A Gift-goal for St. Cuthbert's
The directors of the Walsbridge Football Club had been badly "caught
out". They ran hither and thither in perspiring helplessness,
wondering vainly how to deal with the crowd, which swamped all their
turnstiles, and leaned its weight in threatening bulk against the
creaking wooden gates. Such a throng to see a schoolboys' match had
never entered into their calculations. Their turnstile men couldn't
take the money fast enough.
An urgent telephone message brought extra police, and the directors
themselves took off their coats and took on the admission-money at the
same time. Thus they packed the ground, with the result that every
tree and house-roof in the neighbourhood was speedily black with the
excluded spectators.
Such a multitude would have cheered the hearts of an adult club, but it
was more than a little unnerving to some of the schoolboy players.
Particularly awe-struck were Arkness and Osbody, who had brought
spring-rattles and tin trumpets with them, intending to make a cheerful
din under the blue sky of a spring day. Instead, they were bidden to
the captain's presence, and coolly told to slip their quaking limbs
into the shirts and knickers made ready for them.
"Oh, I say, it's not the first of April, Forge," Robin ventured to say,
pathetically. "You--you're pulling our legs, aren't you?"
"I shall faint straight away," chattered Osbody, looking white enough
to justify what he said.
"Buck up, youngsters," said Dick. "Don't get stage-fright. You'll
fall into your stride after a bit."
"But--but it's so--so awfully unexpected," Robin stammered. "W-W-Why
are we p-p-playing, Forge?"
"Because I wish you to, kid," answered Dick. "Isn't that enough?"
Robin pulled himself together and somehow conjured up a smile.
"It's enough for me," he replied. "I'll stick it out till I'm carried
off the field on a shutter."
"You'll both be as right as rain," said Dick encouragingly. "I'll look
after you, so don't worry."
His reassuring manner masked nervousness, nevertheless. The fellows
were inclined to take offence at the watering down of the team by the
inclusion of Juniors, and Dick was amazed to find them saying nasty and
disheartening things to Osbody and Arkness.
"Give the youngsters a chance, chaps," he said. "Be sportsmen!"
None of them cared to continue baiting the kids after that, for Dick
had a straight way with him which made defiance of his will an
uncomfortable business. Ennis, who had said nothing at all, had the
good grace to go on the opposite tack by cheering the youngsters up, an
example which Lyon and some others followed, and the team generally
felt lighter in heart when a better feeling prevailed. To start
divided amongst themselves would be like making a present of the match
to St. Cuthbert's.
Outside the dressing-room Dick was hailed by "Chuck" Smithies, very
quietly dressed, for him, in navy blue, and quite obviously relishing
an excellent cigar.
"One of the clinking brand which came from your sporting aunt, sonny,"
he said. "Oh, I guessed it was she! Is she here? No? Sorry--I'd
have liked to thank her personally. I don't usually attend these
games, laddie, but I determined to come here with clean hands. Haven't
booked a single bet on the match. What a crowd! No village idiot or
tomfool mascot about on this occasion, I trust? Good! Then go in and
chew their ears off."
"Chewing the ears off" St. Cuthbert's would have been easier if they
had left Bessingham out of the team. But the Octopus was there again
in all his might, heart-and-soul in the game from the kick-off,
bringing Fox after Fox within uncomfortable range of his long legs, and
brushing aside Robin Arkness's plucky attentions as he would have swept
a fly from his forehead.
The great crowd made delighted noises as Bessingham coolly broke up
every attack, and they laughed good-naturedly at Osbody's ludicrous
attempts to get somewhere near the ball. The wily Cuthbertian forwards
made rings round the lad, who, in desperation, lunged blindly at the
ball, and kicked it the wrong way. Taken by surprise, Lyon tried to
intercept it, but only succeeded in turning it out of the reach of
Ennis, who had the mortification of watching it bob into the goal at
the top corner. Lyon and Osbody between them had scored for St.
Cuthbert's in the first ten minutes of the game, and that one luckless
goal might all too probably settle the ownership of the Cup.
Thus early, then, had Dick's insistence on his own way brought
humiliation to Foxenby. Clowes would never have made such a glaring
error as to kick towards his own goal on a still afternoon like this.
Clowes would never have let the Cuthbertians cross the half-way line,
of course. But then, Clowes didn't happen to be there. He had
preferred the fleshpots of Egypt to the County Schools' Cup, and to
blame the captain for his absence was short-sighted and unfair.
Blame him they did, all the same. Why had he left Harwood at home?
Furthermore, with reserve players to choose from who were bigger and
brawnier by far, why did the obstinate beggar insist on including two
scuttling Juniors, both of whom were trembling like leaves now under
the hypnotic influence of the Octopus?
Fortunate beyond words was it that Lyon proved himself, for the
remainder of that scrappy half, almost as great a full-back as the
Octopus. He was unjust to himself to take bitter blame for putting the
ball through his own goal, but the remembrance of that smarting reverse
spurred him into a dazzling exhibition of defensive play. The
Cuthbertian forwards could never get round him. He was full-back and
centre-half combined, kicking and heading with splendid accuracy,
keeping Ennis's hands idle for half-an-hour, smothering every shot in
the locker of St. Cuthbert's helpless forward-line.
"They'd never have scored in a blue moon if Osbody hadn't managed it
for them," groaned Lake, at half-time.
Dick levelled a straight look at the grumbling forward. "Remember the
proverb about people in glass-houses, Lake," he answered. "We haven't
shown much scoring form ourselves."
As though to pile on misfortune, Clowes and Broome turned up by a later
train--full of useless apologies, of course, but seemingly rather glad
of the important difference which their absence from the side had made.
"I think, Forge, if you were to put it fairly to the Octopus, he would
consent to us going on instead of Arkness and Osbody," said Broome.
"Don't make childish suggestions, Broome," said Dick. "And please
don't flatter yourselves, either of you, that I'd take you on if I
could. Better a willing pair of Juniors than a couple of slacking
Seniors."
Having sent this well-deserved shaft home, Dick took Arkness and Osbody
quietly aside, and spoke to them also for their good, but in a very
different way.
"Do you know," he said, "I think we're all three a jolly sight more
polite to Bessingham than we need be. We rot round him too much, and
help him to become the darling of the crowd. Has it struck either of
you that St. Cuthbert's are playing a deal worse, on the whole, than
they did last time, when you two were spectators?"
"Why, yes," agreed Robin. "They peppered Ennis with shots then--he's a
looker-on to-day."
"Exactly, kid. Now there's a golden chance for you two to come right
into the limelight if you'll only take a friendly tip from me. I want
you to forget you're footballers, and to try to fancy that you're
nurses spoon-feeding me and Meynard--he'll catch forward passes up with
his raking stride, never fear. Stop thinking for yourselves--become
feeding-machines pure and simple. Are you game?"
"Rather!" the two Juniors cried, in delighted agreement.
"That's good. You two are keen rivals, I know, but you both rather
admire each other, and I want you to realize this afternoon that you're
pulling together in a great cause--for the honour and glory of Foxenby,
to wit. Come, now, shake hands on it!"
Out shot the hand of Robin Hood, and the leader of the Squirms grasped
it eagerly.
"Bravo!" cried the captain, as he turned to lead his men on to the
field again. "Follow me, boys. We're all going out to the very last
ounce this half!"