A RATTLING GAME
The lights went out in a second.
"Great Scott!" whispered Melvin. "It's Beansey. I didn't think it was
anywhere near time for him to be around again."
Again came the knock, a little more impatient and imperative this time.
"Open the door," came a voice that they had no difficulty in recognizing
as that of "Beansey" Walton.
The boys huddled together, scarcely venturing to breathe.
"Who is there?" drawled out Melvin, in a voice that he tried to make as
sleepy as possible.
"It's me, Mr. Walton," was the response.
Melvin had an inspiration.
"Not on your life!" he shouted. "You're one of those lowbrows from
Number Two trying to play a trick on us. Mr. Walton wouldn't say: 'It's
me.' He'd have said, 'It is I.' Now, go 'way and let us sleep. We're on
to you, all right."
There was a moment of awful silence and then they heard the steps of
their visitor going softly and swiftly down the hall.
The boys were nearly bursting with laughter at Melvin's audacity, and
when they felt sure that it had really succeeded, they broke out in a
roar.
"And it worked!" shrieked Slim, rolling over and over. "By jiminy, it
really worked! Mel, you're a genius. I take off my hat to you."
"You covered yourself with glory that time, old man," said Fred, as soon
as he could speak for laughter. "Beansey will never get over it. Can't
you see his face, as he faded away down the hall? The fellows in the
other dormitories will be green with envy when they hear about it."
"It was nip and tuck," grinned Melvin. "I just took a chance that
Beansey would rather let us go than to own up that he'd made a slip in
grammar. But even now, we're not safe. He might think it over and come
back. Let's get a hustle on and remove these evidences of crime."
In three minutes more, everything was set to rights, and the boys
slipped in between their covers, theoretically to sleep, but actually to
lie awake and chuckle for a long time, at the way they had "put one
over" on the monitor.
The day for the football game with Lake Forest was rapidly drawing
nearer. Under the steady practice and hard work through which Granger
put his team, it was swiftly rounding into shape.
Although at first the other boys had the advantage over Fred of having
played a long time together, and of knowing just what to expect from one
another in any crisis of the game, his quick mind and keen ambition soon
put him on a level with them in that respect, and he had developed into
one of the mainstays of the team.
None had appreciated this more than Tom Eldridge, whose place Fred had
taken at fullback, but there was not a trace of envy in the way he stood
around the side lines, leaning on a stick, and applauding every
brilliant play of his successor.
"You're a star, Fred," he said to him one day after an especially
sparkling bit of strategy. "You can play rings around the Lake Forest
fullback. And he's no slouch, either."
"You must put me on to his style," said Fred; and together they worked
out a scheme of offence and defence that they hoped would bring victory
to Rally Hall.
There was a good deal of anxiety as the day of the game drew near. The
last time the elevens had met, Lake Forest had won by two touchdowns,
and it was reported that they were fully as fast this year.
"They've got a cracking good team and no mistake," admitted Melvin.
"They're a bit heavier than we are in the line, but I think we have it
on them in the back field. But it'll be a fight for blood from the first
kickoff, and I don't look for a big score, whichever side wins."
Professor Raymond, who himself had been a crack player on his own
college eleven, worked hard to get the team into first-class shape. He
had been much worried by the accident to Tom, but, as he watched the
work of Fred, he soon reached the conclusion that the team had been
strengthened rather than weakened.
So that it was with strong hopes of a successful outcome that Rally Hall
went into the fight on the day of the great game.
It was a beautiful day, with just enough snap and coolness in the air to
make it perfect for football. The game was to take place on the Rally
Hall grounds, and Big Sluper, the janitor, with his assistants, had
outdone themselves in getting the gridiron into fine condition.
Long before the time set for the game, a great crowd had gathered. Of
course, every member of the school was there, ready to yell for his
favorites, and, in addition, everybody in Green Haven who had a drop of
sporting blood in his veins had journeyed out to see the gridiron
battle.
Lake Forest had sent down a large crowd of rooters with the team, and
while, of course, they were in the minority, they were chock full of
enthusiasm, and prepared to make up in noise what they lacked in
numbers.
"How do you feel, Fred?" asked Melvin, as they were getting into their
togs.
"Like a fighting cock," replied Fred, doing an impromptu jig. "If I felt
any better, I'd be afraid of myself."
"Great!" said Melvin. "I feel the same way myself. We'll sure bring home
the bacon."
"Here they come!"
There was a roar of greeting, when the Lake Forest team trotted out and
began passing and falling on the ball. But the roar became thunderous
when the Rally Hall boys came into view.
"They're sure giving us a royal send off," commented Billy Burton, "and
it won't do to disappoint them. We've simply _got_ to win."
The Lake Forest captain won the choice of goals, and Rally Hall
therefore had the kickoff. Amid a breathless silence, Fred measured the
distance, gave a mighty swing and sent the ball sailing down toward the
enemy's goal. Adams, their left end, made a good catch, but before he
could run back with it, Billy Burton downed him in his tracks. The team
lined up for the scrimmage on Lake Forest's forty-yard line, and the
game was fairly on.
It soon became apparent that the teams were very evenly matched, and
that neither would have a walkover. Back and forth they surged, neither
able to make a definite gain, though most of the time it was in Lake
Forest's territory. Each of the teams had the ball in turn, only to lose
it before the fourth down could be made, so stubborn was the resistance.
Melvin, at centre, stood like a rock against the enemy's charges, while
Billy, at quarter, reeled off the signals as steadily as a clock. Slim
Haley, with his great bulk, was a tower of strength at right guard, and
Madison and Ames did some savage tackling. Fred, at full, did the work
of two ordinary players, and was ably helped by Thompson and Wayland,
the two halfbacks. But neither side scored, and it began to look like a
goose egg for each, for the first quarter.
It was two minutes from the end of the quarter, and the ball was within
thirty yards of the Lake Forest goal. Ensley, the enemy's left halfback,
had the ball, but in his eagerness to advance it, he fumbled it, and
Billy Burton pounced upon it like a hawk. Like lightning, he passed it
to Fred, who dropped back for a kick. The enemy's line bore down upon
him, but too late. He lifted the ball into the air, and it soared like a
bird above the bar between the posts. The Lake Forest rooters looked
glum, and the home team's supporters went wild with joy.
Just then, the whistle blew, and the quarter ended, with the score three
to none, in favor of Rally Hall.
"Some class to that kick, Fred!" cried Melvin, while the rest of the
team gathered around and patted him on the shoulders. "I never saw a
cleaner goal from field."
"All we've got to do now is to hold them down, and the game is ours,"
exulted Ned Wayland.
But "holding them down" was no easy task. The lead they had gained put
their opponents on their mettle, and they fairly ran amuck in the second
quarter. By successive rushes, they worked the ball down the field. At
the ten-yard line, the Rally Hall boys braced, and the enemy lost the
ball on downs. A fake forward pass, splendidly engineered by Billy and
Fred, would have saved the day, but Ned, who received it, slipped, just
as he turned to run. The ball dropped from his hands, and Burns, of the
Lake Forests, grabbed it on the bound and went over the line for a
touchdown.
"Five points for Lake Forest!" yelled one of their rooters.
"Six points, you mean," shouted his neighbor. "Wake up."
"Why, I thought a touchdown counted five," was the answer.
"It used to, but under the new rules it counts for six."
"So much the better! We need every point we can get," the other
chuckled. "See, there's another one to the good," as Burns kicked the
goal.
"Hurrah! That's the way to do it!"
"Now keep it up, Lake Forest!"
"Hurrah! hurrah!"
It was now the visitors' turn to cheer. They shook their rattles, blew
their horns, danced up and down and yelled like madmen.