A QUARTER-BACK RUN
The Second Team had a schedule of its own, although it wasn’t very
lengthy. It consisted of two games, the first with Greenburg High
School and the second with Latimer High School. The Greenburg game came
off the afternoon that the First played Carrel’s, and in consequence
Toby missed the latter contest. He didn’t mind that, however, for he
had a busy and enjoyable time in Greenburg. Besides, he got the full
and detailed story of the Carrel game from Arnold that evening and the
next day and for one or two days after that. Arnold was very full of
football just now and threatened to be somewhat of a bore until the
Broadwood contest was done with!
The Greenburg athletic field lay on the side of town away from the
river and Yardley and was a rather uneven piece of turf enclosed by a
dilapidated high board fence. There was a running track, badly in need
of cinders and attention, two weather-stained stands and an unpainted
shack that did duty as a dressing-room. The game was not very important
from a Greenburg standpoint, and the attendance this afternoon was
not large. Usually Greenburg won from the Yardley Second Team without
much difficulty, and although this fall High School had heard stories
of unusual prowess on the Second Team’s part she was still not much
worried. Being a half holiday at the various mills and factories, of
which Greenburg held many, the “tough” element of the town――or city,
since that is what Greenburg officially was――was well represented.
The mill operatives who had paid their quarters for admittance to the
game were strongly pro-High School in their sympathies. Or perhaps
it would be nearer the truth to say that they were enthusiastically
anti-Yardley. In their belief all Yardley students were silk-stockinged
snobs, which, while far from the fact, was enough to set the mill crowd
against the school. They came supplied with peanuts and, perhaps a
hundred in number, took possession of one of the small, tumble-down
stands and made their presence known right from the start. But aside
from shouting weird cheers for Greenburg, singing, parodying the
Yardley slogan in mincing falsetto and shying an occasional peanut at
the visitors’ bench in front of them, they kept the peace during most
of the game.
Captain Beech wanted to win to-day’s contest, since last year High
School had caught the Blue team in a slump and triumphed decisively
over it by a memorable score of 38 to 6, and so, with Coach Burtis’s
permission, the Second started with the best line-up she could devise.
Mr. Burtis had awarded himself a vacation and gone home over the
week-end, leaving the captain in undisputed authority. Toby didn’t get
into the game until the third period was well along, for Frick, who had
started it, played his best and a touchdown by Yardley in the first
five minutes of play gave the visitors an advantage that the home team
was not able to overcome in the initial half. The Blue defense was
too much for the High School eleven although the latter had plenty of
talent in its ranks and played a stiff, hard attack. On the other hand,
Yardley had her troubles with the High School line, and that single
touchdown had been more than half luck. A fortunate forward pass from
the middle of the field had put the Blue within striking distance of
High School’s goal and a penalty for holding had given her five yards
more. Then Frick had fumbled and Nelson had followed the trickling ball
back, and, having captured it, found a chance around High School’s
left. He should have been stopped half a dozen times, but somehow he
sifted through the enemy ranks and landed the pigskin up against the
left-hand post before he was brought down.
High School accepted her mishap cheerfully and set to work to do a
little scoring on her own behalf, but the half ended without the
ball’s having approached either goal again. The second half was eight
minutes old when Captain Beech found that Frick’s work was becoming
slow and uncertain and sent him off. High School had forced the ball
to Yardley’s thirty-one yards and still had possession when Toby went
in. He was followed a minute later by Lovett, who was called on to
strengthen the right end of the Blue’s line, around which High School
had made several gains since the period had begun. Lovett, however,
proved no more able to stop those gains than had Connell, and High
School swept on to the Blue’s twenty-yard-line in three plays and set
her supporters shouting triumphantly. With the cheers of the High
School students came approving yells from the mill contingent; hoarse
cries of “Eat ’em up, Greenburg!” “Kill the sissies!” “Put it over,
Greenburg!” Then, with a score almost won, the High School left end
was caught hugging Stover affectionately to his breast, and High
School was set back fifteen yards. The mill hands didn’t approve of
that and made it known loudly and continuously, hissing and whistling
and hurling sarcastic remarks at the referee. After two plays which
netted only short gains, High School tried a drop-kick from her thirty
yards and failed badly.
The mill operatives still had hurt feelings and were now howling
continuously. The referee was accused of favoritism, treachery and
several other faults, and Yardley of being “pikers” and “yellow dogs.”
Matters became no more peaceful when Toby, getting the kick-off just
short of his five-yard-line, dodged it back to his twenty-three. Watson
went in for Sid Creel at center a minute or two later and Toby began
a systematic assault on High School’s middle positions. Stover gained
consistently and White ploughed through less frequently but for longer
gains. High School changed center and left guard and Toby switched his
attack to the right guard and tackle. There, however, he had less luck,
and, well into High School territory now, he called for a forward, and
White, from kicking position, threw successfully to Mawson on High
School’s nineteen, a long hard heave that brought applause even from
the enemy. Mawson reached the sixteen yards before he was tackled and
the fourteen before he was stopped.
The third period ended and the teams changed sides. High School fought
desperately to hold her opponent and the attack was thrice piled up for
little or no gain. Choosing between the possible loss of the ball and a
possible three points from a field-goal, Toby selected the latter and
Beech went back for the kick. But High School tore through the Yardley
left and blocked the ball sufficiently to deflect it harmlessly to the
right. That incident gladdened the mill hands considerably and they
cheered hoarsely.
High School tried a forward-pass on first down and got away with it
for twelve yards. Plunges at the line netted her a second first down.
Three subsequent attacks left her four yards shy of her distance and
she punted to Yardley’s thirty. There Stover caught and ran back to
the thirty-seven. He was hurt in the tackle and gave place to Lippman.
Toby tried a quarter-back run after a delayed pass and made a scanty
five yards after going half across the field. High School held against
two plunges and White punted outside at the enemy’s twenty-eight.
High School uncorked a puzzling open formation play that sent the
full-back around her short end without interference and almost got him
free. But Lippman secured the runner after a fifteen-yard advance. A
forward-pass went wrong and, after attempting each end, High School
punted. Lippman juggled the catch, recovered it and was downed for no
gain on his twenty yards. Toby called on White and made seven straight
through High School’s center, and Lippman went outside right tackle
for four more and the distance. Then, with the end of the game drawing
near, Lippman punted on second down from his thirty to High School’s
thirty-eight. Again the latter tried her open formation play, but this
time Yardley was prepared and the runner was downed for an eight-yard
loss. A forward-pass gave High School ten and a wide end run two more.
Then came Waterloo, for a High School back, plunging toward the Yardley
right tackle, lost the pigskin as he struck the line and the ball
bounded merrily into the air, crossed the heaving lines and was pulled
down by Nelson.
The best the Blue’s left half could do was hold tight to his prize,
for half the opposing team was on top of him in the moment. But it was
Yardley’s ball on High School’s forty-nine yards, and, with less than
two minutes remaining, the game was as good as won. Captain Beech ran
in four substitutes, about all he had left, and on the first play, one
of them, Crawford, at full-back, went through the Greenburg line like a
streak of lightning and dodged all but the quarter-back, planting the
ball on High School’s thirty-two yards when he was captured. A penalty
for off-side on the next play set Yardley back, but Lippman carried the
pigskin around left end for three and Crawford made three more, and,
on fourth down, faking a kick from placement, Toby took the ball and
scampered off around the Greenburg right behind good interference and
might have crossed the goal line had he not, as he put it later, fallen
over his own feet! The stumble allowed a pursuing High School player to
drag him down six yards short of the last white streak.
Then came a heart-stirring climax to a contest that had never failed
of interest. The stands had emptied ere this and the audience had been
following the game along the side-lines. Now it congregated at the
corner of the field nearest the play, flowing over onto the gridiron
in spite of the efforts of a few ineffectual officials. In the front
of the throng were the mill operatives, noisy and unfriendly to the
besiegers, more than willing, it seemed, to take a hand in the game.
Toby and Grover Beech consulted while the crowd jeered and hooted.
Toby wanted to try a forward-pass over the line, but Captain Beech
was fearful of it save as a last resort, and it was decided to batter
the opponent’s line so long as gains resulted and then, faking a
try-at-goal, attempt a short pass over the center.
Toby called on Crawford and sent him banging at the enemy’s
guard-tackle hole on the left. But the hole didn’t develop and the gain
was less than a yard. Beech sent Crawford out and brought in Lansing,
a heavy youngster whose slowness had kept him on the bench most of the
season. The unfriendly critics, edging over the bounds, made scurrilous
remarks anent Lansing’s personal appearance and had that poor youth,
already made nervous by the honor so unexpectedly thrust upon him, a
mass of blushes by the time he was in position. But blushes didn’t take
away from Lansing’s weight or strength, and, with Lippman carrying the
pigskin, Lansing thrust the runner through for three of the remaining
five yards. There was some rough playing in that fracas, and Toby
discovered that he had sustained a very ensanguined nose. On third
down, with just over two yards to go, Lippman tried a cross-buck and
squirmed over the crouched backs of the foe for another three feet,
amidst an appalling shouting from the belligerent onlookers. The mill
contingent was now so close behind the defenders that it was hard to
tell who was a player and who a spectator, and Captain Beech called
for time and pointed out the fact. The Greenburg players tried to push
the throng back, but, although it good-naturedly shuffled a few yards
away, it pressed forward once more as soon as the teams again lined up.
The referee and umpire scolded and threatened to call the game, but
were only hooted at. To the credit of the High School students present
it may be said that they did nothing to encourage the mill hands and
themselves remained, if not outside the field, at least away from the
scene of play. In the end, finding pleas and threats alike idle, the
referee let the game go on.
“We’ll never score against that mob,” whispered Beech disgustedly to
Toby. “They’ll jump in and push us back. Might as well call it off. I
don’t want any mix-up with those muckers!”
Toby nodded agreement, viewing the grinning, inimical countenances
grouped behind the opposing line thoughtfully. Then: “Let me work this,
cap, will you? I think there’s just one chance!”
“Go ahead,” said Beech, “but you’ll never make a forward with that gang
back there to get in the way.”
“No, a forward’s no good, but――Signals! Come on now, Yardley! One more
punch! Signals! 31――51――27――――”
“_Signals!_” cried Lippman wildly, questioningly.
“Shut up!” hissed Toby. “Change signals! 61――54――27――9! 61――54――――”
Forward plunged the backs, away sped Toby, scuttling along the back of
the short line, the ball snuggled in his elbow. Cries and grunts and
the rasping of canvas-clad bodies filled the air. Then a shriek from an
excited, despairing high school spectator: “_There he goes! Get him,
you mutts!_”
The play had been close to the left-hand corner of the field and the
onlookers had crowded there, along the side-line for a short distance,
but principally back of the goal-line. At the other side of the goal,
save for a sprinkling of High School girls and their escorts, the field
was clear. Toward this side of the gridiron sped Toby. Only Lovett,
throwing his opponent in as he plunged through, went with him. But the
right end was sufficient. A Greenburg back met him and the two sprawled
to the turf together, and Toby, turning on his heel, headed swiftly
in. A yard or two short of the line he dodged the only remaining
opposition, a despairing High School quarter, and circled back toward
the goal. But now there were plenty to challenge. A High School player
clutched at him and missed and then Toby found himself in a struggling
sea of angry mill operatives. Farquhar tried to reach him, but was
pushed aside, and a dozen hands fought for the ball. Toby clung to it
as tightly as he could and sought to fight his way forward, but the
crowd was ugly. Some one struck him on the mouth and, as his head went
back, the ball was dislodged. The yells about him merged in a laugh of
triumph and, shoved aside, he sank to the ground, while the mill crowd
went piling off toward the entrance, the ball in their possession. None
tried to stop them.
The officials allowed the touchdown, but Captain Beech, helping a
battered Toby to his feet, declined the privilege of trying goal
with another ball. “Had enough, thanks,” he said coldly. Then, to an
apologetic and regretful Greenburg Captain: “This is the last game you
fellows will get with us, Townsend. Come on, Yardley! Never mind the
cheer!”
Toby was not the only one of the visiting team who had sustained a
memento of that closing minute. Three other fellows who had sought to
reach him had been punched, or kicked, and, including such slighter
injuries as had fallen to the Yardley Second during the game, it was a
somewhat messed up aggregation that journeyed back to Wissining that
afternoon. The last they saw of the mill hands they were having a
remarkable football game with the stolen ball in the road outside the
field, too busy to more than hoot at the visitors as they passed.
“I’d like to fetch a couple of dozen more fellows down here and wipe
the ground up with them,” muttered Beech. “Bet you that’s our last game
with Greenburg for awhile, Toby.”
Toby didn’t offer to accept the wager, which was fortunate for his
modest resources since, a few days later, the Yardley faculty, having
probed the incident, struck Greenburg High School from the list of
approved opponents.