CHAPTER XIII
THE LAST QUARTER
Phillipsburg began that final period with all the confidence born ofhaving held her enemy scoreless through thirty-six minutes of play. Shehad replaced many of her first-string men, but her captain was still inand so was the quarter-back who had started. On the Parkinson stand theaudience was on its feet, imploring a touchdown.
Dick had been through some trying moments during his brief footballcareer at Leonardville, but he had never felt quite so conspicuous,never so uncertain of himself, as when he trotted out and joined thegroup of brown-jerseyed players by the thirty-yard line. His heart wasbeating like a sledge-hammer and his palms were moist and there was afunny prickling sensation in his legs. Diffidence had seldom troubledhim before, and he felt doubly awkward now for that reason. But therewasn't much time for thought of his feelings, for he had hardlyjoined his team-mates when the whistle blew the end of the minuteintermission.
Dick looked over his companions in the back-field and wished that heknew more of them. Trask, in Kirkendall's position, was much the samesort of fellow in appearance as K. But he was lighter, and a good twoyears younger, Dick thought. Curtis was a good man and so was Skinner,but of the two Curtis's style of play was better known to Dick. Gleasonhad been made acting captain, and it was the substitute guard who bentbehind centre to whisper into the quarter's ear.
"We've got to get Skinner loose, Bates," said Gleason. "He's the boy ifhe can get away."
"All right. Let's start something, Parkinson! Signals!"
When the ball came back from between Dean's wide-spread legs, Dickwhirled and tossed it to Skinner, and Skinner, rather heavily built butquick at starting and hard to stop, went hurtling into the opposingleft guard and, with half the Parkinson team behind him, smashed hisway through for six yards. Then came every indication of a forward,with the left end edging out and showing nervous impatience and Dickdropping back eight yards behind centre and the half-backs watchingthe opposing ends. Back shot the ball to Dick, he made a pretence ofthrowing it to the left and turned his back to the line. Around sweptFindley, the right end, and to him went the pigskin at a short, quickpass. The halfs fell into stride beside him and Dick sprang away toguard the rear. Four strides, six, and a sharp cry of "In! In!" Theend dug a heel in the trampled sod and swung to the right. Straighttoward the confusion of swaying bodies that had formed the two lines amoment before, he raced. Yet there was some method in the confusion,for Parkinson's right end and one half had been drawn across the fieldon the false alarm and her tackle had been forced in. Back of theenemy line the secondary defence was rushing to the support of theforwards, but the interference cleaned the hole nicely and Findley shotthrough, dodged a tackle and was off at a tangent, finding holes wherethere seemed none, racing diagonally toward the right side-line. Theinterference was gone now and he was on his own, but only the Parkinsonquarter remained between him and the distant goal. Free of the melee,he swung down the field at the forty-yard line, a scant dozen feet fromthe boundary.
Behind him came the pursuit, but Findley was fleet of foot and only thePhillipsburg quarter, coming fast yet cautiously down on him, causedhim concern. The middle of the field was past now and he had gainedanother yard or two of elbow-room and the pursuers had not gained.Then came the supreme instant. The Phillipsburg quarter sprang withoutstretched arms and Findley gave, turning and twisting, across twoyards of the precious territory at his right. The quarter's clutchingfingers grasped, held for an instant, and Findley went staggering toone knee. Then he was up again, the quarter was rolling over on hisback, legs ludicrously in air, and a great shriek of triumph cameacross from the Parkinson stand. Findley was safe and bearing in towardthe still distant goal, while, behind him, friend and foe pounded inpursuit.
Dick had followed Findley through the line, had defeated one eagertackler and had gone sprawling onto the turf. But he had been on hisfeet again an instant later and, skirting the struggling mass, hadkept straight ahead down the field. He knew that he could not hope toreach Findley in time to aid him against the quarter-back. His onlychance of helping lay in being well down the field in case the runnergot past the enemy quarter. None sought to stop him, for the play hadfollowed the ball, and, while in the ruck of the pursuit friend andenemy went down and were strewn behind, Dick had had the centre of thegridiron to himself, with Findley speeding along well ahead and to theright and the quarter-back cutting across to him. Then had come therunner's clever escape and now he and Dick were converging on the goal,the latter gaining a little as the white lines went slowly underfoot.Never was the foremost pursuer very far behind, but always, barring anaccident, Findley seemed to have sufficient margin to win by. Yet, asthe thirty-yard line was left behind, one Phillipsburg player becamemomentarily more dangerous. He had managed to avoid the Parkinsoninterferers and had worked himself well into the lead. He was tall andslight and a runner of no mean ability, and Dick, turning his headfor a quick glance, read the menace. Findley was tiring slightly andrunning more slowly, head back, as Dick, edging further to the right,brought himself nearer to the path of the pursuit.
Followed an anxious moment. Findley crossed the fifteen yards withDick a scant six feet behind and the Phillipsburg man gaining on therunner at every stride. But to reach Findley the enemy would have toslip around Dick or topple him aside, and Dick knew it. The rest of thepursuers, strung back half the length of the field, were no longer tobe reckoned with. There was a thumping of swift feet at Dick's sideand he looked around into the set, intent face of the Phillipsburgplayer. The latter meant to swing past Dick and then, with a finalburst of speed, bring Findley to earth before the goal-line wasreached. But Dick had other views. Slowing imperceptibly, he let theenemy run even, as he did so catching a questioning look from a pairof wide, straining eyes. Then he swung quickly to the right, shouldershunched, and went sprawling over and over on the ground. And with himwent the enemy. And staggering, almost falling, Findley, the pigskinclutched tightly now to his stomach, crossed the last white line andsank gratefully to the turf.
Somewhere, a great distance away as it seemed to him, there was asubdued roar that sounded like "_Findley! Findley! Findley!_"
Minutes later a nervous, anxious youth by name of Trask directed thepointing of a ball in the none too steady fingers of Dick, the latterlying on hip and elbow close to the twenty-yard line. So much dependedon that goal that Trask had at first mutinously refused to attempt itand had only consented when convinced that no one else on the teamdared even try. Trask was very deliberate and many times Dick's handsmoved this way or that in obedience. Behind Trask the referee knelton one knee with upraised hand. Then, when Dick thought that in justone more second he would have to yell, there came a firm, quiet "Down!"from Trask, the referee's hand dropped swiftly earthward, a brownobject swung past Dick's eyes and the ball was gone. Still poised onhip and elbow, Dick's eyes followed the revolving oval. Very slowlyit mounted upward, seemed to wobble uncertainly against the blue sky,veered erratically to the right as though making straight for a postand then began to fall. Dick's heart sank like a leaden weight. Traskhad kicked too short! Then the ball suddenly went upward again asthough struck from beneath and a din of cheers and shouts broke thelong minutes of silence.
"Struck the bar and went over!" someone shouted and Dick's heart leapedupward again as swiftly as the ball had bounded from the cross-bar.The Phillipsburg players ended their leaping charge and with downcastfaces walked past as Dick jumped to his feet. Someone thumped himtremendously on the back and almost sent him sprawling to earth again,and Trask's voice howled hoarsely: "Got to hold 'em now, Bates! Got tohold 'em, old man! It's our game if we can hold 'em!"
"We're going to!" answered Dick with a world of confidence in hisvoice. "We're going to hold 'em, Trask! It's our day! Come on!"
And hold them they did, although there were moments during theremaining nine or ten minutes when things looked dark indeed for thevisitors. Phillipsburg hustled in new players and went back at th
eenemy tooth and nail. A bewildering variety of single and double andeven triple passes were essayed. Some succeeded, most failed, but allwere puzzling and unnerving to a team of third- and even fourth-stringplayers, and that Parkinson managed to stave off defeat in that finalquarter was scarcely less than a miracle. End runs got away and yetwere stopped short of disaster, and always Dick clung to the ball tothe last desperate moment before yielding it by a punt. Parkinsondidn't make the mistake of playing only for safety, for a purelydefensive game kept up for a length of time takes the heart out of thedefenders. When Parkinson got the ball she attacked as hard as ever,and some of the substitutes won real laurels that afternoon. But atlast the end came, after Phillipsburg had thrice won her way inside heropponent's thirty yards and had once got to her fourteen, and elevenjoyous, tired, breathless youths fell against each other and babbledincoherent congratulations.
An hour later players and rooters mingled happily on the home-boundtrain and in a corner of one car Dick and Stanley and Blash and Rustycrowded themselves in and over and around one seat designed for twopersons and made merry. Dick's merriment was less strenuous than thatof the others, for that brief session had left him rather limp andtired. It had also, it appeared, left him somewhat of a hero to hisfriends, for Blash declared that only Dick's interference had won thegame.
"Findley's run was a corker," said Blash, "and he ought to have theVictoria Cross for it, but it wouldn't have scored if you hadn't beenJohnny-on-the-Spot, Dick. Why, Lovering would have had Findley as sureas shooting! Of course, we might have smashed it over from the tenyards, and then again we might not have. I think we might not have.What saved the bacon for us was you bowling Lovering over, and don'tyou forget it! The Victoria Cross for Findley and the DistinguishedService Cross for you. I'll order them at once."
"The gentleman is quite correct," said Rusty, "although it isn't ausual condition with him. And, look here, fellows, while we're pinningbouquets on, why not say a couple of kind words for the whole bloomin'team that held those Phillipsburg guys innocuous--I believe that's theword, Stan?--innocuous all through the last dreadful quarter? I ask youwhy not, and again I ask you----"
"Moved and carried," droned Blash, "that the hearty thanks of themeeting be extended to the team. So ordered. There being no otherbusiness before the meeting, a motion to adjourn will----"
"Move you, Mr. Chairman, that Stan be appointed a committee of one tofind the train-boy and buy much sweet chocolate. All in favour----"
"What with?" demanded Stanley sarcastically. "Seven cents? You borrowedevery red I'd borrowed from Dick, Rusty. What did you do with it?"
Rusty grinned, gulped and broke into chuckles. "I spent it, dear one,"he giggled. "And 'twas well-spent, believe thouest me! Listen and I'lltell you--Hold on, though! Who buys the chocolate? Honest, I'm far toofaint to narrate this moving tale. Have a heart, Blash!"
"I'm busted, son. Honest!"
Dick produced a few silver coins and some pennies. "I'll be the goat,"he said, "but someone else must do the buying. I wouldn't stir fromhere for a thousand dollars; even if I could, which I can't with Stansitting on my shoulder."
"Give me the pelf," volunteered Stanley, with a sigh. "Which way do Igo?"
"Forward," advised Rusty. "I saw him going through ten minutes ago.Better hurry, too, for he didn't appear to be overstocked."
Stanley went wearily away along the crowded aisle and Blash remindedRusty of the tale. "Go on," he said, "and let's hear your criminaladventures."
"Wait till Stan comes back. Don't I tell you I'm faint from want offood? Besides, Stan's going to enjoy this yarn. Jumping Jehosophat,I wish we were home and I was eating my supper! Isn't anyone elsestarved?"
"We all are," said Blash, "only we don't--don't wear our stomachs onour sleeves!"
Dick laughed and Rusty shook his head wonderingly. "The kid is clever,"he murmured. "Ah, here he comes! Empty-handed, by jiminy! No, he bearssuccor! A-a-y, Gard! Sweet youth, I bid you welcome! Where's mine?_Wha-a-at?_ Only three cakes for all that money I supplied you with?What do you know--Oh, well, I'll try to worry along on this. Folks,that tastes good! Now then, lend me your ears and everything andI'll narrate to you the story of The Careful Spender and the HelpfulFriend."
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