HAWTHORNE COMES TO CONQUER
The day of the Hawthorne game dawned cold and gray, with a chill
breeze out of the east that held a tang of the ocean thirty miles
away. Hawthorne came along, nearly two hundred strong, early in the
forenoon and took possession of the village, taxing the capacities of
the railroad restaurant and the various lunch rooms to the limit. At
Sunnywood Gil and Poke, veterans though they were, showed unmistakable
nervousness all the morning, and it took the required efforts of Jim
and Jeffrey to amuse them. By eleven o’clock the sun had peeped for an
instant through the gloom, promising better things for the afternoon.
The football team dined at twelve that day, so at Sunnywood the dinner
hour was set forward correspondingly. At one Gil and Poke, happy and
cheerful now that the time of waiting was past, set off to the field.
“If you don’t win, Poke Endicott,” called Hope from the porch as the
boys started down the road, “I’ll never speak to you again!”
“After that threat,” laughed Poke, “I shall simply eat ’em alive, Hope!”
The rest of the household, Jim, Jeffrey, Hope, Mrs. Hazard and Mr.
Hanks started an hour later. Mr. Hanks, having had football thrust
suddenly into his philosophy, displayed an amazing interest and
curiosity. “You see,” he confided to Mrs. Hazard, “I have never
witnessed a game of football. This may seem strange to you, for
my college was, I believe, very successful at the game. The fact
is, however, that I never had time to attend the contests. I am
really quite curious to see how the game is played. I think it must
be――er――quite interesting.”
When the Sunnywood party arrived Hawthorne, looking in its black
and orange like an army of young Princetonians, was on the gridiron
warming up for the fray. Along the ropes on the other side of the field
Hawthorne’s supporters were already shouting to the sky. The sun, still
coy, broke through every few minutes and cast a pallid wash of gold
over the sere turf. It was cold enough for rugs and heavy coats, and
Hope was secretly pleased that she had managed to snuggle in between
her mother and Mr. Hanks. Beyond Mrs. Hazard sat Jim with Jeffrey
beside him. By a quarter to two the Crofton side of the field was three
and four deep along the ropes and at ten minutes to the hour two things
happened simultaneously; the Crofton eleven, brave and colorful in new
uniforms of crimson and gray, trotted onto the field, and the sun burst
through the murk in a sudden blaze of glory.
“That,” cried Hope ecstatically, “means that we shall win!”
Crofton took the field for practice, Gary, back in his togs once more,
racing down the gridiron like a colt. A moment later Gil ran up and
called to Jim across the rope.
“Come on and be our linesman, Jim. You see,” he continued as Jim
ducked under the barrier and strode across the field with him, “you’ll
be nearer things and can watch the game a heap better. There’s your
partner in crime over there with the chain. Introduce yourself like a
gentleman, shake hands and welcome him to the funeral. They’ve got a
pretty husky set of men, haven’t they? That’s Gould, the little chap
talking to Johnny. He’s the man we’ve got to watch to-day. Gee, I wish
you were playing, Jim!”
“So do I. Is Gould their quarter? He doesn’t look such a wonder, does
he?”
“Wait till you get a good look at his face. There’s the whistle. Wish
us luck, Jim!”
Jeffrey moved into the seat next to Mrs. Hazard, depositing an extra
coat beside him so that Jim might have his place if he returned.
Hawthorne spread herself over the west end of the field to receive the
kick-off, Duncan Sargent patted the tee into shape, poised the ball
and looked around him. “All ready, Hawthorne? All ready, Crofton?”
questioned the referee. Both teams assented, the whistle blew, Sargent
sent the ball spinning down the field and the game was on.
Crofton displayed her offensive ability at the start. Johnny had
instructed the team to get the jump on Hawthorne in the first minute of
play and carry her off her feet if possible. Arnold obeyed directions
to the letter. From the first line-up, after the full-back had caught
and carried the ball to his thirty-five yards, Poke Endicott tore off
eighteen yards outside of tackle and began a rushing advance that took
the ball to Hawthorne’s fifteen-yard mark. Hawthorne stiffened as the
play neared the goal line and Arnold tried a forward pass to Tearney,
right end. This failed and the ball went to the Orange-and-Black.
But on the very next play Hawthorne’s left half fumbled and Benson,
Crofton’s full-back, dived into the scramble and recovered the pigskin.
Crofton’s machine started up again and after three rushes Poke shot
through and over the goal line for a well-earned touchdown. Sargent
kicked goal.
The crimson-and-gray flags waved madly and three hundred voices cheered
and yelled. In just five minutes Crofton had swept her opponent off
her feet and scored six points! That was surely cause for rejoicing.
Even Mrs. Hazard clapped her hands, and Mr. Hanks, just beginning
to understand the scheme of things, beamed delightedly through his
spectacles. As for Hope, why Hope was already breathless from screaming
and trembling with excitement. Jeffrey, seeing more of the game than
the others, better appreciated the _coup de main_ that had put Crofton
in the ascendancy at the very beginning of the battle. But he wondered
whether the Crimson-and-Gray would show an equally good defense. That
was the only scoring in the first period of fifteen minutes. Crofton
suffered a penalty for holding shortly after the touchdown had been
made, and later was set back for off-side. However, the loss of twenty
yards had no effect on the final result, for neither side came near
scoring, and the quarter ended with the ball in Crofton’s possession on
her rival’s twenty-seven yards.
Hawthorne’s chief mainstay was her quarter-back, Gould, a remarkable
all-around player. A brainy general, a certain catcher of punts, a
brilliant runner either in a broken field or an open and a clever
manipulator of the forward pass, Crofton held him in great respect.
Hawthorne’s team was, in a manner, built around Gould, and in that lay
whatever weakness it possessed. Johnny had coached his players for
a fortnight to stop Gould, knowing that aside from his performances
Hawthorne had very little to offer in the matter of ground-gaining
feats. And throughout the first period Gould failed to get away with
anything. Crofton watched him as a cat watches a mouse and every move
of his was smothered. One twenty-yard sprint around Tearney’s end was
the best he could do, while whenever he caught a punt in the backfield
Tearney and Gil were down on him to stand him on his plucky little
head the instant the ball was in his arms.
The second period began with Crofton in high feather. Benson and Smith,
left half, each made short gains, and then Arnold tried a forward pass
from Hawthorne’s twenty-five yard mark. He threw too far, however, and
the Orange-and-Black received the ball on its thirteen-yard line. Gould
kicked, and, thanks to two holding penalties, Crofton was forced back
into its own territory in the next few minutes. Then Arnold’s punt went
to Gould on his forty yards. With the first real flash of form he had
shown, the little quarter-back tore off fifteen yards. From the center
of the field and close to the side-line he made his first successful
forward pass, a long, low throw along the edge of the field to his
right end who caught the ball over his shoulder and ran to Crofton’s
thirty-four-yard line. A try at the line netted two yards. Then Gould
again hurled the pigskin, this time selecting his left end for receiver
and sending a low drive to him on Crofton’s twenty-five-yard line. For
a moment it looked as though Hawthorne would score there and then and
the runner sprinted to Crofton’s eight-yard line before he was pulled
down from behind. Across the field Hawthorne was wild with joy and
two hundred of her loyal sons shouted and danced with delight. Then
Hawthorne tried one rush and lost a yard. Crofton was now plainly over
anxious and when, on the next play, Gould sent his right half-back
at the right wing on a delayed pass, Tearney was drawn in and the
orange-and-black player simply romped across the line for a touchdown.
From this Hawthorne’s right end kicked a goal from a difficult angle
and the score was tied.
Then, it seemed, that Hawthorne had found herself. Success breeds
success. The Orange-and-Black took heart and after Crofton had kicked
off again Gould ran the ball back thirty yards, eluding half the
Crofton team, and placed it on her enemy’s forty-five-yard line.
Crofton’s defense was now severely tested. Gould gave the ball to
his half-backs and his full-back and twice Hawthorne made first down
by short line plunges. The vulnerable spot in Crofton’s defense was
at left tackle where Parker, willing enough though he was, lacked
experience and weight. On her twenty-five-yard line Crofton stiffened
up and Gould tried a forward pass that proved illegal. A plunge at
center gave the ball to Crofton, and Arnold punted on the first down.
Gould caught the ball and was promptly laid on his back by Gil. A
penalty for holding forced Hawthorne back to her thirty yards. Gould
tried an end run that gained but seven yards and punted on the next
down. Crofton made three yards through right tackle and then Arnold
got off a beautiful forward pass to Gil, and the latter, by squirming
and crowding, finally reached Hawthorne’s twenty-yard line. Two rushes
failed to gain much distance and Arnold dropped back to the thirty-yard
line and, with every watcher holding his breath, drop-kicked the oval
over the cross-bar. It was Crofton’s turn to exult and exult she did,
while from the opposite side of the gridiron Hawthorne hurled defiance.
A moment later the first half ended, the score 9 to 6; Crofton ahead by
three points.
Jim returned to his party on the seats and squeezed himself down beside
Jeffrey.
“Isn’t it just glorious?” cried Hope, her cheeks crimson and her hair,
loosened by the breeze, fluttering about her face.
“Glorious!” laughed her brother. “It’s jimmy!”
“Can we hold them, do you think?” asked Jeffrey.
Jim shook his head. “I don’t know. I heard Johnny tell Duncan Sargent a
minute ago that he’d give a hundred dollars if the game were over. If
Hawthorne pounded away at the left side of our line she could gain like
anything. Parker’s doing the best he can but he can’t stop them. How do
you like the game, Mr. Hanks?”
“Very much indeed. I――I find myself quite excited. Hope has been
instructing me in the――er――fine points, but I fear she has found me a
very stupid pupil.”
“Well, I don’t think I can give you more than a C,” laughed Hope. “And
mama gets a D minus. Awhile ago she wanted to know why the tall man in
the white sweater didn’t play harder!”
“Well, nobody told me he was the referee, or whatever he is,” declared
Mrs. Hazard. “For my part I think I’d much prefer to be he.”
“Jim, I hope we just――just gobble them up this half,” said Hope.
“Gobble them up,” repeated Mr. Hanks. “Is that――er――a football term or
do you use the phrase metaphorically?”
“She means eat ’em alive, sir,” laughed Jeffrey.
“We won’t do that,” said Jim with a shake of his head. “All we can hope
to do is hold them where they are. Isn’t Gil playing a peach of a game?
And Poke, too. Did you see him go through for that touchdown? He was
like a human battering ram!”
“How’s Gary doing?” asked Jeffrey.
“Putting up a great game; playing a heap better than Sargent, I think.
But I suppose that’s natural enough. Sargent’s captain and that always
puts a chap off his game, they say. If I was that Hawthorne quarter
I’d plug away at Parker and Sargent, and I’ll bet I’d make some bully
gains.”
“They probably will this half,” said Jeffrey. “Their coach has probably
seen just what you have. Somebody ought to tell Gould, too, that he
is punting too low. He doesn’t give his ends a chance to get down the
field. We’ve gained every time on exchange of kicks.”
At that moment a voice cried, “Hazard! Hazard! Is Hazard here?”
Jim jumped to his feet and answered. A substitute player in a much
begrimed uniform ran up. “Johnny wants to see you at the gym,” he
called. “Come right up.”
“What the dickens does he want?” muttered Jim. “Keep my seat for me,
Jeff.”
He found Johnny in the midst of wild confusion. Rubbers were busy with
strains and bruises, twenty fellows were talking at once. The close air
of the locker-room was heavy with the fumes of alcohol and liniment.
Johnny was deep in conversation with captain and manager.
“You wanted to see me?” asked Jim, pushing his way through the crowd.
“Yes, I do! Look here, Hazard, where do you stand?”
“Stand?”
“Yes,” replied Johnny impatiently. “Isn’t there any way you can play
this half?”
“I’m afraid not,” answered Jim. “Mr. Gordon wired that I’d have to take
an exam before I could play.”
“You didn’t take it?”
“No, sir. There wasn’t any way to take it that I knew of.”
Johnny looked at Sargent questioningly. “You wouldn’t risk it, would
you?” he asked in a low voice. Sargent shook his head.
“I’d be afraid to. J. G.’s a tartar about that sort of thing. Better
try Needham.”
“All right.” Johnny nodded to Jim. “Sorry. Thought maybe you could
manage somehow to help us out. Better not go against faculty, though.”
“I’m willing to risk it if you need me,” replied Jim quietly.
“I won’t have it,” said Sargent decisively. “You’d get fired as sure as
fate, Hazard. Much obliged, just the same.”
“Time’s up!” called Johnny.
Jim walked back to the field despondently. If they had given him any
encouragement, he told himself, he’d have risked J. G.’s displeasure
and played. When he reached his seat Jeffrey asked:
“What was it, Jim?”
“Nothing much. Johnny thought maybe I could play in this half. They’re
taking Parker out. Needham’s going in. He will be twice as bad as
Parker, I guess.”
“Didn’t Johnny know?”
“About me? I guess so. He seemed to think I might have taken an exam
somehow. I didn’t see how I could have, do you?”
Jeffrey shook his head. “No, I don’t.” Jim glanced along to find Mr.
Hanks peering interestedly through his spectacles.
[Illustration: Jim takes his examination on the football field.]
“Do I understand, Jim,” he asked, “that you could play if you passed an
examination?”
“Yes, sir, I suppose so. That’s what Mr. Gordon wired, you know.”
“Do they――er――need you, do you think?”
“They seem to think so,” answered Jim. “They want a fellow to take
Parker’s place.”
“Well――well――” Mr. Hanks’ eyes snapped behind the thick lenses of his
glasses――“do you think you could pass an examination now?”
“Now!” exclaimed Jim. “Why――why――do you mean――”
“I mean now!” repeated Mr. Hanks crisply.
“Yes, sir!”
“Then I’ll examine you, and if you pass――”
“Jeff,” cried Jim, as he jumped to his feet, “run over and tell Johnny
to find some one to take my place with the line. Tell him I’m taking my
exam! Tell him to get me some togs and I’ll be ready to play in――” He
stopped and looked at Mr. Hanks.
“Ten minutes!” said the instructor.
Jeffrey seized his crutches and hobbled quickly away, while Mr. Hanks
and Jim left their seats and disappeared behind the throng. At that
minute the Crofton team trotted back on to the field and the cheering
began again.