HAMMER AND SMASH
With a graceful curve the pigskin sailed down the field, high over the
heads of the eager, waiting Blue Hill lads, beyond even their full-back
who had not stationed himself far enough in the rear. He had to do a
nimble sprinting act before he was ready to receive the spheroid on his
ten yard line. Then, tucking the leather close to his chest, and with
head well down he ran low back toward the Kentfield goal.
"Get to him, boy, get to him!" cried Dick. "We mustn't let 'em gain an
inch if we can help it."
Like hounds from the leash, the young millionaire and his companions
raced toward their quarry, and an instant later the two eager advancing
lines met, eleven straining lads trying to bore in through ten others
and get at the man with the ball.
Frank Rutley got him--it was Tod Kester, the big centre and Tod went
down, a young mountain of flesh piling on top of him and the plucky left
tackle. Now the real battle was about to begin, and the engagement was
not long in opening.
"All ready. Kansas City--four hundred--six--eleven--twenty-six!"
Thus the sharp tones of Joe Bell the Blue Hill quarter, as he signalled
his men. Then came a rush and there was a terrific impact on that part
of the Kentfield line guarded by Paul Drew and Frank Rutley. It was a
strain, but they stood it, and the wave of struggling humanity, in the
centre of which was the Blue Hill left-half with the ball, was dashed
back.
"No gain! That's good!" muttered Dick. "We're holding 'em!"
Again came the signal, and once more that terrific impact, but this time
on the other side tackle and guard. Evidently Blue Hill was trying to
find the weak spots.
Still again did Kentfield withstand it, and tossed back into their own
territory their aggressive enemies.
"Watch out for a fake kick," Dick warned his chums, and they closed
in--all but Hal Foster the full-back, who would not be drawn in to his
disadvantage.
There was a quick signal, and a forward pass was tried. It came at a
time when Dick and his chums were expecting either a kick or a fake
kick, and showed what chances Blue Hill was willing to take. But they
made good, for they gained several yards, and had the ball this much
nearer Kentfield's goal. Dick felt a little sinking feeling at his
heart, but he smiled bravely.
"We'll stop 'em next time," he said grimly.
Hammering and smashing again became the order of play, and at
Kentfield's line came the Blue Hill lads with bulldog tenacity. But they
had no weaklings to meet, and after a try through Drew and Rutley again,
they endeavored to circle Weston's end. But the former crony of Porter
was on the alert and like a snake he wiggled through the protecting
interference and got his man when only one yard had been gained. Then to
give his men a breathing spell Captain Haskell called for a kick, the
ball being punted to Kentfield's fifteen yard line. Tom Coleton ran it
back five yards before he was downed by a fierce tackle from Ned
Buchanan, and then Dick and his mates had a chance to show what they
could do.
"Smash 'em! Smash 'em!" murmured Paul in memory of his former game.
"Everybody keep cool," counseled Dick. "We don't want any penalties.
Play a clean game. Get ready now."
In snapping tones he called the signal. It indicated that some sequence
plays were to be tried--plays for which no further intimation would be
given.
Between left tackle and guard plunged Ray Dutton, and before he could be
stopped he had planted the ball five yards in advance toward Blue Hill's
goal.
Another line up, and Hal Foster came plunging through a big hole that
had been torn for him between centre and right guard. On and on he
came, wiggling and squirming to gain every inch. In vain did Captain
Haskell call on his men to stop the play. Kentfield seemed irresistible,
and eight yards were reeled off, the grandstand contingent of our
friends going wild with delight.
But Dick and his mates paid little attention to this. They had other
matters to occupy them. There was another play to be made.
In silence, broken only by their panting breaths, the cadets again lined
up, and as Jim Watkins passed the ball back to Dick, the latter shoved
it into the waiting arms of John Stiver. John was on the run and with
the aid of Rutley he sprang eagerly into the hole between the opposing
left tackle and end, being preceded by Dutton who saw that the way was
clear. It was a smashing attack, delivered at the right moment, Tom
Coleton following in to see that no fumble was made. But none was, and
ten clean yards were ripped off, a bigger gain than Blue Hill had yet
made.
"Now, again, boys!" yelled Dick in delight, and now he gave the signal
for an end run, that his panting lads might have some relief. It was
Dutton's cue to take the ball around to the Blue Hill right end. But
this was not so successful, as several of the opposing players were on
the alert and were ready to nail him. He ran to one side and was
actually forced back a yard before he went down.
"It might be worse," said Dick cheerfully. "We'll try it differently
this time."
An on-side kick netted a good gain, and then came a forward pass, which
was not so successful. There was a fumble--just whose fault it was could
not be said--and one of the Blue Hill players fell on the ball while
wild yells from their supporters told of the joy in their camp.
"Watch out now!" warned Dick again. But there was no kicking or trick
play. Blue Hill was evidently going to depend on her slightly superior
weight, and retain her line-smashing tactics. At Kentfield she came with
a rush that carried her opponents off their feet for the time.
"Hold! Hold!" yelled Dick desperately, and his men tried to do so.
"Go on! Go on!" screamed Haskell. "Smash 'em to bits, but get through!"
Dick was watching for any slugging, but his opponents seemed to be
playing a clean game. On came the man with the ball, and twelve yards
had been ripped out through the very centre of the line of our heroes
before they managed to nail Tom Hughes, who was worming his way forward
with the pigskin.
So terrific was the next impact that Paul Drew went down and out and a
pail of water was hastily called for. He was well soaked and massaged,
until his breath came back with a gasp.
"Can you stay in?" asked Dick anxiously.
"Sure!" panted Paul, but his voice was not as strong as his captain
would liked to have heard it.
"Stand by him," whispered the young millionaire to Frank Rutley. "They
may try to put him out again."
Full two minutes were taken out to enable Paul to feel more like
himself, and Dick was not mistaken when the next play was made. It was a
terrific attack at Paul's place in the line. But sturdy Frank Rutley was
ready for them, and John Stiver was also on the alert, so that when the
Blue Hill's right half came plunging forward this time, he was met with
such opposition that he reeled back gasping.
"Don't try here again!" called Frank to him significantly, and Paul
breathed a bit easier. He was rapidly regaining his strength.
But though the attack had thus been hurled back once, the next time was
not so successful and through a wide gap came the man with the ball with
such fierceness and speed, that he reeled off fourteen yards, and now
the pigskin was on Kentfield's thirty yard line.
"Look out for a try for goal," warned the captain, for he heard reports
that Blue Hill had been practicing that for the past week, putting in a
new man who had great abilities in the kicking line.
But the kick did not come, though the visitors made a fake attempt. It
was only partially successful, however, and there was a fumble which
enabled Dick to slip in and get the ball on a bounce. He was in two
minds about what to do, but having sized up the mode of his opponents'
playing, and reckoning the time left in the half, he decided to punt the
ball back instead of keeping it and trying to advance it by rushing
tactics.
"That will tire them if they want to begin smashing at our line again,"
he reasoned, "and will let Paul have a little more time. We're holding
them all right, and maybe we can tire them more than they will us."
Thus in a flash he outlined his policy and sent the leather hurling back
over the heads of the half-maddened Blue Hill lads who were chagrined at
their fumbling.
"Come on!" cried the captain of the Kentfield lads. "We want to down
their man in his tracks if we can."
It was almost done, and in fact the runner only managed to gain a few
yards before he was fiercely thrown by Innis Beeby.
Again came that seemingly wearying, and never-ceasing attack on the
line. But Dick's men were on the alert, and though another attempt was
made through Paul he held firmly.
The pace was beginning to tell though, and panting breaths and
palpitating hearts murmured their story. Dick resolved on more kicking
if he got a chance at the ball. But it seemed that he was not to get
it--at least right away. Once more up the field it was being advanced by
short sharp rushes. Blue Hill seemed content to keep on with her bulldog
playing, perhaps trusting that her men would last longer than would
Dick's.
There was no denying the strength of the opponents of Kentfield. They
were trained to the second, and the two coaches whom Dick's money had
secured began to be a little direful of the result.
"Can they stand it?" asked Mr. Spencer of his colleague.
"Well, if they don't they're not what I think them to be," was the
convincing answer.
The cheers and songs of the Blue Hill contingent seemed to give them
added strength. They still had the ball, in spite of all the efforts of
Dick and his men to hold them, to force a kick, or to get through and
block the plays. Steadily and surely the leather was nearing the fatal
line.
"Look out boys! Look out!" warned Dick. "Play hard."
He himself was working like a Trojan, getting into every opening, taking
all kinds of hard knocks, really doing more than his share. Nor were
there any shirkers in all the eleven. Hal Foster, at full, instead of
staying back to be on the watch for kicks, or to block men who got
through his mates, played well in. There was need of it, for Kentfield
was being shoved back, and every ounce of weight to back her up told.
"Hold boys, hold!" begged and pleaded Dick desperately. He saw his goal
line being menaced and it seemed as if Blue Hill, as she came nearer
striking distance, grew wild with desire to cross it.
The fatal play came with such suddenness that it almost took the heart
from Dick's cadets. After a smash at centre, which was hurled back, and
a try between left tackle and guard, which netted only a yard, there was
a quick shift to one side on the part of the Blue Hill players.
An instant later Dick saw Rud Newton, the stocky left half-back burst
through with the ball under his arm. Like a flash the young millionaire
sprang to tackle him, but he was not quite heavy enough, and Rud broke
away. Full-back Foster was now Dick's only hope, but to his dismay he
saw that Hal had been drawn in, and was now hopelessly entangled in the
mass of his own and the opposing players.
There was not a soul between Newton and the Kentfield goal, and toward
it the left half was now sprinting with all his speed. Dick gave a gasp,
sprang to his feet and was off after him like a flash. But Newton had
too much of a start, and the best the captain could do was to vainly
touch him with outstretched hand a yard from the goal line. In another
second Newton was over and had touched down the ball.
The first score had been made against Kentfield and the heart of Dick
was sore as he slackened his pace and watched his own men and those of
Blue Hill running up to witness the first act of the drama that meant so
much to all of them.