BATTERING BOXER HALL
There was a little buzz of talk, following the announcement of the
coach. Each player looked at his neighbor, as if to learn whether or not
he was the guilty one. But Mr. Lighton at once called a halt to this.
"I will say," he continued, "that no member of the 'varsity team,
nor has any substitute, been guilty of this mean, sneaking piece of
business. I don't even know who it was. I don't want to know. I don't
know to whom the offer was made. I don't want to know. But we are going
to protect ourselves, and change the signals."
It was a comparatively simple matter, the way the signals had been
devised, to so change them so that another team, even with a copy of the
originals, would have found it impossible to know in advance what the
plays were to be.
Half an hour was spent in going over the new combinations while the
team was in the gymnasium, and then they went out on the field to play
against the scrub. It was a little awkward at first for Phil to run the
eleven under the new system, and he made one or two blunders. But the
scrub was beaten by a good score.
"You'll do better to-morrow," commented the coach. "It is a little
troublesome, I know, to use the new letters and figures, but we'll
practice on them constantly until we meet Boxer Hall on Saturday."
This was to be the first game of the season with Boxer Hall, the
college, which, with Fairview Institute and Randall, formed the Tonoka
Lake League. The Randallites were on edge for it, and they had need to
be, for Boxer had a fine eleven, better than in many years.
"We'll have all we want to do to beat them," said Phil to a crowd of his
chums after practice one day. "They're in better shape than Fairview
was."
"So are we," declared Tom. "We're going to win."
"I hope you do," remarked Ford Fenton. "They have a peculiar way of
playing the game in the first half. My uncle says----"
"Wow!" It was a simultaneous howl from the crowd of lads. They sometimes
did this when Ford's reminiscences got on their nerves. The lad with the
uncle turned away.
"I was going to put you on to some of their tricks," he continued in
injured tones. "Now I won't."
"Write it out and hand it to Holly Cross," suggested Phil.
"Well, Phil," remarked Tom to his chum on Saturday, about an hour before
the big game, when the team was dressing in the Randall gymnasium, "do
you feel as if we were going to win?"
"I certainly do," spoke the quarter-back as he laced his canvas jacket.
"I never felt in better shape. Only for one thing----" He paused
suddenly, but Tom knew what he meant. It was the fear that, in the midst
of the game, he might get bad news about his mother. Since receiving the
telegram advising him to be ready to leave for Florida on short notice,
Phil and his sister had had word that their mother had rallied somewhat,
but that no permanent hope was held out for her recovery.
"Try not to think about it, old man," advised Tom.
"I--I do try," responded Phil. "But it--it's hard work," and he bent
over to tie his shoe.
Out on the gridiron trotted the Randall players. They were received with
a burst of cheers, led by Bean Perkins, whose voice was more than ever
like a foghorn.
"Give 'em the 'Conquer or Die' song," he called.
"No; wait until they need it," suggested Sid Henderson, who was in the
grandstand. "Let's sing 'We're Going to Make a Touch-down Now!' That'll
be better."
The verses and chorus welled out from several hundred lusty throats,
and the Randall team, which was at quick practice, looked up in
appreciation.
"I wonder if any of the Fairview girls will be here," said Tom as he and
Phil were passing the ball back and forth.
"I don't know about all of 'em," replied the quarter-back, "but Ruth and
Madge are coming."
"Since when have you been calling her 'Madge'?" asked Tom, with a sharp
look at his chum.
"Since she gave me permission," was the answer, and Phil booted the
pigskin well down the field.
"And how long is that?"
"What difference does it make to you?" and there was a shade of annoyance
in Phil's voice.
"Nothing, only I--er--well---- There they come!" cried Tom suddenly, but
it was not to the girls that he referred. The Boxer Hall team had just
trotted out, to be received with a round of cheers from their partisans.
"Husky-looking lot," observed Ed Kerr, as he and the other Randall
players gazed critically at their opponents.
"They are that," conceded Bricktop Molloy, one of the biggest guards
who ever supported a center.
"I'm afraid they'll do us," came from Snail Looper, who was not of a
very hopeful turn of mind.
"Nonsense! Don't talk that way, me lad!" objected Bricktop, lapsing
into brogue, as he always did when very much in earnest. "Just because
they're a lot of big brutes doesn't argue that we can't smash through
them. _Omnis sequitur_, you know."
"Oh, you and your Latin!" exclaimed Tom. "Don't we get enough of that in
class."
"It's a fine language," went on Molloy, who was a good classical
scholar. "But suppose we line up and run a bit."
The practice was over, the preliminaries had all been arranged, the new
ball was brought out and handed to Boxer Hall, for Captain Stoddard had
won the toss, and elected to kick off. The yellow spheroid was placed on
the center line, on top of a little mound of earth.
"Are you all ready?" asked the referee, and Captain Holly Cross cast a
quick eye on his team, which, spread out on their field, was like an
aggregation of eager foxhounds, waiting for the start.
"Ready," answered Holly.
"Ready," responded Stoddard.
The whistle sounded shrilly, and a moment later Pinkey Davenport's good
right toe had met the pigskin with a resounding "thump," and the ball
was sailing toward the Randall goal.
Jerry Jackson caught it and began scuttling back toward the center of
the field. Tom, with Ed Kerr and Bricktop Molloy, formed interference
for him, and with their efficient aid Jerry rushed the leather back for
thirty yards, or to within five yards of the middle of the gridiron.
There he was downed with a vicious tackle by Dave Ogden, who had managed
to get through between Tom and Bricktop, though they flung themselves at
him. Jerry lay still for a moment after falling, with the ball tightly
clasped in his arms. Captain Cross ran to him.
"Hurt?" he asked anxiously.
"No. Only--only a little wind knocked out of me," answered the plucky
left half-back. "I'm all right now."
"Line up, fellows!" cried Holly, and Phil began rattling off a string of
numbers and letters.
It was a signal for Kindlings to take the ball through tackle, and, as
he got it, the right half-back leaped for the hole that was opened for
him. Right through he plunged, staggering along, half pulled, half
shoved, until it was impossible to gain another inch, and Kindlings was
buried out of sight under an avalanche of players. But the required gain
had been made, and Phil signaled for another try at the Boxer Hall
line. Captain Stoddard was vainly calling on his men to brace and hold
their opponents, while from the grandstand came wild cheers at the first
sign of prowess on the part of Randall.
This time Holly Cross went through guard and tackle for a fine gain, and
next he was sent between right-tackle and end. So far there had not been
a halt in the progress of bucking the line, but when, on the next play,
Ed Kerr was called on to go through between left-end and tackle, he felt
as if he had hit a number of bags of sand. There was not a foot of gain,
and Ed barely saved the ball, which bounced from his arms; but he fell
on it like a flash.
"Don't try there again," whispered Kerr to Phil, as he took his position
once more. Phil, however, had seen that the Boxer Hall line was weak,
and he determined for another try at it, but in a different place. This
time Jerry Jackson was called on for a run around right-end, and so
successful was it that he went to the twenty-five-yard line before he
was heavily thrown. The tackling of the Boxer Hall lads was severe when
they got a chance at it.
Phil, in a flash, determined for a field goal trial. The chances were in
favor of it, for there was no wind, and the position was right. Besides,
if it was successful it would add immensely to the spirit of his team,
and give them a rest from the hard line bucking.
Quickly he gave the signal, and Holly Cross ran to the thirty-yard line
for a drop kick. The ball came back and was cleanly caught. The Randall
line held, and Holly booted the pigskin in fine shape, but with a groan
almost of anguish the players and supporters of the college by the river
saw the ball strike the cross-bar and bounce back. The attempt had
failed.
The leather was brought out to the twenty-five-yard line, and Boxer Hall
prepared for her turn at it. On the first try they gained fifteen yards
through a hole that was ripped between Grasshopper Backus and Dutch
Housenlager. They then gathered in ten more by a run around Tom's end,
though he made a desperate effort to stop the man with the ball.
"Right through 'em, now, fellows!" called Captain Stoddard to his
players. "Rip 'em up!"
"Hold 'em! Hold 'em!" besought Holly Cross.
And hold the Randallites did. The wave of attack fell back in a sort of
froth of players as Pinkey Davenport tried in vain to gain through
center. Snail Looper was like a great rock. Once more there was a try at
the line, Dave Ogden being sent in with a rush. But he only gained three
yards, and it was inevitable that Boxer would punt. The backs of the
Randall team ran toward their goal, but Boxer worked a pretty trick,
and on a double pass made fifteen yards before the man was stopped.
"That's the stuff!" cried the Boxer coach, and he ran on the field to
whisper to Captain Stoddard.
But the thoughtless action of the coach brought its punishment, for
Boxer was penalized ten yards on account of their trainer coming on the
field without permission. There was much kicking at this, but the
officials insisted, and it stood. Then, with a net gain of less than was
needed, and on the last down, Boxer had to kick. Holly Cross got the
ball and rushed it well back before he was downed.
So far the playing had been pretty even. Though Boxer was a bit weak on
defense, they played a snappy game, and seemed to be able to outgeneral
their opponents. Now Randall had another chance to show what they could
do.
"Give 'em the 'Conquer or Die' song now!" cried Bean Perkins, and the
strains of "_Aut vincere aut mori_" welled out over the gridiron. It
seemed to give just the stimulus needed, and when Kindlings had been
sent crashing into the line for a twelve-yard gain, Phil quickly
resolved on the fake tackle and pass to half-back play. First, however,
he called for Ed Kerr to make a try through right-tackle, and when
this had been accomplished, with a smashing force that temporarily
demoralized the Boxer Hall players, Kindlings was once more requested
to oblige. He took the ball from Ed, who had received it from Phil, and
around right-end he went, with beautiful interference. It completely
fooled the other team, and when the Boxer full-back finally managed to
stop Kindlings it was on the ten-yard line.
"Touch-down! Touch-down!" yelled the Randall supporters.
"Touch-down it shall be!" exclaimed Phil.
Smash and hammer, hammer and smash, batter and push it was for the next
three minutes! Boxer was desperate, and with tears in their eyes her
players sought to stem the tide rushing against them. But Randall was
not to be denied. Again and again her men went battering against the
wall of flesh and blood, until, with what seemed a superhuman effort,
Holly Cross was shoved over the line for a touch-down.
Oh, what yelling and cheering there was then! Even the voice of Bean
Perkins, strident as it was, could not be heard above the others. The
grandstands were trembling with the swaying, yelling, stamping mass of
enthusiasts congregated on them.
Holly Cross kicked a beautiful goal, and with the score six to nothing
against them, Boxer Hall prepared to continue the game. There was no let
up to the play. It was fast and furious. For a time it seemed that Boxer
would score, as, after getting possession of the ball by means of a
forward pass, they ripped off twenty yards, and followed that up by
gathering in ten more by a smashing play through center. Snail Looper
was knocked out, and had to go to the side lines, Rod Everet replacing
him. This, to a certain extent, weakened the team, and Randall could not
seem to hold. The ball was rushed along until it was within three yards
of the maroon and yellow goal. Then, responding nobly to the entreaties
which Holly Cross, made, his players held stiffly, and Randall got the
ball on downs. No time was lost in booting the pigskin out of danger,
and before another formation could be made the whistle blew, and the
first half was over.
"Fellows," remarked Coach Lighton in the dressing-room during the rest,
"I needn't tell you that you've got to play for all you're worth to win
this game. We're going to have trouble this half. With Looper gone,
though I expect Everet will do nearly as well at center, it means a
certain loss of team work. But do your best. Their line isn't as strong
as I feared, but they play much fiercer in the attack than I expected.
However, I think you can rip 'em up. Get another touch-down--two if you
can--and prevent them from scoring. They may try for a field goal. If
they do, get through and block the kick. Now rest all you can."
The second half started in fiercely. Randall kicked off, and succeeded
in nailing the Boxer Hall man with the ball before he had run ten
yards. But when the line-bucking began something seemed to be the
matter with the Randall players. They were shoved back very easily, it
appeared, and, with constant gains, the ball was carried toward their
territory. So eager did the Randallites get at one stage that they
played off-side, and were penalized ten yards. Again there was holding
in the line, and ten yards more were given to Boxer Hall for this. The
opponents of Randall were now within thirty yards of the goal. By a
smash through center they ripped off five more. Then Pinkey Davenport
dropped back for a trial for a field goal, and made it. The score was
now six to five in favor of Randall.
When Randall got the ball again there was a change at once noticed. More
confidence was felt, and so fiercely did her players assail the line
that they carried the pigskin, in three rushes, well toward the middle
of the field.
Phil gave the signal for a forward pass, and it was well executed. Then
came a fake kick, and this was followed by an on-side one. Both netted
good gains, and once more Randall was jubilant.
"Right through the line!" cried Phil. "Eat 'em up, fellows!"
His players responded to his call. Through tackle, guard and center,
then around the end, the plays being repeated, the ball was carried.
The men were tiring, but Phil would not chance a kick. They had no sure
thing of a field goal now, as a little wind had sprung up. Up and up the
field the spheroid, yellow no longer, but dirty and grass-stained,
was carried. On the Randallites took it, until they were on the
twenty-five-yard line. There was a form of madness among the college
supporters now. Once more came the fierce cries for a touch-down, and
once more Phil called to his teammates to respond. The signal for some
sequence plays was given. It was well these had been practiced, for
Phil's voice could scarcely be heard. One after another four plays were
reeled off. They were all effective, and though Boxer Hall tried to stem
the rush, it was impossible. Over the line went the Randall lads, to the
inspiring chorus of: "Tear 'Em Apart and Toss 'Em Aside!"
"Touch-down! Touch-down! Touch-down!" came the frantic cries, the
players mingling their voices with those of the spectators on the
grandstand. The goal was missed, but the score was now eleven to five in
favor Randall.
Again came the line-up after the kick off. By a fumble Boxer lost the
ball, and Tom Parsons fell on it. Then began another fierce attack on
the Boxer eleven. But the terrific line-smashing was telling on both
teams, though more so on Randall. There was less power in her attack.
Boxer held for downs, and the kick was a weak one, the ball going only
a short distance. Then Boxer Hall began to rush it back, and by a trick
play got it so far down the gridiron that another field goal was kicked.
It began to look dubious for Randall, but there was no give-up in her
playing. Securing the ball, Phil kept his players on the rush. Down the
field they went, a forward pass netting a good gain and wonderfully
saving the wind of the now almost exhausted team. An on-side kick was
also used, and then, seeing a weak place in the adversary's line, Phil
in turn sent Kindlings, Jerry Jackson and Holly Cross at it. In vain did
Boxer Hall try to stop up the gap, but their left-tackle and guard were
about all in. In two minutes more Bricktop Molloy was shoved over the
line for a third touch-down, and, as goal was kicked, the score was
seventeen to ten.
"One more touch-down!" cried Holly Cross, but there was no time for it.
Two minutes more of play and the whistle blew. Randall had won one of
the fiercest games she had ever played.
"A cheer for Boxer Hall!" cried Holly Cross, and the despondent players,
grieving over their defeat, sent back an answer. Then came cheer upon
cheer from the grandstand, where waved the yellow and maroon of Randall,
and Bean Perkins led in the song: "We Have Come and We Have Conquered!"
"Great, old man!" cried Tom to Phil, who was limping slightly. "Are you
hurt?"
"I shouldn't care if I was in pieces after the way we walloped them!
Come on over here. I see my sister and Madge!"
Tom followed, his head singing from a severe knock he had received.