Dick Hamilton's Football Team; Or, A Young Millionaire On The Gridiron

by Howard Roger Garis

  CHAPTER XXII

  THE BLUE HILL GAME

  The thoughts of the young captain were rather alarming as he made hisway to the apartment he shared with his chum. He had paid littleattention to the complaint Paul made of not feeling well, thinking itwas only a temporary indisposition. That had been several hours before,for time had passed quickly in the room of Innis, with the spirited talkof football.

  "And he had to send for a doctor when I wasn't there with him!"exclaimed Dick to himself regretfully. "That was tough. But I keptthinking he'd join us every minute or I'd gone back. I hope it isn'tanything serious."

  Then he recalled several stories he had read of football players beingsecretly "doped" before big games in order that they would go "stale"and not be in form.

  "That may have happened to Paul!" half-gasped the young captain. "Someof those Blue Hill fellows, fearing we will beat them, may have sent himsome dope. If they have----"

  Then Dick laughed at his preposterous fears, and by this time he was athis room. Behind the closed door he heard the murmur of voices. One herecognized as that of his chum, and the other was Dr. Fenwick's.

  "Well, he's alive at any rate," thought the young millionaire. "He can'tbe so bad."

  Nevertheless it was rather an alarmed countenance of Dick Hamilton thatgazed in on his chum a moment later. Paul was in bed, and in the roomwas one of the academy orderlies, while the physician was bending over atable, mixing some medicine in a glass.

  "Paul!" cried Dick impulsively. "What's the matter? Jim Watkins justtold me Dr. Fenwick was here. How did it happen? What is the matter? I'mso sorry I left you alone, but I thought every minute that you'd beover. I'm all cut up about it."

  "It's all right, Dick, old man," replied Paul, but in fainter tones thanhe was in the habit of using. "I'm just a little under the weather Iguess. I'll be on the active list again soon."

  "I hope so," murmured the captain, with the memory of the impending BlueHill game. Paul was one of his best players--one who could always bedepended on in an emergency--one who always had some "go" left in him,when it seemed that mortal flesh and bone could do no more. He couldtear through the line, and break up interference better than any guardDick had ever seen, and for nailing the man with the ball Paul was astar. No wonder the young captain did not want to lose him.

  "Is it anything serious, Doctor?" asked Dick.

  "I hope not," replied Dr. Fenwick. "I don't like some of his symptoms,but they may pass away."

  "How did it happen--how did it come on?" inquired the young millionaire.

  "Oh, I hadn't felt well all day," replied the plucky left guard, "but Ididn't think anything of it. Then a little while ago I suddenly feltdizzy, and before I knew what was happening I keeled over--fell on thefloor. Brooks, in the next room, heard me, and came rushing in. He gotthe doctor--that's all I know."

  "And I wasn't here?" exclaimed Dick reproachfully.

  "I fancy it is only due to an upset condition of the stomach," put inthe physician. "He has an attack of vertigo, which is not uncommon.There, Mr. Drew, I'll leave this medicine, and look in on you in themorning. If you need me in the night don't hesitate to send for me."

  "I'll look after him," promised Dick. The physician and orderly wereabout to leave when several of the cadets who had been in Beeby's room,and who wondered at Dick's sudden desertion, came trooping in, to askall sorts of questions concerning Paul.

  "Now, young gentlemen, this won't do!" insisted the doctor cheerfullybut firmly. "Mr. Drew must be kept quiet. He is in no danger, andyou'll have to leave."

  They did, after nodding pleasantly to the sick lad, and then Dick begana vigil of the night.

  "Jove! I hope Drew doesn't go back on us in the Blue Hill game,"remarked Dutton.

  "It would sort of break us up, even though Berkfeld fills in pretty wellat guard," spoke George Hall.

  As for the worriment of the young captain, only he himself realized thedepth of it.

  Paul was restless all night, and had a slight fever. Dick was a faithfulnurse, administering the medicine regularly. Once his patient wasdelirious, and murmured something about matters at home. Again hefancied himself on the gridiron, and called out:

  "Touchdown! Touchdown! We've got to make a touchdown! That's it. Gothrough the line now!"

  "Poor Paul," murmured Dick. "I'm afraid it will be quite a while beforeyou play again."

  Twice, when the lad's condition seemed worse, Dick was on the point ofsending for Dr. Fenwick, but he refrained and the spell passed over.

  Morning came, pale and wan, shining in the room where the electriclights burned with a sickly glow. Dick turned them out and softly laidhis hands on Paul's cheek.

  "He seems cooler," he whispered. "I believe the fever has gone down. Ihope it has. He's sleeping soundly. I--I believe I'll lie down for amoment."

  Dick himself felt weak, for he had been up nearly all night, and the daybefore he had practiced strenuously. He stretched out on the lounge, andbefore he knew it he was sleeping soundly. He awakened as a voice calledfaintly:

  "Is there any water handy, Dick?"

  "Paul! How are you?" he cried, springing up. "Oh, I must have dozed off!That was careless of me. Are you all right? I'm a swell nurse, I am."

  "Oh, don't worry. I'm much better, and I'm hungry and thirsty."

  "That's a good sign. I'll get some fresh water."

  Paul drank eagerly, and Dick, taking his temperature with thethermometer the physician had left, was glad to note that the littlesilver column was at ninety-eight and three-fifths, or normal.

  "Your fever's gone!" he announced, with a thrill in his tired voice.

  Dr. Fenwick came in a little later, and seconded the opinion Dick hadformed. Paul was weak, but the danger had passed, he announced.

  "It must have been something he ate," was what the doctor said, and Dickthought no more about "dope."

  "Will I be able to play Saturday?" asked Paul eagerly.

  "Humph! Yes, I think so, if you get back your strength. You lostconsiderable in a short time. But take it easy at first."

  They missed Paul at practice that day, and as Dick was somewhat wornwith his sleepless night, the coaches did not insist on very strenuouswork. What was done, however, showed that the Kentfield eleven washolding its own.

  Paul was out the next day, and did light work. He was a bit "off hisfeed" as he expressed it, but he was sure he would be all right when itcame to the big game.

  Little was talked of in the academy but the coming contest, which was totake place on the Kentfield gridiron. Some of the sporting crowd hadwhat they called "big money" up on the game, but few of the footballcontingent indulged in this practice.

  "I got odds of two to one from some of the Blue Hill crowd," boastedPorter, who had a liking for betting. "I could have gotten bigger oddsbefore the Haskell fight, but the Blue Hill fellows are a bit shy now. Ishould think you'd back your own team, Hamilton," he said, with a halfsneer at Dick.

  "It isn't in my line," was the answer, "though I've no objections to youfellows backing us for all you're worth. We'll come in winners, I'msure."

  "I wish I could play," spoke Porter more earnestly than he was in thehabit of doing. "Is there any chance for me, Hamilton?" He hadeffectually put his pride in his pocket to thus appeal to the lad whofor no cause he disliked.

  "I wish there was," answered the captain. "Of course you will have thesame chance as the other subs, and if the fight is as rough as I expectit will be, we may be playing all of you before it's over."

  "Then I can't go in at the opening?"

  "I don't see how you can very well. Of course I haven't it all to say.Why don't you go see the coaches?"

  "What good would that do. They're in your pay, and----"

  "That will do!" cried Dick sharply, and Porter knew enough to stop thatsort of talk. He turned away, a bitter look on his face and a bitterfeeling in his heart.

  "I'll get even with you yet," he muttered. "I'll fix you and yourfootball team
, Dick Hamilton!"

  Dick was like some anxious mother the night before the game. He went tothe rooms of each of his players and saw that they were in. Inquiries asto how they felt met with the reply that they were all "fit."

  Paul Drew seemed himself again, and assured Dick that he was ready to dobattle with their common foe.

  "Wouldn't it be great if we could shut them out altogether?" he askedexultingly. "After the fuss they made about not wanting to play us, andthe record they've made, if we could bar them from crossing ourline--wouldn't it be immense?"

  "'Dreams--idle dreams,'" quoted Dick with a smile. "I shouldn't askanything better, but I'm afraid they're too strong for us. Why they camewithin an ace of beating Haskell the other day."

  "That was on a fumble."

  "I know, but fumbles count in football. No, if we beat them by a goodscore I'll be satisfied, even if they cross our line."

  It was the day of the great game, a great game in the sense thatKentfield had made a record for herself in a remarkably short time underthe skillful coaching of Mr. Martin and Mr. Spencer, and because she wasto meet a foe who had despised her--meet a team that, hitherto had notconsidered our cadet heroes worthy of their steel. In a sense it was atriumph for Kentfield even before the game was started. As for Dick hewas modestly proud.

  There was a record-breaking crowd in attendance, for the word had gonearound among lovers of football that Kentfield was putting up a greatgame, and the grandstands that in years past had held only a scatteringthrong, now overflowed.

  "We'll be able to pay all our debts and close the season with abalance," exulted the manager and treasurer together.

  "I'd rather win this game and lose every dollar!" cried Dick, as he ranto join his comrades on the gridiron.

  Blue Hill was to kick off, and after the preliminary arrangements thepigskin was "teed" in midfield and there came a hush while each captainlooked to see if his men were all placed.

  "Are you ready?" came the call.

  "Ready," answered Dick.

  "Ready," answered Ford Haskell, the Blue Hill captain.

  The whistle blew, and hardly had the echoes died away than there soundedthe soul-stirring "ping" and the toe of Tod Kester's shoe dented theleather as the big centre sent the ball well into the territory of ourfriends.

  "Now boys, back with it!" cried Dick. "Shove for all you are worth whenit comes to a line up!"

  Jake Weston caught the ball, and the speedy right end was down the fieldwith it like a shot. He dodged several of the Blue Hill men, but at lastNed Buchanan, the husky right guard, got his arms around him, and Westonwent down hard.

  "Ready boys--come on," cried Dick, and this was the signal for a fakekick without any other word being given. They lined up and before thesurprised Blue Hill team was aware of what was happening, and when theirstartled full-back had begun a retreat ready to catch the ball JohnStiver had the pigskin, had passed it to Hal Foster and the lattersmashed through the line for a ten yard gain.

  "That's going some!" cried Innis Beeby when the scrimmage was over.

  Indeed it was a good gain for that play, and Dick and his men rejoiced.Quickly they lined up again, and this time Dutton was sent smashingthrough between left guard and tackle. But this was not so successful,for the Blue Hill lads massed at that point, and blocked the advanceafter four yards had been covered.

  But the ball had been advanced enough so that Dick felt he need not callfor a punt, and this time he gave the signal for a play around rightend. John Stiver got the ball and got into the play on the jump but tohis own surprise and that of his comrades, he was almost nailed in histracks by Lem Gordon, the husky left guard who broke through InnisBeeby.

  Instead of a gain there was a loss of a few feet, and, seeing it, Dickfelt his heart sink. Blue Hill had developed unexpected strength.

  A kick was now necessary, and the ball was sent spinning into theenemy's territory. They ran it back a short distance, and then cametheir line up.

  "Now, boys, see how we can hold 'em!" cried Dick cheerfully. "We'll havethe pigskin in a couple of downs."

  "Not much!" cried Captain Haskell, of the Blues.

  Against the Kentfield line came smashing Rud Newton, the left half. Hetried for a hole between Frank Rutley and Paul Drew at left tackle andguard respectively. Rutley held like a stone fence, but Paul, after amoment of opposition, gave way and Newton came smashing through. Dickand Hal Foster managed to nail him, however, but not before five yardswere gained.

  "You've got to hold better than that, boys!" called Dick, but they allknew it was Paul who had given way, and there was not one of them butwhat feared he would not hold out through the game. His recent illnesswas doubtless responsible.

  Again Blue Hill tried a smashing play in the same place, hoping they hadfound a weak spot, but Dick and his men were ready, and Paul wassupported to such advantage that not a foot was made.

  There came a try for around the left end, but Tom Coleton and hiscolleagues were there ready to nab the man, and he actually ran back andwas downed for a loss. Then came the inevitable kick, and Dick's sidehad the ball, practically where it had been in the first scrimmage.

  "Do or die!" murmured our hero, and he called for some line-smashingplays. They were given with a will, but there was a defense that waswell-nigh impregnable, and murmurs of astonishment began to go aroundamong the spectators.

  "They're as evenly matched teams as have ever played!" declared CoachMartin. "There may be no score."

  "Oh, our boys have _got_ to score!" cried Mr. Spencer.

  Back and forth the game see-sawed, the ball most of the time, save whenthere was an exchange of kicks, being in the centre of the field. It wasa kicking game, and Dick rejoiced that he had men who could be dependedon to punt.

  Again and again did the opposite sides hurl themselves against eachother in the line, neither team being able to gain. Then a kick would becalled for. This made it interesting for the spectators, but it waswearing on the players.

  At last Dick, in desperation, decided on some sequence plays. These werethree maneuvers to come one after the other at a certain signal, therebeing no word given for each individual play. Usually this was not doneuntil the ball was within about twenty-five yards of the goal, whendesperate work, to disconcert the opponents was necessary, but our herothought he might now gain some ground in this way.

  "We've got to do it! Pull together now!" called Dick. This meant thatthree plays, previously decided on were to come without further wordfrom the quarter-back.

  The plays were right half-back through right tackle, left tackle throughright tackle and left half-back through right tackle, thus directingthree smashing attacks in quick succession against the same place in theBlue Hill line.

  The first attempt did not gain much, but when Frank Rutley came at theunfortunate Jean Trainor, who had just sustained one tremendous smash,there was a clean ten yards reeled off. Then, without a word beinguttered, John Stiver jumped for the same breach on the next line up, andfifteen yards were gained.

  Kentfield's supporters nearly went wild, for her boys were now withinstriking distance of the enemy's goal. But there was an enraged crowd ofopponents to be reckoned with, for the Blue Hill cadets were halffrenzied with the trick that had been played on them, and Dick knew hecould not hope to work it again.

  He called for an end run, and it seemed as if it would result in a goodgain, but George Hall was downed before he had gone far. Then came asmash at the Blue Hill centre, and to the dismay of Dick, Paul Drewfumbled the ball. In an instant one of the Blue Hill players fell on it,and quickly booted it out of danger.

  There was a groan, and Dick felt his heart sink. All their brilliantwork in the sequence had gone for naught. The Blue Hill crowd went wildwith delight.

  "Line up!" called Dick grimly, and once more he began his line-smashingtactics. But there was no gain, and a kick was called for. Similarlythe opponents of Kentfield could not advance the ball, and they punted.Then after some see-sawing
work, time was called for the ending of thefirst half, with the ball on Blue Hill's forty-yard line. Neither sidehad scored.

  "Well, what do you think of 'em?" asked Mr. Martin of Dick.

  "Hard as nails," was the reply.

  "I fancy they have the same opinion of you," said Mr. Spencer. "But Ithink you can get one touchdown the next half. They are tiring. Do youthink you can risk another sequence play?"

  "I believe so. I'll try it on the other side next time."

  "I would, but wait until you're nearer their goal."

  The rest period seemed all too short for the tired players, but theycame out on the gridiron again leaping, laughing and shouting, thoughsome showed the marks of the conflict.

  There were shrill cries from many girls and women in the grandstands andDick, giving a quick glance up saw Nellie Fordice, Mabel Hanford andsome of their friends.

  The second half began with a rush that meant business. Each side triedthe line-smashing, but found it as before, and there was much kicking.

  Blue Hill finally had the ball, and there was a moment's consultationbefore the signal was given. Then came a terrific smashing play at PaulDrew. Dick saw one of the Blue Hill players deliberately strike Paul inthe stomach with his elbow. Poor Drew went down in a heap, and over himclimbed the man with the ball, making a six yard gain before he could bestopped.

  "A foul!" cried Dick, and reported to the umpire what he had witnessed.But that official had seen nothing, or at least said he had not.

  "Watch 'em!" warned Dick to his players, while Paul had some wind pumpedback into him.

  "Can you play?" asked Mr. Martin.

  "Yes--of course!" was the half-fierce reply.

  Once more came a smashing attack at the unfortunate left guard. Hisopponents had discovered his weakness. Though he was not struck, theattack was so merciless that he could do nothing, and he had to becarried off the field, his weak condition being partly responsible, forhis stomach still troubled him.

  "Get in the game, Natron," called Dick, to the substitute guard, andthen the Blue Hill attack was directed on the other side of theKentfield line. But there Innis Beeby was ready for them, and he tackledhis man with such fierceness that time had to be taken out to restorehis half-scattered senses.

  "They won't try any more slugging here," said the right guard grimly.

  But Blue Hill was evidently "out for blood," and the slugging went on.The umpire saw it once, and ordered the offender out of the game.

  All this while, however, the ball had been steadily advanced toward theKentfield goal, and after Tom Coleton had been knocked out, givingPorter a chance to get back on his old position of left end, the advancewas even faster.

  Then, in one black and disheartening moment, came the fatal play. It wasaround Porter's end, in spite of the desperate effort Hal Foster madeto tackle the man, the ball was touched down, and the goal kicked.

  There were tears in the eyes of more than one Kentfield player, and Dickfelt his heart sinking. But he grimly called on his men to respond, andfor a time they had the ball in their enemy's territory.

  Another of Dick's men was knocked out, and two of the Blue Hill playershad to retire. The time was getting short, and Dick once more decided touse the sequence work, for with so many new cadets on the other side, hefigured that they would not be prepared for them.

  The plays were rattled through, and this time with such relentlessnessthat in a short time the ball was within ten yards of the Blue Hillgoal.

  "Touchdown! Touchdown!" came the imploring call from the Kentfieldgrandstands.

  "Touchdown it shall be!" thought Dick fiercely. He sent Innis Beebysmashing through centre for three yards, and then, hoping Dutton couldmake the remaining distance, passed the ball to him.

  Right into the line smashed the big right half-back, but someone tackledhim with a fierceness that sent him unconscious to the ground, the ballrolled from his arms, and a moment later a Blue Hill man had it, and wasracing down the field with all the speed left in him.

  There was not a player to stop him, for all of Dick's team had beendrawn close in, hoping for the touchdown, and before they were aware ofwhat was happening the man with the ball was on the forty-yard line.

  "Catch him! We've got to catch him!" yelled Dick. "It's anothertouchdown if we don't!"

  After him sprinted every man on the Kentfield team, save Dutton who wasstill stretched on the ground, and then, straggling after theiropponents, came the Blue Hills in scattered formation.

  It was a foregone conclusion, for the Kentfield players were so weariedwith their recent line-smashing attack that they could hardly run, andwith tears in their eyes they saw the ball again touched down back oftheir goal posts. They had been so near to scoring, only to see theirhopes dashed from them, and on what was nearly a fumble.

  The goal was kicked and the score stood twelve to nothing against ourfriends. Dutton was revived, but was unable to resume play, and asubstitute went in. There were only a few moments of the game left.

  Desperately Dick called on his men for those last few minutes, and theydid play to fierce advantage. There was some kicking, and when theKentfields had the ball they rushed it down the field so fast that theywere soon within striking distance of their opponents' goal.

  Then fate, in the shape of the time whistle blew, and the contest wasended. Blue Hill had won.