AND TELLS OF A DREAM
Mills's face lighted up, and he stretched forth an eager hand.
"Good for you, Burr! Let's see it. Hold on, though; sit down here first
and give me those sticks. There we are. Now fire ahead."
"If you don't mind, I'd like to tell you all about it first, before I
show you the diagram," said Sydney, his eyes dancing.
"All right; let's hear it," replied the head coach smiling.
"Well," began Sydney, "it's been a puzzler. After I'd seen the second
playing tackle-back I about gave up hopes of ever finding a--an
antidote."
"'Antidote's' good," commented Mills laughingly.
"I tried all sorts of notions," continued Sydney, "and spoiled whole
reams of paper drawing diagrams. But it was all nonsense. I had the
right idea, though, all the time; I realized that if that tandem was
going to be stopped it would have to be stopped before it hit
our line."
Mills nodded.
"I had the idea, as I say, but I couldn't apply it. And that's the way
things stood last night when I went to bed. I had sat up until after
eleven and had used up all the paper I had, and so when I got into bed I
saw diagrams all over the place and had an awful time to get to sleep.
But at last I did. And then I dreamed.
"And in the dream I was playing football. That's the first time I ever
played it, and I guess it'll be the last. I was all done up in sweaters
and things until I couldn't do much more than move my arms and head. It
seemed that we were in 9 Grace Hall, only there was grass instead of
floor, and it was all marked out like a gridiron. And everybody was
there, I guess; the President and the Dean, and you and Mr. Jones, and
Mr. Preston and--and my mother. It was awfully funny about my mother.
She kept sewing more sweaters on to me all the time, because, as she
said, the more I had on the less likely I was to get hurt. And Devoe was
there, and he was saying that it wasn't fair; that the football rules
distinctly said that players should wear only one sweater. But nobody
paid any attention to him. And after a bit, when I was so covered with
sweaters that I was round, like a big ball, the Dean whistled and we got
into line--that is," said Sydney doubtfully, "it was sort of like a
line. There was the President and Neil Fletcher and I on one side, and
all the others, at least thirty of them, on the other. It didn't seem
quite fair, but I didn't like to object for fear they'd say I
was afraid."
"Well, you _did_ have the nightmare," said Mills. "Then what?"
"The other side got into a bunch, and I knew they were playing
tackle-back, although of course they weren't really; they just all stood
together. And I didn't see any ball, either. Then some one yelled 'Smash
'em up!' and they started for us. At that Neil--at least I think it was
Neil--and Prexy--I mean the President--took hold of me, lifted me up
like a bag of potatoes, and hurled me right at the other crowd. I went
flying through the air, turning round and round and round, till I
thought I'd never stop. Then there was an awful bump, I yelled 'Down!'
at the top of my lungs--and woke up. I was on the floor."
Mills laughed, and Sydney took breath.
"At first I didn't know what had happened. Then I remembered the dream,
and all on a sudden, like a flash of lightning, it occurred to me that
_that_ was the way to stop tackle-back!"
"That? What?" asked Mills, looking puzzled.
"Why, the bag of potatoes act," laughed Sydney. "I jumped up, lighted
the gas, got pencil and paper and went back to bed and worked it out.
And here it is."
He drew a carefully folded slip of paper from his pocket and handed it
across to Mills. The diagram, just as the head coach received it, is
reproduced here.
[Illustration]
Mills studied it for a minute in silence; once he grunted; once he
looked wonderingly up at Sydney. In the end he laid it beside him on
the desk.
"I think you've got it, Burr," he said quietly, "I think you've got it,
my boy. If this works out the way it should, your nightmare will be the
luckiest thing that's happened at Erskine for several years. Draw your
chair up here--I beg your pardon; I forgot. I'll do the moving myself."
He placed his own chair beside Sydney's and handed the diagram to
him. "Now just go over this, will you; tell me just what your idea is."
[Illustration]
Sydney, still excited over the night's happenings, drew a ready pencil
from his pocket, and began rather breathlessly:
"I've placed the Robinson players in the positions that our second team
occupies for the tackle-tandem. Full-back, left tackle, and right half,
one behind the other, back of their guard-tackle hole. Now, as the ball
goes into play their tandem starts. Quarter passes the ball to tackle,
or maybe right half, and they plunge through our line. That's what they
would do if we couldn't stop them, isn't it?"
"They would, indeed," answered Mills grimly. "About ten yards through
our line!"
"Well, now we place our left half in our line between our guard and
tackle, and put our full-back behind him, making a tandem of our own.
Quarter stands almost back of guard, and the other half over here. When
the ball is put in play our tandem starts at a jump and hits the
opposing tandem just at the moment their quarter passes the ball to
their runner. In other words, we get through on to them before they can
get under way. Our quarter and right half follow up, and, unless I'm
away off on my calculations, that tackle-tandem is going to stop on its
own side of the line."
Sydney paused and awaited Mills's opinion. The latter was silent a
moment. Then--
"Of course," he said, "you've thought of what's going to happen to that
left half?"
"Yes," answered Sydney, "I have. He's going to get most horribly banged
up. But he's going to stop the play."
"Yes, I think he is--if he lives," said Mills with a grim smile. "The
only objection that occurs to me this moment is this: Have we the right
to place any player in a position like this where the punishment is
certain to be terrific, if not absolutely dangerous?"
"I've thought of that, too," answered Sydney readily. "And I don't
believe we--er--you have."
"Well, then I think our play's dished at the start."
"Why, not a bit, sir. Call the players up, explain the thing to them,
and tell them you want a man for that position."
"Ah, ask for volunteers, eh?"
"Yes, sir. And you'll have just as many, I'll bet, as there are men!"
Mills smiled.
"Well, it's a desperate remedy, but I believe it's the only one, and
we'll see what can be done. By the way, I observe that you've taken left
half for the victim?"
"Yes, sir; that's Neil Fletcher. He's the fellow for it, I think."
"But I thought he was a friend of yours," laughed Mills.
"So he is; that's why I want him to get it; he won't ask anything
better. And he's got the weight and the speed. The fellow that
undertakes it has got to be mighty quick, and he's got to have weight
and plenty of grit. And that's Neil."
"Yes, I think so too. But I don't want him to get used up and not be
able to kick, for we'll need a field-goal before the game is over, if
I'm not greatly mistaken. However, we can find a man for that place,
I've no doubt. For that matter, we must find two at least, for one will
never last the game through."
"I suppose not. I--I wish I had a chance at it," said Sydney longingly.
"I wish you had," said Mills. "I think you'd stand all the punishment
Robinson would give you. But don't feel badly that you can't play; as
long as you can teach the rest of us the game you've got honor enough."
Sydney flushed with pleasure, and Mills took up the diagram again.
"Guard and tackle will have their work cut out for them," he said. "And
I'm not sure that left end can't be brought into it, too. There's one
good feature about Robinson's formation, and that is we can imagine
where it's coming as long as it's a tandem. If we stop them they'll have
to try the ends, and I don't think they'll make much there. Well, we'll
give this a try to-morrow, and see how it works. By the way, Burr," he
went on, "you can get about pretty well on your crutches, can't you?"
"Yes," Sydney answered.
"Good. Then what's to prevent you from coming out to the field in the
afternoons and giving us a hand with this? Do you think you could afford
the time?"
Sydney's eyes dropped; he didn't want Mills to see how near the tears
were to his eyes.
"I can afford the time all right," he answered in a voice that, despite
his efforts, was not quite steady, "if you really think I can be of
any use."
Perhaps Mills guessed the other's pleasure, for he smiled gently as he
answered:
"I don't think; I'm certain. You know this play better than I do; it's
yours; you know how you want it to go. You come out and look after the
play; we'll attend to the players. And then, if we find a weak place in
it, we can all get together and remedy it. But you oughtn't to try and
wheel yourself out there and back every day. You tell me what time you
can be ready each afternoon and I'll see that there's a buggy
waiting for you."
"Oh, no, really!" Sydney protested. "I'd rather not! I can get to the
field and back easily, without getting at all tired; in fact, I need the
exercise."
"Well, if you're certain of that," answered the coach. "But any time
you change your mind, or the weather's bad, let me know. If you can, I'd
like you to come around here again this evening. I'll have Devoe and the
coaches here, and we'll talk this--this 'antidote' over again.
Well, good-by."
Sydney swung himself to the door, followed by Mills, and got into his
tricycle.
"About eight this evening, if you can make it, Burr," said Mills.
"Good-by." He stood at the door and watched the other as he trundled
slowly down the street.
"Poor chap!" he muttered. And then: "Still, I'm not so sure that he's an
object of pity. If he hasn't any legs worth mentioning, the Almighty
made it up to him by giving him a whole lot of brains. If he can't get
about like the rest of us he's a great deal more contented, I believe,
and if he can't play football he can show others how to. And," he added,
as he returned to his desk, "unless I'm mistaken, he's done it to-day.
Now to mail this list and then for the 'antidote'!"
That night in Mills's room the assembled coaches and captain talked over
Sydney's play, discussed it from start to finish, objected, explained,
argued, tore it to pieces and put it together again, and in the end
indorsed it. And Sydney, silent save when called on for an explanation
of some feature of his discovery, sat with his crutches beside his chair
and listened to many complimentary remarks; and at ten o'clock went back
to Walton and bed, only to lie awake until long after the town-clock
had struck midnight, excited and happy.
Had you been at Erskine at any time during the following two weeks and
had managed to get behind the fence, you would have witnessed a very
busy scene. Day after day the varsity and the second fought like the
bitterest enemies; day after day the little army of coaches shouted and
fumed, pleaded and scolded; and day after day a youth on crutches
followed the struggling, panting lines, instructing and criticizing, and
happier than he had been at any time in his memory.
For the "antidote," as they had come to call it, had been tried and had
vindicated its inventor's faith in it. Every afternoon the second team
hammered the varsity line with the tackle-tandem, and almost every time
the varsity stopped it and piled it up in confusion. The call for
volunteers for the thankless position at the front of the little tandem
of two had resulted just as Sydney had predicted. Every candidate for
varsity honors had begged for it, and some half dozen or more had been
tried. But in the end the choice had narrowed down to Neil, Paul,
Gillam, and Mason, and these it was that day after day bore the brunt of
the attack, emerging from each pile-up beaten, breathless, scarred, but
happy and triumphant. Two weeks is short time in which to teach a new
play, but Mills and the others went bravely and confidently to work, and
it seemed that success was to justify the attempt; for three days
before the Robinson game the varsity had at last attained perfection in
the new play, and the coaches dared at last to hope for victory.
But meanwhile other things, pleasant and unpleasant, had happened, and
we must return to the day which had witnessed the inception of Sydney
Burr's "antidote."