CHAPTER XIII
In the Last Period
With victory so near, the regulars declined to be held. Dittler plunged through between right end and tackle for four yards. Wynn took the ball—
And just then the referee's whistle blew! The period had ended!
"The score's still 10 to 9 in our favor! Gee, that's great!" gasped Rooster, as he threw himself down on the ground to rest.
Garry was too winded to say anything. He had almost reached the limit of his endurance. That whistle seemed to him the sweetest music he had ever heard.
"We're still ahead," Nick agreed with Rooster, but with well-founded anxiety in his tone. "But look where they'll be when the next period begins. Only six yards to go and three downs to do it in."
"We'll make that six yards look like six miles," declared Ted, with a confidence in his tone that, however, he was far from feeling.
On the bleacher seats Sandy Podder and Lent Stewart looked on with eyes smouldering with discontent and apprehension.
"Gee, I'd give fifty dollars to see the regulars knock 'em cold," muttered Lent gloomily. "Lenox won't hold those scrubs if they down the first string team."
"That fellow Grayson certainly has luck," growled Sandy. "If he lost a time-table, they'd give him the railroad."
But the disgruntled soreheads had an opportunity to cheer within two minutes after the fourth period began, for the regulars came out with a fierce determination to make that six yards that alone separated them from a touchdown. It would not do to throw away that chance in the very shadow of the enemy's goal posts.
For this desperate effort they chose their best material, Wynn, Knapp and Dittler.
Dittler came first, and, lowering his head, he plunged like a bull in a hole made for him between guard and tackle. The play netted three yards. Knapp came next, but Bill Sherwood threw him back for the loss of a yard. Then Wynn took the ball and made two yards more.
"Brace, fellows! Brace!" yelled Garry.
The line stiffened. Dittler bucked it with all his might. There was a furious mix-up, but when the mass was disentangled Dittler was over the line with a yard to spare.
There was frantic cheering from the upper classmen, which deepened in volume when Wynn kicked the goal.
16 to 10 in favor of the regulars and the final period well on its way!
Now superior weight and age and condition began to tell. The scrubs had almost shot their bolt. Their strength was ebbing, although their courage still remained.
Encouraged by having regained the lead, the regulars now put into play all that they possessed. Almost from the kick-off the ball was in their possession. They started down the field in a triumphal march. Time after time they made their distance, and when they had come within striking distance of the goal by a series of mass plays, a brilliant run about the right end by Benny Knapp carried the ball over the goal for another touchdown. Dittler kicked the goal and the score was 23 to 10 in favor of the regulars.
"I guess they've got us," mourned Rooster.
"Snap out of it!" returned Garry. "The game isn't over till the whistle blows."
One of Garry's eyes was closed now, but he made the other do the work of two. When he got the ball a moment later he broke through for a first down on the scrubs' forty-yard line. Nick added two yards and Garry again made his way through for twelve yards taking the ball beyond mid-field. Here, however, the scrubs were penalized fifteen yards for holding, and Garry saw his gain go for nothing—less than nothing.
But this, far from discouraging him, only added to the fierce energy of which he felt himself possessed. Grimy, bleeding, half blind, again he got through the middle for fourteen yards. Tom Allison made four yards on the first down. Then Garry shot around the left end for a seventeen-yard gain. He was downed by Dittler on the regulars' thirty-yard line. A moment later he again broke away for another first down placing the ball on the regulars' eighteen-yard line.
Nothing could hold him now. He was practically the whole team, though Tom Allison and Pete Maddern gave him royal support. In two more tries he made nine yards more. Here his team was penalized five yards for holding.
But in his present mood, fourteen yards counted for little to Garry Grayson. Once more he plunged through the bewildered line of the regulars and by a superb effort hurled himself over the goal line for a touchdown. Nick kicked the goal.
Just then the whistle sounded. The game was over and the regulars had won by a score of twenty-three to seventeen!
"Gee, but you gave us a battle!" laughed Ralph Wynn, as he helped Garry with his bruised eye.
Coach Garwin came up and grinned as he looked at Garry.
"Somewhat disfigured, but still in the ring, I see, Grayson," he said. "You played a good game and ran your team well. You've certainly given the regulars something to think about. In this last quarter you did about all the ground-gaining. They found you hard to stop. Keep it up! Keep it up!"
It was high praise from Al Garwin, who was usually chary of words—especially words of praise—and Garry found enough in them to compensate him for all his efforts.
By this time the bleachers were empty and the crowd was spread over the field, the freshmen and grammar school lads clustering about Garry and his team, whom they cheered to the echo. Even some of the haughty upper classmen condescended to clap Garry on the shoulder and congratulate him on his showing.
"Well, we had a moral victory anyway," Ted Dillingham comforted himself, as the scrubs were slipping into their street clothes. "We were beaten, but not disgraced."
"If we'd had five periods instead of four, I bet we would have beaten them anyway," declared Rooster. "That is," he added, "if Garry could have kept up the pace he was going in the fourth. Gee, Garry, you were as slippery as an eel!"
"I had dandy interference, or I couldn't have made it," replied Garry. "All you fellows were on your toes. But the score stands, and we're licked. But one thing is certain. Those upper class fellows will never hold us cheap again."