CLIFFORD'S LAST HOPE
"Why doesn't the fool run?" cried one man, quivering with
suspense.
"It's too late now! See, he's going to tackle the brute! He's got
his hands out ready! Gee! what nerve!" bellowed another, this time
from Clifford.
A third laughed harshly, for the strain had been beat on everyone.
"Its all off, fellows. That's _his_ dog!" he shouted.
"Well, I'll be hanged! Look at him jumping up to lick the boy's
face, will you? Did you ever? This takes the cake!"
The crowd had by this time discovered that it was a false alarm,
and by degrees the hysterical feeling wore off, though there were
many who would not soon forget the awful sense of fear that had
almost paralyzed their systems.
Kaiser had apparently broken loose long after Bones had left home,
and determined to find his beloved master, had trailed him to the
football field.
Possibly the faithful animal believed that there might be further
need of his services, and that there were more fellows in need of
trimming.
Of course the game had to be delayed until Bones could lead Kaiser
away, and secure him in a little room under the grandstand. The
crowd howled and cheered as he went by, and Shadduck grinned in
his usual happy fashion, feeling that for once at least he was in
the exact limelight--thanks to Kaiser!
Once more the two opposing teams faced each other on the field.
The rushers were crouched, ready to spring forward as soon as the
ball had been put into play. Comfort prepared to send in his best
kick, after which the whole field would be in motion in the mad
endeavor to urge the ball toward the goal of the opposing side.
Jack was a famous punter and also a gilt-edged drop-kicker. He had
a peculiar spiral kick that was calculated to be exceedingly
puzzling to the enemy. And since much depended upon how far he
sent the oval into the enemy's territory, all eyes were eagerly
glued upon him now.
"Plunk!"
Away sailed the ball with the most erratic motion the Clifford men
had ever seen in all their experience. Some ran this way, and then
suddenly changed their course, as they realized the deceiving
nature of the ball's aerial flight. But the Columbia ends knew
just how the full-back would send the ball, and they shot for the
spot, determined to reach there almost as soon as the enemy, and
cut short his advantage for a run.
Coots managed to catch the ball, and darted back with it, but was
downed, almost in his tracks, by a fierce tackle on the part of
Shadduck, who had slipped through the interference.
"Down!" howled Coots, after he had recovered his wind. The players
lined up, while Style began calling off the signals. The Columbia
players braced for the attack they knew would soon come. And come
it did. Their line tottered and wavered under the smashing impact,
but it held, and Wentworth was hurled back for a slight loss.
"That's the way to do it!" cried Frank, in delight. "Hold 'em
again, fellows, and they'll have to kick!"
Once more Clifford, in desperation, for she wanted to keep the
ball, tried for another advance, this time around her opponent's
left end. But Morris and Shay were on hand, and nailed the player
before he had gone two yards.
"They've got to kick!" came the cry, and indeed that was the only
play left for Clifford. Still, it might be a fake one, and Frank
signalled this to his men, so that they might be on the alert. But
Comfort ran away back, and it was well that he did, for the ball
was booted well into the Columbia territory.
The full-back caught it and managed to rush back fifteen yards
before he was fiercely downed.
"Now's our chance, fellows!" called Frank, while Paul Bird came
up, took the pigskin and waited for Lanky to give the signal.
"I-m-p-o-r-t-a-n-c-e!" spelled out the quarter.
Instantly after the last letter was given, there was a sudden
movement. The center had flashed the ball to Allen, who started
furiously around the outside of the Clifford line. West was
running diagonally, and passed him. Many did not notice that as
they crossed Frank dexterously passed the ball to Ralph, but kept
on running and dodging as though he still held it.
The trick was not a new one by any means, but when well done it
was apt to deceive at least a portion of the rattled opposition;
so that several of the Clifford players were, for the instant,
really in doubt as to which of the two half-backs carried the
ball.
Thus in the beginning the force of pursuers was divided. Ralph was
a sprinter, and could avoid interference in a manner that was
simply marvelous. He had the entire bunch against him, trying to
block his play, but with wonderful skill managed to dodge each in
turn, until when finally brought down he had reached the enemy's
ten-yard line!
A burst of applause from the eager spectators; then again
absolute silence, for once more the heavily breathing players had
gathered in battle array. Again came a hot scrimmage. The ball was
over the side lines now, and out of bounds. So it had to be
brought in. Clifford had it for a change, but the conditions were
desperate with them now, with their home goal close behind. Let a
Columbia player once get his hands on the oval, and the chances
were he could carry it over the line for a touchdown.
The man who did the thinking in this emergency knew his business.
When the next scrimmage was on, many of the spectators were
astonished to see a Clifford player jump away from the melee with
the ball in his grasp, and hurl himself deliberately across his
own line.
Immediately the crowd gave expression to their feelings. Some
cheered, while others groaned, as the play was understood best.
"Why, that man is a traitor to his team!" exclaimed one indignant
fellow.
A Columbia graduate, who happened to be sitting next to the
speaker, gave him a look of contempt, as he remarked:
"On the contrary he proved to have an exceedingly clever head on
him. Stop and think for just a minute. They were close up to
Clifford's goal. The chances were ten to one in that scrimmage
that Columbia would get the ball, and with the next play carry it
across the line. That meant a touchdown. Then if they could kick a
goal, as is likely, they would count six. As it is now, Columbia
gets only two because that quick-witted fellow put it over his own
line. More than that, the next play is back at the twenty-five
yard line; so you see how easily Clifford gets out of a bad
corner."
As little time as possible was lost getting in position again. So
eager were both sides to accomplish things that they begrudged the
fleeting seconds.
The tide of battle surged back and forth. Dozens of plays were
pulled off that it would take many chapters to describe. But what
cheered the enthusiasts of the home team was the fact that most of
the work was being done on hostile territory!
In between times when there was no need of silence the raucous
voice of Herman Hooker could be heard, as he led his band around
back of the crowd, and shouted again and again in unison the
thrilling yell of Columbia, with the intention of stirring the
blood in the veins of each player, and investing him with renewed
pluck and zeal.
As if it were needed, when each one of those sturdy champions had
already been keyed up to top-notch speed. Time was slipping away,
and despite the almost superhuman efforts of Clifford they could
not seem to get the ball over that strenuously defended line of
their opponents.
In vain did the rooters urge them on to renewed efforts. Columbia
seemed to have thrown up a stone wall in front of her goal lines,
and no matter what strenuous plays were called off they were met
with a stubborn tenacity that robbed them of results.
Only seven more minutes remained of the second half. Columbia
adherents were jubilant. They already began to discount a victory,
and were winding up preparatory to making the air ring with their
shouts.
The wise ones kept close watch of the play. They had known
occasions just like this when the winning team became over
confident, and the last few minutes witnessed their utter rout.
Would it happen so in this case? Clifford was exerting every
effort to bring about such a happy condition of affairs. Frank had
warned his men against the slightest slackening of speed or
vigilance. No game is won until the referee's signal announces
that the end has come.
Now the determined Clifford hosts had carried the ball over into
the territory of their rivals. Columbia was visibly weakening
before these fearful plunges, and it seemed as though flesh and
bone could not hold out against them. Seconds counted now. How
desperately Frank and his backers fought to ward off the
threatening evil. Every lawful tactic that would bring about delay
was brought into bearing. Twice had the ball gone out of bounds,
which necessitated a new alignment, and consequent passage of
those precious seconds.
Columbia was on the defensive; but it was a splendid exhibition of
harrying play they put up, thanks to the instructions of Coach
Willoughby. On their fifteen-yard line they faced the Clifford
crew for the last struggle. Despite the prediction of the man who
had declared them a great second-half team, Clifford had failed to
add to their score during the half hour that had elapsed, that
lone touchdown standing to their credit.
"Boys, we want a bigger score than this!" called Captain Allen
eagerly, when time was taken out to enable some wind to be pumped
back into Style. "We've got thirteen points, and they have five.
It's too close a margin. We've got time enough to make another
touchdown."
"If we can get the ball," added West.
"We've _got_ to get it!" cried the captain. "It's the first
down. Hold 'em, and throw the man with the ball for a loss if you
can. They may kick on the second down instead of waiting for the
third. Then we'll have 'em."
The whistle blew and Style came slowly back into the line. He was
pale and weak, as the manner in which he gave the signals showed.
There were anxious looks on the faces of his mates, and glances
of eager expectation on those of his opponents.
Wentworth came smashing for a hole he expected would be opened up
between Daly and Shay, but Shay was ready and did more than his
partner to block off the play. Wentworth was hurled back, and
there was a net loss of two yards to Clifford.
"Look out for a kick!" warned Frank.
It came, for Clifford was desperately afraid, and Comfort got the
ball. Tucking it under his arm, with head down, he started for the
goal line, well protected. The enraged Clifford players managed to
get at him, however, and he was downed after he had covered
fifteen yards. But it was a good run back, and Columbia had the
ball, and there were still several more minutes to play.
"At 'em now, fellows! Tear 'em apart!" cried Lanky Wallace.
He called for Ralph West to take the ball around Smith, as the
quarter had noticed the weak defense the right end was putting up.
Around circled West, and he made a good gain before he was downed.
Again came smashing plays--several of them, Columbia keeping
possession of the ball. In vain did Clifford brace and hold. It
was useless. She was being shoved right up the field. Her men were
exhausted and discouraged. Columbia's were eager and triumphant.
"Touchdown! Touchdown!" came the insisting cries from the
spectators. The ball was on Clifford's fifteen-yard line.
"Touchdown it is!" declared Wallace grimly.
He called his signal with snap and vim. Frank got the ball and
made a desperate dive for a big gap that was opened up between Roe
and McQuirk. Forward he staggered while Shadduck and Oakes managed
to circle around to form interference for him.
"He's through! He's through!" came the cry, and indeed the captain
was through the Clifford line, and legging it toward the goal.
Hastings started after him, but slipped and fell. Then, like a
flash, Wentworth emerged from the tangle of players and set off
after Allen. He came on like the wind, and managed to slip past
Shadduck, but Oakes was on the alert and tackled off the plucky
Clifford right-half.
Then it was all over but the shouting. With the fall of Wentworth
ended Clifford's hopes of preventing another touchdown, while as
for her own hopes of making one they had vanished some time ago.
Allen touched down the ball. Amid frenzied cheers the goal was
kicked, making the score nineteen to five in favor of Columbia.
There was preparation for another kick-off, but before it could be
made the whistle blew; and the game had passed into history.