Frank Armstrong, Drop Kicker

by Matthew M. Colton

  CHAPTER XV.

  FRANK TAKEN TO WARWICK.

  While the advent of the telegraph line occupied the attention of ourfriends in the evenings, it must not be thought that they were anythe less intent on the football doings in the afternoons. The end ofthe season was drawing rapidly to a close and only one game--thatwith Porter School on the Queen's grounds--remained on the scheduleto be played, with the exception of the final match with Warwick.This latter game was to be played at Warwick, which was considered adisadvantage, as the Queen's eleven seemed to fight better on homegrounds. It will be remembered that the Warwick game was played atQueen's the previous year. These matches always alternated--one yearat Warwick and the next at Queen's, and so on.

  After Frank had won his place on the Second eleven, there was ageneral brace by the School eleven. Dixon, seeing his position indanger of being invaded by Frank, put forth his best efforts, andhe was so clever a quarter that when he did his best he was hard tobeat. Horton was delighted with the change and attributed it in aconsiderable degree to the dashing play of Frank Armstrong, who hadbeen, as he expressed it, "a regular find."

  Then came the Porter game. "This is our test," said Jimmy the Fridaynight before it was played. "If we get away with this one, there's achance that we can pull off the Warwick game."

  "A fighting chance, yes," said the clear-headed Codfish. "You may beable to hold them, but I don't see how you can score against theirdefense. Warwick is as good or better than last year. The only wayyou can beat a strong defense, under these rules that the footballfathers have doped out, is to have a drop kicker."

  "Well, we haven't got one, so we'll have to get off a forward pass orsomething tricky, and catch those big guys napping. It all depends onwhat we can do to-morrow."

  The boys turned in early. Frank fell asleep with hopes of a chance atto-morrow's game in his head.

  It was a glorious day, and every one far and near turned out to seethe test of the School eleven against the strapping boys from Porter.Knowing well the erratic course that the Queen's eleven had beensteering, the invaders, who came gayly decked as for a celebration,freely expressed themselves as to the size of the score. They wouldnot consider for a moment that the score might be against them.Nearly all, excepting the most optimistic of the Queen's followers,were shaking in their shoes because a defeat to-day meant disaster aweek later. A victory would hearten the team so much, that they mighteven triumph over the proud and confident eleven up the river.

  From the moment of the first clash of the lines the Porter boysshowed their superiority. They took the ball and on straight rushescarried it far down the field, only to lose it when they seemed tobe sure of scoring. Red-headed Jimmy was everywhere on defense. Halfa dozen times the Porter runner with the ball was through the line,but was nailed with deadly precision by this half-back. Dixon alsoplayed magnificently. He was playing to hold his place, and althoughFrank, sitting on the side-lines wrapped up in a blanket, saw hisopportunity for a trial disappearing through the brilliant play ofChip, he could not but admire it.

  Time after time the Porter School eleven carried the ball half thelength of the field. Stone, their full-back, out-punted Wheeler,and their ends covered the long punts with deadly certainty. Porterplayed harder and harder and made ten yards of ground to one forQueen's, but they were met down around the 25-yard line with sofierce a resistance that they could go no further. Twice they madeweak attempts to drop-kick a goal, but each time the trials failed.Once a Queen's end recovered the ball and carried it 70 yards downthe field, where he was felled by the Porter tackle, who outran him.

  This hammering game went on for three quarters, but, in the fourthquarter, Queen's seemed to gain strength. Twice they stopped thePorter rushes at midfield, and with unsuspected power carried theball inside the 10-yard line, only to be stopped when success seemedcertain. Quickly the minutes flew by. Dixon drove his men withincreasing speed in spite of the fact that they were about ready todrop. They responded to the call splendidly. It was the best footballthey had shown the whole fall, but in spite of their best effortsPorter stood a barrier to the goal line, and the whistle blew withthe game a tie, without scoring by either side.

  "I was praying that they'd call you in and give you a trial, Frank,"said Jimmy that night, "when we were down on their goal line. But,after a conference, Dixon thought he could take it across andWheeler thought so, too. And they failed. It would have been an easydrop--right in front of the posts. If I had been captain I'd havetried it every time I got inside the 15-yard line, but Horton doesn'tthink that way."

  "Wait till you get to be captain," said the Codfish, "and you'll havethem kicking goals all over the field, eh, old speed?"

  "Well, I'd be a little freer with them than the Captain is. But it'shis team and I'm not grouching. As the fellow in the poem says:

  "'Mine not to reason why, Mine but to do or die.'"

  "And you died, I notice, and you'll die some more up at Warwick nextSaturday," prophesied the cold-hearted Codfish.

  Very little was done on the gridiron during the week preceding theWarwick game. The players were rested after the hard struggle theyhad gone through with the Porter School team. There was some secretpractice and several trick plays were run over. The last work-out wason Wednesday afternoon.

  "Only light drill to-morrow," announced Horton, "and nothing at allon Friday."

  "Do you know the signals of the First eleven?" inquired Horton ofFrank when he was coming out of the shower bath that night.

  "I've picked up most of them, yes, sir," said Frank.

  "I thought so," said Horton, grinning, "by the way you played ondefense. Here's a set of them. Get them well in your head. Perhaps wemay need you to-morrow."

  Frank's heart took a great leap in his breast. "'Perhaps we willneed you to-morrow,'" he kept repeating to himself. "But after allit is only 'perhaps.' Well, that's better than nothing." That nightHorton's "perhaps" kept him awake half an hour longer than usual, andhe went to sleep finally to dream of the clash of battle in which hehad a part.

  Thursday was given to signal drill, short, sharp and snappy.The bleachers were well filled with boys who had come down in anorganized mass to try out their new songs. As the players rolled andtumbled around on the ground, the sharp cheer rang out, and at itsend was the name of a player.

  "Come on, get into this, now," shouted the cheer leaders--

  "'Rah, 'rah, 'rah, 'rah, 'rah, 'rah! Queen's!--_Wheeler!_"

  The boys raised their voices with a will. Even the second and thirdsubstitutes came in for their share, and Frank felt a strange thrillrun down his spine as he heard his own name, "_Armstrong_," snappedout by the bleachers. That it was well down toward the end of thelist and not among the important members did not particularly matter.It meant that he was a possible candidate for the team and that wasenough to fill him almost to bursting with happiness. And his joy wasnot lessened on seeing the bulletin near the gymnasium door, pastedthere by Horton, after the practice. His name was among those whowere to take the train for Warwick Saturday afternoon.

  It seemed to the boys that Saturday would never come, but come itdid at last, a glorious day in early November. The exodus for Warwickbegan early. The Queen's boys went by train, by automobile, by team,and some of those given to pedestrianism even walked the five milesup the river. Every Queen's boy bore his banner or badge of blue andgold, the school colors. Some carried them modestly while othersflaunted their flags to the breeze and made sure that the entirepopulace would know that they came from Queen's, and that they weresure of victory.

  "Isn't it great," said Jimmy, as he and Frank hurried for the 12:30train which was to take the team to Warwick, "to see this turn-out?It makes me feel as though I could play my head off when the whistleblows."

  Boys who have not attended a preparatory school or college can hardlyunderstand the intense feeling of loyalty which a body of studentshas for its teams. They may be good or they may be poor, but sincethey represent the school, if the s
chool has any spirit in it atall, the boys are behind the teams. This intense loyalty oftenactually makes a team strong that would otherwise be indifferent ordistinctly poor. And so it was with the Queen's School eleven thatSaturday with which our story deals. The bad record of the season wasforgotten for the time, and every player who wore the Blue and Goldfelt himself nerved to do his best, or more than his best, becausehis schoolmates were with him heart and soul.

  "I've a hunch that we are going to win this game," said Jimmy as thetrain neared Warwick on its short run.

  "Of course we are," said big Wheeler, overhearing the remark. "Don'tbelieve anything but that and we'll show them who's who, and don'tyou forget it."

  At the little Warwick railroad station a hundred boys who hadpreceded the team and all those on the train gathered around the teamas it alighted from the car and, with hats off, gave it a ringingcheer. Then, as the players piled headlong into the 'bus that wasto carry them to the Warwick grounds, the crowd fell into line fourdeep and followed along, occasionally sending up a cheer to vary theSchool marching song. And in this martial array Queen's invaded theirrival's grounds.

  "Let them sing," said a Warwicker who sat in a group of boys onthe Library steps as the Queen's phalanx went swinging along, proudand haughty under the banners of Blue and Gold; "they will be quietenough after the game is over."

  The Warwick crowd were confident of victory, and the remark of theboy on the steps of the Library reflected the feeling of every one inthe school. And they had good reason to feel confident. The Warwickeleven was a strong one, most of whose members had played togetherfor two years. The team had won all its games by big scores, and whatserved to make assurance almost certain, was an easy victory overPorter two weeks before the day Queen's had played the same team toa tie. The Warwickers would not even admit that Queen's had a chanceto get within striking distance of the Warwick goal on straightoffensive strength. "Of course, there's always danger of a fumble orsomething," said those who liked to consider themselves fair to theother fellow, "but the chances are against that."

  Warwick also made a brave showing with their school colors. Flagshung from the dormitory windows, and over the door of the gymnasiumwas draped an enormous Warwick flag. Down on the big flagstaff bythe track house another flag--Maroon with a big white "W"--floatedlazily in the breeze. Boys gathered in doorways and on the walks anddiscussed with eagerness the coming struggle.

  The game was scheduled for two o'clock and long before that hour thecrowds were streaming across the playing fields in the direction ofthe football stands. Suddenly was heard the music of a band, andsoon it swung into view from behind the Library where the Warwickprocession had been formed; and after it came a long tail of boys,hands on each other's shoulders, skipping and dancing along inthe peculiar zig-zag step. The crowds opened to make room forthis procession, and some joined in the Warwick songs as the bandthundered out the melody. But you may be sure that the Queen's boysrefrained from taking part in the Warwick jollification. They did dotheir best, however, to make their own songs heard above the din.

  Soon the crowds filed into the stands and were seated by the ushers,who were distinguished from their fellows by a big Maroon silk badgeon their coat lapels. The ushers, in spite of their duties, managedto keep one eye on the field where the members of the two teams wererunning through the signals.

  Queen's had the west and Warwick the east stand, and during thepreliminaries hurled defiance at each other across the browngridiron. Warwick, with a greater body of supporters, kept up asteady yell, varied now and then by a song. The Queen's followers,gathered compactly into two or three sections of the stand, madetheir presence known by their snappy school yell. The cheer leadersworked incessantly, and whenever there was any evidence of lagging,heckled the sections through their megaphones: "Come on here, thisisn't a whispering match! What did you come up here for?" and suchlike taunts.

  Suddenly a hush fell on the crowds on both sides of the field.Wheeler, captain of Queen's, and Burns of Warwick, with the referee,met at midfield. They shook hands and held a little conference. Aftera minute or two the referee snapped a coin into the air. The crowdscould not hear what was said, but as Burns turned away and wavedhis hand to the north end of the field, the Warwick cheer leadersinterpreted the sign as meaning, and rightly, too, that Warwick hadwon the toss and had taken the north end of the field, which wasfavored by a little breeze.

  The information imparted to the Warwick stand by the megaphones, acheer burst out spontaneously. The rattle of yelling went the lengthof the stand. In another instant Warwick's measured yell, beaten bythe waving arms of half a dozen cheer leaders working in unison,rolled out on the crisp air as the teams trotted to their places. Amoment later the whistle blew and the great game was on.