CHAPTER XXIVWATTLES 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!”
“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!”
“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 armsand 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 handhim 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-fouryards. 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-ninean 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, twistedand 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 thenfirst 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 Wolcottwas 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 theplay 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 hehaddone 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