BRIMFIELD MEETS DEFEAT
The interview with Mr. Fernald was not, however, the ordeal they had
feared. The principal pointed out to them that they should have returned
from Thacher to Wharton by trolley with the other students, and not
experimented with a strange automobile. When the boys had shown proper
contrition for that fault Mr. Fernald allowed a note of curiosity to
appear in his voice.
"Now," he said, "about this burglary, Byrd. What--a--what was all that?"
So Amy narrated in detail and they exhibited their presents and the
principal was frankly interested. He smiled when he returned Clint's
scarfpin. "You young gentlemen had quite an adventure, and I consider
that you behaved very--ah--circumspectly. I congratulate you on your
rewards. If I remember rightly, Byrd, you lost a watch last Winter."
"Yes, sir, I left it at the rink."
"This is much too fine a one to lose. See if you can't hold on to it.
You may be excused from church attendance this morning. If you'll take
my advice you'll clean up and then get some sleep. As near as I can see
you didn't have much last night."
"Thank you, sir," said Amy. "I'm sorry we--got lost, Mr. Fernald."
"Are you, Byrd?" There was a twinkle in the principal's eye. "You know
if you hadn't got lost you wouldn't have a nice new watch!"
They were challenged several times before they reached their room by
boys who wanted to know where they had been and what had happened to
them, but both were too sleepy and tired to do the subject justice and
so they observed a mysterious reticence and resisted all pleas. They
bathed, Amy nearly falling asleep in the tub, and then stretched
themselves out gratefully on their beds. That was the last either knew
until, almost two hours later, Penny Durkin began an ambitious attempt
on Handel's largo in the next room. They managed to get to dining hall
without being penalised for tardiness and ate like wood-choppers.
That evening they went over to Hensey and called on Jack Innes and Amy
told the story of their adventures to a roomful of fellows who utterly
refused to believe a word of it until Clint had subscribed to the main
facts and the watch and scarfpin had been passed around. You could
scarcely have blamed them for their incredulity, either, for the story
as Amy told it was wonderfully and fearfully embroidered. It was a good
story, though, a mighty good story. Amy acknowledged that himself!
"It's a wonder," jeered Tracey Black, "you didn't stay over at Wharton
and help your friend the Chief capture the robbers!"
"He wanted us to," replied Amy gravely, "but of course we couldn't. We
gave him some good advice, though, and told him he could call us up by
'phone if he got stuck."
"Gee, I'll bet that was a big relief to him," said Steve Edwards. "I
feel sort of sorry for those burglars, fellows. They haven't a ghost of
a show now."
Amy smiled tolerantly.
After that the conversation got around to the absorbing subject of
football and stayed there until the gathering broke up. There was some
discussion of yesterday's contest, but more of the next Saturday's game
with Morgan's School. Morgan's was a new opponent on Brimfield's
schedule and not a great deal was known about its prowess. Black
thought, or pretended to think, that the Maroon-and-Grey was in for a
beating, but couldn't give any very convincing reasons.
"Oh, piffle," grunted Still, "who ever heard of Morgan's School until
you put it on the schedule, Tracey?"
"I didn't put it on. Lawrence did, naturally. And it's silly to say that
no one ever heard of Morgan's. Just because it isn't near New York you
think it can't possibly be any good!"
"Where is it, anyway?" inquired Tom Hall.
"Manningsville, Delaware," replied the manager. "It's a whopping big
school, with about three hundred fellows, and last year they licked
about everyone they met up with."
"Time, then, they came up here and saw a real team," said Marvin. "Bet
you we score twice as much as they do, Tracey."
"Bet you we don't! Bet you the sodas for the crowd!"
"Got you," answered Marvin, pulling Still's pillow further under his
head where he lay sprawled on the bed. "Get your mouths fixed, fellows.
Mr. Black's treat!"
"What do you think, Jack?" asked Edwards.
"Shucks, I don't know anything about it. And I don't see that it
matters. If we beat them, all right; if they beat us, all right. The
main thing is to play the best we know how and get as much fun and
profit as we can out of the game. I don't care a brass tack about any of
the games except Claflin and Chambers. I would like to beat Chambers,
after the way they mussed us up last year. By the way, fellows, I got
word from Detweiler this morning and he says he will come about the
first of November and put in a week or so on the tackles and ends.
That's bully news, isn't it?"
Several agreed enthusiastically that it was, but Gilbert, a second team
substitute, who was a protégé of Marvin's, asked apologetically who
Detweiler was.
"Joe Detweiler was all-America tackle on the Princeton team last year,"
responded Captain Innes, "and the year before that, too. He was captain
here five years ago."
"Oh, _that_ Detweiler!" said Gilbert. "I didn't know!"
"Your ignorance pains me sorely, Gilbert," said Amy. "You could be
excused for not recalling the name of the President, for not knowing
whether Thomas Edison or J.P. Morgan built the first steamboat or
whether Admiral Dewey was a hero or a condition of the weather, but,
Gilbert, not to know Detweiler proves you hopeless. I'm sorry to say
it, but your mind is evidently of no account whatever. Detweiler, you
poor benighted nut, is a Greek of the Grecians! He has a chest
measurement of ninety-eight inches under-all! His biceps are made of
Harveyised steel and his forceps--"
"For the love of Mike, Amy, shut up!" begged Marvin.
"Oh? very well! If you want the poor idiot to go through life with no
knowledge of the important--er--"
"We do!" agreed Innes.
"Of course I know who Detweiler is," said Gilbert, a trifle indignantly.
"But there might be more than one, mightn't there? How did I know--"
"More than one Detweiler!" exclaimed Amy horrifiedly. "Is there more
than one Washington? More than one Napoleon? More than one Huxley? More
than one Thackeray? More than one--one Byrd?"
"You bet there are!" asserted Black. "There are jays and parrots!"
"Amy, you're a crazy nut," laughed Innes.
"A nut I may be," replied Amy with dignity, "but I have raisins."
There was an excruciating howl of agony and Amy was violently set upon,
deposited on the nearer bed and pummelled until he begged for mercy.
When quiet was restored Edwards asked: "Is 'Boots' coming back this
year, Jack?"
"Yes, he'll be here in a day or two, I think. Robey had a letter from
him last week."
"Thought someone said he wasn't coming back," observed Still.
"He said in the Spring he didn't think he could," explained Jack, "but
you couldn't keep him away if you tried, I guess. You second team
fellows will know what hustling means when he takes hold of
you, Thayer."
Clint smiled and looked politely interested, but the subject was not
continued, for at that moment, Amy, who had been craftily biding his
time, reached out and pulled Still's chair over, and in the ensuing
confusion the gathering broke up. On the way along the Row, Clint asked
Amy about the mysterious "Boots."
"His name is Boutelle," explained Amy. "We call him 'Boots' for short; a
sort of a _last_ name." Amy chuckled gleefully.
"What's the joke?" asked Clint.
"Didn't you get it? _Last_ name; see? 'Boots'--last!"
"Oh!"
"Thank you! I was afraid I'd have to explain it for you in a
_foot_-note."
"What's he do? Coach the second?"
"He do. And he's a mighty nice chap, 'Boots' is. The fellows were quite
crazy about him last year. He did good work, too. Turned out a second
that was some team, believe me! Maybe if 'Boots' gets hold of you,
Clint, you may amount to something. I've done what I could for you, but
I think you've got where you need a firmer hand."
"You're getting where you need a firm foot," laughed Clint. "And I'm the
one to apply it!"
"Tut, tut!" murmured the other. "Never start anything, Clint, you can't
finish. Right wheel, march! Oh, dear, Penny is at it again! And I had
hoped for a quiet evening!"
The middle of the week Mr. Boutelle arrived and the second team got down
to business. The training-table was started, and including Coach
Boutelle was made up of sixteen members. "Boots" presided at the head
and Captain Turner at the foot, and Clint was sandwiched in between
Kingston, who played guard, and Don Gilbert, a substitute guard. The
team had its own signals now and practised on its own gridiron each
afternoon until it was time to scrimmage with the 'varsity. Clint was
first choice right tackle, with Robbins close behind and hard after him.
Being at training-table was lots of fun, although Clint regretted
leaving Amy. The latter's dire forebodings regarding the food at the
second's table proved unjustified. They had plenty to eat and of the
sort that was best for them. Steaks and chops and roasts formed the meat
diet, eggs appeared at breakfast and supper, there was all the milk they
could drink, and fresh vegetables and light desserts completed the
menus. "Boots" was rather strict in the matter of diet and fresh bread
agitated him as a red flag agitates a bull. Clint thought he had never
seen so much toast in his life as appeared on and disappeared from the
second team's table that Fall. Another thing that "Boots" would not
tolerate was water with meals. It was, he declared, ruinous to the
digestion. "All the milk you want, but no water" was "Boots'" rule, and
in consequence the four big white pitchers that stood in a row down the
middle of the board had to be refilled at every meal. The boys at the
training-tables paid a dollar a week extra for board, but Clint still
felt that he was cheating someone and feared it was the cow!
"Boots" worked them hard, but his own enthusiasm was so contagious that
he soon had them as eager as he was, and the afternoon when they kept
the 'varsity from scoring during two twelve-minute periods was a
red-letter day, and supper that evening was almost like a banquet.
Fortunately the 'varsity table and the second team table were separated
by the width of the hall. Otherwise the 'varsity fellows might have
taken exception to some of the remarks that passed between the elated
second team members.
That scoreless tie did not take place just yet, however. Just now the
second was only finding itself and the 'varsity romped through or around
it almost at will. The final scrimmage before the Morgan's School
contest was on Friday and the Varsity had no trouble scoring twice in
twenty minutes of actual playing time. But even then the second was
beginning to show possibilities and the first team fellows were forced
to work hard for the two touchdowns they secured. Coach Robey was
unusually grim that afternoon and so many changes were made in the
line-up of the 'varsity that Assistant Manager Morton's brain reeled as
he tried to keep track of the players. It was suspected that the head
coach was far from satisfied with the first-string backs and it was
predicted on the stand that afternoon that before the season was much
older there would be considerable of a shake-up in their ranks. Freer
was looked on as having a good chance to displace Kendall, and St.
Clair, who although he had been playing but one year was developing
rapidly into a clever half, had many partisans who considered him the
equal of the veteran Still.
On Saturday "Boots" put the second through an hour's scrimmage and
consequently the Varsity game with Morgan's School was nearly half over
when Clint and the others pulled on sweaters and blankets and hustled
across to the nearby gridiron and settled to watch. Morgan's presented a
very husky lot of chaps, long-legged, narrow-hipped fellows who appeared
to be trained to the minute.
"They look," confided Clint to Don Gilbert, "as if they were all the
same height and size and style. They must buy 'em by the dozen."
Gilbert chuckled. "'Buy them' is good," he said. "They say half of them
don't pay a cent of tuition. Same way with their baseball fellows. I
know a chap who goes to Prentiss Hall, and Prentiss and Morgan's are
rivals, you know. He says half the fellows who play football and
baseball and things at Morgan's don't have to pay a cent."
"Maybe he's prejudiced," laughed Clint. "You hear a lot of that sort of
stuff, Gilbert, and it's always about the other fellow!"
"Well, that's what Dave Larned says, anyway. Say, they _are_ fast
though, aren't they!" ejaculated Gilbert.
They certainly were, as Brimfield was discovering to her cost. With the
second quarter almost over and no score by either side, the
orange-and-blue-stockinged visitors were behaving very much as if they
meant to put a touchdown over. Morgan's had secured the ball by fair
catch on her own thirty-eight yards after a poor attempt at a punt by
Harris, and now she was turning Brimfield's right flank nicely. Trow,
tackle on that side, was boxed twice in succession; Roberts, right end,
was bowled over and two rushes gained first down on the twenty-five-yard
line. Coach Robey sped Holt in for Roberts and Holt managed to upset the
next play for a yard gain. Then Morgan's swung her attack against left
guard and Churchill was caught napping and the whole backfield swept
over him for four yards. A fake-kick, with the ball going to a rangey
Morgan's full-back, proved good for the rest of the distance; Edwards
missing a tackle that would have spoiled the attempt far back of the
line. The only thing that saved Brimfield from being scored on then and
there was the decision of the Orange-and-Blue's quarter-back to pass up
a field-goal in favour of a touchdown. From the thirteen yards a
goal-from-field was more than a possibility, but the quarter was
ambitious and wanted six points instead of three, and so plugged the
ball across the field to a waiting end on a forward pass. Fortunately
for the defenders of the west goal Edwards dived into the catcher at the
last moment and the ball grounded. And then, before another play could
be pulled off, the whistle blew.
When the third period began the head coach had made many substitutions.
Blaisdell had taken Churchill's place at left guard, Gafferty had gone
in for Hall in the other guard position, Freer was at right half instead
of Kendall and Rollins had ousted Harris at full-back. Whatever may have
been said to the Brimfield warriors during that fifteen minutes'
breathing space, it brought results. Marvin speeded the team up and the
men no longer allowed their opponents to get the jump on them each time.
In the first five minutes Brimfield was twice penalised for off-side
play. Marvin got away for a thrilling run along the side line soon after
Morgan's kicked off, and placed the pigskin on the enemy's thirty-four
yards after a gain of over forty. Then Rollins, who was a
heavily-built, hard-plugging chap, smashed the line on the right and,
keeping his feet cleverly, bored through for six. A forward failed and,
on third down, Freer punted to the Morgan's twelve yards and both
Edwards and Holt reached the catcher before he could start. A whirlwind
double-pass back of the line sent a half around Edwards' end and gained
three, and was followed by a skin-tackle play that secured three more
past Trow. But Morgan's had to punt then, and a fine kick followed and
was caught by Still on his forty-five. With good interference he secured
five before he was thrown. Brimfield, still working fast, reached the
opponent's thirty-five before a punt was again necessary. This time
Innes passed low and Freer kicked into the mêlée and the pigskin danced
and bobbed around for many doubtful moments before Marvin snuggled it
under him on the Morgan's forty-three yards. From there a forward went
to Still and gained seven, and, playing desperately, the Brimfield backs
ploughed through for two firsts and placed the ball on the twenty-yard
line. One attempt at the left side lost ground and a delayed pass
followed by a plunge at centre secured but three yards. Rollins then
dropped back to the twenty-five and, with the stand very quiet, dropped
the ball over for three points and the first score of the game.
Brimfield applauded relievedly and Morgan's kicked off again. But the
period ended a minute later and the teams changed goals. Morgan's put in
three substitutes, one, a short, stocky guard, leading Clint to remark
that the Orange-and-Blue's supply of regular goods had given out. But
that new guard played real football and braced up his side of the line
so that Brimfield soon left it respectfully alone and applied its
efforts to the other. Injuries began to occur soon after the final ten
minutes commenced and two Morgan's and two Brimfield players retired to
the side lines. Brimfield lost Captain Innes and Trow. Innes' injury was
slight, but Trow got a blow on the back of his head that prevented him
from realising what was going on for several minutes.
Morgan's came back hard in that last quarter and soon had the
Maroon-and-Grey on the defensive. A fumbled punt by Carmine, who had
taken Marvin's place a minute before, was secured by a Morgan's end and
the aspect of the game changed very suddenly. The Orange-and-Blue was
now in possession of the ball on Brimfield's twenty-six yards, and it
was first down. Coach Robey rushed Hall and Churchill back to the
line-up, evidently well weighted down with instructions, and, after a
conference with clustered heads, Brimfield faced the enemy again.
Morgan's adopted old-style football with a vengeance and hurled her
backs at the line between tackles. Twice she was stopped, but on a third
attempt Brimfield broke squarely in two where Thursby was substituting
Captain Innes and half the visiting team piled through. First down was
secured on another attack at the same place and the ball was on the
defender's sixteen yards. Two yards more came past right tackle and two
through centre--Morgan's had discovered the weakness of Thursby's
defence--and the ten-yard line was almost underfoot. A conference
ensued. Evidently some of the enemy were favouring a field-goal, but the
quarter still held out for all the law would allow and a line-shift was
followed by a quick toss of the ball to one side of the field. Luckily
for the home team, however, it was Steve Edwards' side that was chosen,
and Edwards, while he was not quick enough to prevent the catch, stopped
the runner for a yard gain. It was third down then, with the ball out of
position for a field-goal and ten yards to a touchdown and the Brimfield
supporters, urging their team to "Hold 'em!" breathed easier.
"Fourth down! Five to go!" announced the referee.
"Stop 'em!" panted Marvin.
Then the Morgan's drop-kicker moved back to the twenty-yard line and
well to the left of centre, and centre stood sidewise as though to make
an oblique pass. It hardly seemed possible that Morgan's would attempt a
goal from such an angle, but still there was but one down left and the
Brimfield line, though it had yielded short gains, was not likely to
give way to the enemy for the five yards necessary for a first down.
Captain Innes watched the Orange-and-Blue formation doubtfully, striving
to guess what was to develop. In the end he scented a fake-kick and
warned his line.
"Fake!" he shouted. "Fake! Watch that ball! Get that end, Steve! Hold
'em, hold 'em, Brimfield!"
And Brimfield held them. At least, Brimfield held all but one of them.
It was unfortunate that that one should have been the one who had the
ball! Just what really happened was a matter of discussion for many
days. It occurred so suddenly, with such an intricate mingling of backs
and forwards, that Brimfield was unable then or later to fathom the
play. Even from the side line, where Coach Robey and a dozen or more
substitutes looked on intently, that play was puzzling. All that seemed
clear then or afterwards was that the ball did actually go to the
drop-kicker, that that youth swung his leg in the approved fashion, that
one of the backs--some said the quarter, while others said one of the
halves--ran back and took the pigskin at a hand-pass, and that
subsequently a tackle who had played on the end of the line was seen
tearing across the goal line well toward the other side of the field.
There had undoubtedly been a lateral pass, perhaps two, but the Morgan's
players had so surrounded the play that the whole thing was as
unfathomable as it was mysterious and as mysterious as it was
unexpected. The one fact that stood out very, very clearly was that the
enemy had scored a touchdown. And, although she afterwards failed to
kick the goal, she had accomplished enough to humble Brimfield. In the
two minutes remaining the home team played desperately, trying its
hardest to secure the ball and get away for a run. But the visitors
refused to yield possession and the whistle sounded a defeat for the
Maroon-and-Grey.
"I think," said Manager Black to Quarter-back Marvin as they met at the
entrance to the gymnasium, "I'll take a walnut sundae."
What Quarter-back Marvin replied to Manager Black was both impolite and
forceful.