Ben Stone at Oakdale

by Morgan Scott

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  THE GAME.

  Plunk! Clearport’s full back, Ramsdal, kicked off, booting the ballinto the teeth of the wind. Over the chalk marks sped the end men, Longand Stoker, closing in from either side as the huge yellow egg began todrop.

  Bern Hayden was in position to receive the ball, and, without removinghis eyes from it, he realized that one or both of those oncoming menwould be at hand to tackle him if he attempted to run. Therefore helifted his hand in the proper signal for a fair catch and took thepigskin cleanly. Turning it deftly in his hands, he let it drop; and aninstant later it was sailing away from his toe on the return toClearport’s territory.

  Buoyed by the wind, the ball soared on and on far past the center ofthe field, far over toward the eastern goal. It was immediatelyapparent that the home team, while defending that goal, could notafford to be led into a kicking game.

  Cooper and Davis, playing ends for the visitors, followed the ball.Spotty was a really fast runner, being able to get over the ground withhis thin legs in a way that should have given him a reputation as asprinter. This fleetness put him in splendid position to tackleBoothby, Clearport’s left half back, who took the ball; but Spottyseemed to hesitate a bit at the moment when he should have plunged, andBoothby got away like a flash, Davis missing miserably when he flunghimself at the fellow. Cooper, the slower, displayed more nerve,tackling the fleet half back and bringing him down after the ball hadbeen advanced ten yards. Chipper rose, gasping, when the whistle hadsounded the signal that the ball was “down.”

  “Ja-jarred me some,” he stammered, with a sickly grin; “but I got him.”

  “Ready—line up fast!” called Eliot, perceiving that the enemy wereswiftly getting into position for the first scrimmage. “Stop ’em! Hold’em!”

  Ben Stone found himself crouching nose to nose with Barney Carney,called “the fighting Irishman of Clearport.” He had been told aboutthis fellow, and he recognized him instinctively.

  “Arrh, me bucko! Good avening,” grinned Carney. “It’s a pleasure tomeet yez.”

  Through Stone’s mind flashed the instructions of Winton, “Stick by yourman and get him every time.”

  Muzzle uplifted, Capt. Merwin, who played quarter for his team, bayed asignal. Stone saw the ball snapped to Merwin, and the moment it leftthe ground he leaped tigerishly at Carney. The Irishman had leaped atthe same instant, and they came together with a crash which must haveastonished the Clearport guard, for he was literally bowled aside, theOakdale man hammering through like a battering-ram. Sleuth Piper,succeeding in keeping his man busy, aided Stone in getting through; andBen was just in time to meet Boothby, who had received the ball fromMerwin and was plunging at that very spot in the line. Boothby’s rushwas checked as if he had struck a wall of granite, and down to the turfhe went, with Stone’s arms locked around his thighs.

  “Great luck!” cried Piper, releasing Morehead; but there had beenlittle luck about it, for even as he lunged at Carney Stone had seenBoothby shooting across behind Merwin in a manner which seemed toindicate beyond doubt that he would take the ball. Having obeyed theinstructions of the coach and disposed of Carney in a jiffy, Stone’snatural impulse was to meet and grapple with Boothby.

  At the southern side of the field the crimson banners were wildlyagitated, and a sudden cheer arose—a cheer for Stone. Ben’s ears weredeaf to that sound, however; he was wholly unaware that his name camesnapping forth at the end of that cheer like a cracker at the end of awhiplash. The fire of battle was in his veins, and the only thing heheard was the booming of his heart like the distant throbbing of heavyguns.

  Checked with a slight loss, the Clearporters made ready again. Oncemore Ben found himself _vis à vis_ with Barney Carney, in whose fadedsmile there was now a slight sickly tinge.

  “It’s a loively birrud ye are,” observed Carney; “but your wings can beclipped.” To which the grim-faced fellow opposite made no retort.

  The signal came again, and again Stone and Carney met. This time,locked together, they struggled, neither gaining the slightestadvantage. The tide of battle, however, swept to the far end of theline, toward which Oakes, the right half back, was racing with thepigskin.

  It was Hayden who divined the play, and Hayden who came leaping to meetthe runner. Tackling cleanly and handsomely, Bern stretched Oakesprone. As he rose he heard them cheering as they had cheered forStone—and he had not missed that.

  “That’s the stuff, fellows!” cried Roger. “That’s the way to hold them!”

  Winton, watching from his position at the side of the field, permitteda crinkle of a smile to flit across his face, even though he realizedthat the splendid and surprising defense had been accomplished, almostunaided, by two players. At the very outset Clearport had succeeded inone thing, at least—had found the strong spots of the visiting team.Later certain weak spots which the coach was fearful of might beunmasked.

  In desperation the locals made a furious slam into center, recovering,however, barely the distance lost; and then, forced to it, Ramsdal fellback to kick. Eliot was ready for this, and, seeming to gauge thedistance the ball would travel, he took it cleanly and easily, shootingpast the first man who came at him, dodging the second, and bringingthe spectators to their feet by a run that carried him to Clearport’sthirty yard line ere he was forced out of bounds. And Winton smiledagain, for another tower of strength had loomed through the smoke ofbattle.

  The referee brought the ball out and placed it. The line-up followed,one or two anxious Clearporters being warned back ere the man inauthority permitted the resumption of play.

  Crouching before Carney, Stone heard Sage calling the signal. As hisears drank in the numbers, he gazed straight into the Irish lad’s eyeswithout a flicker crossing his face, even though he knew directly thatmuch would depend upon him. He knew Hayden would come across with theball, looking for the opening he must assist in making.

  In another moment they were straining, breast to breast. With all hisstrength he sought to thrust Carney to one side. Cooper bucked Moreheadhandsomely, and the gap was made. Through it went Barker, with Bern athis heels. Barker sacrificed himself to Oakes, and before Ramsdal gothim Hayden came within four yards of putting the ball over.

  Four yards to go, and the first down! No wonder the crowd with thecrimson banners seemed crazed; no wonder the blue banners were droopingon the northern side of the field.

  “Like water through a sieve,” chuckled Chipper Cooper; and barely hadthe words left his lips when Sage began calling a signal which sentBarker into the other wing of the line.

  Crane did his duty there, but Davis was weak, and Berlin met Stoker,who had hurled Spotty aside. Not an inch was gained.

  “Hold ’em,” implored Merwin, “we’ve got to hold ’em!”

  “Another chance, fellows,” said Eliot. “We can make it.”

  Again that signal which told the visitors that Hayden would try theenemy’s right wing. Sage varied the call, but the key number wasdistinctly heard, and with the snapping of the ball Ben Stone flunghimself bodily at the fighting Irishman. Merwin had leaped in tosupport Carney, yet both of them were not sufficient to check Stone andthe man who was hurled against him from the rear. The Clearport linebuckled and broke, and Hayden lunged through headlong for a touchdown.

  “My deduction is,” panted Piper, “that it’s a snap.”

  The Oakdale crowd cheered as the ball was punted out. Hayden was giventhe privilege of trying to kick a goal, and, absolutely confident ofhimself, he booted the ball against one of the uprights.

  “Never mind,” grinned Chipper Cooper, as the Oakdalers spread out onthe field with their backs toward the eastern goal. “It would have beena shame to spoil the fun by taking all the sand out of them right away.”

  Indeed, it seemed that the visitors were too strong for the home team.Even when favored by the wind and sun, the Clearporters could not carrythe fighting far into Oakdale’s
territory, and they were soon compelledto surrender the ball by kicking.

  Once more the lads from the inland town began bucking their way overthe chalk marks, and frequently their best gains were secured throughopenings made by Stone and Piper. Barney Carney was livid with wrath,but his grim opponent remained outwardly unchanged. An end run byBarker again placed the visitors in a position to threaten Clearport’sgoal. It was followed by a trick play, in which Barker drew attentionto himself while Eliot went romping and zigzagging through a brokenfield and crossed the line for the second touchdown.

  This time Roger kicked, and he lifted the pigskin squarely over thecenter of the crossbar.

  Even to Winton it had begun to seem as if Oakdale was too strong forthe locals. He was glad indeed that Clearport had not yet locatedcertain weak spots of which he had entertained serious apprehension,but he knew they had not done this mainly on account of their halfdemoralized condition.

  Following that second touchdown, Oakdale seemed to let up somewhat.This brought a frown to Winton’s face, but he could do nothing untilthe half was finished.

  Toward the end of the first half the visiting team took another spurtand seemed to have things pretty much its own way. Hayden was theprincipal ground gainer, and it was Stone who provided effectiveinterference in assisting him to make his greatest distances.Twenty-five yards from the line, however, the locals stood firm. ThenSage called for a play by which Hayden was to pass the ball to Eliotjust before dashing into the formation which had proved so effective.Eliot was to attempt to round the end.

  This was carried through, Stone slamming into Carney in the regularmanner. Hayden came at him from behind, while Eliot, having secured theball, sought to race past Pete Long.

  Something smote Ben with a terrific shock, and a sudden pall ofdarkness fell upon him. He sank to the ground just as Eliot was tackledand dragged down and the referee’s whistle shrilled the signal whichtold that the half was over.

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