymnasium,
stating that the 'varsity eleven would line up against the scrub that
afternoon in secret practice. Then followed a list of names of those
selected to play on the first team. It was as follows:
_Left-end_ TOM PARSONS
_Left-tackle_ ED KERR
_Left-guard_ BOB MOLLOY
_Center_ SAM LOOPER
_Right-guard_ PETE BACKUS
_Right-tackle_ BILLY HOUSENLAGER
_Right-end_ JOE JACKSON
_Quarter-back_ PHIL CLINTON
_Right half-back_ DAN WOODHOUSE
_Left half-back_ JERRY JACKSON
_Full-back_ HOLLY CROSS
"Hurrah, Tom! You're at left-end!" cried Phil, who, with his chum, was
reading the bulletin.
"I'm glad of it. Are you all right for practice?"
"Sure. Come on; let's get into our togs."
On the outer fringe of football players stood Langridge and Gerhart.
There was surprise on their faces at the sight of Phil getting ready to
play.
"Something went wrong," whispered Langridge to his crony. "Your scheme
didn't work."
"I see it didn't," admitted Gerhart with a scowl. "I wonder where the
slip was?"
But when he heard of the peculiar ailment from which Sid Henderson
suffered, Gerhart knew.
"I lost that chance," he said to Langridge, "but I may see another to
get square with Clinton, and, when I do, I'll not fail. It's too late,
maybe, for me to get in the game now, but I'll put him out of it, and
don't you forget it!"
Phil was a little stiff in practice, but he soon warmed up, and the
'varsity eleven played the scrub "all over the field."
"That's what I like to see," complimented the coach. "Now, boys, play
that way against Fairview on Saturday, and you'll open the season with
a victory. I want you to win. Then we'll have a better chance for the
championship. The schedule is different from the baseball one, you know.
We don't play so many games with Boxer Hall and Fairview as we did in
the spring, consequently each one counts more. Now I'm going to give
you some individual instruction."
Which the coach did very thoroughly, getting at the weak spots in each
man's playing, and commenting wisely on it, at the same time showing him
how he ought to play his position. There was practice in passing the
ball, falling on it, kicking and tackling.
"We want to do considerable work in the forward pass and the on-side
kick this season," the coach went on. "I think you are doing very well.
Parsons, don't forget to put all the speed you can into your runs, when
getting down on kicks.
"You Jersey twins don't want to be watching each other so. I know you
are fond of one another, but try to forget that you are brothers, and be
more lively in the game."
Jerry and Joe Jackson joined in the laugh that followed.
"As for you, Snail Looper," continued Coach Lighton, giving the center
the name he had earned from his habit of prowling about nights and
moving at slow speed, "you are doing fairly well, but be a little
quicker. Try to forget that you're a relative of the _Helix Mollusca_.
You backs, get into plays on the jump, and take advantage of the
momentum. That's the way to smash through the line. Now then, we'll try
signals again. Clinton, keep a cool head. Nothing is worse than getting
your signals mixed, and you fellows, if you don't understand exactly
what the play is, call for the signal to be repeated. That will save
costly fumbles. Now line up again."
They went through the remainder of the practice with a snap and vim that
did the heart of the coach and the captain good. The scrub team was
pretty well worn out when a halt was called.
"Do you think you will beat Fairview?" asked Ford Fenton of Tom a little
later, when the left-end and Phil were on their way to supper, after a
refreshing shower bath.
"I hope so, Ford. But you never can tell. Football is pretty much a
gamble."
"Yes, I suppose so. But my uncle says----"
"Say, are you going to keep that up this term?" demanded Phil wearily.
"If you are, I'm going to apply to the courts for an injunction against
you and your uncle."
"Well," continued Fenton with an injured air, "he was football coach
here for some time, and my uncle says----"
"There he goes again!" cried Tom. "Step on him, Phil!"
But Ford, with a reproachful look, turned aside.
"I don't see why there's such a prejudice against my uncle," he murmured
to himself. But there wasn't. It was against the manner in which the
nephew ceaselessly harped on what his relative said, though Ford was
never allowed to tell what it was.
The Randall eleven was fairly on edge when they indulged in light
practice Saturday morning, preparatory to leaving for Fairview, where
the first game of the season was to take place.
"Feel fit, Tom?" asked Sid, who had to carry his left hand in a sling.
Dr. Marshall had been unable to learn anything from the druggist that
put up the liniment, and the cause for the queer stiffness remained
undiscovered.
"As fit as a fiddle," replied the lad. "How about you, Phil?"
"I'm all to the Swiss cheese, as the poet had it. Is it about time to
start?"
"Nearly. We're going in a special trolley. Does your shoulder pain you
any?"
"Not a bit."
"I suppose--er--that is--er--your sister will be at the game?" ventured
Tom.
"Of course. She's as daffy about it as I am. If she had been a boy she'd
have played. Miss Tyler will be there, of course?" Phil questioned in
turn.
"I don't know--I suppose so," answered Tom. "Oh, of course. She and your
sister will probably go together."
"Yes, they're great chums. I wonder why I didn't get a letter from dad
to-day? He promised to write every night. I ought to have received one.
I'd like to know how my mother is."
"Well, no news is good news," quoted Tom. "Let's start. I get nervous
when I have to sit around."
There was a large crowd on the grandstand at the Fairview gridiron when
the Randall team arrived. The seats were rapidly filling up, and when, a
little later, the visiting eleven trotted out for practice, they were
received with a burst of cheers.
"What's the matter with Randall?" demanded Bean Perkins, who had been
christened "Shouter" from the foghorn quality of his tones. He generally
led the college cheering and singing. Back came the usual reply that
nothing whatever ailed Randall.
"There's a good bunch out," observed Tom to Phil as they passed the ball
back and forth. "Look at the girls! My, what a lot of them!"
"And all pretty, too," added Phil. "At least, I know one who is."
"Who?"
"Miss Tyler."
"I know another," spoke the left-end.
"Who's that?"
"Your sister. She's prettier than the photograph."
"You'd better tell her so."
"I did."
"Whew! It doesn't take you long to get down to business. But come on.
They're going to line up for practice," and the two ran over to join
their teammates.
What a mass of color the grandstands and bleachers presented! Mingled
with the youths and men were girls and women in bright dresses, waving
brighter-hued flags. There were pretty girls with long horns, tied with
streamers of one college or the other. There were more pretty girls with
long canes, from which flew ribbons of yellow and maroon--Randall's
colors. There were grave men who wore tiny footballs on their coat
lapels, a knot of ribbon denoting with which college they sided.
Massed in one stand were the cheering students of Randall, bent on
making themselves heard above the songs and yells of their rivals. Nor
were the girls of Fairview at all backward in giving vent to their
enthusiasm. They had songs and yells of their own, and, under the
leadership of Madge Tyler, were making themselves heard.
Tom, in catching a long kick, ran close to the stand where the Fairview
girls were massed. Madge was down in front, getting ready to lead them
in a song.
"Hello!" cried Tom to her, as he booted the pigskin back to Ed Kerr.
"Sorry I can't cheer for you this time!" called Madge brightly.
"Well, I'm sorry we will have to push the Fairview boys off the field,"
retorted Tom.
"Oh, are you going to do that?" asked a girl behind Madge, and Tom, who
had been vainly looking for her, saw Ruth Clinton.
"Sorry, but we have to," he replied. "Aren't you ashamed to cheer
against your own brother?"
"Oh, I guess Phil is able to look after himself," said Ruth. "Is his
shoulder all right, Mr. Parsons?"
"Doing nicely."
Just then the referee's whistle blew to summon the players from
practice.
"I'll see you after the game," called Tom, and as he glanced from Ruth
to Madge, he saw the latter regarding him rather curiously from her
brown eyes. With a queer feeling about the region where he imagined his
heart to be, he ran across the field.
"Remember--fast, snappy play!" was the last advice from Coach Lighton.
"You're going to win, boys. Don't forget that!"
From the stand where the Randall supporters were gathered came that
enthusing song--the song they always sang at a big game--"_Aut vincere
aut mori_"--"Either we conquer or we die!"
"Keep cool and smash through 'em," spoke Captain Cross to his players,
as the referee and other officials took their places.
It was Fairview's kick-off, and a moment later the ball came sailing
through the air. Holly Cross caught it, and, well protected by
interference, began to rush it back. But the Fairview players, by
amazing good play, managed to get through, and Holly was downed after a
run back of twenty yards.
"Now, boys, all together!" called Phil, as he eagerly got into place
behind big Snail Looper, who was bending over the ball. Then the
quarter-back rattled off a string of signals for Jerry Jackson, the left
half-back, to take the ball through the opposing left tackle and end.
Back came the ball, accurately snapped by the center. Jerry Jackson
was on the alert and took it from Phil as he passed him on the run.
Kindlings Woodhouse smashed in to make a hole for his brother back, who
closely followed. Captain Cross, on the jump, took care of the opposing
left-end, and with a crash that was heard on the grandstand, one of the
Jersey twins hit the line. The game was fairly begun.