THE WIDTH OF A FINGER
AT chapel the next morning Mr. Fernald, the principal, after the usual
announcements had been made, lifted a newspaper from the table at his
side and ran his eyes over an item there. "I have here," he said, "a
copy of this week's Brimfield _Times_, which tells of an incident of
which I had not learned. In telling of a fire on Saturday night last
which destroyed a barn and damaged other buildings on the farm of Mr.
William Corrigan, some three miles from the village, the _Times_ makes
mention of the valuable assistance of a Mr. Grover Brady and four boys
of this school. According to the _Times_, Mr. Brady and four boys dashed
to the scene in a high-powered automobile, organised a bucket brigade
and saved"--Mr. Fernald consulted his authority again--"saved the
dwelling house from the devouring element. The metaphor is that of the
paper. Possibly the _Times_ is misinformed with regard to the heroic
young firemen, although I hope not. I should be very pleased to
discover that they were really Brimfieldians. If they were, if they are
before me at this moment, I trust they will signify the fact by standing
up. I'm sure we'd all like to know their identity and give them
well-deserved applause. Now then, will the modest heroes kindly reveal
themselves?"
Silence ensued, a silence broken only by a few whispers and some
shuffling of feet. Every fellow's eyes searched the room, or, at least,
that is true of almost every fellow. Tim smiled innocently and
expectantly at the principal, Clint studied the back of the head in
front of him most interestedly, Don observed the scar in his hand
absorbedly and Tom grinned because Steve Edwards was whispering from the
side of his mouth: "Why don't you get up, you bloomin' hero, why don't
you get up?" Harry Walton was smiling that knowing smile of his and
doing his best to catch Don's eye. And Don somehow knew it and didn't
dare look toward him.
"I'm disappointed," said Mr. Fernald after a minute. "Either the paper
is mistaken or the fellows are over-modest. Well, if they won't speak
for themselves perhaps someone else will volunteer to wrest them from
the obscurity they so evidently court. How about that, boys? Anyone know
who the heroes are?"
Again silence for an instant, and then, in various parts of the room,
the sudden moving of seats or tramping of feet as though someone was
about to get up. But no one did, and some of the younger boys in front
began to titter nervously. Mr. Fernald smiled and laid the Brimfield
_Times_ back on the table.
"No heroes amongst us, eh? Well, doubtless if any of you had been there
you'd have performed quite as well as these unknown young gentlemen did.
I like to think so. Dismissed."
"Do you think he suspects us?" asked Tom as he ranged himself beside Tim
on the way out. "Gee, I thought once he was looking right at me!"
"That's what it is to have a guilty conscience," replied Tim, in a
virtuous tone. "Of course he doesn't suspect. If he did he'd have named
us, sure as shooting. The funny part of it is that he hasn't thought
about what time the fire was! Maybe the paper didn't say. If he knew
that he'd probably be a sight more anxious to find us!"
"I was scared stiff that Harry Walton would blab. I didn't dare look at
him."
"Harry doesn't know you were with us. He recognised Don, or says he did,
and he naturally thinks I was along, but he doesn't know who the other
two were. If he opens his mouth I'll brain him."
"I guess he won't. He's a sort of a pup, but he isn't mean enough for
that. Gee, but it almost ruined my appetite for breakfast!"
"Even if Josh did find out," said Tim as they turned into Wendell, "he
wouldn't do much to us, I guess. It wasn't our fault the fire was late
in getting started, and the paper calls us heroes----"
"I don't believe it does. That's some of Josh's nonsense. I'm going to
get a copy of the _Times_ and see what it does say."
"Take my advice and let the _Times_ alone," advised Tim. "Why, I
wouldn't be seen with a copy of it in my possession! It would be
circumstantial evidence, or corroborative evidence or something horrid,
and I'd get pinched for sure. You keep away from the _Times_, dearie."
There was a good deal of interested speculation as to the identity of
the four youths who had participated in the rescue of Farmer Corrigan's
dwelling, but the general opinion was to the effect that the local paper
had erred. One fellow made the suggestion in Don's hearing that if
faculty would look it up and see who had leave of absence Saturday night
they might spot the chaps. Don sincerely hoped the idea wouldn't occur
to Mr. Fernald!
But interest in the matter soon waned, for Brimfield was to play Benton
Military Academy that afternoon and what sort of a showing she would
make against that very worthy opponent was a far more absorbing subject
for speculation. Benton had been defeated handily enough last year, but
reports from the military academy this Fall led Brimfield to expect a
hard contest. And her expectations were fulfilled.
Benton brought at least a hundred neatly uniformed rooters along and the
field took on a very gallant appearance. The visitors seemed gaily
confident of victory and from the time they marched into the field and
took their places in the stand until the kick-off there was no cessation
of the songs and cheers from the blue-clad cohorts. Coach Robey started
his best men in that game and, as was quickly proved, needed to. The
first period was a bitterly contested punting duel in which Rollins,
and, later, St. Clair came off second best. But the difference in the
kicking of the rival teams was not sufficient to allow of much
advantage, and the first ten-minute set-to ended without a score. In
fact, neither team had been at any time within scoring distance of the
other's goal line. When play began again Benton changed her tactics and
started a rushing game that for a few minutes made headway. But a fumble
cost her the ball and a possible score on the Maroon-and-Grey's
twenty-yard line and the latter adopted the enemy's plan and banged at
the soldiers' line for fair gains. A forward pass brought the spectators
to their feet and gained twenty-two yards for Brimfield, Steve Edwards
being on the receiving end of a very pretty play. But Benton stiffened
presently and Brimfield was forced to kick.
That kick spelled disaster for Brimfield. Rollins dropped back to near
his own thirty yards and sent a remarkable corkscrew punt to Benton's
twenty. It was one of the prettiest punts ever seen on the Brimfield
gridiron, for it was so long that it went over the quarter-back's head,
so high that it enabled the Maroon-and-Grey ends to get well down under
it and was nicely placed in the left-hand corner of the field. The
Benton quarter made no effort to touch it while it was bounding toward
the goal line, for with both Edwards and Holt hovering about him a
fumble might easily have resulted, and it was only when the pigskin had
settled down to a slow, toppling roll and it was evident that it did not
mean to go over the line that the Benton quarter seized it. What
happened then was little short of a miracle. Both Captain Edwards and
Holt took it for granted that the quarter-back meant to drop on the ball
and call it down, and, since there was no necessity to smother the
opponent, each waited for the other to tackle and hold him. But the
first thing anyone knew the Benton quarter had the ball in his hands,
had squirmed somehow between Edwards and Holt and was speeding up the
middle of the field!
Between him and the fifty-yard line friend and foe were mingled, and to
win through seemed a preposterous undertaking. And yet first one and
then another of the enemy was passed, team-mates formed hasty
interference for the runner and, suddenly, to the consternation of the
Brimfield stand, the quarter, with the ball snuggled in the crook of his
left elbow, was out of the melee, with a clear field before him and two
Benton players guarding his rear. Crewe made a desperate effort to get
him near the thirty-yard line, but the interference was too much for
him, and after that, although Brimfield trailed the runner to the goal
line and over, there was no doubt as to the result. And when the Benton
quarter deposited the ball squarely between the posts and laid himself
down beside it friend and foe alike arose from their seats and cheered
him long and loudly. Never had a more spectacular run been made there,
for not only had the quarter practically traversed the length of the
field, but had eluded the entire opposing eleven.
Benton deserved to secure the odd point by kicking goal, but
goal-kicking was the quarter-back's business and he was far too tuckered
to try, and so the player who did make the attempt failed miserably, and
Benton had to be satisfied with those six points. Probably she was, for
she cheered madly and incessantly while the period lasted and then spent
the half-time singing triumphant paeans. And those military academy
chaps could sing, too! Brimfield, a bit chastened, listened and
applauded generously and only found her own voice when the
Maroon-and-Grey warriors trotted back again.
Carmine had given place to McPhee at quarter and Holt to Cheep at right
end. Otherwise Brimfield's line was the same as in the first half.
McPhee opened his bag of tricks soon after play began and double-passes
and delayed-passes and a certain fake plunge at guard with quarter
running wide outside the drawn-in end made good gains and took the ball
down the field with only one halt to Benton's twenty-three yards. There
the military academy team solved a fake-kick and St. Clair was laid low
behind his line. Rollins made up the lost distance and a little more
besides, and finally, with the ball on Benton's nineteen yards on fourth
down, Captain Edwards called for a try-at-goal and Rollins dropped back
to the thirty. Fortunately the Maroon-and-Grey forwards held back the
plunging enemy in good style, Rollins had all the time he wanted, the
pigskin dropped neatly over the bar, and the score-board figures
proclaimed 6 to 3.
Benton kicked off and once more Brimfield started up the field, St.
Clair, Tim Otis and Rollins banging the line from end to end and Edwards
varying the monotony by sweeping around behind and launching himself off
on wide runs. But the advance slackened near the middle of the field and
an attempted forward pass was captured by Benton. That play brought the
ten-minute period to an end.
Benton tried the Brimfield centre and got through for four yards, hit it
again and made three and placed the ball on the home team's forty-yard
line. Time was called for Brimfield and Danny Moore trotted on to
administer to Gafferty. The left guard was soon on his feet again,
although a trifle unsteady, it seemed, and Benton, with three yards to
gain, swung into the other side and pushed a half-back through for the
distance. Carmine replaced McPhee and Holt went back to end position.
Benton once more thrust at Gafferty and, although the secondary defence
plugged the hole, went through for two yards. Time was again called and
this time the trainer led Joe Gafferty off the field, the latter
protesting bitterly, and Harry Walton was hurried in. Benton tried a
forward pass and made it go for a small gain and then, on third down,
got past Thayer and reached the eighteen before Carmine tipped up the
runner. Across the gridiron, Benton's supporters yelled mightily and a
second touchdown looked imminent.
Benton fumbled and recovered for a two-yard loss and then sent that
heroic quarter up the field to try a drop kick. It looked easy enough,
for the ball was near the twenty-eight yards and in front of the right
hand goal post. Captain Edwards implored his men to block the kick and
comparative quiet fell over the field. Back shot the ball and the
quarter's foot swung at it, but the left side of the Benton line
crumbled and Hall and Crewe flung themselves into the path of the ball.
Four seconds later it was snuggled under Tim Otis's chest near the
thirty-five yards, for Tim had followed the forwards through and
trailed the bouncing pigskin up the field.
That misadventure seemed to take the heart out of the visitors, and when
Brimfield, with new courage and determination, smashed at her line she
fell back time and again. Substitutes were sent in lavishly, but
although the right side of the Benton line stiffened for awhile, the
left continued weak. Coach Robey sent in Compton to replace Steve
Edwards and, later, Howard for St. Clair. With the best part of five
minutes left, Brimfield hoped to put over a winning touchdown, and the
backs responded gallantly to Carmine's demands. Near the enemy's
forty-yard line Rollins threw a neat forward to Holt and the latter
raced along the side of the field for a dozen yards before he was forced
over the line. That took the ball to Benton's twenty-one. Two tries at
the line netted but six yards and Compton took the pigskin on an
end-around play and just made the distance.
Brimfield hammered the enemy's left wing and reached her five-yard line
in three downs, but Benton, fiercely determined, her feet on the last
line mark, was putting up a strong defence. Tom Hall, captain pro tem.,
and Carmine consulted. A forward pass might succeed, and if it did would
win the game, but Benton would be watching for it and neither Holt nor
Compton was a brilliant catcher of thrown balls. A goal from the field
would only tie the score, but it seemed the wisest play. So Rollins
dropped back to the twenty and stretched his arms. But Benton was sure a
forward was to result and when the ball went back her attempts to block
the kick were not very enthusiastic. That was fortunate for Brimfield,
for Thursby's pass had been short and Rollins had to pick the ball from
the turf before he could swing at it. That delay was almost his undoing,
since the Benton forwards were now trickling through, and it was only by
the veriest good fortune that the ball shot between them from Rollins's
toe and, after showing an inclination to pass to the left of the goal
and changing its mind in mid-air, dropped over the bar barely inside the
post. Brimfield cheered and the 3 on the board changed to 6. Coach Robey
called Rollins and Tim Otis out, replacing them with Martin and Gordon.
Brimfield kicked off once more and, with a scant minute and a half to
play, the Maroon-and-Grey tried valiantly to add another score.
Carmine caught on his twenty and took the ball to the thirty-six before
he was stopped, and Brimfield cheered wildly and danced about in the
stand. Plugging the line would never cover that distance to the farther
goal line and so Carmine sent Gordon off around the left end. But Gordon
couldn't find the hole and was run down for no gain. A forward pass,
Carmine to Compton, laid the ball on the forty-eight yards. Howard slid
off right tackle for six and, on a fake-kick play, Martin ran around
left end for seven more. Brimfield shouted imploringly from the stand
and, across the field, Benton cheered incessantly, doggedly, longing for
the whistle.
The Benton team used all allowable methods to waste time. The timekeeper
hovered nearby, his eyes darting from the galloping hand of his watch to
the players. "Twenty-nine seconds," he responded to Tom Hall's question.
Carmine clapped his hands impatiently.
"Signals now! Make this good! Left tackle over! 27--57--88--16! Hep!
27--57--88----"
The backs swung obliquely to the right, Carmine dropped from sight, his
back to the line, Benton's left side was borne slowly away, fighting
hard, and confusion reigned. Then Carmine whirled around, sprang,
doubled over, through the scattered right side of the enemy's line,
challenged only by the end, who made a desperate attempt at a tackle but
failed, and, with only the opposing quarter between him and the goal
line, raced like the wind. About him was a roaring babel of sound,
voices urging him on, shouts of dismay, imploring shrieks from behind.
Then the quarter was before him, crouching with out-reached hands, a
strained, anxious look on his dirt-streaked face.
They met near the twenty-yard line. The Benton quarter launched himself
forward. Carmine swung to the left and leaped. A hand groped at his
ankle, caught, and Carmine fell sprawling to the turf. But he found his
feet like a cat, wrenched the imprisoned ankle free and went staggering,
stumbling on. Again he fell, on the five-yard line, and again the Benton
quarter dived for him. But Carmine was not to be stopped with the line
only five short yards away. He wrested himself to his feet again, the
arms of the Benton quarter squirming about his knees, plunged on a
stride, dragging the enemy with him, found his legs locked firmly now,
struggled desperately and then flung himself sidewise toward the last
white streak. And as he fell his hands, clasping the ball, reached
forward and a whistle blew.
It was said afterward that a half-inch decided that touchdown. And the
half-inch was on the wrong side of the line! Carmine wept frankly when
he heard the decision and Tom Hall had to be held away from the referee,
but facts were facts and Carmine had lost his touchdown and Brimfield
the victory by the width of a finger!
Benton departed joyously, cheering and singing, and Brimfield tried hard
to be satisfied with a drawn game. But she wasn't very successful, and
for the next few days the referee's decision was discussed and derided
and regretted.
What sorrow Don felt was largely mitigated when, after supper that
evening, Steve Edwards found him in front of Billings. "You come to us
Monday, Don," said the captain. "Robey told me to tell you. Joe
Gafferty's got a rib caved in and is out of it for a fortnight at least.
Get Tim to coach you up on the signals. Don't forget."
As though he was likely to!