HOW BELLPORT BUCKED THE LINE
As so frequently happens, Thanksgiving Day was overcast and cold,
the air having a tang as of threatening snow.
"Bully football weather!" shouted the fans, as they crowded into
the great park-like field at Columbia; the toss of a coin during
the week having given Frank's team the privilege of playing on
their home grounds.
There was even a greater crowd present than on the occasion of the
game with Clifford. This struggle was to effectually decide the
ownership of that coveted silver cup, and the championship of the
tri-school league for the season.
Everybody who could possibly get there was present. The grandstand
seemed to be a waving mass of color with the various little flags,
and the gay wraps of the school girls, intensely interested in
this battle of brawn and skill between their brothers.
Naturally those from Clifford gathered together for the most part;
and Bellport had sent an enormous delegation to whoop things up
for her sturdy team.
Indeed, those Bellport players did look like a serious proposition
as they scampered back and forth across the field before the time
for play had arrived. Many a timid heart among Columbia's friends
felt as though the chances were very much against such a victory
as had been won over Clifford.
Such enthusiasm as abounded! Cheers arose everywhere. Bands of
students went about, headed by some valiant cheer captain, and
made all other sounds insignificant beside their clamor, as they
chanted their school yell in common, or sang the favorite songs of
their classes.
"We're going to see a hot old game, anyhow!" cried Buster
Billings, as he sat on the bench in the grandstand, being reckoned
of little account as a football player, however much he might
shine in baseball.
"What's Bellport's line-up? Seems to me nearly every face here is
familiar; and I reckon their entire baseball squad has qualified
for the gridiron," remarked another observer.
"Just as you say, there's not a fellow missing," sighed Buster;
"but then, none of them happens to be gifted with the heft that
fastened its fatal clutches on me at an early age. I'd give the
world to play football, but though they've tried me several times,
it's always back to the scrap heap for poor Buster boy."
"Well, they left me out this time, too; my first half in the game
with Clifford wasn't a howling success. But at any rate I'm a sub,
and if a few of the boys get carried off the field they may call
on me," and Jack Eastwick patted his chest in anticipation of the
slaughter to come.
For the concluding tussle of the High School League the contending
teams presented this line-up:
_COLUMBIA._
Comfort
_F.B._
Allen, Captain. West.
_R.H.B. L.H.B._
Wallace.
_Q.B._
Shadduck. Oakes. Harper. Bird. Daly. Shay. Morris.
_R.E. R.T. R.G. Center. L.G. L.T. L.E._
_BELLPORT._
Clay. Coddling. Smith, Jr. Lacy. Alpers. Macy. Smith, Sr.
_L.E. L.T. L.G. Center. R.G. R.T. R.E._
Snodgrass.
_Q.B._
Banghardt. Bardwell.
_L.H.B. R.H.B._
Lee, Captain.
_F.B._
The same referee officiated who had managed the game with Clifford
so well. And the coach of each team was busily engaged giving the
last instructions, since the time specified for the opening kick-off
was very near.
Columbia was not boisterous, but there was a look of grim
determination visible on the faces of Frank Allen and his fellows
that counted for much.
"It's better to shout after you're out of the woods, fellows,"
said the captain, as he drew his squad around him for a last word
ere going upon the field.
This time Frank was lucky, and won the toss. He immediately
selected the goal from which the cold November wind blew, as that
gave Columbia considerable advantage to start with, though it
would be evened up later when the second half brought about a
change in base. Still, by then the wind might have died out, and
the advantage lost.
Lee opened matters with a beautiful kick, but the oval was
captured, and it came Columbia's turn.
Comfort smashed out a fine one, sending the oval far down the
enemy's territory. And so fast did the other Columbia fellows
chase after it, that when Bellport secured the ball through a
clever catch, they found no chance to do anything more than return
the kick.
After that the fight was on. Columbia sent the ball back into the
territory of the enemy, and at such a bewildering angle, thanks to
the wonderful spiral kick of Jack Comfort, that the player who attempted
to clasp it in his arms allowed it to get away.
"Go it, you tigers!" shrieked many in the crowd, as they saw
several Columbia men making furious efforts to reach the rolling
oval before any of the enemy could throw themselves upon it.
But Coddling was there in time to drop on the ball, though hardly
had he done so than Shadduck landed on his back, together with
various others belonging to both teams.
Now Bellport had the ball, and there was great curiosity to know
what success they would have in bucking the Columbia line. Report
had it that never had Bellport been so strong in her line of
attack; and Clifford enthusiasts had warned their neighbors of
what was in store for them this day.
Bellport rushed into the fray. The artful Lacy, he who had played
such a clever game as shortstop in the baseball tournament the
preceding season, snapped the ball to Snodgrass, who plunged
straight for the middle of the Columbia line backed up by a solid
wedge that seemed capable of carrying the heavy quarter-back
through.
There was a confused mass of struggling players, and a great
cloud of dust, in which figures were to be seen pushing this way
and that.
[Illustration: THERE WAS A CONFUSED MASS OF STRUGGLING PLAYERS.]
"He's down!" shouted hundreds as the dust passed off with the
wind, and they could see the situation again.
"But he took several yards with him, and Bellport has the ball.
What d'ye think of that sledgehammer way of carrying things, eh?
Wait till Snodgrass and Banghardt and Bardwell get working
together, and you'll see the Columbia defense crumple up like dead
leaves in a fire!"
Of course it was a Bellport admirer who said this; but those who
heard only laughed and waved their Columbia flags the more
fiercely. They had full confidence in their boys, and knew what
Frank could get out of them in an emergency.
Once more the teams were lined up, watching each other like so
many wild animals, hungry and eager. Lee shouted out some signals
in his sonorous voice. It sounded very like the previous set, but
only those in the secret could know whether the slight difference
meant a new change of action or not.
Then the ball was put in play. Like lightning it passed from
Lacy's hands. Snodgrass made out to receive it, and once more
plunged for the center, as if intending to break through, with
several of his fellows backing him up. The deception was so
complete that the vast majority of the audience really believed
he carried the ball with him.
So a great whoop went up when he was dragged down by one of the
Columbia tacklers.
"But look at Smith, Sr., running! He's got the ball, fellows! He's
after a touchdown, and he won't be happy till he gets it! Wow!
that's going some!"
"He'll never make it! There's West in the way, and Allen bearing
down on him like a pirate ship under full sail! What did I tell
you? That Ralph West is the best tackier in the county! They made
no mistake when they booted Tony Gilpin out and made room for
West. Where is the ball now, fellows?"
"Under Smith, Sr., and on Columbia's twenty-five yard line!"
admitted Buster Billings, unwillingly.
"And Bellport has still another chance to carry it over! If the
wind was favorable Lee could boot the pigskin across your goal,
and not half try. But I guess they'd rather depend on breaking
through, or getting around the ends. Keep your eyes on those boys,
for they're as full of schemes as an egg is of meat."
"That sounds encouraging. I was afraid our fellows might have too
easy a snap, and disappoint their friends by not half trying. Just
wait yourself, Bellport. It was the same thing in baseball last
summer; and yet Columbia flies the banner, all right. You may be
treated to some surprises yourself, old chap," remarked Buster,
condescendingly.
Again the scrimmage was on. The Columbia tigers were so fast on
their feet that Clay, who got the ball this time, was unable to
accomplish much before they pounced upon him and bore him heavily
to the ground.
"How's that?" shouted Buster, "our fellows just eat up such easy
plays. Bring out some of your fancy stunts, and do something,
can't you?"
Three minutes later and the ball came to Columbia. It was time,
for Bellport had, by a series of bull-like rushes, carried it over
the twenty-yard line.
"Now to get back some of that lost ground. There they go! See
Shadduck run, will you? He's Mercury, with wings on his feet! Look
at him dodge that left guard! Say, he's going to make it yet, as
sure as you live he is! Bully boy, Bones! Go it! Go it, you
darling! Oh! what a heart-ache I've got! He's over the line, boys;
over the line! A touchdown for us to start things!" and Buster
danced in his excitement, like a rubber ball.
"No he ain't," snarled a Bellport backer, "they downed him before
he got there! Notice that just three of our fellows are settin' on
his back. He tried mighty hard, but they nailed him a little too
soon!"
"You're mistaken. He held the ball over the line, and it counts
for Columbia, as you can see if you look again," remarked Mr.
Allen, who was sitting near.
"That's so," grumbled the discomfited Bellport man, "and with that
wind it's goin' to be as easy as pie to boot the ball over for a
goal. Shucks! what ails our fellows to-day? They never did sloppy
work like that with Clifford."
"There was a reason, they say. Clifford claims that her signals
were sold to Bellport. Anyhow, there's going to be nothing of that
kind to-day, but clean fighting. There goes Frank to kick goal,
and he'll do it, too," answered Buster.
The goal was made easily, thanks to the favoring wind. Then again
the ball was put into play, and fierce ran the rivalry. Sometimes
the fighting was on Columbia territory, and then again the tide of
battle shifted until it was Bellport's line that was threatened.
Now and then the cheers of the enthusiasts arose and swelled over
that fiercely-contested field like thunder. Back and forth they
swung, both now doggedly determined. A score of plays were made
that brought out cheers from the spectators, regardless of school
affiliations; for they liked clean football, and could applaud
clever work, even on the other side.
When the heart-rending agony was finally relieved by the referee's
whistle announcing the end of the first half, that score of six by
Columbia was the entire counting!