"GIRLS ARE QUEER"
"Now, fellows, we can win, or at least tie the score yet," remarked
Captain Cross, as his players were sent back to the middle of the field
for another kick-off. "Smash through 'em! Phil, try our forward pass and
on-side kick."
"There are only five minutes more of play," said Tom, who heard that
from the timekeeper.
"Never mind, we can do it. Tie the score, anyhow!"
But it was not to be. Smash through the line though her players did, for
there seemed no stopping them, successful as the forward pass was, and
with the gain netted by an on-side kick, Randall could do no better than
to carry the ball to the Fairview ten-yard line.
There might have been a try for a field goal, but Phil decided there was
no chance for it, whereas bucking the line was almost a sure thing.
His men were doing magnificent work, for they had carried the ball
continuously from the middle of the field without loss. Two minutes more
of play would have given them a touch-down, but the fatal whistle blew,
and with a groan the Randall players knew their last hope was gone.
There came the usual cheers and college yells for the vanquished from
the victors, and the return of the compliment. Then the downcast Randall
lads filed slowly across the gridiron. They were sad at heart, and Coach
Lighton noticed it.
"Fellows, you did magnificent work!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "You
really did!"
"All except winning," said Tom gloomily.
"I think we played rotten!" burst out Phil, who seemed to take it much
to heart.
"And I let Sellig get around me, and missed tackling him," said Joe
Jackson, fairly groaning. "That cost us the game."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Captain Cross, who knew the danger of despondency.
"You did all right, Joe; and the other Jersey twin shone like a star on
a dark night. We're all right."
"Yes, except for what ails us," added Dutch Housenlager, making a
playful attempt to trip up Tom.
"Here! Quit that!" exclaimed the left-end in no gentle voice.
Coach Lighton noticed it. Tom, as well as the others, was "on edge." It
would not need much more to demoralize the team. He must stop the
growing feeling.
"Fellows," he exclaimed, "you're all right! I know what I'm talking
about. I've coached teams before, and I say that for the first game of
the season you did all that could be expected. I'm proud of you. I----"
"A thing like this happened once before," said a voice at the elbow of
the coach. "My uncle says----"
But Ford Fenton got no further, for Dutch Housenlager, putting out his
foot, neatly tripped the offending one, and the rest of his sentence was
mumbled to the grass.
"Serves him right!" exclaimed Tom, and in the laugh that followed the
nervous, disappointed feeling of the team, in a measure, passed off.
"Fairview has a good team," went on Coach Lighton. "I give them credit
for that. But we have a better one, and now that we know their style of
play and their weakness we can beat them next game. We'll have another
chance at them."
"And we'll wipe up the gridiron with 'em!" cried Holly Cross. "Forget
it, fellows! Let's sing 'Marching to the Goal Posts,'" which they did
with such a vim that the spirits of all were raised many degrees.
"Well, Phil," remarked Tom, as he was getting off his football togs, "we
were sort of up against it, eh?"
"Oh, it might have been worse. But the way the fellows rushed the
ball up the field the last five minutes was a caution. It was like a
machine."
"Yes; we ought to have done that first."
"That's right. By the way, I'm going to see my sister. Want to come
along?"
"Sure!" exclaimed Tom with such eagerness that Phil remarked dryly:
"I don't know that she'll be with Madge Tyler."
"Oh--er--that is--that's all right," said Tom hastily, and he swallowed
quickly. "I'll go along."
"All right," said Phil.
They finished dressing, and went across the field to where a crowd of
spectators was still congregated.
"Think you can find her in this bunch?" asked Tom, but he was taking no
chances, for he himself was keeping a sharp lookout for a certain fair
face.
"Oh, I guess so. If I don't spot her she'll glimpse me. Girls are great
for finding people in a crowd. Sis always seems to do it."
"Oh, Phil!" called a voice a moment later, and Ruth Clinton hurried up
to her brother, gaily waving a Fairview flag. She was followed by Madge
Tyler, who also had her college colors with her. "How's your shoulder?"
asked Ruth anxiously. "I was so nervous that I couldn't bear to look at
the plays."
"Yes, you've got a lot of ruffians on your team," retorted her brother.
"They don't know how to play like gentlemen."
"But they know how to win!" exclaimed Madge, as she greeted her chum's
brother.
"That's right," admitted Phil, making a rueful face.
"I'm sorry I had to cheer against you and Mr. Parsons to-day," went on
Madge, as she looked at Phil. "I really--well, of course I can't say I
really wanted to you to win against Fairview, but I wish the score had
been even."
"There's no satisfaction in that," retorted Tom. "We lost, and they won,
fairly and squarely."
"Oh, I'm glad you admit that," spoke Ruth with a laugh, and she waved
her flag in Tom's face. He made a grab for it, and caught the end of
the cane. For an instant he stood thus, looking into the laughing,
mischievous eyes of Ruth Clinton.
"Do you want it?" she asked daringly.
"Yes," said Tom, "even though it is the color of the enemy."
"What will you give me for it?" she asked.
"My colors," said Tom, taking a small knot of yellow and maroon from his
coat lapel. "We'll exchange until the victory goes the other way about."
"All right," she agreed laughingly. "Don't forget, now. Mr. Parsons."
"I'll not," he assured her, and he turned to see Madge regarding him
curiously. Her eyes shifted away quickly as they met his.
"Heard from dad?" asked Phil, who had been an amused witness to the
little scene.
"Yes, I have a letter with me," answered his sister. "Here it is," and
she handed it to Phil. "Mother is some better."
"That's good. Do you have to get right back to college, or have you
girls time to go down the street and have some soda?" asked Phil.
"Oh, we'll make time to go with _you_!" exclaimed Madge, and she
accented the last word. Tom looked at her keenly.
"Come on, then," invited Phil, and, as if it was the most natural thing
in the world, he swung alongside of Madge, leaving Tom to walk with
Ruth. Nor was Tom at all slow to take advantage of this arrangement,
though for a brief instant he hardly knew whether or not he ought to go
with her, considering how friendly Madge had been with him since she
gave up going with Langridge.
"How does it feel to lose?" asked Ruth, as she walked with Tom.
"Not very good," he answered, as he listened to Madge's gay laugh at
something Phil said. He was reflecting how well she got along with the
handsome quarter-back. But Tom was not unaware of the charms of the
pretty girl at his side. They talked on many subjects during the walk to
town, and Tom felt like a chap who has had offered to him the choice of
two most delightful companions, and cannot tell which one he likes best.
Ruth was certainly an attractive girl, and her jolly laugh--but just
then he heard the rippling tones of Madge's voice.
"Oh, hang it all!" he thought to himself. "What am I up against?"
They spent a jolly afternoon before it was time for Tom and Phil to
start back to Randall.
"I hope you'll come over again--soon," said Ruth to her brother as they
were about to part.
"I will, if Miss Tyler will second your invitation," replied Phil.
"Of course I will," said Madge heartily.
"Can't I come, too?" asked Tom.
"Of course," answered Ruth promptly. "I shall expect you to report to me
on the condition of my colors."
"Oh, of course," was Tom's remark. Then he waited for Madge to say
something to him, but she turned away without a word. Yet Tom could not
forget that she had added her invitation to that of Ruth in regard to
Phil.
Whereat, wondering over some matters on the way home, Tom said to his
chum:
"Girls are queer, aren't they?"
"Are you just finding that out?" asked the quarter-back.
"I guess so," was what Tom said.