The Winning Touchdown: A Story of College Football

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XXIII

  HALED TO COURT

  Our heroes were in a quandary. They had gotten on the trail of themystery, and it diverged in two directions. Both paths seemed to leadto one or the other of two students--Bascome or Lenton. To accuseeither, or to question them, would mean serious trouble, for it wouldbe considered as an insult. Tom and his chums realized that.

  "But what gets me, if either one of them _did_ take our clock and chair,is what their motive could have been," spoke Tom. "Why in the mischiefshould they take our battered old ticker, leave another in its place,and then make the exchange again?"

  "It's just as easy to answer as to say who has our chair," declaredPhil. "It isn't in Bascome's room, that's certain."

  "And Lenton hasn't it," asserted Tom. "I found that out, all right."

  It was the morning after the sensational discovery of the letter, andthey were still discussing it, without apparently getting anywhere. Theyhad tacitly agreed that, without more evidence than they now possessed,it would be folly to go to Bascome again.

  "Let's get out of here," proposed Tom, after some more talk on thesubject. "We're almost late for chapel as it is."

  It is doubtful if either of the three chums gave much consideration tothe services that morning. Their minds were too much filled with othermatters.

  Dr. Churchill made an announcement to the effect that there might soonbe some news to communicate in the matter of the suit against thecollege.

  "At present," he stated, "the matter is in the hands of the lawyers, andwe hope to effect a compromise. If we arrive at one, I shall be mosthappy to let you young gentlemen know of it. Of course, too, there isthe possibility of unfavorable news. But, in any event, I know that youwill be loyal to the college."

  "You bet!" cried Bean Perkins, fervently, and he was not rebuked, forthe devotional exercises were over.

  "I wonder what Prexy meant by bad news?" asked Holly Cross, as he walkedover the campus with Tom and several other chums.

  "He didn't mean that we're going to lose the game with Fairview Saturday,I hope," put in Kindlings. "We're going to have long practice thisafternoon, and I want every fellow to show up. Simpson, I'm going togive you a chance at left guard in the second half of the game."

  "Thanks!" exclaimed the big Californian, fervently.

  The practice on the gridiron that afternoon was the hardest to which theplayers had yet been subjected. The scrub had been instructed to playfor all they were worth against the 'varsity, and the inducement washeld out that if any of the second team outplayed the man against him onthe regular eleven, that he could replace him in the Fairview game.

  This was enough to stir the blood of the scrubs, and they went at the'varsity hammer and tongs. The result was rather a surprise, for theregulars developed unexpected strength in the line. And even SnailLooper proved that he could do well when he wanted to, for when thebacks were sent against him and Bascome, the two held well together, andthe wave of human beings, of whom one had the ball, was dashed back,failing to gain in several cases.

  There was one particularly hot scrimmage, and Andrews, who was playingleft half-back on the scrub, went at the line like a stone from acatapult. He broke through, and Pete Backus and Sid Henderson, whotried to tackle him, missed. Andrews was gathering his speed for aspring down the field for a touchdown, when Phil Clinton, who hadcircled out of the press, was after him like a shot, and after a daringtackle threw him heavily.

  But, somehow or other, Phil slipped, and his foot was doubled under him.When he got up he limped painfully.

  "What's the matter?" demanded Mr. Lighton, anxiously, as he ran up.

  "Twisted my ankle."

  "Is it sprained?"

  "No, only a little. I'll be all right in a minute."

  They had his shoe off in a jiffy, and massaged the ankle, but it didlittle good, and wanting to save his quarter-back for the big game onSaturday, Captain Woodhouse sent in Art Benson, as a substitute. Philretired to the side lines, tears of chagrin in his eyes, but his friendscomforted him with the thought that he would be all right by Saturday ifhe rested, while, if he didn't he couldn't play against Fairview.

  The game went on, and, as if nerved by Phil's injury, the 'varsityplayed like fiends. They rushed the unfortunate scrub team all over thefield, and rolled up more touchdowns than they had previously done inpractice that season.

  "I guess we'll come out all right," spoke Kindlings, gleefully, to thecoach, as they walked from the field, discussing some new plays that hadbeen tried.

  "I'm more hopeful," answered Mr. Lighton.

  A hot bath, a rub down and a vigorous massaging of his ankle withliniment, made Phil feel much better, and that night, propped up in aneasy position on the sofa--the seat of honor--the quarter-back receivedhis friends, several of whom dropped in to inquire after him.

  "Will you be fit, old man?" asked Holly Cross, anxiously. "I hear thatFairview has it in for us for keeps."

  "Sure I'll be on hand," declared Phil, gamely. "This isn't anything."

  "I hope not," remarked Kindlings, with a dubious shake of his head. "Wecan tell better in the morning." For he well knew that such injuries asPhil's often became worse in a few hours than they seemed at first.

  The captain's apprehension was realized, for the next morning Phil couldnot step on his foot, and Dr. Marshall, the college physician, wassummoned.

  The doctor looked at the swollen ankle, felt of it gently, therebycausing Phil to wince with pain, and then announced:

  "No playing for you, Clinton."

  "But I've _got_ to play, doctor. I've _got_ to be in the game againstFairview Saturday. That's three days off. Won't it be well then?"

  "I'm afraid not."

  "Well enough to play if I wear a leather protector?"

  "If you play, you may be out of the game the rest of the season," wasthe solemn answer. "I must forbid it. You may do yourself seriousinjury. What you need is complete rest."

  Phil gasped, and held back the exclamation that sprang to his lips--anexclamation partly of bitterness and partly of pain, for the physicianwas rebandaging the foot. Then he turned his face to the wall, and whenthe doctor was gone, Tom and Sid sat in silent communion with theirchum. For they knew how he felt, and knew that mere words could onlymake the wounded spirit more sore. Silence was the best balm, andsilence there was, with only the fussy clock to mark the passage of theseconds.

  Phil's ankle was even worse the next day, and it was announced that hewould not be in the Fairview game, which news cast a gloom over Randall,and caused rejoicing in the camp of their rivals, for Fairview was nonetoo sure of a victory, though they had a fine eleven. Benson, thesubstitute quarter, was slated for the contest.

  There was hard practice every available moment up to the night beforethe game, and though the team was rather demoralized, the captain andcoach, by vigorous words, kept the players up to the mark.

  "We're going to win! We're going to win!" they said over and over again.

  There was a noticeable air of something portending when Dr. Churchilland his colleagues took their seats on the platform at chapel the nextmorning. The president's voice was solemn as he read the Scriptures,more solemn as he offered prayer, and when he advanced to the edge ofthe rostrum to make an announcement, there was a long breath ofexpectation from the students.

  "Is it about football or the trouble, I wonder?" whispered Holly Cross.

  "Quiet," begged Tom.

  "Young gentlemen," began the president, "I regret to say that I have badnews for you. Randall College has lost the first skirmish in the legalbattle. The directors have been summoned to court to show cause why theyshould not vacate the land whereon our buildings stand. The matter hadassumed a serious phase, all through the loss of that quit-claim deed."