CARSLAKE'S v. THE REST
France stepped back and surveyed her plasticine model of Duane's
profile with an air of satisfaction.
"I say, girls," she remarked, conversationally, "I really think
Carslake's is being treated with due respect at last. I don't think
the other houses have yet recovered from the shock we gave them on
Sports Day."
Kitty looked up from her book, as if relieved to find an excuse for
so doing. "If only we can keep our new reputation," she said
seriously. "We mustn't get slack again."
"We must give them another shock," said Duane, sleepily. "A real
startler this time. I'll think something out." She yawned with a
muffled, "Goodness, how sleepy a fire makes one!" and silence settled
down again in the study. A little later, however, there was a
message from Miss Carslake, "Would Duane please bring along her
weekly report. It should have been brought earlier in the evening."
This report was a record of lines or punishments of that description
imposed by any of the prefects during the week.
"Oh, hang!" exclaimed Miss Carslake's disgusted head prefect. "She
was out when I went before, and of course she must start bothering
when I'm comfortably settled down. D'you think I might send the book
along for once without going myself?"
"I shouldn't advise you to," replied Kitty, in a discouraging tone.
"I don't suppose for a minute that would satisfy Miss Carslake."
"Cut along and get it over," advised France, grinning. "It won't
take very long."
With much grumbling the head prefect lowered her long legs to the
ground, pulled herself up and took her departure. When she returned
a little later it was in the company of the other three
Sixth-formers, and there was an unusual air of animation about her.
"I say, girls, an idea!" she announced, when they were all inside.
"Why not take a leaf out of Kitty's book! I suggest challenging the
rest of the school to a hockey match--Top House v. the Rest."
"That practically means," said Margaret, judicially, "Carslake's
against the school first eleven. It sounds quite mad to me. What do
you say, Kitty?"
"Well, I certainly agree with Duane that it would cause a sensation
in the school," replied Kitty, shrewdly. "However, the weak point in
the idea, as far as I can see, is that we shall get such a licking
that we shan't be able to lift up our heads again."
"I don't see why we should," from Duane.
"But you don't really think we should stand the slightest chance
against the school eleven?" protested Bertha.
"Oh, come, Bertha," remonstrated Duane, "you and Kitty, of all
people, to be so faint-hearted over a hockey match when both of you
are practically certain of getting your hockey colours before the end
of the season!"
"But three can't beat eleven."
"I'm not proposing they should. Leave it to me to get up an eleven.
This house has been so used to holding humble opinions about itself
that it can't get out of the habit. You forget one or two things:
that there are sixteen seniors now, where last year there were only
six; as that quite half of the old school eleven left last term and
there will have to be a big proportion of new colours in it. I will
guarantee to get quite a respectable line of forwards from our Lower
Fifth, if we older ones can manage the defence."
"And supposing they refuse to accept our challenge, as being beneath
their dignity?" said Sonia.
"They won't do that. We should be able to say they were afraid to
accept it. A challenge is a challenge."
Silence, while everybody looked at each other. "Well, what about
it?" asked Duane. "Will you do it or not, if the Lower Fifth are
willing?"
Kitty was the first to respond.
"I'm on," she said, impulsively. "Though I believe we haven't the
slightest chance of winning. All the same, the idea's a gorgeous one
and for pure cheek takes the biscuit. I wish I'd thought of it
myself."
Carslake's hockey challenge certainly did cause a sensation in the
school. Some girls treated it with ridicule, a few were angry, all
agreed that it was awful cheek on the part of the much-despised
Carslake's. The challenge was accepted, however, with the firm
resolution that the challengers should be punished for their cheek by
such a beating as had never yet been seen on the school
playing-fields. Carslake's tried to assume a careless, confident,
nonchalant air, but the only one of them who really succeeded was
their head prefect and that because the pose was a natural one.
Inwardly they were all quaking at their temerity, even such bold
spirits as Kitty and Peggy O'Nell, and looking forward to the match
with feelings of apprehension.
Duane, with an undue amount of deliberation, had drawn up her team.
"I've put Bertha and Edith in their usual positions at right back and
goal," she explained. "Kitty, I want you to be the other back.
Halves--Margaret, myself, Mary. Forwards, wings--France and Peggy.
Yes, France, you must play, and what's more you'll have to run as
you've never run in your life before, not even on Sports Day."
"I'll do it," said France heroically, "for the honour of the house.
Even if it means dropping dead half-way through the match."
"Dropping dead! Rubbish!" returned Duane, with unusual energy for
her. "Daisy, you must take centre-forward. I'll help you all I can.
Inners--Barbara and Rosalie. That's the best we can do, I think!"
The match was fixed for Wednesday, and the Carslake girls practised
diligently in their team positions whenever they had the chance.
Kitty enjoyed these practices immensely and played left-back with
great vigour--perhaps, sometimes, with more vigour than skill.
Duane's attitude towards these practices amused her very much. She
did not play herself, but, wrapped in her coat with its high fur
collar, stood by the side of the ground, leaning gracefully upon her
stick and giving advice and criticism on the play by means of a
remarkable flow of cutting remarks, directed chiefly against the
forwards and halves. According to her, they were slow and
hesitating, they used neither their sticks nor their feet properly,
their shooting was miserably feeble and their passing most inaccurate.
At any rate, Kitty reflected, Duane certainly seemed to know all
there was to know about the theoretical side of hockey. She also
seemed to have the knack of surprising everyone by pulling off the
most unexpected things, in an almost accidental kind of way. Kitty
was astonished that she did not feel so much annoyed and
irritated--as she certainly would have done three months ago--as
quietly amused. She put it down to the fact that she was getting
used to Duane and her ways.
She found that Bertha was quite a reliable partner to have at right
back; she was sturdily built, and, if inclined to be a trifle slow
against quick forwards, she stuck to them like a leech. She was a
queer, reserved girl with little to say for herself; Kitty divined
that there was a certain streak of sullen obstinacy in her character.
The day of the match came at last. Everybody seemed unusually
restless during afternoon lessons, and as soon as dismissal bell rang
there was a general stampede for the playing-fields.
The Carslake eleven gathered in a little group inside one room in the
pavilion. "Oh dear," sighed Peggy, "I feel most frightfully squirmy
inside. For mercy's sake, Edie, don't let any shots through."
"Can't help it sometimes," mumbled Edie, wriggling nervously.
"Don't look so glum, everybody!" cried Kitty, looking around. "We're
not beaten yet, you know."
The youngest members of the team brightened up at this, for there
certainly was something cheering in the sight of Kitty, looking so
vigorous and dependable. Kitty glanced curiously round at their
captain. That worthy stood in her favourite attitude--viz. leaning
gracefully on her stick, a well-worn weapon with a heavy crook, guard
and rubber-bound handle. She, too, was quite a striking figure in
her perfectly fitting tunic ending well above her knees, as
unperturbed as ever. "Time we were on the field," she said. "Just
remember this, please. Whatever happens, you forwards are to keep
forward."
"Here, Duane," remonstrated France. "You're not going to play with
that watch on, are you?"
"Watch?" said Duane, vaguely. "Oh--er--no, of course not. I quite
forgot it. Here, mind it for me, one of you kids."
"You've got shoes on too," struck in Margaret, reprovingly. "I
thought Miss Bryce said nobody was to play matches in shoes unless
she had pads on."
"Can't help it if she did. I never could play in boots--can't run.
Don't worry, Margaret. I'll look out for my shins if you'll look
after yours."
They all scrambled out of the pavilion and the two teams lined up on
the field. The school eleven certainly looked a stiff lot to tackle,
for Easthampton boasted of one of the best ladies' elevens in the
county. The centre-forwards bullied off and for the first twenty
minutes both sides continued to strain every nerve to keep up the
pressure. The wise prognosticated that the pace could not last; the
weaker side would not be able to keep it going.
On the wings France and Peggy, as fast as their opponents, were
always dangerous and several times carried the ball right to the goal
circle, but could not break through the school defence. Carslake's,
too, was defending gallantly against a dashing forward line. Duane
in the centre held Paddy and her two inners in check, and more than
one of the onlookers remarked, "Cato's playing a good game to-day."
The Carslake captain had quite a distinctive style. She never
appeared flurried, and, for hockey, was even unhurried. She played
with neat adroitness, using both stick and feet with remarkable
dexterity, invariably successful in robbing the attacker of the ball
just at the right moment and hitting away without pause, as hard and
accurate as a machine. The danger came from the wings, for the
Carslake half-backs were comparatively weak and too slow to hold the
school forwards. Kitty and Bertha found their work cut out for them
in that quarter, while, by a tacit understanding, Duane held the
centre.
But the pace was bound to tell. The end of the first twenty minutes
found the lighter side being slowly overwhelmed and pressed back.
The forwards made their attacking dashes at longer and still longer
intervals, while the halves were back with Kitty and Bertha,
resisting desperately. Twice Edith saved, but the school were not to
be denied. A furious attack swept the ball over the goal line, then
the left wing broke through, and when half-time sounded the school
were leading by two goals to nil.
The Carslake team walked off the field and into the pavilion, looking
tired and dispirited, with the feeling that worse things were in
store for them in the second half. Public opinion was the same, for
it was obvious that Carslake's were tired out and worn down by the
pace, while the school felt as fresh as ever when they thought of the
lead they had gained over their opponents.
"If it weren't just for a few--Duane, Kitty and Bertha," remarked one
of the team, "we'd be all over them, and they wouldn't have a look
in. Those three are as hard as nails, I know, but even they won't be
able to keep us out much longer. It'll be a walk-over next half."
Meanwhile, in the pavilion, the younger members of the Carslake team
dropped down wearily upon the nearest seats.
"Oh dear," gasped Daisy, "I feel nearly dead-beat."
"And I've got the stitch," added France, dismally, for the artist,
good though her intentions might be, was not in the form to stand a
gruelling match like this.
When Duane entered everybody seemed to glance spontaneously towards
her, as the central figure in the whole affair. After all, it was
she who was responsible for it.
She stood looking at them for a moment in silence. Her pale, rather
sallow-complexioned face was flushed, her hair for once was ruffled
and untidy; her light grey eyes shone vividly in their dark setting.
"Hallo!" she greeted them. "What are you all looking so dismal
about?"
"We're not looking dismal exactly," protested Peggy,
"but--well--they'll walk over us in the second half, Duane."
"And why on earth," demanded Duane, "should they walk over us?"
"We're dead-beat. I feel as if I couldn't run another step," with a
weary sigh. "I simply couldn't get past those backs."
"And I've got the stitch," added France, lugubriously.
"And my heel rubs."
"Oh, of course, if you're going to lie down on the grass and _let
'em_," said Duane slowly and with supreme scorn, "I've no doubt they
_will_ walk over you."
Peggy flushed. "Of course, we'll do our best. But all the same, it
was ridiculous to think we could do anything against the school
eleven."
"Well, naturally," said Duane, sharply, "if you're giving in like
this, it is hopeless. Only please realize that the match isn't over,
so we haven't lost yet. I haven't been accustomed to playing in a
team that sits down half-way through a match and says it's beaten.
I, for one, certainly don't admit it, and I'm going on playing and
sticking to it while I've a breath in me, if I'm the only one in the
team left on the field. You stick to me and I'll stick to you. I
will, on my honour, and what's more, I'll see you through somehow."
The last words came out in a rush. The girl was still facing them,
the blaze of an unconquered spirit lighting her brilliant eyes.
For a moment, nobody stirred or spoke. Then Kitty jumped to her
feet, and crossed over to the head prefect's side.
"I'm sticking to you, Duane," she exclaimed, clearly, driven by an
impulse she did not stop to analyse. "There'll be two to play on to
the end, anyway."
"And so am I," in Bertha's more deliberate tones.
"And I." France, too, sprang impetuously to her feet.
The spirit of the leader was as infectious as a disease. Everyone
was on her feet now, eager and enthusiastic. It was as if a flame
had suddenly been lit, spreading like a flash from one to the other.
It was a different team entirely from the one that had entered the
pavilion a few minutes ago.
Duane surveyed them a moment in silence. "That's better," she said,
quietly. "I guess, if you're not very big, you're game anyway."
"There's the whistle," cried somebody, and the forwards ran out
laughing and talking. The bigger girls followed more decorously.
Duane laid her hand lightly on Kitty's shoulder.
"Thanks, Kitty," she said, in a low voice.
"What for?" said Kitty, awkward and embarrassed. "For backing you
up? And what else should I do? You're the captain of this team."
The game began again after much the same fashion as in the first
half. The school eleven, who had expected to find their work much
easier now, were astonished to discover that their opponents were
playing with a new burst of energy and enthusiasm, sticking to it
determinedly. The spectators, too, were surprised, and generously
conceded that if Carslake's had rather too much cheek, their hockey
eleven certainly had plenty of grit.
The game went on, and no addition was made to the score. True, the
school forwards were getting most of the play, but they could not
break through the defence. Kitty cleared the ball away time after
time, vowing inwardly that they should not get through again. Bertha
stuck to it with sturdy resolution; that streak of sullen obstinacy
in her character served her in good stead now. Duane had lost a
little of her unflurried, machine-like precision, and nearly all of
her casual coolness, but her hitting was as clean and as hard as
ever, and Paddy was checked and held in her most desperate rushes.
France was gasping for breath, and Daisy was limping painfully.
"Hurt?" inquired Duane, as they halted for a twenty-five bully.
"No, not much," replied Daisy, bravely. "But I'm afraid I can't run.
I've twisted my foot over."
Somebody shouted out, "Buck up, the school! Only ten more minutes!"
"Get behind me," said Duane, quickly. "I'll play centre-forward for
the rest of the game."
Now Paddy had the ball. But before she could pass, Duane had tackled
her, taken possession of the ball, and swung it out to Peggy.
"Now then, Peggy!" she cried. "Take it down on the wing."
Peggy responded pluckily, and gathering all her remaining energies,
spurted for all she was worth, then centred wildly with her last
effort. Before anyone realized what was happening Duane had caught
the ball on her stick, passed the right-back with a swerving run, was
inside the circle, and without pausing had shot for goal. The ball
rose in the air, twisting and spinning, and passed between the posts
and far beyond like a streak of lightning.
The Carslake supporters cheered frantically at this unexpected
dénouement. But the next few minutes' play was still more amazing
and bewildering. Duane took the bully now, and with the adroitness
of one thoroughly at home at centre-forward, secured the ball and
passed it to her forward. But the forwards had fought so well that
they were almost "done"--little more could be got out of them. The
school forwards were on the ball and had swept it right to the goal.
Edith, on her knees, brought off the best "save" of her experience,
and Kitty cleared the ball away, hitting right down the centre with a
splendid shot to Duane, some instinct telling her what to do.
Duane stopped the ball with her foot and was off like a flash,
running like a hare and with a control of the ball that at such a
speed was amazing. The centre-half was out-distanced and Duane held
on her way. With a feint to the right she dodged round the back,
swerved sharply and, hardly pausing to steady herself, shot with all
the strength behind her strong arms and shoulders. The ball skimmed
over the ground and curled round the inside of the post. Carslake's
had equalized.
Dazed and taken aback, the school lined up in their places, hardly
realizing what had happened. Perhaps their astonishment was their
undoing, for Duane and Daisy had wriggled the ball through at the
bully, and before the school could pull themselves together, Duane
was racing down the field again. Just before she could be tackled
she passed the ball with delightful accuracy to France, who was quite
uncovered for the moment. To her everlasting credit, that budding
artist rose to the occasion nobly, for in spite of her "stitch," she
carried the ball well into the enemy's quarters and without
attempting what she knew was beyond her powers, centred again to
Duane. The pass was not an easy one, but once more Duane had bobbed
up in the right spot, and made no mistake in intercepting it. With
her amazing swerve she was past the first back, but before she could
shoot, the goalkeeper, running out, had tackled her. However,
Duane's stick was still behind the ball and the impetus of her dash
carried her forward a few staggering paces to drop on her knees just
beyond the posts, while the ball rolled gently over the line and came
to rest a foot or two beyond. It was one of the most curious goals
ever scored on the ground.
Duane was on her feet, a little pale, and panting audibly now; she
picked up her stick and walked back to the centre, unheeding the loud
cheering and commotion that was going on around. Hardly, however,
had play restarted, than the whistle rang out, loud and prolonged.
The great match was over, and Carslake's had defeated the Rest by the
extraordinary feat of scoring three goals in the last ten or twelve
minutes' play.