Frank Armstrong, Drop Kicker

by Matthew M. Colton

  CHAPTER XVII.

  FRANK SAVES THE GAME.

  "What's the matter with Dixon?" inquired the Codfish, as Horton satdown on the ground just in front of our friends.

  "He says he hurt his wrist in the first half and again just now,"replied the coach gloomily. "If he's hurt as bad as he acts, it'sall over with us. There goes the ball," he added, glancing over hisshoulder. "Good kick! Fine catch, too, even if it does beat us!"--forHudson had caught Burns' kick-out right in front of the posts. "Theycan't miss it from there."

  Nor did Warwick miss it. Burns took most deliberate aim, while thelittle quarter-back, lying flat on his stomach, tilted the ball thisway and that. When it was just right, Burns moved forward and swunghis foot. Every one watched the ball's flight with straining eyes.

  "Goal!" shouted the referee, and the Warwick crowd, which had settledback on the stand, again sprang up, yelling like mad. The point justscored meant a victory, even if no more scoring was done. A greatwhite figure 6 appeared in the blank space, which up to this time haddecorated Warwick's place on the scoreboard. At the sight Warwickredoubled its yells.

  "One, two, three, four, five, six!" chanted the crowd, while theteams trotted back to their places on the field.

  "Five minutes left in this quarter," called Burns to his team; "dothat over again! Come on now, hard!"

  And hard it was, for with the taste of a well-earned touchdown intheir mouths, the Warwick team played like demons; and before thewhistle blew Burns had crossed the line for another touchdown. But nogoal was kicked, the angle being a hard one. The Queen's colors weredrooping like their players, and the boys began to ask each other:"How much more is it going to be?"

  "Looks bad, Frank," said the Codfish gloomily, "we can't hold 'em. Iwish they'd let you get in."

  "No chance, old fellow," returned Frank. "Chip seems to be all right,and I think he'd play till he died rather than let me on if he isreally hurt."

  "Yes, he's a dog-in-the-manger, for sure."

  Dixon did appear to be all right, and when the Queen's team lined upfor the last quarter there were no substitutions.

  "It's all over but the shouting, fellows," cried a big Warwick cheerleader. "Get into this cheer--hip, hip," and the Warwick cheer splitthe air.

  "They are pretty confident, Frank," ventured David, who, though eageras the others, had taken very little part in the conversation on theside-lines.

  "Yes, they certainly are," said Frank. His face was long. "Queen'shas made a good fight out there, but they are not strong enough inthe line. What a wonder Jimmy Turner is!" This as Jimmy piled theWarwick interference up so solidly that the runner with the ballcould not get past it, and was easily nailed for a loss.

  But Warwick still held the ball, and was driving through the Queen'sline again and again to a first down. The Queen's supporters satstupefied on the stand and only occasionally raised a half-heartedcheer. Wheeler seemed to be played out, and had missed tackle aftertackle, and twice Jimmy had stood alone as a defensive back to stopeverything that came his way. In the few times that Queen's was ableto get possession of the ball, Chip ran the team badly and seemed tohave forgotten all he knew about the game of football. When he had achance, he did not make the best of it, and Horton actually tore hishair and dug his heels into the turf over on the side-line. Finally,losing all patience, he jumped up from his seat and ran down alongthe line of substitutes.

  "Armstrong! Where's Armstrong?" he shouted.

  "Here, sir!" said Frank, jumping up, his heart thumping like atrip-hammer.

  "Go out there and take Dixon's place, and for pity's sake get thatteam together. They are playing like the team from an Old Ladies'Home."

  Frank pulled his sweater off with a jerk, tossed it to David--who hadhardly time to shout out, "Good work!"--and raced onto the gridiron.

  "Who's going in?" was the query that ran through the stands.

  "Why, that's Armstrong, the kid who played on the Second team awhile," said some one better informed than his neighbors. "He's goingin at quarter in Dixon's place. Dixon is all in, I guess."

  "A long cheer for Armstrong!" howled the cheer leaders. But Franknever heard it. He dashed over to where Dixon was beginning hissignal, for Queen's had recovered a fumbled ball on her own 30-yardline. Frank reported first to the referee and then stepped ever andtouched Dixon on the shoulder. "I'm to take your place," he saidquietly.

  "Get out!" said Dixon, and crouched behind the center ready toreceive the pass. But the whistle shrilled and the referee ran upamong the Queen's backs.

  "Queen's has twelve men on the field, Mr. Wheeler. Who is going toplay your quarter? Decide quickly."

  "Armstrong, sir," returned Wheeler. "Dixon, go to the side-line."

  Chip stood up and glared hard at Wheeler. Then he turned, droppedhis head and walked slowly off the field, never once looking back.When he was off the playing surface, the whistle spoke again and thebattle was on once more, this time with Armstrong in charge of theattack.

  The first play Frank gave was stopped without an inch of advance, andWarwick spectators howled with derision. "It's all the same to us!"cried one loud-mouthed boy in the front row, just opposite where theteams were lining up at that moment. "No hope for Queen's. Take theball away from them! We want another touchdown."

  Before Frank gave his signal on the second down, Wheeler called hisplayers around him. With heads close together they had a littleheart-to-heart talk, while Warwick shouted from the stands: "Come on,you kids, play ball! Don't delay the game."

  The head-to-head group fell apart, settled to their crouchingpositions, and Frank snapped the signal out sharply. Back came theball to Frank and, scarcely checking it a moment in its flight, hetossed it to Jimmy, who shot out to the right, which happened at thatmoment to be the long side of the line. Frank fell in behind him. Thetackle dived at Jimmy as he sliced past, but missed. Burns was rightthere, however, having followed the runner with the ball out towardthe center of the field, and now he reached Jimmy's waist withpowerful arms. The defensive end came in full tilt, also, to help hiscaptain to make sure of the tackle. But just as Jimmy felt himselffalling from the impact of Burns, he squirmed half way around, andeven as he pitched headlong to the ground with the deadly clasp ofBurns on his hips and the none too loving embrace of the end's armsaround his neck, he tossed the ball to Frank. Before either thehalf-back or the end could recover, Frank, continuing at full speed,had swept clear of the defense, turned in like lightning and was offdown the field!

  Ahead of Frank loomed the quarter, the only player between him andthe glory which lay in the form of a touchdown far down the field.Full at the quarter he charged, gaining speed with every step. Hedid not hear the wild cries of encouragement which went up from hisschoolmates. There was only one thought in his mind--how to pass thatplayer who stood waiting, eagerly crouching.

  Frank's training on the track stood him in good stead now. He wasfresh, too, and he was making the best of both circumstances.Directly at the quarter-back he raced, apparently to run him down,but when he was within ten feet of him, he suddenly swerved to theright and ran straight across the field toward the side-line. Thequarter-back, fearing Frank's speed, followed him out with all thepace his tired limbs could muster. But just when he seemed to haveFrank cut off there, the latter suddenly stopped, evaded the rushingtackle that was intended to lay him low, and went straight down thefield. His stop, although but for an instant, brought the Warwickreserves up to him. One by one they tried to reach him, but eel-likehe evaded them. It was one of the prettiest pieces of dodgingrunning that had ever been seen on the Warwick field. But despitehis wonderful luck and pluck he was finally caught from behind, andthrown with a crash to the ground at Warwick's 25-yard line. He hadcovered nearly fifty-five yards, the longest run of the day. And,excepting the help that Jimmy had unwittingly given him in tanglingup the half and the opposing end, he had accomplished the rununaided, as his tired team-mates had not been able to follow the pacedown the field and were outdist
anced.

  With first down at the 25-yard line, Queen's took on a greatdetermination, and in three tries--a quarter-back run and two dashespast tackle by Jimmy--the ball was finally within striking distanceof the Warwick goal. But here the advance ended. The next play wasthrown back a yard or two by the desperate Warwick team, and a shortforward pass barely made up the lost ground. Then came a conferenceand Frank dropped back to the 27-yard line.

  "He's going to try for a field goal, by jiminy," cried the Codfish,who had nearly had a fit of apoplexy through joy at Frank's splendidrun. "And he'll do it. Watch him!"

  Warwick kept up a steady yell, probably with the intention ofdisturbing the young quarter-back, but if that was the idea, it hadno effect on Frank whatsoever. The ball lay on the ground in thecenter's hand a little to the right of the center of the field, andthe angle was not a bad one, although not an over-attractive one.In the storm of cat-calls from Warwick, Frank measured the distancecarefully with his eye. The protection for the kicker formed quickly,and then came the signal. With as little hurry as if he had beenpracticing down at Seawall, Frank took the ball from the center'slong pass, turned it over quickly but carefully, so that the seamlacing was away from him, dropped it to the ground, and as it roseagain, swung his foot against it. The ball swept upward to itsgreatest height, described a long crescent downward, struck thecross-bar fairly in the middle, bounded into the air and fell--on theother side!

  The yell that the reawakened Queen's stand gave might have been heardas far as Queen's School itself, but the cause of it all trottedquietly back with his team to the center of the field without lookingto right or left.

  "What did I tell you!" shouted the Codfish, waltzing wildly aroundLewis. "You can't beat that kid! There, that score looks better," asthe scorer changed the Queen's figures to 8. "We'll beat them yet.Whoop!"

  The score seemed to put new life into Queen's, and after thekick-off, which was made by Queen's to Warwick, the latter madelittle headway in the rushing game. In the very first attempt tokick, the Queen's right guard, by a great effort, got through thedefense and blocked the ball squarely. A desperate scramble ensued,and despite the orders of the referee to "get up" and "let go," thepile which formed like magic where the ball had been had to be dugapart one by one. At the very bottom Jimmy was found with the ballunder his chin and both arms wrapped around it, as if it were thedearest possession he had ever known. It was Queen's ball on theWarwick 21-yard line.

  Once, only, did Wheeler order a rush. Warwick stopped that withdeadly determination, throwing back even the redoubtable Jimmy. Thenagain Frank dropped far behind the line. He stood exactly on the33-yard line and again measured with the greatest care the distanceto the goal posts.

  "You can't do it, Armstrong; you can't do it!" sang out the firstrows of the Warwick benches in a vain attempt to disturb the poiseof the boy on whom all eyes were turned. But they might as well havetried to disturb a statue. One of Frank's gifts was concentration,and perhaps he never concentrated his mind on anything in his lifemore strongly than he did on that occasion. "I must! I must!" keptringing in his brain.

  Wheeler disposed his protection for the kicker with great care, foron the success of the play hung the issue of the day. Three pointswould tie the score. There were only a few minutes of time nowremaining in the last quarter of the match. No wonder the playerstook their places with minute care. When all was ready Frank gavethe signal. Back came the ball, as straight and true to his hands asa bullet. Down it went to the ground, rose and was sent spinning onits long flight from Frank's toe. But it rose none too soon, for bigRobinson had beaten down the Queen's defense, leaped high into theair and in his slash for the ball missed it only by the fraction ofan inch. But he had missed it, which was the important point, and itswept up as true as a compass needle to the pole. On, on it went,rising higher and higher, and revolving rapidly on its short axis.Would it carry? On that thought every mind was concentrated. Now theball turned, dipped downward, fell almost straight--but cleared thefar side of the bar by ten feet at least!

  DOWN IT WENT TO THE GROUND, ROSE AND WAS SENT SPINNINGON ITS LONG FLIGHT FROM FRANK'S TOE.--_Page 225._]

  The Queen's demonstration which broke loose at this entirelyovershadowed anything that had ever been heard on that field, and itwas still in progress when the teams lined up for the final minutesof the play. All the fire had gone out of Warwick's play. They coulddo no more than fight off the buoyant Queen's team till the whistleblew. And when it did blow, there was a wild flight of boys from theQueen's stand, which for a moment completely swallowed the tired buthappy little knot of football warriors. And then they were heavedinto sight on the shoulders of the admiring crowd and carried aroundthe gridiron protesting. For half an hour Queen's assumed completecontrol of that football field, dancing wildly around in a long snakydance while their songs and cheers rent the air. They did not forgetin their joy, however, to stop in front of the center section of theWarwick stand and give a hearty cheer for the rival school. Graduallythe crowds broke up and streamed off in the direction of the station."One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, ELEVEN!"chanted the joyous Queen's School contingent.

  That night a bonfire at Queen's lit the sky with a yellow light whichwas seen for miles around, and caused the story that the whole ofQueen's School had burned to the ground. Armstrong's name was onevery tongue, for through his wonderful drop kicking Queen's had goneinto history as having, with two field goals, tied a game in whichat the outset they seemed not to have the slightest chance. Frankbore his honors modestly and said it was nothing but luck. But hisparticular friends didn't think it was "just luck," and took no painsto conceal their belief that he was the greatest drop kicker ever,past, present or future!