HOW THE GAME BEGAN.
The game with Fairport was about to begin. Fardale had won the toss and
taken the southern goal to defend. A fluctuating wind was blowing from
the northeast, and the day was raw and cold.
The line-up of the teams was as follows:
FARDALE. POSITIONS. FAIRPORT.
Burrows Right end Wade
Stanton Right tackle Vance
Kane Right guard Stratton
Buckhart Center Taylor
Cogswell Left guard Powers
Blair Left tackle Holden
Kent Left end Gilson
Shannock Quarter-back Coleman
Nunn Right half-back Marley
Merriwell Left half-back Ringsdale
Singleton Full-back Emerson
Cogswell, the captain of the scrub, was to be given a trial in the place
of Gordan, who had not been entirely satisfactory as left guard in the
last game, while Kane had replaced Douglass, being quicker than the
former right guard. Kane was not new in the line, having been
substituted for Douglass on a previous occasion; but these changes led
some of the knowing ones to shake their heads and prophesy trouble.
Fairport turned out a stocky-looking set of fellows, most of them having
light hair, which led their admiring friends to allude to them as "the
Vikings." It was generally admitted that Fairport might give the home
team the hottest game of the season, and Fairport was confident it could
make a break in the wonderfully victorious career of the cadets.
The Fardale band was out and made things lively before the game. The
band could play well for youngsters, and blue noses and stiff fingers
did not seem to make any difference to-day.
Wrapped in furs and overcoats, the crowd shivered and watched from the
stand, while another gathering lined up at one side of the field, beyond
the ropes, to witness the game.
"Where is Hal?" asked Zona Desmond, who, of course, was on hand with
Doris Templeton. "I thought they were going to give him a chance to play
to-day. They’ve taken another fellow instead. Now, I don’t think that’s
just fair, do you, Doris?"
"I don’t know," answered Doris. "Perhaps they think the other fellow
better than Hal."
"I believe it’s just as Hal said—I believe they don’t mean to give him a
chance."
"I don’t believe anything of the sort."
"Why, you said——"
"Never mind what I said, Zona; I am sure he’ll get a fair show.
There—there he is with the substitutes."
"Sure enough; but not half the substitutes ever get a chance to play.
It’s easy enough to keep a man a substitute and never let him get onto
the field in a game. You said yourself——"
"Something I did not mean, perhaps."
"But you’re so queer, Doris!"
"Am I?"
"You are changeable. I don’t wonder that Hal doesn’t know what to think
of you. Do you fancy you treat him just right?"
"I don’t know; I haven’t thought much about it."
"I have, and I’m sure you have not treated him right. You know he has a
reason to expect a great deal from you."
"I do not know. I have never given him such a reason. I think he expects
too much."
"Well, you are enough to worry any fellow and keep him guessing,"
laughed Zona.
"The game is about to begin," said Doris, eager to turn the subject.
"Fairport kicks off."
The ball had been placed in the center of the field, and the two teams
were spread out. Emerson was ready, and the whistle sounded. A moment
later the full-back of the Vikings advanced and kicked. As the ball rose
a strong wind took it and carried it far to one side, with the result
that it was out of bounds when it was caught by a Fardale man. This made
it necessary for another trial, and the oval was brought back to center.
Emerson did better next time, driving the ball to Fardale’s fifteen-yard
line, where Nunn caught it. Steve did not try a kick, but ran at once,
dodging a tackler, having another blocked off by Stanton, and reaching
the thirty-five-yard line before being downed.
Fardale rose with a roar as Steve made this run. Fairport answered with
another roar when the captain was downed.
The line-up was sharp and quick, and Fardale opened its assault by
bucking Fairport’s center. Taylor was a big fellow, and, assisted by the
backs, he stood like a house until the ball was downed without a gain.
"Fairport!" roared the visiting spectators. "Fairport! Fairport!"
"4—11—Y—93—44—4," called Shannock, as the lines formed, and every
Fardale player knew an end-run was to be tried.
The ball was snapped quickly, and passed to Merriwell, who took it
deftly, without the least sign of fumbling, and was off. Shannock and
Nunn fell in as interferers, while the line did its best to withstand
Fairport’s charge.
Shannock came out round the end a bit in advance of Merriwell, and
Ringsdale, who was on hand, promptly tripped him in Dick’s path. Dick
jumped as Shannock went down, but Holden had broken away from Stanton’s
attempt to block him and was on hand, so that Merriwell was dragged to
the ground with a gain of only two yards.
But now the umpire promptly came forward and gave Fardale ten yards on
Ringsdale’s tripping of Shannock, which advanced the ball to the
forty-five-yard line. Then Fardale roared again, thus expressing its
satisfaction over the punishment meted out by the umpire to the
offenders.
As may be imagined, Fairport was not at all pleased. Ringsdale had
played the tripping trick thus far during the season without being
punished for it before, and the visitors felt hurt and wronged because a
just penalty had been imposed in this case. They started in to wrangle
over it, but were choked off at once, and the game progressed.
Things were going Fardale’s way, and it looked brighter when five yards
were made through Fairport’s right wing. Then, with the ball five yards
from the center of the field, Fardale grew too eager, both Kane and
Blair getting off-side on the next play.
The ball went to Fairport, which gave the visiting witnesses of the game
another opportunity to cheer.
"That’s bad, fellows," said Steve Nunn, shaking his head. "We had them
going. You must look out for that. We can’t afford to lose this game
through breaks of that sort."
But it quickly began to seem as if there was danger of having this first
break count against them heavily, for Fairport made full ten yards on
the first plunge through the right wing of the home team. This was so
encouraging to the Vikings that they repeated the play, only to find
this time that the right wing stood firm, and the ball was stopped
without a gain.
Then Fairport tried a trick play. Apparently Marley was sent to circle
the left end, but he passed to Ringsdale, who darted in the opposite
direction. Dick Merriwell took it for a double-pass, and laid for
Ringsdale.
The left half-back of the enemy, however, made a clever pass to Emerson,
although keeping right on. When Ringsdale came round the end Dick
Merriwell discovered he did not have the ball.
As no runner followed Ringsdale, Dick whirled to look for the ball,
discovering that Emerson had taken it through a big opening in the
center and was dashing down a clear field, Singleton and Shannock having
rushed to stop Marley.
Dick was disgusted, for once before during the season had the same trick
been worked on Fardale, and the members of the team had talked it over
till they felt certain that they were fully prepared for a repetition of
it. Both Cogswell and Buckhart had been fooled by the clever passing of
the enemy, and that explained why they had made the opening at center.
Dick was off after Emerson like a flash, but the full-back of the
opposing team had obtained a big start. However, the watching crowd was
electrified by seeing Dick Merriwell fairly flying in pursuit of the
runner and swiftly closing the gap.
Two girls on the seats rose and screamed in excitement.
"He’ll catch him!" cried Zona. "I know he will!"
"He’ll catch him!" echoed Doris, waving her flag. "Oh, how he can run!"
Dick strained every nerve, for he saw the case was desperate. Emerson
was a swift runner, and he drew nearer and nearer to the Fardale line.
The spectators were shrieking as Dick Merriwell shot forward through the
air and tackled Emerson, dragging him to the ground. Then it seemed that
half the players on the field, who had been trailing out after the
runners, came and slammed themselves down on the two.
When the piled-up mass of humanity had untangled it was found that
Emerson, although thrown inside the line, had managed to reach out with
the ball and was holding it on the ground six inches beyond the line.
"A touch-down!" shouted the Fairport crowd in joy.
Dick Merriwell’s splendid run had not availed to stop this score.
Emerson was pretty well used up, but he revived when they told him he
had made a touch-down.
The ball was brought out, and Wade was called back from the line to try
for the goal. Wade waited till the wind lulled, and then, seizing a
favorable occasion, drove the yellow egg twisting over the bar, while
the Fairport crowd yelled with joy.
There was a brief breathing-spell, during which the water-bucket went
round and the players took a drink and sopped a little over their faces,
for they were perspiring, in spite of the cold wind.
Now it was Fardale’s turn to kick, and Big Bob booted the ball up
against the strong gust of wind, driving it barely thirty yards from the
center. Kent ran under the ball, and was on hand to down the fellow who
caught it; but a fair catch was made, and Fairport retorted with a
return kick that sent the ball almost twenty yards into Fardale’s
territory.
With the uncertain wind against her, Fardale decided against kicking,
and Captain Nunn, who had the ball, sprinted with it. Gilson did his
best to pull Nunn down, but was blocked off by Shannock. Holden,
however, was on hand, and he tackled Steve at the fifty-yard line.
Now, Steve had been awake to all that was going on, and he knew who was
behind him. He saw he could not avoid being tackled. As he felt Holden
touch him, just as he was being dragged down, the Fardale captain
twisted about and passed the ball over his shoulder to Dick Merriwell.
Dick took the ball cleverly, and was off like a flash. Taylor made a
grab for him, but he crouched and escaped by a sidelong movement. Ten
yards he ran, and found Powers coming down on him. It seemed then that
he gave up, and Powers flung himself forward for the tackle.
At that instant Dick made a sudden spring and shot out of the reach of
Fairport’s right guard. On he went, twisting and turning. It was a run
through a broken field, and no more exciting play may be witnessed on
any gridiron.
Dick seemed cool enough, and it was plain his eyes did not fail to note
every danger. His strategy was wonderful, and the Fardale witnesses
roared and roared as he avoided tackler after tackler.
Stratton tried to get at the runner, but Brad Buckhart had fallen in for
interference, and he balked Stratton’s attempt.
"Whoop!" he gasped. "Go it, Dick. Wild mustangs can’t catch you now,
pard!"
But Emerson was laying for the runner, as young Merriwell saw. Having no
interference, Dick knew he must depend on his own skill.
Could he deceive the triumphant full-back who had lately made a
touch-down? He had been unable to stop Emerson from scoring, and a
fierce desire not to be balked himself by the fellow seized upon him.
Emerson was crouching, ready to tackle him, no matter which way he
turned. Dick did not hear the roaring of the spectators. He heard
nothing then, for every particle of energy within him was concentrated
on the task he hoped to accomplish.
As he approached Emerson, Dick bore to right. Yet in his manner the
runner suggested that he meant to dodge the other way, and Emerson was
prepared for the movement.
True enough, of a sudden, Dick seemed to make a dart to go past on the
other hand. Emerson whirled to meet him.
Then, like a flash, and in a most amazing manner, the runner changed his
course again, darting swiftly to the right.
Emerson was not steady on his feet when he turned and sprang to tackle
Dick, but he knew no moment was to be lost if he would stop the runner.
His uncertainty caused him to make a false spring, and he saw Dick go
clear of his grasp.
Then, with the Fardale witnesses shrieking like a lot of wild Indians,
Dick Merriwell continued down the field, having no tackler before him,
and shot over the line for a touch-down.