A SCENE NOT DOWN ON THE BILLS
Columbia enthusiasm broke out louder than ever when the
intermission between the two halves was called. Their boys had
thus far not only held their own, but scored more than twice as
heavily as the enemy.
Still, the Clifford enthusiasts did not appear to be downcast.
"Wait," they kept saying mysteriously on all sides, while shouts
of encouragement went out to Hastings and his doughty warriors.
"What do they mean by that?" asked Mr. Allen, of the man from
above, who sat near him on the bench of the grandstand.
"Well, Clifford is a slow team to get started. They always do
better in the second half of a game. That with Bellport was a
fake, because their signals had been given away. They learned this
when the first half had been played. It made them savage. The
result was Bellport didn't score again, and Clifford made a few
points before the end came. They'll wake up presently!" was the
confident reply.
Among the most enthusiastic of the vast crowd was Minnie Cuthbert.
She waved her little banner and joined her voice in the general
clamor, for the mad excitement had seized girls as well as boys
and men.
And yet all the while she seemed to have eyes for no one but the
agile captain of the Columbia team. Wherever he happened to be,
her gaze was either openly or covertly upon him.
Again she saw Frank wave his hand cheerily, and looking in the
direction where his attention seemed to be directed, she
discovered that Helen and Flo Dempsey were flourishing bouquets of
flowers made up of purple and gold, to illustrate the school
emblem.
And, moreover, Minnie understood full well that these had
undoubtedly come from the conservatory of the Allens. Somehow, it
pained her to know it. From that time on she resolutely set her
eyes toward anyone on the field, so long as it was not Frank.
There was much consultation during the rest spell. Coaches and
captains had their heads together, trying to ascertain if it were
possible to strengthen their teams by bringing in a fresh man as
substitute.
Several had been more or less injured in the fierce mass plays,
and were showing it, despite their efforts to appear natural. Not
for worlds would anyone of them express a desire to be taken out
of the game. If the captain decided against their continuing, well
and good, for he was the sole judge of a man's fitness; but each
fellow believed he could still carry himself to the end.
The general excitement was such that a man might be seriously hurt
and not be aware of it, buoyed up, as he was, with the wild desire
to accomplish glorious things for the school he loved.
"How are you feeling, Bones? Any bad result from your immersion in
the cool drink last night," asked Lanky, as he and the right guard
came together.
"Not an atom, glad to say. You fellows saved me by your prompt
action, and the general rubbing down I had after the rescue. True,
my left wing feels sore to the touch after that slamming I got
when I went down with the ball over their fifteen-yard line, and a
dozen fellows piled on top; but I don't think it's broken, and I
haven't said anything to Frank, because I'm afraid he'd yank me
out."
Lanky carefully massaged the arm in question, eliciting a few
grunts from the stoical player under the process.
"Only bruised, old fellow. By the way, have you noticed any
limpers around this morning--among the spectators, I mean?" he
remarked, whimsically.
"Sure, two of them, Jay Tweedle and Bill Klemm," laughed the other
immediately. "They hustled away when they saw me looking, and it
was all they could do to keep the agony off their faces. But it
would have to be more than a mere dog bite to keep any fellow with
red blood in his veins away from a scrap on the gridiron like
this, though I reckon both of them are hoping to see Clifford win,
hands down."
"Well, there's another poor chap limping somewhere around the
grounds--Asa Barnes. Good old Kaiser must have put his teeth in
his calf pretty sound, for you can see the tear in his trousers'
leg. That was a great time, and I envy you the privilege of having
seen it. What a scattering of the boasters, and all on account of
one dog!"
"Yes, Lanky, but _such_ a dog! He thinks the world of me.
Why, I could hardly tear myself away from him this morning, he
wanted to come with me so bad. After this you needn't ever think
of giving me a guard; Kaiser can fill that position up to the
limit," said Bones, proudly, as became the owner of such a
wonderful canine.
"Time's nearly up. Are we going to bring any new horse out of the
stable? Did any fellow make serious blunders? Is anyone hurt?"
asked Lanky.
"If they are, they keep it to themselves. But there's Shay coming
out, while Eastwick goes to the seats. I was a little afraid that
Jack might prove too light as a tackler. Why, twice he failed to
bring his man down, and was carried more than a few yards before
another fellow caught on. Shay ought to be an improvement."
"What do you think, so far, Bones?"
"We've about held our own, that's comforting," was the reply.
"But the score isn't as big as I hoped it would be," expostulated
Lanky.
"Yes, but we owe that first touchdown and goal to the fact that
Clifford was confused with the signals you called. They thought
they meant the old version, and rushed to meet the play. That gave
us almost a clear field."
"I guess you're right," returned Lanky, thoughtfully.
"Now, see where we stand. They got a clear touchdown, and were
over our fifteen-yard line when play was called. I tell you, we're
going to have our work cut out to score again, and you can see
that every fellow of the opposition is out for blood. To be licked
by Bellport hurt; a second drubbing is next to unthinkable with
them. Mark my words, they'll die hard!"
"Bones, you're right. We've got to do our level best in the
second half. Once let us develop a weak spot, and they'll aim for
that every rush. There's Frank calling to me again. Five minutes
more, and we'll be at it, hammer and tongs," and Lanky hurried
away to where the captain stood, with the very last word in the
way of orders.
The line of play had been decided on long before. This had been
arranged in accordance with what they knew about Clifford's line-up.
Just as Lanky had declared, once let a weak place show, and from
that minute on the opposition bends every effort toward pushing
the ball in that quarter, until, finally, the defense gives way,
and the oval is carried triumphantly across the line.
Gradually the players began to take their places again. Clifford,
too, showed a new face; Hollingsworth being substituted in place
of Evans, as right end, the other having been injured in a
scrimmage, thought not enough to get out at the time.
It was Columbia's kick-off this time, and Jack Comfort was the one
to do the honors which would inaugurate the second half of the
game. Just as he stood there ready to make the first move, the
picture was one that would never be forgotten by the thousands who
witnessed it.
Every breath seemed hushed. A mighty silence hung over the wide
field, as eyes were riveted on the crouching figures, whose faces,
so far as seen, because of the disfiguring head harness, showed
the earnestness that possessed each soul.
It was at this critical moment that suddenly loud shouts arose.
They seemed to come from behind the grandstand, and quickly
swelled in volume, until it was a deafening roar that broke forth.
Frank called out something, and the referee instantly blew his
whistle, to signify that delay was imperative until the cause of
all this row could be ascertained and the noise quelled. It was
simply impossible to continue the game while so much racket held,
as the players would be wholly unable to hear the signals.
But now the tenor of the wild cries began to be understood.
Players looked at each other in blank dismay. Never before had
they heard of a football game having been interrupted by such a
strange and terrible cause.
"Mad dog! Mad dog!"
That was what the people were shrieking over and over. The entire
mass of spectators seemed to be writhing as they leaped to their
feet. Faces grew white with sudden fear. Women and children cried
and shrieked, and hands were wrung in the abandon of despair.
It was easy to discover the immediate scene of the disturbance,
for there the lines swayed more violently than elsewhere. People
crushed back against each other, forgetting all else in the frenzy
of fear that possessed them. What could be more terrifying than
the coming of a mad dog in the midst of such an assemblage of
merrymakers, out for a grand holiday?
"Run, you fellows; he's heading out on the field! Get a move on
you!" roared a voice through a big megaphone.
It was, of course, the wonderful cheer captain, Herman Hooker,
who thus gave warning of the coming peril. Indeed, his cry was
hardly needed, for the two elevens could mark the passage of the
terror by the swaying back of the lines upon lines of spectators,
all of whom seemed to be possessed of a wild desire to climb up
on the highest seats, so that the panic was fierce.
Then through the mass came the running beast, with his head close
to the ground, and trailing a chain behind him. His actions were
certainly queer, and well calculated to strike terror into the
timid hearts of the helpless ones gathered there to witness the
spectacle of a football contest, and not a mad dog hunt.
And running valiantly after the brute came Officer Whalen,
doubtless intending to attempt to shoot the animal when once he
found a chance.
Suddenly the raging brute uttered a series of fearful sounds, and
started directly for one of the players on the field, as though
intending to attack him first. The vast crowd shrieked all manner
of imploring directions, and unable to render assistance, just
stood there and looked and prayed.
But Frank Allen neither started to run nor moved to the aid of the
threatened player for he had discovered that the one who stood
there was Bones Shadduck, and in the leaping dog he had recognized
the persistent Kaiser!