Nothing could have been more appropriate for exciting athletic affairs
than the name which had been given to this high school in honor of a
distinguished public servant, interested in education. It scarcely needs
to be explained that the football team of Lyon High was called the
lions, on and off the gridiron, or that posters and the school paper
carried fierce‐looking drawings and cartoons of the King of Beasts in
action. A golden yellow, relieved by black, in the costumes of the Lyon
High band and in the sweaters of the team was supposed to suggest the
tawny coat of what could “eat up” any other team in short order. Lions
figured largely in various badges and insignia of all sorts. Betty Lee
had early decided that she must some day wear one of the pins or rings
that bore the “Lyon High Lion.”
Oh, it was good to stow away books in the freshman lockers and hurry
with the rest of the big crowd to find seats in the stadium, seats where
one could see everything!
The girls lost little time at their lockers. “Come on, Betty,” called
Carolyn. “I’ve got some newspapers to sit on. Yes, I should _say_ bring
your coat! Your sweater won’t be enough. I promised Mother to wear a
coat and wouldn’t have needed to promise, either. I don’t care to freeze
myself.”
This was not the first game. That had been duly played in the home
stadium, not so long after Carolyn’s garden party, and Betty had felt
all the thrills of seeing the great stadium come to life for the first
time in her experience. After this big school, college could not bring
her more! Yet thrills could be repeated. Never would this place become
so accustomed, Betty was sure, that she would not have them. Then, this
was the GREAT GAME. It was the one between the two largest high schools
of the city and was an annual occurrence, long heralded, the great game
for which the teams prepared. There had been a lively meeting in the
auditorium beforehand, that very morning. The championship was at stake!
“Oh,” said Betty, “I don’t see how I can _stand_ it if the Lions don’t
beat!”
“Don’t suggest such a thing,” Peggy called back. “Of course we’ll beat!”
There was a large crowd, parents and friends included, as well as many
alumni of the high school, who were interested enough and loyal enough
to see at least this one chief contest every year. But Carolyn, Betty
and Peggy, with some of the other girls, were among the first among
those dismissed from the last Friday classes. Their season tickets were
punched at the stadium entrance before the stadium was appreciably
filled.
“We’ve a grand choice, girls. Hurry!” Carolyn tripped rapidly down the
steps in the lead.
“Down there, back of those boys, Carolyn!” called Peggy, who knew as
well as Carolyn the “strategic point” that they wanted to reach if no
one were ahead of them in securing it. “First come, first served here,
you know, Betty,” Peggy added, hopping from one high step to another in
a short cut.
Carolyn was spreading newspapers and holding them to keep them from
being blown away in the slight breeze. “Sit on ’em in a hurry,” she
laughingly urged, and settled herself on the further one, next to two of
the teachers, who were spreading out a steamer rug. “Sensible girl,”
said one, smiling down at Carolyn. “Is your coat warm enough?”
“Yes, Miss Heath, and we have on our sweaters beside. Peggy and I nearly
froze at the University stadium last week, so we bundled up this time.
Did you see the game with State, Miss Heath?”
“Indeed I did.”
“Good for you,” chuckled Carolyn. “You like athletics, don’t you?”
“Very much–when some one else does it.”
“But _you_ wouldn’t have time,” suggested Carolyn. This was the Miss
Heath whom all the girls liked so much, girls of any rank from freshmen
to seniors. She was always fair, though you had to work for her. No
“getting by” with poorly prepared lessons.
“No,” assented the adorable Miss Heath, “I’d have no time, not even for
setting up exercises.” She looked at her teacher friend, a lady from the
rival school, and laughed. “What do you think, Carolyn, would it be
polite for me to sing with you our school songs or do any rooting for
Lyon High when my friend from our rivals’ school is sitting right by me?
By the way, Miss March, this is Carolyn Gwynne, one of our freshmen. You
know the Gwynne place, out on Marsden Road?”
“Oh, yes, quite well. How do you do, Carolyn. I think I have met you at
your home. I belong to a club that met there last year.”
Carolyn said the appropriate remarks in reply and was fortunately not
obliged to decide what was the polite course for Miss Heath to follow.
So far as she was concerned, no scruples would have prevented her
enthusiasm for Lyon High, for the good reason that Carolyn forgot
everything but the game when the contest was on.
Peggy, and Betty, too, third in order from the teachers, leaned around
Carolyn to bow in friendly and respectful fashion, but at once they gave
their attention to the crowd and the field. On the track a few runners
were practicing, their costume looking very cool for the chilly fall
breezes. A few boys were standing about on the field or central
“gridiron.”
Betty filled her lungs with the fresh air that was not blowing too
sharply. She was accustomed to the curving concrete that rose high
behind her and stretched to right and left, to the field before her and
to the gymnastic or athletic performances that had seemed so queer at
first because of the larger numbers and the better equipment. By this
time, too, she knew the team, its best members and what they were likely
to do, though in the confusion of the game it was sometimes hard for her
to recognize a play.
As the game was with a city school today, there were as many or almost
as many rooters for the visiting team as Lyon High itself could offer.
As the seats filled rapidly, competition between rooters began. Rival
bands with tooting horns and rolling drums made a dramatic appearance,
paraded, and finally took position. Rival yell leaders led rival cheer,
though Lyon High, trained by its athletic director to good
sportsmanship, gave a complimentary yell or two for its guests, using
their own battle cries or merely giving hearty rah‐rahs for the rival
school and team.
Then the pandemonium was at its height when the teams ran out upon the
field and the excited youngsters on the stadium seats rose and shouted
their greetings. Betty stood and waved and gave the yells with the rest.
She might not have been long in Lyon High, but she was a part of it now!
It was her school! There! That was Freddy Fisher, upon whose plays so
much depended. There went that mysterious tall boy that somebody said
came from Switzerland and somebody else said was a Russian. My, but he
was an active chap! He was almost as good as Freddy, Chet Dorrance had
told Betty, but he didn’t always understand the signals and occasionally
the team was penalized for something that he did either accidentally or
on purpose. “He’s a hot one when he’s mad,” said Chet, “and I guess he
still thinks in his own language, whatever that is, though he likes to
play and learn all the new signals pretty quick, the coach says.”
“Peggy, there is your hero,” laughed Carolyn.
“Who?” inquired Peggy.
“The ‘Don.’”
“Oh, yes. I did say that he deserved as much glory as Freddy for that
last game, didn’t I? He gave such fine interference.”
“The ‘Don’?” inquired Betty, puzzled.
“They have him Spanish now, Betty. He’s been Russian, German, Hungarian
and I don’t know what all and I think the boys like to tease us girls by
making up something new about him all the time. But isn’t he sort of
handsome?”
“I’d hate to say, Peggy, if you like his looks,” countered Betty.
“Betty likes them fixed up and awfully clean, like Ted Dorrance, Peggy,”
mischievously said Carolyn.
Betty flushed a little, but smiled. “I have a brother, girls. He’s
better now, but time was when Dick would just as lief never wash from
‘early morn till dewy eve’ as Father used to say. ‘Aw, what was the use
of washing before breakfast when you had to wash right after it?’” Betty
gave a comical imitation of Dick’s tones.
“So after assisting in rounding up Dick to be washed and being
embarrassed more than once by his grimy looks, it’s no wonder if I like
’em clean at least. But I suppose I went through that time of hating to
be washed myself.”
“I doubt it, Betty,” answered Carolyn. “I think you are always dainty,
if you ask me.”
But now the time of the contest was at hand. More excitement and cheers
called for the attention of the rooters to duty. They yelled for their
own teams now, under the frantic leadership of active yell‐leaders. The
Lions’ little mascot, arrayed in his mask of a lion’s head and a suit as
tawny as the coat of the biggest lion in the “Zoo,” ran up and down,
waving large paws and trailing a long tasseled tail.
“Lions, rah!
Rah‐rah‐rah‐rah, Lions!
Eeney, meeney, money mi,
Lions win when they half try‐‐
Eeney meeney money mi,
Chew’em‐up! Chew’em‐up! _Lions_”
(Roar)
The influence of the living models at the Zoological Gardens, on whose
fearsome roars many of these high school pupils had been, figuratively
speaking, brought up, made this characteristic roar, with which many of
Lyon High yells closed, very realistic. It had been with a mixture of
startled surprise, amusement and admiration that Betty, Doris and Dick
had first heard it that fall. But now even Amy Lou tried to imitate it.
“Hickity, rickity, spickity jig!
Zippity soom and lickity rig!
The Lions are loose,
Get out of the way!
They’ll romp to the finish.
And Capture the Day Gr‐rr‐rr‐‐LIONS”
Another favorite yell was both prefaced and ended with a student roar
from the Lyon High part of the stadium. It was short and vigorous:
“Lions! Lions!
And they’re not tame!
Go it, Lions,
And _win that game!_”
Some unexplained delay gave time for a brief rendering of a short high
school song. “Make it peppy!” called the leader, “one stanza and a yell
for the team!”
This closed the preliminaries and in a tense stillness on the part of
the spectators the game began. From the first it was exciting, for the
teams were well matched. “Now let the Lions Roar,” was balanced by “Now
let the Eagles Scream,” in several good plays by each in the first
quarter.
The Eagles kicked off but lost their advantage almost at once. For a
little the struggle resulted in little gain for either side. A trick
kick failed. Line plays gained little. Both teams resorted to punting
and the Lions gained some yardage. Betty, Carolyn and Peggy shared some
tense moments when the Eagles’ quarterback made a good ran of
thirty‐five yards before he was pulled down by Peggy’s new hero, the
“Don,” who came in for much cheering from Lyon High rooters.
“Oh,” said Peggy, sitting back weakly, “I thought he was going to make a
touchdown! How did he get away?”
“I don’t know,” answered Carolyn, “but he’s a smart player, the best
they have. He’s Bess Pickett’s brother, you know.”
“He _ought_ to be somebody, then,” replied Peggy. “What a pity he
doesn’t go to Lyon!”
“We don’t need him,” proudly said Carolyn. “Wait and see Freddy Fisher
wiggle and twist out of–” but Carolyn did not finish her sentence for
interest in what was going on. She was, however, a true prophetess, for
as the quarter was drawing near its end, their Freddy caught an Eagles’
punt on his own ten‐yard line and raced through the entire Eagles’ team
for a touchdown, almost caught several times, while the excited
spectators stood and shouted.
“Get‐that‐man! Catch him! Catch him!” called the Eagles.
“Look out, Freddy! Go it! Get there!” shouted the Lyon High rooters. “A
touchdown Freddy! Atta‐boy!”
The Lyon High band struck up a victorious strain, while Freddy, once
more the conquering hero, lay upon his ball to get his breath.
During the second quarter there was no scoring. The Eagles were
determined to prevent further scoring by the Lions and risked little
punting. They were able, however, to spoil any fine little plans of the
Lions. Betty, who could not remember sometimes the various positions of
the players, though she could note their work, watched the vigorous
tackling and the opening struggles of the plays and found it necessary
to make an effort not to become too worked up over the contest. But the
Lions must win this time! They had barely won over the Eagles the year
before, but the championship was not at stake then for an outside team
had developed into one that had beaten both Eagles and Lions, and the
Eagles had lost one other game.
Time out saw some of the boys going out to the side lines and as they
returned, Ted Dorrance saw a vacant seat just below where our three
girls sat and vaulted into it. “Hello!” said he. “This is a better place
than I had before. Anybody rented it?”
“Not that I know of,” laughed Carolyn. “Some freshman we don’t know or
some outsider sat there, I guess.”
“He’s lost out now,” said Ted. “How are you ladies enjoying the game?”
Ted looked up at Betty as he spoke.
“It is a wonderful game,” sighed Betty, “but I can’t feel easy about our
beating yet!”
Ted laughed, drew a package of peppermint “life savers” from his pocket
and handed it up toward the feminine fingers. “Perhaps these will do you
some good,” said he. “As to feeling easy, nobody does, though some would
say so. But take it from me, girls, and keep it under your hat,
something is going to happen.”
“Oh, tell us, Ted!” exclaimed Peggy.
Ted shook his head in the negative. “Official secret. I happened to get
hold of it. Sh‐sh!”
Betty, with both dimples showing this time, for she really had two,
exchanged an amused glance with the merry Ted, who now whirled around as
several boys returned to take seats beside him, and one, looking up from
below to see no room there, hopped into another vacancy lower down.
“You’ll not have to fight for your seat, Ted,” remarked Carolyn. “Aren’t
you seniors proud of Freddy?”
“Yeah. But I wish this was a game where the coach could put in a few
substitutes. However, the other team is as bad off.”
As he spoke, the attention of all centered on the gridiron once more;
but Betty was handing Ted the little package of “life savers,” and as he
took it, he leaned back to whisper near her ear as she stooped, “Watch
the Don!”
Inquiring eyes met Ted’s with interest. He nodded. “Do as I said,” he
said jokingly, as he, too, turned to give his full attention to the
field.
Betty wondered. The “Don” was noted for his good interference. Were they
going to let him do something else? Anyhow she would watch him, as Ted
directed. How nice it was of Ted to tell her! But Carolyn had given her
an amused glance just after Ted had turned away. She must be careful or
those ridiculous girls would keep on teasing her. Not that she cared.
Very conservative, indeed, were the plays of the third quarter. Very
watchful were both teams. But the Eagles must score if possible, of
course, since the only score had been made by the Lions. Hard they
fought. Alas–the Lions were penalized for some breach of the rules by
Don, nothing serious, Ted said, just some little regulation about
“time”!
“That old heathen!” exclaimed Ted, looking back at Betty, who wanted to
ask Ted if this were what she was to watch Don for. “But just wait.
We’ll show them!”
Next in excitement came a fifteen‐yard holding penalty imposed on the
Eagles. But as if in desperation, toward the last part of the quarter, a
forward pass by the Eagles was successful, and Jim Pickett, clearing all
interference, made a seventy‐five‐yard run and a touchdown.
“_Now_ hear the Eagle scream!” exclaimed Ted. “What’s the matter with
our team that they let Jim get away with that? But it was a pretty run.
Jehoshaphat, we’re even now! No–they’ve lost the kick! Hooray, we’re one
ahead!”
Ted was either talking to himself or to the boys around him, but the
girls followed his boyish discourse with interest. And the next calamity
was even worse. In the next play one of the fiercest Lions was hurt.
They walked him off, but one arm hung limp and Ted, who again rushed
away to find out the damage, returned with the information that “Skimp’s
arm was broken!”
“Oh, will that let them beat us, do you think?” asked Betty, leaning
forward.
“Not necessarily,” replied Ted, “but it’s a big loss,” and Ted looked a
little grim. “Besides that, Freddy’s twisted his ankle, mind you!”
“But we mustn’t give up, Betty,” urged Carolyn. “We have to root all the
harder to encourage the team!”
What had become of the play Don was to make, Betty wondered–if that was
what Ted had meant?
The play of the third quarter, interrupted by much time out, went on to
the finish, the Lions discouraged and not doing their best, Ted said.
The Eagles made apparently easy gains and took every advantage, until
after a rapid advance toward their goal and in the last few minutes of
the quarter Jim Pickett made another touchdown by catching the ball
punted to his position and running free to the goal. In the excitement
the final point to be gained by the kick was again lost. But now the
Eagles’ score stood ahead! Where were the brave Lions?
“Well,” said Carolyn, “now comes the tug of war. It’s the last quarter
and everybody is tired out, and Freddy is limping off the field and it
doesn’t look so good!”
“Never say die, Carolyn,” Peggy cheerfully put in. “The boys aren’t
going to lose the championship without a fight!”
Ted had disappeared again. The Eagles were having a snake dance and
their band was parading, the forty pieces blaring triumphantly. “My,
they do play well,” said Betty. “It’s grand that the high schools are
big enough to have such music!”
“I can’t say that I appreciate the Eagles’ band right now, Betty,” said
Peggy, “and you won’t either, when you’ve been here a little longer.”
A gleam of hope seemed to arrive with bright Ted, who came jumping up to
his seat just below the girls and smiled as he sat down. “We’ll lick ’em
yet, girls,” he cried. “Freddy is resting a little and getting his ankle
bound up, and he’s going to play all right. They’ve a pretty good
substitute for Skimp; at least I think that Bunty will play a good game.
So all is not lost. Cheer up!”
The Eagles’ heroes were just as glad for a short rest as Freddy or any
of the weary Lions. Recumbent forms lay about the field, presumably
drawing strength from Mother Earth. Then, as the immense audience began
to grow restless over delay, heads were bent together, in conference
over coming plays, and the formation was made, while encouraging though
brief cheers came from the rooters. After all the singing, cheering and
rooting in every known way and the expenditure of considerable energy
and enthusiasm, the band, the cheer leaders and the occupants of the
seats in the stadium were tired enough to long for the close of the
game. Yet tensity marked the opening of the quarter.
“Let’s go,” suggested one of the teachers next to the girls. Carolyn
looked around in surprise, to see if it could be Miss Heath, usually so
loyal to the Lions. But possibly with the teacher from the other school
she rather hated to see the finish.
But no, it was not Miss Heath who had suggested going. “If you like,
certainly,” she was saying, “though it may be a little difficult to get
through the crowd.”
“That is so,” replied the other, “but I think the game is practically
over. Your big runner is injured and I scarcely think that the Lions can
do much, with the substitute that they have for that other boy. I saw
him play once before and he lost advantage once by fumbling when he
might have done something.”
“Oh, _can’t_ we ‘do much’!” said Carolyn, in a voice low enough not to
be heard by Miss Heath or her friend. “She thinks she’s so sure of the
Eagles!”
Peggy and Betty grinned back at Carolyn, but settled themselves to watch
the fray.
Again the struggle was on. Good! Freddy Fisher was running about as
actively as ever, watched by the Eagles. Twice the ball was given to
him, but although he did not appear to be lame as he ran, he could make
little headway before he was downed. The Eagles “screamed” again,
rooting loudly, and hoarse encouragement came from the ranks of the Lyon
High rooters. “Atta‐boy! Freddy, rah! Fight, fight, fight, fight!”
Then came the surprise. Betty had forgotten to follow Ted’s advice in
regard to watch “Don.”
Who had the ball this time? Betty was as surprised as any one to see
“Don” with the ball, freeing himself from immediate interference and
starting off. Oh, could he do it!
The surprised Eagles pounded after the mysterious foreigner while from
the Eagles’ rooters cries of “get that man! Get that man!” were wildly
repeated.
Betty’s heart was in her mouth. “What did I tell you!” Ted was shouting
to the boy next him, as the Lion rooters stood up in a body and cheered.
“Run for it, Don! Watch out for Matt! Look out there, Don! Hooray, they
didn’t get you that time!” In these and like phrases, the boys in front
of Betty and others expressed their feelings, while the lad on his way
was trying to escape his enemies, all too ready to recover from their
surprise and take measures to stop him.
Betty’s view was unimpeded. Now a tackler launched himself at Don. Oh!
Don stumbled a little! No, he got away and the tackle clutched the air.
“He’s free! he’s free!” cried Carolyn, jumping up and down.
Gaining a little on the pursuit, running with more confidence, the “Don”
sped down the long path toward the goal, the ball held tightly. Cheers
arose and the fierce roar of Lyon High in rejoicing followed the running
lad. A few Eagles still followed–but Don had escaped! The “mysterious”
player was to divide honors with Freddy in the championship game and
equal the number of yards won by the Eagles’ quarterback, Jim Pickett.
“He’s made it! He’s made it!” shouted Ted, embracing the boy next to
him, as Don completed his spectacular play and won his touchdown.
“Girls–what did I tell you, Betty! _Now_ watch the Lions do a snake
dance!”
The Lions’ second touchdown put them ahead and after that there was
nothing but grim effort, defence, blocking and wary play on both sides
until the quarter ended. The Eagles, indeed, tried one or two desperate
chances in the hope of scoring, but the Lions, with equal determination,
blocked their every attempt, while an almost silent stadium of
spectators watched closely every play.
Miss Heath was behind her friend as they climbed the steps of the
stadium, but happening to pass Betty and Carolyn, she gave Carolyn a
meaning smile and reached for Betty’s hand to give it a squeeze.
“She can’t _say_ anything, to gloat over our victory, of course,” said
Carolyn, “but I can’t help be mean enough to be gladder because that
other teacher was so _sure_ we were defeated!”
“What about the Don now, Betty?” asked Peggy. “If he isn’t so ‘slick’ as
some of the boys in dressing up, he was ‘slick’ in winning the game for
us, wasn’t he?”
“Oh, the Don’s all right!” said Betty. And just then she felt a hand at
her elbow. It was Ted, who thus boosted her up a few steps, telling her
that the plan was to make “them” feel secure and then “spring Don.” “So
long, girls–good game, wasn’t it?” Ted finally inquired, leaping up the
rest of the way and again joining the boys.
A tired but happy Betty clung to the straps of the crowded street car on
the way home. Doris was riding home in an automobile, with the little
daughter of a neighbor, but Dick grinned at Betty from the far end of
the car and joined her when they left it at their corner.
“Say, did you ever see a fellow as heavy as that foreign fellow looks
run like that? But he isn’t quite as slippery as Freddy. They might have
caught him if they hadn’t been so surprised. What became of Doris? I
didn’t see her there at all. I hope she didn’t miss it.”
“No; Marie’s folks were there, with her and Marie, and I saw Doris
getting into their car while we were waiting for the street car.”
“Just to think! We’re the champions of the scholastic what‐you‐call it.
Didn’t I _yell_, though at the last shot, when the last quarter was over
and the game ours!”