WATTLES AGREES
The teams trailed off and the rival cheering sections became concertedly
vocal once more. One had to either cheer or sing if only to keep warm!
The Wolcott songsters followed the band through a martial effort that
wasn’t a great success because most of the fellows had forgotten the
words and sang “dum-ti-dum-dum” instead. Then Dodson, Wyndham cheer
captain, tossed aside his big blue megaphone and threw his arms aloft.
“Let’s have ‘We Beat Her,’ fellows! Everybody into it and make it
snappy. All right! _‘We-e-e――’!_”
Whereupon the visiting contingent answered with their latest effusion,
sung to the tune of a popular ballad of the year:
“We beat her back in ’16, in ’17 once more;
We swamped her in ’20 with a sixteen-nothing score!
We beat her in ’21 when she couldn’t hold the ball,
But this year, on her own field, we’ll beat her worst of all!”
Wyndham had no band to aid――or hinder――but she made the welkin ring.
Dodson, white-sweatered, leaped and danced and kept time with waving
arms and swaying body. “Great! Once more now! All sing!” They
responded valiantly, louder than before since many, previously silent,
found courage and lifted their voices. Wolcott applauded and laughed
and came back with a derisive composition in which “Wyndham” was
insultingly punned with “wind ’em.”
Across the field, Mr. Deane lighted a fresh cigar and said: “Well, it
looks as if they’d pulled that fellow’s teeth, eh? What’shisname, I
mean.”
“Hoskins?” asked Loring. “Yes, I don’t believe he will trouble us much,
father. Mr. Babcock set two men to covering him and he hasn’t got away
with anything yet. What Wolcott may do, though, is fake a throw to
Hoskins and send the ball the other way. That might catch us napping.”
“How did you spy that fellow, Lory?”
“They ran him on near the end of last week’s game. Wolcott had scored a
touchdown and a field-goal in the first half and sent her first-string
men off to the showers. After that she couldn’t do much. The other team
got scrappy and held Wolcott twice inside its twenty yards. I think
Wolcott thought she ought to have one score at least to show for the
last half and took a chance. Anyway, after she’d used up two downs over
there near the twenty-five-yard line she called Hoskins in, and he
sifted through on the first play and trotted down to the corner of the
field, just as he did a few minutes ago. The ball went right into his
hands and he stepped over the line for a touchdown. Then he was taken
right out again. I saw the trainer hand him his sweater and send him
back to the gym. That was all I needed to see, sir.”
Mr. Deane chuckled, and Mrs. Deane said admiringly: “I think that was
very, very clever, dear.”
“Thanks, moms, but it really wasn’t. Any one could have called the
turn. I suppose they thought we didn’t know that they’d been working
up that forward-passing stuff under cover. They’d kept it pretty well
hidden. If they had thought twice, though, they wouldn’t have shown
their hand like that.”
“It’s safe to say they wish they hadn’t,” chuckled Mr. Deane. “I
suppose they’re wondering now what happened, eh?”
“They know what happened,” laughed Loring, “but it’s a bit late! I wish
we had managed to get one score in that half, though. Wolcott will come
back pretty hard, I guess.”
Both teams had made changes when they faced each other once more. For
Wyndham, Williams was at left end, Couch at right end, Higgs at center,
Breeze at right guard and Houston at quarter. The Blue chose the north
goal and kicked off to Wolcott. The wind had decreased perceptibly and
grown flukey, and Ogden’s kick-off went out of bounds on Wolcott’s
twenty-seven yards. Three minutes later the Brown had crossed the
middle of the field and taken the pigskin into Wyndham territory.
Faking a forward-pass, she sent her left half, a fresh player who had
relieved Hoskins, on a wide run around the right end. Couch was neatly
boxed and the ball went to the thirty-four yards. Wolcott was going
now. Concentrating on the Wyndham left, she made first down on the
twenty-two, sending Cotter out of the game. Longwell took his place.
Wolcott tried Longwell and made a scant two. A short heave over tackle
on the right bounded out of the catcher’s hands, was fumbled by Ogden
and grounded. With eight to go on third down, Wolcott elected to try
a field goal. She attempted one more smash first, though, and pulled
in another two yards through Captain Lothrop. Then the ball shot back
to her right tackle, who had retreated to the twenty-nine yards, and,
although the Wyndham forwards tore through desperately, arose again
safely and sailed squarely across the bar for the first score.
The Brown’s adherents went wild with joy, the big drum boomed, and
automobile horns blared stridently. Wyndham’s cheer, though, was loud
and undismayed as the teams went back to midfield. Wolcott kicked off.
Houston caught, juggled for a heart-breaking instant, dodged the first
Wolcott end and then plunged straight ahead. A second tackler tried,
missed and went down. A hasty interference formed about the runner,
Weldon in the lead, mowing down the enemy. At the thirty-six yards,
forced away from his interference, Houston was pulled to earth after a
stirring run of thirty yards.
Wyndham kept the ball to Wolcott’s thirty-nine, Ogden and Jensen
alternating at slants that tore off four, five, once eight yards. On
the enemy’s thirty-nine an off-side penalty set the Blue back and,
after two plunges that netted little, Ogden punted to the Brown’s five.
The Wolcott quarter refused the catch and the ball bounced erratically
back in the direction it had traveled. Weldon put it down on the
fourteen yards. Wolcott tried one off-tackle play from kick formation
and gained three. Then she punted, James, her fullback, standing close
to the five yards. Lothrop broke through and hurried the kick and the
pigskin went high and was shortened by the wind. Jensen caught close to
the side-line on Wolcott’s thirty-two, made three and was thrown out.
The Blue took up her journey again, a short pass, Ogden to Houston,
yielding seven yards and Ogden carrying the ball through the right side
for a first down. Wyndham cheerers were chanting “Touchdown, Wyndham!
Touchdown, Wyndham! Touchdown, Wyndham!” Wolcott asked for time and put
in a fresh left guard. Ogden ran up against a stone wall on the next
play and Jensen was nabbed trying to slide off left tackle, and Captain
Lothrop stepped back to the thirty and held out his hands. When the
ball came he plunged straight ahead and got four through the center.
Tom Kemble reported and Whitemill went off. Tom went back to kick.
Higgs passed badly and the ball reached him on the ground. There was
no time to straighten up and get the kick off, for Wolcott was piling
through on him. So Tom thumped the ball to his stomach and started off
to the right. He dodged one enemy, squirmed free of another, turned
sharply in, twisted and turned and finally went down. He had added
three yards, but three was not enough.
Wolcott decided to punt out of danger on first down and James went back
to the four yards. This time it was the Wolcott center who offended,
and the ball reached the fullback above his head. He caught it, but
both Lothrop and Weldon had broken through and were bearing down on him
on each side. The ball went no farther than Weldon’s upflung arm and
then bounded back. James was down, but a Wolcott halfback won the race
to the ball, picked it up on the bound and sought to circle the goal.
Dave Lothrop brought him down just short of the line and Wyndham had a
safety, two points to flaunt against Wolcott’s three!
Wolcott kicked from the thirty-yard line, and the quarter ended after
Kemble had caught on his own thirty-two and carried the ball to the
thirty-seven.
For the last period Wyndham had the wind against her, but it was now
little more than a strong breeze, and occasionally the big brown flag
above the grandstand fell limply about the staff. More changes were
made by Mr. Babcock. Archer went back at left and Carlson at center.
Raiford took Weldon’s place, Sproule went in at right half and “Swede”
Hanbury relieved Ogden. Wyndham made four changes in her line, sending
back three veterans of the first half, and introduced a fresh quarter.
Wyndham reached midfield on six plays, only to lose the ball when
Sproule fumbled. Wolcott was then first down on her own forty-eight
yards. On the first play a penalty for holding set her back to her
thirty-three. A long pass over the right end went astray and a second
attempt on the other side was no more successful. James punted short
and the ball went out at Wyndham’s forty-seven. Breeze was taken off
and Clem Henning succeeded him at right guard. Sproule got free outside
tackle and took the ball to the opponent’s forty-one. Hanbury made
three and then four over right tackle. Kemble was thrown for a loss on
an attempt at the Wolcott left end and Hanbury punted. The ball went
over and was brought back to the twenty.
Wolcott was playing for time now, satisfied, it seemed, with her
one-point lead. She made it first down on her thirty-two with a short
and unexpected forward toss and then, faking a second throw, tore
through Henning for six. Hanbury, who made the tackle, was hurt and
time was called. Presently he went off, assisted, and Johnny Thayer
raced on. Wolcott struck a snag on the next play and lost two yards. A
forward-pass over left guard grounded, after being juggled by half the
players, and James kicked. Again the punt fell short and the ball was
Wyndham’s on her forty-four yards. Raiford gave way to “Wink” Coles and
Couch to Clif Bingham.
The Blue crossed the half-way mark on two plays with Johnny Thayer
carrying, each play a fake cross-buck in which the halfbacks went
outside tackle and the fullback drove straight through guard. Wyndham
had used few split interference plays so far and Wolcott was easy
prey; Johnny got four yards through right guard and seven through left.
Kemble crashed at left tackle for three more and then went outside
the same player for four. Thayer added two through center, and, with
less than one to go on fourth down, Houston cut through left guard for
the distance. Sproule again got loose around his left and reached the
enemy’s twenty-six before he was forced over the line. Thayer made two
and Kemble two and Houston went back to kicking position. The play was
a short pass, however, and Clif, on the catching end, failed to get his
fingers on it. Time was called for Captain Dave and, after Dan Farrell
had worked over him, Wyndham took a two-yard penalty, Captain Dave
staying in. Houston took a good pass from Carlson and got the ball away
cleanly, but it fell short of the bar.
Time was growing short and the figures on the scoreboard looked to
be final. James punted on first down and put the oval down near
the opponent’s forty-five, his longest punt of the day. Tom Kemble
misjudged and Houston got the ball on the bound and was thrown savagely
on his thirty-six. Time was again called, and when play was resumed,
Stoddard was back at quarter. Wolcott had seized the opportunity to
bolster up her line with a new tackle and end on the left. Stoddard
used a fake cross-buck again and Thayer found a wide hole at the left
of center and romped through for twelve yards. On a similar play he was
downed on the line. There were two minutes left.
Kemble tried the end and made a yard and Sproule had no better luck off
tackle. Kemble went back and hurled across the center to Stoddard for
eight yards and a first down. With Kemble back again, the ball went to
Thayer, and Johnny got six on a sweep around right end before he was
smothered. Sproule and then Kemble hit right guard and made it first
down again. The ball was on Wolcott’s thirty-one yards and there was
just under a minute of playing time left.
Captain Lothrop went out, cheered to the echo, and Smythe took his
place. Ellison went in for Carlson and Treader for Sproule. Wyndham
was still cheering valiantly, hopefully. Treader, squandering all the
pent-up energy and longing of the afternoon in one brief instant,
dashed himself fiercely at the enemy’s right and squirmed and fought
through to the twenty-six. Wyndham roared in triumph and automobile
horns sounded raucously.
“_Touchdown! Touchdown!_” chanted Wyndham, while Wolcott implored her
warriors to “_Hold ’em! Hold ’em! Hold ’em!_” Then Tom again went back
and the visiting cheerers changed their slogan. “_Kick that goal! Kick
that goal!_” was the cry now. Out on the field the effect was only of
so much sound, confused, meaningless, and Houston had to shout high to
be heard.
“_30, 87, 27!_”
Archer swung away from the line and ran back toward his own goal. Tom
held his long arms out. The timer’s watch told twenty seconds left.
The signal came again:
“_30, 87_――”
The ball left Ellison and sped back to Tom. Archer swung to the left
and crossed behind. Tom, too, was running that way now, the ball before
him, and so were Treader and Houston, and so carefully were they spaced
that not one of the enemy save the left end saw the ball pass from Tom
to Archer behind that moving screen. But that left end, coming through
inside Clif Bingham, was not able to use his knowledge to advantage,
for Treader crashed into him and he went down, sprawling in the path of
the runners. The Wolcott right end, speeding around, met Thayer, and
that fact kept him, too, forever out of the play. Treader and Houston
swept on around the right, but Tom, slackening speed, tarried while
Archer, still running toward the side-line, found his position for the
throw. Then a Wolcott tackle came plunging up, and Tom had his work cut
out for him. As he and the brown-stockinged foe met, Archer dropped
his right arm behind his shoulder, swept it forward again and threw,
straight and hard, down the field from the thirty-six yards.
No one had seriously interfered with Clif when the ball had been
snapped. Dodging wide, he had let the Wolcott left end past inside him.
Then, warily, as though only desirous of avoiding the rough encounters
behind, he sped none too hurriedly across three white marks. The
Wolcott left halfback started toward him, but after one stride changed
his course. To him the play was what it seemed, a fake kick and a wide
sweep about the left of his line, and he hurried up to get into it.
Midway between the five-yard-line and the ten Clif stopped and swung
about. If the play had been timed right the ball should be already on
its way. It was. So, too, was the Wolcott quarterback, and, further
away, others. But the ball came faster than they, and it came true.
Clif set himself, held his hands out for it, felt it thump into them,
tightened his clutch about it, turned and ran. There was but one white
mark to cross before the goal-line, and he had spurned it before the
enemy reached him. Then came the supreme test. The Wolcott quarterback
launched himself forward, but Clif had anticipated the tackle by the
fraction of a second. He twisted to the right, perilously close to the
side-line, spun, saw the enemy go sprawling past, hands clutching,
emptily, leaped the falling body and was safe. There was the last white
streak a stride away and he had crossed it before the second enemy
reached him, crossed it and dropped to earth, the battered ball held
tightly wrapped in his arms!
* * * * *
The Wyndham Team held its banquet on Wednesday night at the Inn. There
were many speeches made and many songs sung, and a whole batch of
congratulatory messages were read by Captain Dave. There was one from
Coach Otis and another from “Big Bill” Fargo amongst them. Nearly forty
persons occupied the three big tables that had been placed end to end,
but all were not team members. Besides the coaches, and Dan Farrell,
the trainer, and Mr. Frost, representing the Faculty, there was a
boy in a wheel chair. Several speakers of the evening had done their
best to embarrass this guest; notably Mr. Babcock who had gone into
sickening details in his account of how Wyndham had spiked Wolcott’s
guns. But Loring bore up very well, for, after all, he was only human,
and he _had_ done his bit toward that 8 to 3 victory. They sang that
charming ditty “We Beat Her” several times, though now the last line
had been altered to “And what we did last Saturday we’ll do again
next fall!” And finally they sang “Shadowed Walls,” all standing, and
cheered for Wyndham――the long cheer with nine booming “Wyndhams” on the
end――and broke up.
Wattles, waiting outside the door, took charge of Loring, and the wheel
chair trundled along Oak Street with Clif on one side and Tom on the
other. Ahead of them and behind echoes of the evening sounded. Carlson
and Jensen, arms entwined, confided to a star-sprinkled sky that “We
beat her back in ’16.” Farther behind a cheer arose. Tom, who had
emptied the contents of a dish into a pocket before leaving, shared
salted nuts with the others. Wattles’s refusal to partake availed him
nothing. Tom stopped traffic while he filled Wattles’s mouth, and for
some distance Wattles couldn’t have spoken had he wanted to.
“Wonder who they’ll elect Saturday,” mused Clif a moment later.
“Houston or Ogden,” said Tom. “Say, look here, you fellows! Here’s
something I’ve had on my mind for days. How――”
“Where did you say you’d had it, Tom?” asked Loring. “I’m afraid I
didn’t hear you right.”
“Shut up. Say, how many of the old Scrub fellows do you think were on
the team when we made that touchdown?”
“Four,” said Loring. “You, Clif, Thayer――”
“Wrong, old son! Five! Count ’em! Five! Clem Henning――”
“Oh, well,” objected Clif, “he was off the Scrub long before――”
“Doesn’t matter! And who won their old game, anyway? Why, the old Scrub
won it! Henning was right guard, ‘Wink’ was right tackle, Johnny took
the pass from center, Clif made the touchdown and I――er――supervised it!
Now, then, I ask you, who won the old ball game?”
Three voices answered loudly, proudly and in chorus “_The Fighting
Scrub!_” And――
“Hooray!” said Wattles, still articulating with difficulty. “Quite so,
sir!”
THE END
BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
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Transcriber’s Notes:
――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
――Printer’s, punctuation, and spelling inaccuracies were silently
corrected.
――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.