CHAPTER VII
STRANGE FRUIT FOR A TREE TO BEAR
"Oh! girls, you just ought to have seen Fred Badger run with the ball then! They all chased after him, but he dodged them like everything. If the boys win that game from Marshall I'm sure Fred's going to have a lot to do with it!"
Joel chuckled at hearing one girl say that, for he recognized the voice of pretty little Mollie Skinner, on whom it was said the Fred mentioned was rather sweet, since he always accompanied her to choir meeting, and when they had a dance out in the country, she invariably went with Fred. "Well, I don't know what Fred Badger has got over Steve Mullane, or Jack Winters, or even Joel Jackman," said another voice, rather cynically, as though the speaker did not wholly subscribe to Mollie's view that Fred stood out as a shining mark above the rest of the bunch of struggling players.
Joel chuckled again. It tickled him to be mentioned at all by one of the fair watchers in the tree, even though with such a doubtful compliment as "even Joel Jackman!" would imply.
"But I'm beginning to get tired of sitting here in this ridiculous fashion," said a third one, dolefully, "and taking turns at peeking through Mollie's mother's opera-glasses. I wouldn't have come only I felt so much interest in our boys this year. It's their first appearance on the gridiron, and I'm just wild to see them beat that bragging old Harmony. As to Marshall, I just know Chester will put those fellows down where they belong, at the foot of the class, without half trying."
"Neither would I have gone to all this trouble," spoke up the fair and spirited Mollie, "only for that silly letter my friend in Harmony wrote me, saying that it was a foregone conclusion Harmony would sweep the earth this year because their team had been terribly strengthened. In fact she gave me to understand that everything, even to the crepe, had been ordered for poor little new beginner Chester. It kept me awake most all last night; and I felt so much excited that I just had to get you girls to come out here and see what our gallant boys were doing."
"Yes, but however are we going to get down from here?" sighed the girl who had spoken second, and whose name was Lucy Marsh, while the last of the daring trio Jack knew to be another pretty maid, Adelaide Holliday by name. "I feel afraid to jump from so high a place; and girls can't climb trees and come down like boys do."
"Would you mind if we came up and helped you, girls?" suddenly demanded Jack, as he and his companion showed themselves.
There were alarmed squeals from the three nesting in the crotch of the tree, and this was followed by girlish laughter when they discovered who the newcomers were. It was not only the boys of Chester who liked Jack Winters; for any girl would be proud to be asked for her company by a fellow like Jack, so universally esteemed.
"You've turned the tables on us this time, Jack," said Lucy Marsh, bravely enough. "It's a case of the biters bitten, evidently. We came to spy, and we've been spied on in turn. Well, since you've discovered us in a tree, perhaps you'd better climb up and help a pack of foolish girls back to the solid ground again. I seem to lose my head once I get off the earth."
Accordingly Jack and Joel joined them, and it was no particular effort to help each girl down. When the last had been safely landed, the boys jumped lightly after them.
"You'll excuse our looks, of course, girls," said Joel. "We've been in a scrimmage and are hardly fit for ladies' company; but all the same we're delighted to have been of service to you."
"And so," remarked Jack, turning to Mollie Skinner, who was small but pert, and as pretty as a peach, "you had a boasting letter from some girl over in Harmony, I think I heard you say as we came up. She tried to discourage you, didn't she? All right, Mollie, you just send her back a Roland for an Oliver; give her as good as she sent. Tell her the Chester boys are going to swamp Marshall next Saturday, just to put them in trim for the great game on Thanksgiving morning with poor old Harmony. Twit her with a few reminders of that last baseball game we played, when Chester trailed Harmony's colors in the dust. I guess you can rub it in good and hard, Mollie, if you try."
"And you guess right, too, Jack Winters," snapped the girl, her eyes flashing with spirit. "I'll compose a scathing letter that will give Maude something to think about from now to Thanksgiving. And let me say that I'll be meaning every word of it, too. Why, after what we've seen you boys do in practice I just feel that fellows like Fred, and some of the others of course, in the bargain, just can't be whipped by any old school team that plays. Those are my sentiments, and I don't care who knows them."
"Those Harmony fellows wear the yellow and black of Princeton, you know," spoke up Lucy Marsh, "and love to call themselves the Tigers. They think to frighten their opponents by a great exhibition of rough play, and try to act as if they expected to just walk away with every game."
"That's right for you, Lucy," chipped in Joel, "but those same tactics didn't carry weight last summer. Chester didn't seem to be afraid of being bitten by the tiger, in fact we managed to devour the beast, hide and all; and let me assure you, girls, we can do it again, don't you fear."
"How about that, Jack, do you subscribe to Joel's boast?" demanded the girl, as though she would be ready to place a good deal more dependence on an opinion from the captain of the eleven than from the left tackle.
Joel laughed.
"You're going to the wrong quarter for that kind of information, Lucy," he went on to say. "Jack's too modest to boast, as everyone knows, though he'll work his head off to win the game."
"I'm not claiming anything!" declared Jack; "and only saying that Chester will have no cause for complaint, no matter whether we win or lose; for every fellow's grimly determined to do his level best. Victories sometimes hinge on small things, and the luck of the game may go against us. But we'll be fighting all the time up to the blowing of the last whistle that tells the time of the fourth period has expired."
"Tell them what Coach Hooker said this very afternoon, Jack?" begged
Joel.
"Please do, Jack," the fair Mollie pleaded; while the other two looked so wistful that Jack could not have declined had he wanted to, which was far from the fact.
"Oh! Joe seemed to be especially well pleased with our work today," he remarked, "and told us that taken all in all we made as lively and hustling a lot of youngsters as he had ever had the pleasure of handling. He even went on to say that if we worked as well in the Marshall game we would carry off the prize as sure as two and three make five. And let me tell you, after hearing those inspiring words we played better than ever the next round, and had old Joe beaming with joy. I honestly believe he thinks a heap of our bunch, since it's been weeded out."
"We're all proud of you, just remember that," said Mollie, boldly; "and we do hope you'll be able to make the Marshall boys eat humble pie next Saturday. Why, nearly everybody that's worth knowing at all in Chester is going over to Marshall to give the Chester salute when you come on the field. I chanced to hear Packy McGraw, your cheer captain, drilling his squad; and let me tell you they can give the Chester yell in a way that thrills the blood."
There could be no doubt about Mollie and her two chums being heart and soul for the local team. Jack was glad to see such enthusiasm. It would make himself and the other ten fellows fight all the harder to know that bright eyes were watching every move that was made; while dainty hands clapped until they ached, keeping company with the defiant cries arising wherever Chester girls congregated, in grand- stand or field.
It means a whole lot to a team to feel that their home folks believe in them to the limit. Just as soon as this interest gives signs of waning the best of teams grow careless, and show signs of disintegration. So Jack hoped the girls as well as the boys and grown- ups of the town would be with them all the while, ready with cheering words and praise for good deeds, as well as apologies for mistakes such as the best of players may sometimes make.
So the three girls departed, binding Jack and Joel to a promise not to betray them to the rest of the squad. This promise both boys gladly gave, for no harm had been done; and they knew now just how earnestly the girls of Chester were hoping and praying for their success. It was really an inspiration, to Joel at least.
"There's no use talking, Jack," he was saying, as they started to go around once more to the place of the spring, to avoid exciting any suspicion on the part of their comrades, "we've just got to beat Marshall on Saturday. Why, it'd break the hearts of those pretty girls if we failed. I really believe they'd feel it more than any of us would. And that little spitfire Mollie is crazy to rub it into her boastful friend over at Harmony, too. Oh! we've got our job set out before us for a fact, and must sweep the deck each deal."
The rest of the practice caused the boys to forget their recent little adventure for the time being. They worked hard, and won additional praise from old Joe Hooker.
"You're getting better every day, fellows," he told the bunch as they started homeward, chattering like a lot of magpies. "I never was so pleased with the improvement shown; why, it's simply marvelous. If an old football man should watch some of your plays he'd swear you were anything but novices, and vow you'd done plenty of footwork last season. Don't stop, boys! Keep up the good work, and my word for it, your reward is sure to come, for you'll take Marshall into camp on Saturday, barring accidents."
They would have two more afternoons for practice, and then Saturday would dawn with its uncertainties that might not be relieved until the referee had blown his whistle to signify that the time for the game had expired. Whose would be high score when that minute came around was an unknown quantity; and many a Chester lad would have given much to be able to lift the veil of the future just that far. But this was beyond their ken, and they could only possess their souls in patience while hoping for the best.
Those two days would soon pass, and the great time come when Chester folks could be seen thronging the road leading to Marshall, bent on witnessing the meeting of the rival teams on the gridiron.
How some of the most impatient managed to pull through the intervening time it would be hard to tell. But finally Saturday morning dawned, and the fact that the sun shone from an unclouded sky, while the air was quite nipping, brought joy to thousands of eager hearts in Chester, and doubtless also in Marshall; for both towns were said to be football crazy this year.
CHAPTER VIII
A CALL FOR HELP
"Hello! Jack, I was just thinking of dropping around at your place.
Can you spare me a few minutes of your precious time this morning?"
Big Bob Jeffries called this across to the other, down on the main street of Chester. Jack was hurrying along, after finishing the several errands that had taken him into the heart of the shopping district. It was on the great Saturday morning that was to give the town folks their first taste of real football. Everywhere people seemed to be talking about it, and the chances the local team had of pulling off a victory. Jack, being known as the captain of the eleven, and an acknowledged leader among his fellows, was greeted with many an anxious question concerning the condition of the team, and whether he really and truly expected to score a triumph against the hard-playing Marshall crowd.
To all such inquiries the boy had returned a merry answer, simply saying:
"We're going to do our level best, and we have hopes, that's all I can say. Tell you more about it this evening."
When he heard Big Bob calling out this request a look of real concern flashed across Jack's face, the very first that morning. He feared lest the other was about to spring some sort of disagreeable surprise upon him at almost the last hour.
All along he had managed to keep Bob sort of buoyed up with constantly renewed hope that his troubles were sure to end in smoke. But evidently the big fellow had suffered in secret, and was in quite a nervous state of mind.
"Certainly I can, Bob!" he exclaimed, starting to cross over to where the other stood, looking so forlorn that had any observing fellow come along just then and noticed the expression on his face, he might have spread an alarm to the effect that the big fullback was ill, and consequently there would be a weak spot in the line-up that afternoon, as sure as anything.
"I hate ever so much to bother you, Jack, with my personal affairs, just when, of course, you've got your hands full of the coming battle on the gridiron; but I must ease my head or something will burst, I'm feeling that wretched."
"Come along and walk with me," said Jack, promptly. "I am in a little of a hurry, but we can be going in the direction of my house, and take it slowly. Now what's happened, Bob?"
"Happened, Jack? Why, nothing at all, and that's just what's the matter. If only something did come along to break up this terrible monotony, I'd welcome it; but every day's like the one before it. I go to bed, and get to sleep all right, but when I wake up along in the early hours, about two or three o'clock, I begin to think, and lie there till dawn comes, just groaning to myself, and trying to make up my mind what I ought to do."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Big Bob, sure I am," said Jack, his voice telling the same thing. "But you say things haven't changed at home. By that I reckon you mean your father hasn't asked you anything about that letter he gave you to mail?"
"Not yet, Jack, but I'm mighty much afraid it's going to come any time now. You see, he must be getting anxious because he's received no answer to his letter, though of course there hasn't been any too much time so far. But my mother is worried on account of me. I've almost lost my appetite. The things that used to appeal to me the most I now let pass with barely two helpings. She knows there's something gone wrong; you can always trust a boy's mother for being the first to suspect that, when he gets off his feed."
"Does she say anything to you?" asked Jack, solicitously, for it pained him to see how much Big Bob felt it all.
"Oh! every day she asks me if I'm real sure I'm not sick," came the slow reply. "I always tell her I'm all right; but say, she knows better, Jack. I can't meet her eyes when she looks at me like that. Once she begged me to tell her what had gone wrong with me, whether I was doing poorly at school, even if my report stood to the contrary; but I tried to laugh that off, and told her I'd soon be all right again, after this football game, mebbe."
"I hope you will, Bob, and a lot of us will have a big load off our minds if only we can come back home this afternoon, singing, and feeling joyous. Of course you never really knew how that little scheme of mine worked, did you?"
"Meaning the idea of putting that marked paper where my dad would be sure to see the item about the man who sent follow-up letters abroad, so as to make certain one of them would get to its destination, in spite of British blockade and German submarines? Why, no, I never found out if father took to the idea or not. I only know he must have seen the paper, because I found it later on his desk in the library, and I left it crumpled up on the floor. He never asked me where it came from, so I didn't have to tell him you had it wrapped around an old sweater you were returning to me. All I'm sure of is that he didn't trust me to mail a second foreign letter. I only wish he had."
"You said he was beginning to look serious, didn't you?" continued
Jack.
"Why, yes, and I can just feel him watching me when he thinks I'm not looking. He certainly must suspect something, Jack. But the queer part of it all is that lately he's been a heap more gentle with me than I ever knew him to be before."
"I don't quite get the hang of that, Bob."
"Well, you must know that my dad is reckoned a stern man. Folks have always looked on him as what they call austere. He's engaged in a business that keeps his mind away up in the clouds most of the time, and he just can't pay much attention to the small things of life. I heard him tell that once, and I've tried to understand what it really meant, but somehow I couldn't, because my nature is just the opposite, so I guess I must take after my mother's side of the family. I can hardly remember the time when my dad played with me, or seemed at all interested in my childish hopes and fears. It was always Ma to whom I went with my troubles; and Jack, she never failed me. That's what makes it so hard for me now. Only for you to confide in, I don't know what I'd have done."
He seemed on the verge of breaking down at this point. Jack in order to prevent anything like this hastened to ask again:
"Go on, Bob, and tell me just how your father is acting differently nowadays from what he's always done."
"Why, you see," continued the other, with a spasmodic movement of his big frame that might have been caused, Jack suspected, by a half- suppressed sob welling up from his sorely distressed heart, "he's not only been watching me close at times, but twice now he's even asked me something about the football match with Marshall; and last night Ma told me he had said they must surely go over today and watch me play. Oh! Jack, that nearly broke me all up. I felt just like I must throw my arms around my mother's neck, and pour out the whole wretched story of my carelessness."
"But you didn't, I suppose, Bob?"
"No, I managed to blurt out an excuse for hurrying away, though I kind of think she must have seen that there were tears in my eyes, for she called after me; but I didn't dare turn back right then, and pretended not to hear her. Later on I'd managed to get a fresh grip on myself, and even smiled a little, though I tell you that was the most ghastly smile I ever knew, for it was a hollow mockery, Jack."
"But you've held out this far, Bob, and you must pull yourself together so as to go through the game today," Jack went on to say, warmly. "If you failed us our goose would surely be cooked, you know, because the fellow who has been practicing as your understudy at fullback is a mighty poor fish, and Marshall will know it as soon as the first period is over, especially if they push us hard, and he breaks down, as he's pretty sure to do."
"Oh! as to that, Jack, I'm not meaning to give up just now. I've got my mind made up to play savagely today. I want to forget my troubles, and I'll take it out on Marshall. Besides, I'll always be remembering that Ma and Dad will be there seeing no one but their Bobbie; and it might ease my pain if only I could do some half-way decent stunt that would bring out the cheers, and make them glad I was a Jeffries."
"Shake hands on that, Bob. I felt pretty sure you wouldn't fall down at the last minute."
"I guess I've got a little too much pride in myself for that," said the other, trying to look like his old self for once. "But that Thanksgiving game is another question. If this sort of thing keeps on, I'll surely be a nervous wreck by then, and too weak and wobbly to play."
"Oh! don't cross bridges before you come to them, Big Bob," sang out Jack, wishing to inspire the other with fresh confidence. "That's a poor policy, you know, and some fellows are addicted to it. There's another old saying that you might take to heart, and which runs like this: 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;' which also means that it is foolish to worry, because nine-tenths of the time what we imagine is hanging over our heads never really comes off."
"Well, one thing I'm sure of, Jack, and that is that you're the boss comforter. No matter how badly I'm feeling, only let me get in touch with you, and I seem to draw in new life and hope. I'll never forget all your kindness, you can depend on that, Jack Winters."
"Oh! don't mention it, Bob; you'd do the same for me, or any other fellow, given a chance, because it's in your nature. But let's speak again of your father, for after all he's the central object of the whole thing. You said in the beginning that you feared he was beginning to suspect you, and that from the way he kept watching you when you were reading, you felt as if he might up and say something about that letter?"
"Yes, sometimes that gives me a cold chill; and then again I'm puzzled to know why he's taken to being so much kinder than usual. Why, honestly, Jack, just last night he even asked me if my old skates were still good for this season's use, or would I like to have a pair like those he'd noticed in the window down at Higgins' store. Oh! that nearly broke me all up. I felt as if I wanted to throw myself down on my knees before Mm, and say that I didn't deserve new skates, or anything like that this year, because I was a wretched, careless boy, who had done something wicked. But somehow I managed to stammer out that I guessed my old ones were going to be good enough for one more season, though, Jack, they are in bad shape; but then it would have made me feel worse than ever if I'd accepted his offer, after failing him when he trusted me."
Of course Jack knew that Big Bob was making a mountain out of molehills, but he could readily understand how that came. The big fellow was extremely sensitive, and the possible enormity of his offense kept standing out before him all the time and constantly growing in dimensions.
What he said about his father made Jack secretly smile. It was about time, he told himself, that a reserved man like Mr. Jeffries woke up, and began to take more interest in his children, and not leave it all to his good wife. And in the end possibly this affair might work out for the good of all concerned, the father as well as the son. Meanwhile, Big Bob must be encouraged to hold on for a time longer, until they could know the actual state of affairs.
CHAPTER IX
HEADED FOR THE FIELD OF BATTLE
Big Bob was already looking better, after what had passed between Jack and himself. Although time counted with the captain of the Chester eleven just then, as he had a number of things he wished to do before noon, he felt that he could well afford to stand by Bob a little longer, and get him to feeling more cheerful.
Football games often depend on small things that might seem trifles to those who do not know that the condition of mind as well as of body, on the part of every member of the squad, has much to do with ultimate success or failure. Therefore, as it might turn out that victory would depend on some play on the part of the fullback, Jack was earnestly desirous of arousing all the ambition he could in Bob's heart.
"Now, see here, Big Bob," he went on to say, as they sauntered along, Jack occasionally waving a hand affably to some boy who called out to him across the street, "I wouldn't think any more than I could help about your father's actions. Because of your guilty conscience you can see only suspicion in his watching you so closely, but I'm able to view it from a different angle." "Tell me what you mean, please, Jack?"
"It strikes me this way," the other complied. "Your father has just begun to realize how much you and the other children mean to him. I think he has had his eyes opened to this in some way, and that in the future you'll find him changed. Then it would be only natural for your mother to confide her fears concerning your health to her husband. That accounts for his watching you when he thinks you're not noticing. He wonders if you are really sick, and won't own up to it for some foolish reason. I wouldn't be surprised if he gets you to drop in and see the doctor, so as to be examined all over. Why, they may even be giving you a tonic, Bob, to try and fetch back that lost appetite of yours."
"Do you think so, Jack?" said the other, with a grim smile flickering about his mouth. "Well, I know the very best tonic that could come to me, which would be the news that the letter he wrote had reached its destination abroad. Oh! if only I could learn that, I'd feel like flying, my heart would be so light. And play, why, Jack, if such glorious news came to me right now I'd wake up those Marshall boys this afternoon, believe me. They'd think a cyclone had struck the line when I butted up against it. I'd tear everything to pieces, and the whole gang couldn't stop me; for all the world would be bright again, the birds singing, and best of all, I could once more look my father straight in the eye."
"I wish that sort of thing would happen, that's all, Bob," laughed Jack, partly to conceal the fact that he was pretty much shaken up himself by the way Big Bob expressed his state of feelings. "But even if you don't get word about the letter, I'm confident that your position will be well looked after this afternoon."
"You can depend on me, Jack," said the other, simply, for Bob was not given to boasting.
"There is nothing more you want to say to me, is there?" asked Jack, for they had by now arrived in front of his gate.
"I guess not," answered Bob, making a dive for the right hand of his comrade, which happened to be free of bundles, and which he squeezed most heartily. "Thank you a thousand times for giving me so much fresh hope, Jack. I'm going to try once more to believe that the whole nasty business will come out right. See you when we start across for Marshall this afternoon. I've laid out not to eat more than half a ration this noon, because I want to be in fighting trim."
So they parted, with a wave of the hand; and at least Big Bob did have a more contented look on his face than when he first called out to Jack across the main street of Chester, to ask for a little of his time.
Of course there was no attempt made to restrain the members of the team from eating any reasonable amount of food. They did not go in training for days and weeks before a gridiron battle, as is done in all colleges, their diet restricted to certain lines of food best calculated to add to their vigor, without making them loggy. But Joe Hooker had impressed it on their minds that it would be well for them to avoid certain things that might upset their stomachs; and all had bound themselves not to attend any parties, or stay out of bed later than ten o'clock on any night.
Small things like this often have a tremendous influence in deciding a fiercely contested battle on the gridiron. If one man has been indulging in too rich food, so that his digestion is impaired in the least, he has weakened his system; and in case the crisis of the fight chances to fall upon his shoulders, he will possibly be unable to bear the strain as he might had he been in perfect physical shape.
So far as he knew, every fellow was in the pink of condition, Jack was telling himself as lie worked at something up in his den that morning. He had been chiefly concerned about Big Bob; but this last little interview with the fullback gave him renewed confidence. The mere fact that his father had at last mustered up enough interest in boys' sports to promise to attend the game at Marshall that afternoon had in itself inspired Bob to determine to do his family credit, if it came to him to have an active part in the offense, or rather the defense; for that was where his duty generally came in.
"We've got all the show we deserve," Jack told himself, after viewing the situation from every possible angle. "Joe Hooker has taught us all he knows about the game, and he says we are going to do his coaching credit. That means he believes Chester has a fair chance to win. And if every fellow is as determined to crush Marshall under as Big Bob seems, we'll do the trick, that's sure."
Of course Chester labored under a big handicap, in that they knew so little concerning the playing abilities of their opponents. Most of the boys had, of course, attended previous meetings between Harmony and Marshall, since there was so little interest shown in Chester for any sports. They had seen those young gladiators from the rival towns lock horns, and struggle excitedly for supremacy upon the flat gridiron marked stretch of ground, cheering for one or the other side without prejudice, as their fancy chanced to dictate; but that was not like feeling the brunt of a rush, or trying to outgeneral a swiftly running player with the ball, heading for a touchdown. Actual hostilities alone could give them the confidence in themselves which they needed.
"But," Jack went on to assure himself, "after the first period we'll all be on our tiptoes, and ready to show them what we can do. By then we'll have a good grasp on their style of mass play, and what old Joe has taught us will turn to our advantage. However, it's up in the air still, and as much our game as Marshall's. The only thing I know is that we expect to fight with every ounce of strength we've got in us, and never give up till the last whistle blows. No one could ask for more; no boy do more. And I do firmly believe we'll come back home tonight crazy with joy over our first scalp."
Later on, having eaten a light lunch, Jack set out for the rendezvous, clad in his now well-worn suit. Rough usage soon takes the edge off a new set of football togs, for much of the work is done upon the ground. Whether grass stains or dirt marks, it does not matter. Like a sensitive hunter who proceeds to soil a new suit of khaki garments which he has been compelled to buy, lest some one take him for a novice in the shooting line, so those who play football take the keenest pride in their most disreputable clothes. Every stain stands for a possible struggle on the field that may have spelled a crowning event for the participant. So they come to look upon these marks as those of distinction, just as a soldier would the medal he so proudly wears upon his breast.
The boys were gathering when Jack reached the scene, although it would be more than a good hour before the start was to be made. Some of them looked a shade anxious, he was sorry to notice, though really that was to be expected. Jack made it his duty to try to banish this feeling as far as possible, and to imbue everyone with some of the same confidence that was filling his own heart.
As usual, his influence soon began to make itself felt. There were Steve and Toby also who hastened to back him up, realizing what a factor toward success this feeling of firm reliance on their ability to fight their own battles would be certain to prove.
It was not long before a tremendous crowd had gathered. Boys who expected later on to go over to Marshall stopped to take a last look at the eleven, and figure out the "dope" as to whether they looked like winners or "quitters." And in nearly every instance they went away firmly convinced that Jack's team would give Chester no reason to be ashamed. It seemed to be in the air that great things were about to happen for the old town, so newly awakened. Perhaps the pleasing memory of how Jack Winters had led his nine to victory against both Marshall and Harmony during the late baseball season still lingered in their minds, to inspire fresh confidence.
"Well," Doc Speaker remarked, as he sat in a car with his folks, and surveyed the struggling throng gathered to wish the boys the best of luck, "one thing certain, Sis, if anybody can bring Marshall's scalp home tonight it's Jack Winters. No one seems to just know how it comes, but there's a certain magnetism about that fellow that goes clean through the bunch. You know leaders like Napoleon and our own Teddy Roosevelt are born, not made. Jack is built on that plan. Other fellows who have made up their minds to dislike him, as I did at first, soon come under the magic spell of his nature, and end by believing he can do almost anything he tries. And so we are all firm in the belief he'll carry his team to a glorious victory that'll cause those Harmony chaps to sit up and take notice, because of course every last one of them will be on deck today, to pick up points about our style of play, and see if our line shows any yellow spot."
When finally the big carryall, run by a motor, started off, headed down with the eleven players, Joe Hooker, and the numerous substitutes, it did seem as though the town were deserted. Several of the mills had even closed for the day in order to give their hands an opportunity to go across and help cheer for Chester.
The road all the way to Marshall, distant something like ten miles, was filled with all manner of vehicles from a farm wagon and an old- time buggy to the latest thing in seven-passenger cars. And had a stranger chanced to come upon that road he must have wondered what all the travel meant, possibly concluding that some late circus had come to a neighboring town, or else Billy Sunday was holding forth there to immense audiences.
The nearer they drew to Marshall the greater the congestion became. Other roads leading into the town were likewise thronged with pedestrians, and every manner of vehicles. Such a tremendous outpouring of the people, and not young folks alone, either, had never been known before. Seeing such mobs the Chester boys could not help feeling that they must acquit themselves with credit that day or be forever disgraced.
In this grim frame of mind they finally reached the field where the battle of the young gladiators was scheduled to take place, to see a sight that would thrill anyone capable of being moved by such a spectacle.
CHAPTER X
WHEN THE GREAT GAME OPENED
It must be Marshall's great field day, that was evident. Business would be almost suspended while the game was in progress, only the most necessary stores keeping open. The grandstand was already filled to overflowing, newly arrived crowds trying to find seats anywhere they could, but with small success. Those who had the affair in charge must have underestimated the immense throng that would be attracted to the field by the fine Fall weather, and the prospect of a rattling good game.
As usually happens, the Chester crowds kept pretty much together. They could be picked out as a rule by the swirl of waving school colors, for every Chester girl and boy who had journeyed to Marshall to see their team win the game, made sure to carry the favorite combination.
Of course Marshall did likewise, and as this was their home town, they possibly outnumbered the Chester young people two to one. What they lacked in numbers, however, the visitors seemed able to make up for in noise. From time to time songs rang out over the field, that carried the sentiments of the confident Chester girls, over there with the sole purpose of encouraging their team to carry off the prize.
At one place a large number of boys from the other town seemed to be gathered, and there was always something doing in that especial quarter. Seated in the front rank was a lively little chap who carried a tremendous megaphone. This fellow was no other than the redoubtable Packy McGraw, Chester's cheer captain, who had done such yeoman service during the baseball games in leading the pack to hurl defiance at the enemy, and to encourage the home boys in every way possible.
When the humor seized Packy, or some stage in the game made such action desirable, he would leap the barrier, and jumping up and down like a harlequin in front of the bleacher benches, start his cohort into a combined school yell that must make the hot blood leap through the veins of everyone who called Chester his or her home town.
It was really a most inspiring sight, that immense gathering of people, all filled with animation, and a desire to see one or the other of the contesting teams carry the ball to goal and touchdown, until the victory had been won.
The best, of course, was yet to come, when, game being called, every eye would be riveted upon the figures in the arena, crouching like wildcats ready to bound into life in concert.
While the necessary preliminaries were being attended to, and the players were under close surveillance, naturally much of the talk being indulged in was connected with their appearance.
Some seemed to be of the opinion that Marshall looked much stronger in the way of beef and brawn. It was undoubtedly true that, taken as a whole, the home players did outweigh the visitors. This might prove of advantage to them in certain mass plays, where their machine could mow down all opposition through sheer avoirdupois. But, on the other hand, it is not always given to the heaviest team to win. Speed counts for more than heft in many of the fiercest struggles that take place on the gridiron; and a fellow who can run like the wind, and dodge all interference, is more likely to bring his side success than the slower and more stocky individual who lacks this advantage.
Mollie Skinner and her two chums sat there in the front row of the grandstand where they could have an uninterrupted view of everything that took place. They had come over very early, just to secure these splendid seats, sacrificing their customary warm lunch, it seemed, for each of them had brought a "snack" along, which they had calmly devoured while waiting for the crowds to assemble.
They felt amply repaid, however, for they found themselves envied by many who came later, and could not find a vacant seat. From where they sat they could watch the two teams as they stood in clumps and chatted and laughed, doubtless trying to appear quite unconcerned, for they knew how a myriad of critical eyes must be focused on them just then.
"Well, what do you think of the boys now, Mollie?" demanded Lucy Marsh, upon noticing that the little girl with the clever tongue was observing the players critically.
"I tell you what's bothering me," Mollie hastened to say. "It's that
Big Bob Jeffries."
"Why, what ails him?" asked Adelaide in turn. "I always thought Bob Jeffries was to be depended on any time he was needed. Remember how he played in those ball games, and with never an error. Yes, and didn't he knock out more than a few dandy two-baggers, with men on bases? Why should you be worried about him, Mollie?"
"Really I don't know," came the puzzling reply; "only I've heard several people say they didn't believe Big Bob could be feeling himself. He's been acting queer lately. Even Fred Badger admitted that to me when I quizzed him, though he hastened to say that so far it hadn't seemed to interfere with his playing, for he kept holding his own right along. But something seems to tell me that if we lose this game today it's going to be through some bungling play on his part."
"Listen, Mollie," said Lucy just then, "don't speak quite so loud, because Bob's father and mother are just back of us, I've discovered."
"Well, that's a queer thing," said Mollie, without even turning to look. "No one ever knew Mr. Jeffries to take the least interest in outdoor sports before. He must have waked up from his Rip Van Winkle sleep, apparently. I even heard that he declined to contribute a dollar to the new gymnasium that some of the town people are building to satisfy the craving of the boys for physical exercise, saying he guessed boys ought to be able to thrive without all those costly adjuncts; that as a boy he had never found the need for anything of the sort, and that he didn't mean to squander his hard-earned money on any such nonsense."
"Well," put in Adelaide Holliday, "whoever told you that must have been poorly informed, or else there has been a sudden revolution in Mr. Jeffries' beliefs; because my father, who is one of the committee to raise funds to pay the first expense of fitting up the new gym, with all sorts of modern appliances, said just last night at supper that he had had a visit from Mr. Jeffries that afternoon, who asked how the subscription list was coming on, and upon learning that there was still a whole lot needed, handed in his check for a cool hundred dollars. He also told him that if they still fell short when settling things up, to call on him for an additional hundred."
"You certainly surprise me, Adelaide," said Mollie, "but I'm glad to hear that Bob's father has waked up at last to understand just what such things mean in a civilized, up-to-date community like Chester. Old things have passed away, it seems, and everybody who has any sense will get on the band wagon before he finds himself lonesome. But that doesn't ease my mind about our big fullback."
"Why, he seems to be just the same as ever to me, looking from here," expostulated Lucy Marsh.
"Yes, that's because of the excitement, and the fact that his folks are present," explained the doubting Mollie. "I saw him wave his hand to his mother just then. All I can say is I hope he'll do himself credit. Jack Winters assured me there wasn't a weak link in the chain, and when I mentioned Big Bob to him he turned a little red, and hastened to say that he would be found doing his duty as he invariably had in the past. But, all the same, I tell you Jack is a little nervous about him; I could read that in his face when he answered my question so hurriedly."
"Oh! look! they're going on the field, girls!" exclaimed Adelaide just then, and all minor matters were allowed to rest while they watched the opposing players run out and start to take their positions.
A tremendous salvo of cheers greeted their appearance on the gridiron, destined to be the battle ground on which they must struggle for supremacy, utilizing every ounce of strength, and backed up with such generalship as their chosen leaders could bring to bear.
They were certainly a fine looking lot of youngsters, and those near and dear to them had a right to feel proud at that moment when the great game was about to open. The cheering died away as though by some prearranged signal; indeed, it is simply astonishing how during the progress of a game the volume of sound will suddenly break out like a hurricane, and then cease almost as abruptly, so that the whistle of the referee may be heard in its piercing intensity.
As the young athletes lined up on the field they stood in the following order:
CHESTER
Fullback
Jeffries
Halfback Halfback
Mullane Winters (Captain)
Quarterback
Hopkins
End Tackle Guard Center Guard Tackle End
Douglass Badger Hemming Griffin McGuffey Jackman Jones
MARSHALL
End Tackle Guard Center Guard Tackle End
Smith Everett O'Toole Needham (Capt.) Willets Bennett Haldy
Quarterback
Lighthart
Halfback Halfback
Collins Trowbridge
Fullback
Budge
Of course, as the sides faced each other the left end of Chester, Jones, found himself confronting the right end of Marshall, Haldy. And while the fullback bore the ominous name of Budge, it was apparent from his bulky frame that this was just about the last thing he might be expected to do, for he looked as though a mountain would not move him.
Silence fell upon the vast throng. If anyone had ventured to speak above a whisper just at that critical moment, he would have found himself frowned upon by a dozen angry persons close by.
Out there in the arena the twenty-two contestants crouched in their favorite attitudes, and with nerves strained to the utmost, waited for the ball to be put in action. It was a picture never to be forgotten, and no wonder the eyes of the gathered multitude of spectators remained glued upon the motionless figures, looking like statues of famous gladiators in the arena waiting to battle before a Nero, who by the crook of his thumb, either up or down, would seal their fate eventually one way or the other.
Then all at once there was a sudden concerted movement, every one of the players leaping into life; and from that moment on there would be something constantly doing.
CHAPTER XI
THE STRUGGLE ON THE GRIDIRON
When the struggle first began it looked as though the veteran Marshall players meant to smother their lighter opponents by means of the sheer force of their attack. They immediately carried the ball over into Chester's side of the field, and there was danger of a touchdown before the game had been in progress five minutes.
During this period the Chester spectators sat with a numb feeling clutching their hearts, though they tried their best to assume a confidence they could hardly feel. Their boys were really novices at the business, and it was to be expected, they reasoned, trying to bolster up their waning courage, that at first things would hit the Chester line hard. But just wait a bit, until they began to recover their wind, and Jack Winters was given a fair chance to unmask some of his hidden batteries. "He laughs longest who laughs last," was a saying with a good deal of truth behind it; and anyhow the game was very young yet. Besides, Marshall hadn't scored, after all, it seemed.
A burst of applause broke out that seemed to almost shake the ground, such was its vigor. And apparently most of it came from the excited Chester cohorts, though there were some impartial local admirers of the great game who could readily cheer a daring and brilliant play, no matter on which side it occurred.
What had happened was just this: Winters had carried the ball around the Marshall end for a gain of thirty yards, and when he was finally downed it was far over on Marshall ground. The tables had been suddenly turned, and now it was the home team that was forced to act on the defensive.
Another little gallop, on the part of Joel Jackman this time, gave Chester additional gains, with the ball still safe in their possession. As this evidence of the recuperative power of the new Chester machine was discovered, it seemed as though the vast crowd would go crazy with delight. Even the local rooters grinned their happiness.
"Well! well! well! they can do something worth while!" one Marshall student was heard to call out, as though he were indeed surprised. "Why, bless my soul, we're going to see a real game after all, and not a walkaway."
"You needn't worry," snapped a Chester boy close by, full of ginger, and ready to stand up for his colors all the time; "we've got a pretty nest of tricks ready to unload on your fellows. Just keep your eye on Chester, Green, and don't worry. Plenty of time for that after the game is finished, and you hear the real Chester yell!"
Next Fred Badger, given the signal, seized upon the ball when it was snapped to him, and actually smashed his way through left tackle for another gain of twelve yards. His action had evidently taken the Marshall fellows off guard, for they must have anticipated a renewal of the drive around the ends.
Now they were well over on enemy territory, and for the first time in the game a cry began to arise for a touchdown, that only students hungry for a touchdown can emit. Louder and more insistent it grew in volume as the players began to settle back again for a renewal of the desperate tussle. Even many Marshall fellows took part in the demand, for, as they loudly proclaimed, it would make the game much more interesting if their team had a handicap in the start to fight against, since they always did their best work when forced to exert themselves, and come up from behind.
Well, if they were really sincere about it they had their wish speedily gratified. Hardly were the players in motion again than a single figure was seen streaking in like wildfire past the struggling mass, and heading deeper into Marshall territory as though determined that this time nothing should prevent a score.
It was Mullane, the left halfback! As a rule, Steve could hardly be called a genuine sprinter, and doubtless that was just why Jack had selected him for this special occasion, for the lighter fellows would of course be under suspicion, and interference focussed on their actions.
There was pursuit, of course, and it could be seen that Bennett and Haldy were rapidly overtaking the fugitive. Such a wild howl as went up all over the field at this thrilling stage of the game! Mullane dared not look back over his shoulder. By mere instinct alone he understood just what was happening, and how from several quarters Marshall players were closing in on him.
Perhaps he fancied he could even hear their panting just behind him. It must have nerved Steve as nothing else could have done. He knew that he was on the verge of immortal fame, even though he might not secure the coveted touchdown that the mob was now shouting for so hungrily.
It is just such a situation as this that makes a fellow bring to the front hitherto unsuspected energies. Steve certainly never in all his life ran like he did on that particular occasion. Why, some of the delighted Chester boys boasted that he fairly flew, as though he had wings suddenly developed; though of course those light-footed pursuers came even faster.
Then, just when Bennett hurled himself to drag Steve down, by a mighty effort the Chester boy threw his body forward, and fell on his face, with the ball gripped fiercely in his hands over the line!
When this wonderful fact became evident to the crowd, as it did like magic, the air was rent with mad cheers. Everybody jumped up to wave their hands, school colors, and handkerchiefs; while amidst the terrific din a hundred hats soared heavenward, to be reckoned with afterwards by their reckless and excited owners.
It was a clean touch down for Chester! First blood had after all come to the visitors. The Marshall players began to look more serious. After all, then, it was not destined to be such a "soft snap" as some of them had made out to believe. They had better gird themselves, and start in to do something on their own account. These Chester fellows could play the game, it seemed, for all there was in it. Visions of possible defeat spurred the locals on to increasing their pressure. They remembered that Jack Winters led those hosts from the rival town; and in the baseball session he had demonstrated what a menace he could be to any opponent. Besides, it must not be forgotten that Chester had had the advice and coaching of a veteran college player, who had kept his finger on the pulse of the football world, even though he had been actually out of the real struggle for years.
The kick for goal after the touchdown proved futile. Either the distance was too great, or else a slant of the wind caused the ball to miss its mark, much to the regret of McGuffey, who had qualified for that honor. Jack determined that if another like opportunity occurred he would depend on sturdy Big Bob Jeffries. Now that the thing was done, he realized that this was his first mistake thus far.
But the score was five to nothing, and the fight still on Marshall's lines. It might be possible to duplicate the performance, and still further push the home players down in the mud.
Marshall, however, was now nettled. The sting of that easy touchdown was like the goad to a lazy horse. The whole line quickened, and during the remainder of the first period they forced the fighting over into Chester territory. Indeed, after a number of downs, and a close call from having a touchdown scored upon them, Chester only barely managed to hold the hungry enemy at bay until the referee's whistle announced that the first period had expired.
During the few minutes between the end of the first quarter and the renewal of activities, there was much buzzing of tongues all over the grandstand. Everybody seemed to be talking at once; and of course the three girl chums from Chester had to have their brief say.
"Wasn't it a grand sight, though, to see Steve Mullane carrying the pigskin oval across the line?" exclaimed Lucy Marsh, her eyes snapping in her delight. "Girls, after all, I've decided that I'll attend that barn dance Thanksgiving night out at the Badgeley Farm with Steve. You see, four fellows have asked me, and I hardly knew which one I wanted to accept; but after what Steve has done to cheer up Chester this day, of course I couldn't decline his invitation."
"But please don't say that Steve did it all!" spoke up Mollie Skinner, quickly. "He was only one in the chain, remember, though deserving of great praise for beating those fast runners, and falling across the line with the ball just in time. I noticed that Fred Badger made a distinct gain, without which Steve never could have reaped his reward. Some are given to plant, others to water, but the fortunate one is able to reap the harvest of cheers. It's hardly fair; Fred, yes, and Joel Jackman, too, deserves a share in the applause, for they made that touchdown possible."
"There's glory enough for all," said Adelaide, wisely, to settle the question in a common-sense way. "Every fellow on the team, from Jack Winters down, had a share in that play; for you must have noticed that they interfered and shut off much of the pursuit so that the nearest Marshall boys could not hold Steve when he started his plunge."
"Well, there they are at it again, girls, and what a dandy kick-off that was! Oh! I hope Chester still holds the advantage when this period ends."
Lucy's devout wish seemed without avail, for the fighting soon surged over on Chester territory, with the heavy Marshall machine pushing its way remorselessly forward yard by yard. Before six minutes had passed they had scored a safety from their opponents, giving them two points to start with. Then came a furious struggle ending in a goal being kicked from field that netted Marshall just three points; and as the period finally came to an end they were threatening a repetition of this same system of tactics.
During the intermission Marshall made two changes in their line-up, it being discovered that there were weak links in their chain. Chester had thus far fortunately escaped any serious accidents, and Jack did not give any of the eager substitutes a chance to show what they had in them, though they were ready to jump in at a word.
Jack now saw it was true concerning the ability of several Marshall players to kick amazing field goals, and he realized that it must be his policy after this to try to keep the situation from developing along those lines, and debar them from such opportunities as much as possible.
With the starting of hostilities again the play began to center around midfield. Now it was Chester in possession of the ball, and then like magic it passed into the hands of the locals. Half-way through the quarter the tide surged back on to Chester territory, with all that brawn thrown upon them. Speedily came a touchdown for Marshall, but the kick for goal missed connections by a foot.
When but two minutes remained for a recovery there came a series of brilliant forward passes on the part of Chester, followed by steady gains, until just as the last minute was starting, Jack gave the signal that brought about a brilliant play, following which Jones, the left end, ran swiftly around and planted the ball across the line for another touchdown. A kick for goal failed to score, and as the whistle of the referee announced that the quarter had come to an end, a mighty howl arose from thousands of throats, while the whole grandstand and field seemed to fairly blaze with innumerable waving flags and pennants and all manner of such objects. For with the game three- quarters finished the score was actually a tie, being ten to ten!
CHAPTER XII
GLORY ENOUGH FOR ALL
The stage was now set for the deciding quarter of the game. Many already began to talk of the result being a tie that would necessitate another test of skill and endurance. Marshall admirers, however, scoffed at such a thing. They tried to make out that thus far their veteran team had only been trifling with the fellows from the rival town. Now that it had reached this stage they were bound to show their real form, and snow poor Chester under.
But somehow this line of talk failed to frighten those who wore the colors of the visiting team. What they had seen convinced them that their faith was in good hands. Jack Winters had yet to go down to defeat since he took charge of outdoor sports in Chester, barring that one fight with Harmony in baseball. No doubt he had managed to inspire his players with some of his own indomitable energy and never-give-up spirit.
So play was resumed where it had been left off, and almost immediately the rival teams were at work, "hammer and tongs," as one gentleman described it. Brilliant plays followed in rapid succession, each accompanied by a burst of applause, which was, however, instantly stilled, as though the crowd understood instinctively how it was necessary that they remain hushed in order that the leaders' signals, and the whistle of the referee, so frequently sounding, might be plainly heard by those who fought in the arena.
After a successful plunge Marshall lost the ball on downs. A punting duel followed, with the advantage slightly in favor of Marshall, though both Mullane and Jeffries managed to hold up their end with considerable honor.
Then came a furious attack on the part of the locals that carried Chester well off its feet. Before they could rally to ward off the blow, a touchdown resulted, though again the kick for goal failed, owing to the flukey wind, as some of the chagrined Marshall players hastened to explain.
It began to look serious for the visitors, with Marshall again in the lead. Time was a factor to be counted on now in deciding matters. All Marshall had to do was to hold their opponents, and they would win. Of course the desire to add to their score would always tempt them to strive further; and this might give Chester the opening needed.
Jack sent the word around for a supreme effort. He felt that they were capable again of turning the tables on the enemy, despite the fact of their superior heft and experience.
When Fred, Joel, and the balance of the boys got that signal they realized how it was now up to them to play like demons. They had apparently been doing the best that was in them hitherto; but strange to say there always seems to be just a little more vim and snap in a football player's make-up that can be summoned to the fore when a desperate situation arises.
All those devoted admirers who had traveled across to Marshall to see them do the old town credit must not be disappointed, if it lay in human endurance to wrest victory from impending defeat.
So spurred on by this incentive, and with their opponents resting under the belief that they had the game already "sewed up," by reason of that last touchdown, Jack's warriors exerted additional pressure, and bent the line back until they were fighting on Marshall territory, grimly pressing on a few yards at a time without a single fumble.
It was thrilling to see how like inexorable Fate they continued to push forward, despite the frantic efforts of the locals to head them off. Again was the crowd on its feet, every eye fastened on the struggling mass of players. Hearts beat high with renewed hope among those Chester onlookers. They realized that this was to be the crowning episode in all the long and bitter contest, when Jack Winters would bring every particle of skill and endurance he could command in his fighting eleven to tear off a victory before the time had expired.
How desperately Captain Needham rallied his players to the defense! It seemed as though they stood like a stone-wall against the rashes of the visitors; and yet in spite of everything Chester managed to continue gaining.
Now it was by a clever swing around the end; again it was a mass play that tore through the center, and took the ball well along for perhaps five or six yards before the runaway was downed. Chester still had the ball, and that was the encouraging feature of it all; Chester meant to hang on to the ball like grim death until the golden opportunity came to try for a touchdown that would once again even up the score, now in Marshall's favor by five points.
There was no talking going on now in the grandstand. Everyone was too much worked up for such a thing. Besides, what with the outbursts of spasmodic cheering, instantly quenched, and the necessity for silence between times, no opportunity for exchanging opinions offered.
Many had their watches out and were casting apprehensive glances at the dials. There remained much less than two minutes of time. Then the referee's whistle must sound to indicate that the game was finally over. Could Chester redeem that loss of a touchdown against such strenuous opposition as those Marshall fellows were now putting up?
Even the most sanguine began to feel doubts gripping their faithful hearts. The boys were doing well, much better than anyone had ever believed possible; but, of course, the gruelling pace must be beginning to tell upon them. They were not seasoned veterans like most of the Marshall fellows; and in such a long and bitterly fought battle on the gridiron experience counts in the last round.
And yet they were still pushing ahead. It was wonderful, grand! How the sight did thrill some of those who years back may themselves have taken part in similar struggles, when in college, or attending a high school; and what vivid memories it must have called to mind as they stood there, holding their very breath, and drinking in the ever changing picture!
If anything was going to be done, there was certainly no more time to lose, for really but a part of a minute still remained. It looked as though, despite their gallant fight, the boys from Chester were doomed to be held back from the victory, or the tie, that was so near.
Then something happened.
A gasp seemed to pass over the throng. Scurrying figures on the field announced that the expected was being carried out. Chester was making a last desperate effort for a touchdown. It would be the expiring flicker of the flame; for whether successful or not it must mark the end, since the referee would be blowing his whistle before play could be resumed.
They saw a figure shoot out ahead of all the rest. Why, what was this—could it be Winters, the halfback, who had the ball, when many had distinctly seen it just a second before in the possession of Fred Badger? The pass had been so cleverly executed that not only had the spectators almost to a man been deceived, but the Marshall players themselves were confused, and in this way last much of their effectiveness.
Fast upon the heels of the flying halfback two Marshall players came dashing; but they might as well have hoped to catch the wind in a sixty-mile gale as overtake that speedy runner. It was as though Jack had reserved his best powers for this special occasion. He saw just where he meant to hurl himself over the line, and clutch that envied touchdown. Had a dozen followed he would have distanced them every one, such was his mettle just then. He seemed endowed with supernatural speed, many who stared and held their breath believed.
Then a roar went up that dwarfed all that had gone before. Jack was over, and had thrown himself, still grasping the ball, for the touchdown that tied the score!
Hardly had this happened when the shrill whistle of the referee announced that the fourth and concluding quarter had ended.
"A tie! a tie!" shrilled hundreds of excited voices.
"Hold on there, you're away off!" others called out, making frantic gestures as they shouted these words. "Don't you see the umpire using his megaphone, and that referee, head linesman, and field judge are waving their arms? Keep quiet, everybody! They've got a communication to make. Perhaps the game isn't quite over yet!"
By degrees the uproar quieted down, when it was generally discovered that the umpire had an important communication to make. Evidently the players understood just what its nature was going to be, for while the Chester boys looked eager and expectant, those on the Marshall side bore an air of despondency.
"According to the rules of the game, as set down in the official guide," shouted the umpire through his megaphone, so that everybody was able to hear all he had to say, "when a touchdown is made just as play closes for the fourth period an extension of time is to be granted the side making the same, to try for a kick for goal. So Chester is now at liberty to make that try. If it fails, the score remains a tie; if successful, of course the game goes to Chester. Please everybody remain quiet until the test has been made."
This time Jack made no mistake. He beckoned to Big Bob Jeffries to try for goal. It was an oblique slant, and only a clever kicker could succeed, with that baffling wind against him. Big Bob looked once in the direction of the grandstand as if to draw inspiration. Most people believed he must know some girl, whose encouragement he sought; but Mollie and Lucy and Adelaide did not venture to take such honor to themselves. A little modest woman sat behind them, and it was her eyes moist with tears of pride that inspired Big Bob Jeffries when he strode up to win, or know the reason why—his mother sat there!
Well, when the "punk" was heard, every eye followed the sailing ball. It seemed to sag to one side, then again took on a true course, as though guided by some invisible hands.
As it was seen to drop squarely over the bar between the posts the crowd broke into frenzied shouts. Chester had won by a single point! That last kick for goal after Jack had saved the day by his touchdown, had done the business; and the happy visitors could go back home feeling they had a reason to be proud of the scrappy eleven that represented their town on the gridiron.
The final score was 16 to 15.