CHAPTER XXI.A HOT START.
"Mr. Lincoln" failed to return to the hotel that night. The following day Jabez Lynch called at the hotel to inquire for the young man, and was told of his rather singular disappearance.
Jabez left the hotel in a somewhat puzzled state of mind, but soon decided that "Lincoln" had obtained the information he desired and taken a hurried departure from Fardale.
Then it was that Jabez fancied he saw an opportunity to increase his pocket-money, for Fardale’s past victories had made the cadets rather confident in regard to the future, and some of them were willing to risk a little in backing the academy team.
In an unostentatious way Jabez proceeded to seek bets, which he found. He protested that he hoped to see Fardale win again, but said he was satisfied that Viewland would prove superior. Whenever he succeeded in raising an argument on this point he offered to back his conviction with coin of the country, and, therefore, it was not long before he had wagered his last dollar.
Secretly, Jabez chuckled to himself when he thoughtof the surprise Viewland would give Fardale and Frank Merriwell. For he felt certain that, knowing Fardale’s code of signals, the opposing team would be prepared for any play, and, therefore, must readily defeat it.
Whenever any one accused him of disloyalty for betting on Viewland, Jabez insisted that he did so not because he wished the enemy to conquer, but because he believed that must be the inevitable result. But he found that not a few of the cadets seemed indignant because he was willing to bet against the academy team under any circumstances.
"They’ll be madder," he told himself, "when I gather in their dough. Perhaps they’ll begin to think Mr. Frank Merriwell is not such a great coach, after all."
The Fardale team worked steadily in practise that week, although Merriwell did not permit it to engage in a contest with the scrub the day before the game was to come off.
Saturday arrived, and found Fardale more confident than ever.
Fardale’s good record brought out an unusually large gathering of spectators, filling the seats provided for them.
Of course, Zona Desmond and Doris Templetonwere on hand, for they seldom missed a game played in Fardale. Zona seemed more dashingly handsome than ever, but it was Doris who received the undivided attention of Hal Darrell, who accompanied the girls, looking spick and span in his uniform.
A few minutes past two a band of shaggy-haired youngsters, garbed in football-armor, trotted onto the field, and then about thirty loud-lunged Viewland rooters broke loose.
"’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! ’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! ’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! V-i-e-w-l-a-n-d—Viewland! Viewland! Viewland!"
Divesting themselves of their heavy sweaters, the visitors lost no time in beginning practise. Two footballs were brought out, and then a ring was made, and part of the players began to pass the ball round the circle.
Off at one side, the center, full-back, and a half-back took positions. The center placed the ball on the ground, as far in front of him as he could reach in a stooping position, with his legs wide apart, then snapped it back to the full-back, who caught it and punted it to the half-back at a distance. This was kept up for some time, the half-back punting the ball back, or throwing it by taking hold of the end in a peculiar manner and giving it a sweeping swing.
In the midst of these operations there was another stir, and then a second band of youthful gladiators were seen coming on the run.
"Fardale!" shouted a voice, and then:
"Ha! ha! ha! ’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! Rigger-boom! Zigger-boom! All hail—Fardale! Fardale! Fardale!"
It seemed that the Fardale team shed their sweaters on the run, for they were ready for practise when they reached the gridiron, across which they trotted to the side opposite that on which Viewland was practising.
Even as they came to a pause, the quarter-back was heard calling a signal. Down went a ball, and the players lined up quickly; then there was a snap, a pass, and a forward rush.
Frank Merriwell came onto the field with the team, and he was close to the players as they formed, talking to them all the while. He kept them at work right along, and it was plain to see that the home team moved with more snap and regularity than ever before, each man seeming to know what was expected of him and to do the thing expected. This was calculated to arouse enthusiasm on the part of the Fardale spectators, and it did not fail.
Jabez Lynch was watching, and there was an expression of anxiety on his face. He saw the captainof the visiting team come across and meet Steve Nunn, and from his position Jabez was able to hear some of their talk.
"What are you going to do to us?" asked the Viewland captain.
"We expect to beat you," was the prompt answer.
"Well, you can’t do that, even though we have lost one of our best men."
"Lost a man! Hurt?"
"No—vanished. It’s the queerest thing. Cranch left home the first of the week, saying he’d be back the next day. Didn’t tell anybody where he was going, and we have not seen him since. But we can beat your chaps without him."
Jabez felt faint and ill. His face turned pale, and he longed to rush out and ask questions, an inclination he was compelled to resist.
Cranch gone! What did it mean? And the fellow had not returned since coming to Fardale!
"I’m soaked!" thought Lynch despairingly. "What the dickens has happened! Good Lord! If Viewland loses, I’m cleaned out of my last dollar and about twenty I have borrowed! I’ll be in a bad hole!"
From that moment he was desperately anxious.
Things moved swiftly. Viewland got the choice, and gave the ball to Fardale. The wind was blowingalmost directly across the field from the west, so there was little choice in goals.
The positions of the players are here given:
Viewland’s line was heavier than Fardale’s, and the appearance of the visiting team was such as to give the impression that it would be able to batter the cadets down by sheer weight and brawn. But Fardale’s men were in fine condition, their training not being too fine, and they were due to put up a better fight than the casual and uninformed observer might think possible.
The officials were on hand, the referee wearing a red sweater. On one side of the field were two men with stakes, and a line that permitted them to be set five yards apart.
The two teams scattered out over the field, the Viewland backs retiring to their goal-line, with the exception of the quarter.
Then there was a pause, as a discussion rose oversomething, and a boy, with a pail of water, trotted onto the field. He was called by several players, and plunged a huge sponge into the water-pail, letting the water run from the sponge into the mouths of the players. One fellow grabbed the dripping sponge and rubbed it over his face. Then the boy trotted off.
A player tore off some kind of head-gear and flung it aside. The ball had been placed on the spot in the center of the field.
At this moment the Fardale crowd gave the regular cheer, ending with Viewland three times shouted. Not to be outdone, the thirty Viewland rooters promptly retorted with their cheer, ending with "Fardale! Fardale! Fardale!"
This was a little bit of courtesy that was intended to show that the game was for square sport and there was no ill-will.
There was a hush, and then the whistle sounded.
"They’re off!" cried a voice.
The Fardale full-back advanced toward the ball, swung his muscular leg, and booted the oval far into Viewland’s territory.
Warne took the ball on the run at the ten-yard line, and he carried it ten yards before Kent brought him down. So the teams lined up on Viewland’s twenty-yard line for the opening scrimmage.
Viewland was encouraged by cheers from her thirty lusty-lunged rooters.
A pause, a move, a rush, a swirl—then a mass of human beings piled up. But Viewland had made full six yards by a plunge into Fardale’s center.
Again the visiting spectators cheered, for it seemed by this that Fardale’s line was not strong enough to hold such rushes.
The signal was given as the teams lined up facing each other, crouching, alert, ready. The players of the two lines bent forward so that it seemed as if their noses must touch, and thus they glared into one another’s eyes.
Again Viewland went hard for Fardale’s center, but this time Brad Buckhart stood there like a tree rooted to the ground, and the guards on either side of him refused to be swept back. There was a shock, a straining, a break, and Buckhart had the man with the ball down, without a gain.
Now Fardale opened up with a great cheer of satisfaction.
"Didn’t do it that time!" whooped a loud-voiced cadet joyously. "Oh, I don’t know that it’s so easy!"
But Viewland was in for swift work, and the line-up was made in breathless haste, so that the two teams were at each other again in the shortest possible time.
Once more, with the best interference that could be made, the visitors hurled themselves against Buckhart. The Texan set his teeth and met the assault in the same spirit that it was made. He held it until Shannockcould break through and throw the man with the ball.
There was another roar of joy from the Fardale seats, and the red and black was wildly waved in the breeze.
"Do it again!" whooped the same loud voice. "It’s just as easy!"
But Viewland had discovered that the center of Fardale’s line was not as easy as had been anticipated.
"Will they kick?" asked many.
But Viewland was not yet satisfied that the required gain could not be made, and the ball went to Jordan for an end-run. Moulton and Warne ran across with Jordan, as interferers, while the Viewland line held Fardale. Round the left end of the cadets the swiftest half-back of the visiting team tried to circle.
Down on him came a flying tackler, and the excited witnesses yelled:
"Merriwell!"
Moulton tried to stop Dick, but Don Kent had escaped Warwick, and he went into Moulton like a battering-ram, spoiling the interference of the visiting quarter-back. Warne was running too fast to turn in time when he made the discovery that Merriwell was on hand, and Dick shot past him and had Jordan by the leg in a moment.
Down came the runner, who had dodged back in apoor attempt to avoid Dick, and Viewland was stopped with a loss of at least four yards.
Then there was another cheer from Fardale—a cheer of exceeding great joy. The game was opening well for the home team, and Fardale showed she was not in the least awed by the apparent heaviness of the enemy.
The cadets had secured the ball, and, as the flags flew, the bleachers began to sing, a wildly gesticulating fellow leading the chorus.
Zona Desmond had leaped up with a cry when Dick tackled Jordan, waving above her head the flag she had brought. Turning, she caught hold of Doris, and cried:
"Wasn’t that just beautiful? Why don’t you cheer?"
But Doris had been too breathless to utter a sound, though her blue eyes were filled with a light of admiration.
The students were singing:
What’s the matter with old Fardale?She’s all right!She can fight!She’s always in the game.And her work is never tame;She’ll get there just the same;So——What’s the matter with old Fardale?
What’s the matter with old Fardale?She’s all right!She can fight!She’s always in the game.And her work is never tame;She’ll get there just the same;So——What’s the matter with old Fardale?
What’s the matter with old Fardale?She’s all right!She can fight!She’s always in the game.And her work is never tame;She’ll get there just the same;So——What’s the matter with old Fardale?
What’s the matter with old Fardale?
She’s all right!
She can fight!
She’s always in the game.
And her work is never tame;
She’ll get there just the same;
So——
What’s the matter with old Fardale?
"They’re singing too soon!" muttered Jabez Lynch. "Better wait a little while!"
"That’s what I think," said a voice beside him.
Lynch started, for he had not fancied that he spoke the words aloud. Scudder was there.
"What do you want?" asked Jabez, not quite pleased at having Uric there.
"Oh, nothing, nothing!" was the answer, as Scudder grinned and rubbed his chin. "Just happened along and heard what you said."
"I didn’t say anything."
"Didn’t you? Then I must have been dreaming."
"And I don’t wish to talk to you here."
"Why not?"
"Because it may arouse suspicion. I——"
"Now, don’t get on your high horse with me!" said Uric, in a low tone, suddenly assuming a defiant air. "I know all about you, and you’re not a bit better than I am—if as good. Just because I declined to be your tool, don’t think you can play the lofty with me. You acknowledged that you had been caught, and——"
"Stop that kind of talk here! I don’t want to play the lofty; but we’re both known as Merriwell’s enemies, and some of these suspicious ones may see us talking together. We’re not in the same class. You’re a plebe. If I have too much to say to you, it will excite comment. That’s all."
"I’m glad that’s all," said Uric, with sarcasm. "All right; I’ll not call suspicion down upon you. But ifyou’re banking on Viewland winning to-day, I fancy you’ll lose. Your game didn’t work, did it?"
Somehow, this pricked the curiosity of Lynch. Was it possible Scudder knew something about the disappearance of Cranch?
"My game?" said Jabez. "You mean——"
"Oh, you know."
"What makes you think it didn’t work?"
"Did it?"
Uric did not seem inclined to commit himself.
"Are you quizzing me?" said Jabez angrily.
"Oh, not at all! But it looks to me as if something had gone wrong in your plans. You wear a worried expression."
"Well, don’t you worry about me!"
"Little danger; but if Viewland wins, I’ll call round and see you to-night."
"You call——"
"Sure thing."
"Why? You——"
"I’m broke, and I shall need a little loan," said Uric significantly.
Jabez glared at him.
"Well, you won’t get it!" he snapped.
"Won’t I?" grinned Scudder. "Oh, I don’t know! Perhaps you’ll conclude to cough after you think about it. Of course, I don’t want to make it unpleasant for you, you know,but [illegible]but [illegible]"
Lynch felt like hitting the fellow.
"Go on!" he grated. "You may be sorry if you try any blackmailing-game on me!"
"Oh, law!" said Scudder, in pretended horror. "Don’t use such harsh language! You shock me!"
Then, with a sneering laugh, he moved off. Lynch glared after him.
"That fellow is going to make trouble for me," thought Jabez. "I’ve told him too much. He can’t be trusted."
But now he gave his entire attention to the playing.
Having secured the ball on downs, Fardale lined up for the assault, and Merriwell was hurled into Viewland’s center. Kernan was a good man there, but the impetus of Merriwell’s rush, backed as it was by Singleton, Nunn, and Shannock, forced Viewland to give for a distance of four yards.
This was good, and the watchers expected that the attempt would be repeated. The signal followed, as the two lines formed once more:
"11—17—92—X—13—40."
Merriwell was not given another opportunity. The ball was snapped and passed to Nunn, who started to the left on the run, Shannock and Merriwell falling in between him and the line, with Singleton just ahead of him.
But the left end of Fardale’s line broke, letting Purcell through. The right tackle of the enemy plungedbetween Shannock and Merriwell and nailed Nunn, throwing him fairly onto his head. The ball escaped Steve and went rolling away. Singleton tried to drop on it, but missed, and Warwick came down on the oval, having followed Purcell through the break.
Viewland had recovered the ball on this fumble.