Facing the Foe
That Bill Sherwood had not been wholly wrong in his suspicions seemed
to be proved a few days later.
The practice had been unusually animated, the regulars trying to
down the scrubs by as big a score as possible and the scrubs in turn
fighting desperately to defend their goal line.
Garry had the ball, and was plunging through a hole that Bill and
Scarsdale had made for him between right end and tackle. In doing so he
came in contact with Bixby, who butted him full in the face with his
head.
The blow was such a savage one that Garry went down like a steer hit by
an axe, blood pouring from his nose. For a moment he lost consciousness.
Time was called while his comrades rushed to him and helped him to his
feet. Through his dazed eyes Garry caught sight of Bixby and tried to
get at him, but his mates restrained him.
Mr. Phillips rushed out on the field while Garry was struggling to free
himself.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked sharply of Bixby. "What kind of
tactics are those to use on the football field?"
"It was an accident," muttered Bixby. "I miscalculated when I dived for
him."
"Accident nothing!" roared Bill. "You butted him deliberately! I saw
you! You tried to knock him out!"
"Nothing of the kind," retorted Bixby, but his eyes lowered as they
tried to meet Bill's.
"Get off the field, Bixby," commanded Mr. Phillips quietly. "This isn't
your first offense. I've noticed several times lately you've tried to
rough Grayson, though he's said nothing about it. Selleck, you take
Bixby's place."
"Didn't think this was a game for ladies," sneered Bixby, as he slunk
away.
"It isn't," replied Mr. Phillips. "But it is a game for gentlemen, not
rowdies. There'll be no dirty tactics on the field while I have charge
of the Lenox High athletics. You're out of the game for the rest of the
season."
"Well," said Bill a little later, as he and Garry were strolling
homeward, "was I right or wasn't I in that hunch of mine?"
"It was a good hunch all right," agreed Garry. "That was no accident.
I saw the look in Bixby's eyes as he charged at me. He aimed his head
right at my face. Gee, but my nose is sore!" he added, as he tenderly
rubbed that bruised feature. "It's half again its usual size."
"Hello!" Ella greeted him as he came in that afternoon. "How handsome
you look, Garry. If only Jane Danter could see you now she'd rave over
you."
"Never mind the looks," returned Garry, as he threw his cap on a chair.
"And as for raving, there's always plenty of that when you're around."
He could not be quite so flippant with his mother, however, who was
rather alarmed when she saw the size to which the swelling had attained
and insisted on his going at once to the family doctor to make sure
that the nose was not broken.
The doctor reassured him on that point, much to the relief of the whole
family. To tell the truth, Garry himself had been greatly concerned.
He, naturally, did not want his appearance marred by a broken nose,
but, he reflected, if it had been broken, it would have kept him out of
the game for the season. Was it possible, he asked himself, that Bixby
had had that in mind when he catapulted into him?
The next morning Bill complacently exhibited a pair of skinned
knuckles.
"Where did you get those?" asked Ted Dillingham interestedly.
"Ask Ed Bixby," grinned Bill. "I ran across him last night, and we had
a little argument. My knuckles are skinned and his eyes are blacked. If
you can put two and two together, you can guess what happened. Take a
look at him to-day in class."
Selleck, who took Bixby's place on the scrubs, proved to be a capable
player, and practice proceeded with redoubled energy right up to the
day set for the Greenfield game.
That was scheduled to take place on the Greenfield grounds, and a big
crowd of Lenox rooters went over with their team to cheer it on to
victory. They were enthusiastic fans, too, for the work of the team
since Garry's return had inspired them with high hopes.
Greenfield was not lacking a whit in confidence, for it had in mind the
overwhelming defeat that Lenox had suffered at the hands of Thomaston,
and expected to ride roughshod over the visitors.
The day itself was the coldest that far of the season. Though
mid-October, it seemed more like December. Flurries of snow fell
fitfully at intervals throughout the morning, and a bitter wind chilled
one to the marrow. But it would require more than cold weather to keep
the partisans of either team from the field, and by the time the game
began the stands were fully as crowded as usual.
"That snow's a good omen," chuckled Bill. "It means that we're going to
snow Greenfield under."
"Likely enough they'd put it the other way," laughed Garry. "Old Jack
Frost won't have much to do with this game. We've got to do the work."
Jack Frost, however, had this much to do with the game, that he made
it a running game. The gale that swept over the gridiron prevented any
extensive attempts at forward passing, and made punting so dubious that
it was not resorted to any oftener than necessary.
"Here's where our backs come in," muttered Garry to himself, as he took
account of the weather conditions. "They'll have to do most of the
work."
Lenox won the toss and elected to kick off. Rooster sent the ball
whirling down the field for thirty yards. Myers got the ball and ran it
back for three yards before Bill downed him. The game was on, with the
ball in Greenfield's possession on its thirty-three-yard line.
Risley, their left halfback, plunged through the line for a gain of
three. Clark, their fullback, made two more between left tackle and
end. Myers met a stone wall and was thrown back for the loss of a yard.
With only one down left and six to go, Greenfield tried a forward pass
which resulted in only a four-yard gain, and the ball was Lenox's on
the Greenfield forty-one-yard line.
Garry sent Rooster through for a gain of three on the right side of
the Greenfield line. Nick tried it on the left, but was halted without
gain. Knapp pulled off five on his next plunge between right tackle
and end. With two to go on the fourth down Rooster bored between left
tackle and guard for just enough to make the distance and retain the
ball.
But Garry had learned something from those downs. That was that
Greenfield was strong on the left, where there was plenty of beef, but
considerably weaker on the right where the trio were much lighter. And
from that moment he commenced a vicious attack on the right, hammering
away at it mercilessly.
Down the field Lenox went until it was within nine yards of the enemy's
goal. There Greenfield braced for a desperate resistance. But though
they twice threw back the Lenox plungers without a gain, Garry on the
third down took the ball himself, plunged through the line like a bull,
with the whole Greenfield team trying to stop him, and put the ball
over the line for the first touchdown of the game. Rooster kicked the
goal and the score was 7 to 0 in favor of the visitors.
The Lenox rooters roared their applause while the Greenfield partisans
sat glum and silent and filled with consternation. What magic was this?
Was this the team that Thomaston had walked all over two weeks before?
But worse--from the Greenfield viewpoint--was to come. The ball had
scarcely been put in play again before Nick picked up a fumbled
ball, skirted the right end, and, running like a deer, with superb
interference from Bill and Knapp, carried it over the line for another
touchdown. Garry booted the goal for the extra point, and now Lenox was
fourteen to the good.
Only once through that period did Greenfield threaten. That was when
Greenfield, with Clark doing most of the ball-carrying, tore through
the Lenox forwards for three first downs and an advance from the
Greenfield twenty-three-yard mark to the forty-one-yard line of Lenox.
But that was as far as they got. Henderson fumbled a bad pass from
center and lost twelve yards in consequence, and before they could get
going again the referee's whistle signaled the end of the period.
"What was it I said about Greenfield being snowed under?" gurgled Bill,
as the weary warriors took their brief rest before again plunging into
battle.
"I don't know about being snowed under, but they're certainly whitened
up a bit," laughed Garry. "But that may be because they started the
game thinking we'd be too easy. They know better now, and they may take
a brace."
"I don't believe it," scoffed Rooster. "We've got 'em going. It's
simply Lenox's day, and they haven't got a chance."
It seemed as though Rooster were right, for touchdowns came thick and
fast as soon as the second period opened. Lenox, taking the leather on
its forty-five-yard strip after the kick-off, started in immediately on
its line crushing operations. Again and again the backs went through
that fatally-weak right side of the Greenfield line. A thirteen-yard
gain by Rooster around the end and a twelve-yard smash by Knapp brought
the ball within striking distance of the enemy goal, and then in two
successive tries Nick carried it across. Four minutes later another
followed, Knapp making twenty-one yards off right tackle and Garry
streaking through the Greenfield forwards for thirty-four yards and
falling over the line. On both occasions Bill kicked the goal.
The Greenfield team was now thoroughly demoralized, and their rout
became complete when Garry once more took it over after he had thrown
a runner for a fifteen-yard loss and blocked a punt. Rooster failed on
the kick for point, but a trifle like that counted for little, and the
total score was now 34 to 0 in favor of the visitors.
Greenfield had a glimmer of hope when they got one of their kick-offs
on the Lenox eighteen-yard line after Knapp had played tag with the
leather. But four downs failed to gain the distance and Rooster kicked
the ball to the middle of the field, where it was when the period ended
with the score unchanged.
Mr. Phillips came to Garry as the jubilant team was resting between
periods.
"I think," he said, "that here is a chance for the substitutes to get a
little practice in a regular game. I want to save the regulars as far
as possible for the games yet to come. It looks as though we had the
game won, though nothing is certain in football. But if we find that
Greenfield is threatening, we can easily put the regulars back again
and they'll be all the better for a little rest. What do you think?"
"I guess that will be all right," assented Garry. "We can put in the
whole scrub team, if you wish. They'll be tickled to death to have the
chance, and it looks safe enough."
"No," returned Mr. Phillips, "I don't want to go as far as that. You
and the backs had better stay in to steady the others, but I'll put in
an entirely new string of linesmen."
So the scrubs poured in to show what they could do, determined if
possible to show up the regulars by bettering their score.
But in this they reckoned without their host. The Greenfield team,
stung to the quick by the slur implied by putting in second-string
men against them, braced up and played like furies. The substitutes
found that they had their hands full in trying to hold their own. They
did hold it, however, in the third quarter, but in the final period
Greenfield escaped the disgrace of a whitewash by pushing one of their
backs over for a touchdown.
This, however, was as far as they got. And in the last three minutes
of play Garry once more touched off the fireworks when he scooped up
a fumbled ball, bolted around the right end, and came to earth only
after he had once more planted the ball over the enemy's line, to a
thundering chorus from the Lenox stands:
"Lenox! Lenox! Len, Len, Len!
Look, oh, look at that boy run!
Our Garry Grayson!
Lenox! Lenox! Len, Len, Len!"