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BEHIND THE LINE
A Story of College Life and Football
by
RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
Author of _The Half-Back_, _Captain of the Crew_, and _For the Honor
of the School_
Illustrated by C.M. Relyea
1902
[Illustration: A critical moment]
[Illustration]
TO
MY MOTHER
PREFATORY NOTE
The Author takes pleasure in acknowledging his indebtedness to Mr. Lorin
F. Deland, of Boston, for the football play described in Chapter XV.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I.--HEROES IN MOLESKIN
II.--PAUL CHANGES HIS MIND
III.--IN NEW QUARTERS
IV.--NEIL MAKES ACQUAINTANCES
V.--AND SHOWS HIS METTLE
VI.--MILLS, HEAD COACH
VII.--THE GENTLE ART OF HANDLING PUNTS
VIII.--THE KIDNAPING
IX.--THE BROKEN TRICYCLE
X.--NEIL MAKES THE VARSITY
XI.--THE RESULT OF A FUMBLE
XII.--ON THE HOSPITAL LIST
XIII.--SYDNEY STUDIES STRATEGY
XIV.--MAKES A CALL
XV.--AND TELLS OF A DREAM
XVI.--ROBINSON SENDS A PROTEST
XVII.--A PLAN AND A CONFESSION
XVIII.--NEIL is TAKEN OUT
XIX.--ON THE EVE OF BATTLE
XX.--COWAN BECOMES INDIGNANT
XXI.--THE "ANTIDOTE" IS ADMINISTERED
XXII.--BETWEEN THE HALVES
XXIII.--NEIL GOES IN
XXIV.--AFTER THE BATTLE
LIST OF ILLUSTKATIONS
A critical moment (frontispiece)
Getting settled
The vine swayed at every strain
Hiding his face, he cried for help
"I guess you've broken down," said Neil
Mills studied the diagram in silence
CHAPTER I
HEROES IN MOLESKIN
"Third down, four yards to gain!"
The referee trotted out of the scrimmage line and blew his whistle; the
Hillton quarter-back crouched again behind the big center; the other
backs scurried to their places as though for a kick.
"_9--6--12!_" called quarter huskily.
"Get through!" shrieked the St. Eustace captain. "Block this kick!"
"_4--8!_"
The ball swept back to the full, the halves formed their interference,
and the trio sped toward the right end of the line. For an instant the
opposing ranks heaved and struggled; for an instant Hillton repelled the
attack; then, like a shot, the St. Eustace left tackle hurtled through
and, avoiding the interference, nailed the Hillton runner six yards back
of the line. A square of the grand stand blossomed suddenly with blue,
and St. Eustace's supporters, already hoarse with cheering and singing,
once more broke into triumphant applause. The score-board announced
fifteen minutes to play, and the ball went to the blue-clad warriors on
Hillton's forty-yard line.
Hillton and St. Eustace were once more battling for supremacy on the
gridiron in their annual Thanksgiving Day contest. And, in spite of the
fact that Hillton was on her own grounds, St. Eustace's star was in the
ascendant, and defeat hovered dark and ominous over the Crimson. With
the score 5 to in favor of the visitors, with her players battered and
wearied, with the second half of the game already half over, Hillton,
outweighted and outplayed, fought on with the doggedness born of despair
in an almost hopeless struggle to avert impending defeat.
In the first few minutes of the first half St. Eustace had battered her
way down the field, throwing her heavy backs through the crimson line
again and again, until she had placed the pigskin on Hillton's
three-yard line. There the Hillton players had held stubbornly against
two attempts to advance, but on the third down had fallen victims to a
delayed pass, and St. Eustace had scored her only touch-down. The
punt-out had failed, however, and the cheering flaunters of blue banners
had perforce to be content with five points.
Then it was that Hillton had surprised her opponents, for when the
Blue's warriors had again sought to hammer and beat their way through
the opposing line they found that Hillton had awakened from her daze,
and their gains were small and infrequent. Four times ere the half was
at an end St. Eustace was forced to kick, and thrice, having by the
hardest work and almost inch by inch fought her way to within scoring
distance of her opponent's goal, she met a defense that was impregnable
to her most desperate assaults. Then it was that the Crimson had waved
madly over the heads of Hillton's shrieking supporters and hope had
again returned to their hearts.
In the second half Hillton had secured the ball on the kick-off, and,
never losing possession of it, had struggled foot by foot to within
fifteen yards of the Blue's goal. From there a kick from placement had
been tried, but Gale, Hillton's captain and right half-back, had been
thrown before his foot had touched the leather, and the St. Eustace
right-guard had fallen on the ball. A few minutes later a fumble
returned the pigskin to Hillton on the Blue's thirty-three yards, and
once more the advance was taken up. Thrice the distance had been gained
by plunges into the line and short runs about the ends, and once
Fletcher, Hillton's left half, had got away safely for twenty yards. But
on her eight-yard line, under the shadow of her goal, St. Eustace had
held bravely, and, securing the ball on downs, punted it far down the
field into her opponent's territory. Fletcher had run it back ten yards
ere he was downed, and from there it had gone six yards further by one
superb hurdle by the full-back. But St. Eustace had then held finely,
and on the third down, as has been told, Hillton's fake-kick play had
been demolished by the Blue's tackle, and the ball was once more in the
hands of St. Eustace's big center rush.
On the side-line, his hands in his pockets and his short brier pipe
clenched firmly between his teeth, Gardiner, Hillton's head coach,
watched grimly the tide of battle. Things had gone worse than he had
anticipated. He had not hoped for too much--a tie would have satisfied
him; a victory for Hillton had been beyond his expectations. St. Eustace
far outweighed his team; her center was almost invulnerable and her back
field was fast and heavy. But, despite the modesty of his expectations,
Gardiner was disappointed. The plays that he had believed would prove to
be ground-gainers had failed almost invariably. Neil Fletcher, the left
half, on whom the head coach had placed the greatest reliance, had, with
a single exception, failed to circle the ends for any distance. To be
sure, the St. Eustace end rushes had proved more knowing than he had
given them credit for being, and so the fault was, after all, not with
Fletcher; but it was disappointing nevertheless.
And, as is invariably the case, he saw where he had made mistakes in the
handling of his team; realized, now that it was too late, that he had
given too much attention to that thing, too little to this; that, as
things had turned out, certain plays discarded a week before would have
proved of more value than those substituted. He sighed, and moved down
the line to keep abreast of the teams, now five yards nearer the
Hillton goal.
"Crozier must come out in a moment," said a voice beside him. He turned
to find Professor Beck, the trainer and physical director. "What a game
he has put up, eh?"
Gardiner nodded.
"Best quarter in years," he answered. "It'll weaken us considerably, but
I suppose it's necessary." There was a note of interrogation in the
last, and the professor heard it.
"Yes, yes, quite," he replied. "The boy's on his last legs." Gardiner
turned to the line of substitutes behind them.
"Decker!"
The call was taken up by those nearest at hand, and the next instant a
short, stockily-built youth was peeling off his crimson sweater. The
referee's whistle blew, and while the mound of squirming players found
their feet again, Gardiner walked toward them, his hand on
Decker's shoulder.
"Play slow and steady your team, Decker," he counseled. "Use Young and
Fletcher for runs; try them outside of tackle, especially on the right.
Give Gale a chance to hit the line now and then and diversify your plays
well. And, my boy, if you get that ball again, and of course you will,
_don't let it go_! Give up your twenty yards if necessary, only hang on
to the leather!"
Then he thumped him encouragingly on the back and sped him forward.
Crozier, the deposed quarter-back, was being led off by Professor Beck.
The boy was pale of face and trembling with weariness, and one foot
dragged itself after the other limply. But he was protesting with tears
in his eyes against being laid off, and even the hearty cheers for him
that thundered from the stand did not comfort him. Then the game went
on, the tide of battle flowing slowly, steadily, toward the
Crimson's goal.
"If only they don't score again!" said Gardiner.
"That's the best we can hope for," said Professor Beck.
"Yes; it's turned out worse than I expected."
"Well, you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that they've played
as plucky a game against odds as I ever expect to see," answered the
other. "And we won't say die yet; there's still"--he looked at his
watch--there's still eight minutes."
"That's good; I hope Decker will remember what I told him about runs
outside right tackle," muttered Gardiner anxiously. Then he relighted
his pipe and, with stolid face, watched events.
St. Eustace was still hammering Hillton's line at the wings. Time and
again the Blue's big full-back plunged through between guard and
tackle, now on this side, now on that, and Hillton's line ever gave back
and back, slowly, stubbornly, but surely.
"First down," cried the referee. "Five yards to gain."
The pigskin now lay just midway between Hillton's ten-and fifteen-yard
lines. Decker, the substitute quarter-back, danced about under the
goal-posts.
"Now get through and break it up, fellows!" he shouted. "Get through!
Get through!"
But the crimson-clad line men were powerless to withstand the terrific
plunges of the foe, and back once more they went, and yet again, and the
ball was on the six-yard line, placed there by two plunges at
right tackle.
"First down!" cried the referee again.
Then Hillton's cup of sorrow seemed overflowing. For on the next play
the umpire's whistle shrilled, and half the distance to the goal-line
was paced off. Hillton was penalized for holding, and the ball was on
her three yards!
From the section of the grand stand where the crimson flags waved came
steady, entreating, the wailing slogan:
"_Hold, Hillton! Hold, Hillton! Hold, Hillton!_"
Near at hand, on the side-line, Gardiner ground his teeth on the stem of
his pipe and watched with expressionless face. Professor Beck, at his
side, frowned anxiously.
"Put it over, now!" cried the St. Eustace captain. "Tear them up,
fellows!"
The quarter gave the signal, the two lines smashed together, and the
whistle sounded. The ball had advanced less than a yard. The Hillton
stand cheered hoarsely, madly.
"Line up! Line up!" cried the Blue's quarter. "Signal!"
Then it was that St. Eustace made her fatal mistake. With the memory of
the delayed pass which had won St. Eustace her previous touch-down in
mind, the Hillton quarter-back was on the watch.
The ball went back, was lost to view, the lines heaved and strained.
Decker shot to the left, and as he reached the end of the line the St.
Eustace left half-back came plunging out of the throng, the ball
snuggled against his stomach. Decker, just how he never knew, squirmed
past the single interferer, and tackled the runner firmly about the
hips. The two went down together on the seven yards, the blue-stockinged
youth vainly striving to squirm nearer to the line, Decker holding for
all he was worth. Then the Hillton left end sat down suddenly on the
runner's head and the whistle blew.
The grand stand was in an uproar, and cheers for Hillton filled the air.
Gardiner turned away calmly and knocked the ashes from his pipe.
Professor Beck beamed through his gold-rimmed glasses. Decker picked
himself up and sped back to his position.
"_Signal_!" he cried. But a St. Eustace player called for time and the
whistle piped again.
"If Decker tries a kick from there it'll be blocked, and they'll score
again," said Gardiner. "Our line can't hold. There's just one thing to
do, but I fear Decker won't think of it." He caught Gale's eye and
signaled the captain to the side-line.
"What is it?" panted that youth, taking the nose-guard from his mouth
and tenderly nursing a swollen lip. Gardiner hesitated. Then--
"Nothing. Only fight it out, Gale. You've got your chance now!" Gale
nodded and trotted back. Gardiner smiled ruefully. "The rule against
coaching from the side-lines may be a good one," he muttered, "but I
guess it's lost this game for us."
The whistle sounded and the lines formed again.
"First down," cried the referee, jumping nimbly out of the way. Decker
had been in conference with the full-back, and now he sprang back to
his place.
"Signal!" he cried. "_14--7--31_!"
The Hillton full stood just inside the goal-line and stretched his hands
out.
"_16--8_!"
The center passed the pigskin straight and true to the full-back, but
the latter, instead of kicking it, stood as though bewildered while the
St. Eustace forwards plunged through the Hillton line as though it had
been of paper. The next moment he was thrown behind his goal-line with
the ball safe in his arms, and Gardiner, on the side-line, was smiling
contentedly.
"Touch-back," cried Decker. "Line up on the twenty yards, fellows!"
Hillton's ruse had won her a free kick, and in another moment the ball
was arching toward the St. Eustace goal. The Blue's left half secured
it, but was downed on his forty yards. The first attack netted four
yards through Hillton's left-guard, and the crimson flags drooped on
their staffs. On the next play St. Eustace's full-back hurdled the line
for two yards, but lost the pigskin, and amid frantic cries of "Ball!
Ball!" Fletcher, Hillton's left half, dropped upon it. The crimson
banners waved again, and Hillton voices once more took up the refrain of
Hilltonians, while hope surged back into loyal hearts.
"Five minutes to play," said Professor Beck. Gardiner nodded.
"Time enough to win in," he answered.
Decker crouched again, chanted his signal, and the Hillton full plunged
at the blue-clad line. But only a yard resulted.
"_Signal_!" cried the quarter. "_8--51--16--5_!"
The ball came back into his waiting hands, was thrown at a short pass
to the left half, and, with right half showing the way and full-back
charging along beside, Fletcher cleared the line through a wide gap
outside of St. Eustace's right tackle and sped down the field while the
Hillton supporters leaped to their feet and shrieked wildly. The
full-back met the St. Eustace right half, and the two were left behind
on the turf. Beside Fletcher, a little in advance, ran the Hillton
captain and right half-back, Paul Gale. Between them and the goal, now
forty yards away, only the St. Eustace quarter remained, but behind them
came pounding footsteps that sounded dangerous.
Gardiner, followed by the professor and a little army of privileged
spectators, raced along the line.
"He'll make it," muttered the head coach. "They can't stop him!"
One line after another went under the feet of the two players. The
pursuit was falling behind. Twenty yards remained to be covered. Then
the waiting quarter-back, white-faced and desperate, was upon them. But
Gale was equal to the emergency.
"To the left!" he panted.
Fletcher obeyed with weary limbs and leaden feet, and without looking
knew that he was safe. Gale and the St. Eustace player went down
together, and in another moment Fletcher was lying, faint but happy,
over the line and back of the goal!
The stands emptied themselves on the instant of their triumphant burden
of shouting, cheering, singing Hilltonians, and the crimson banners
waved and fluttered on to the field. Hillton had escaped defeat!
But Fortune, now that she had turned her face toward the wearers of the
Crimson, had further gifts to bestow. And presently, when the wearied
and crestfallen opponents had lined themselves along the goal-line,
Decker held the ball amid a breathless silence, and Hillton's right end
sent it fair and true between the uprights: Hillton, 6; Opponents, 5.
The game, so far as scoring went, ended there. Four minutes later the
whistle shrilled for the last time, and the horde of frantic Hilltonians
flooded the field and, led by the band, bore their heroes in triumph
back to the school. And, side by side, at the head of the procession,
perched on the shoulders of cheering friends, swayed the two half-backs,
Neil Fletcher and Paul Gale.