CHAPTER XXIII
KENWOOD SCORES
Friday was a hard day to live through. Excitement was in the very airand football tunes assailed one at every turn. For the players theday was a nervous period of suspense. Dick was heartily glad whenrecitations took his thoughts off the morrow. There was some puntingand a light signal drill on the field in the afternoon, but it wasall over by half-past four. A final black-board talk was held inthe evening and after it most of the players went over to the finalmass-meeting and sat on the stage and were wildly cheered. Everyonewho could think of anything to say that evening said it: Mr. Morgan,Chairman of the Athletic Committee, Coach Driscoll, Captain Peters,Billy Goode, Manager Whipple and one or two lesser luminaries. And themusical clubs played and the Glee Club sang and everyone joined in, andenthusiasm held sway until late.
Saturday morning dawned brisk and fair, with a light westerly windsweeping along the Front. Kenwood began to appear on the scene asearly as half-past ten, and from that time on blue banners werealmost as numerous as brown-and-white ones. The Kenwood team came atshortly after twelve and went at once to Alumni Hall for an earlyluncheon, heartily cheered on their way by friend and foe. On thetrain that brought the thirty husky warriors came also five personswhose affiliations were evidently with Parkinson, for each of thefive wore a brown necktie, differing somewhat in shade, and two worebrown-and-white arm-bands. In the confusion existing in and about theWarne station they were not discovered by the reception committee ofone for several minutes. Then Dick gave a yell, charged through thethrong, grabbed Sumner White and spun him around.
"Sum! You old scoundrel! How are you?" Dick was surprised to discoverhow glad he was to see Sumner.
"Fine! Gee, Dick, you've grown an inch! Say, you needn't have come tomeet us. I told your----" Sumner stopped, grinning. "See who's here?"
"Hello, Charlie! Hello, Jim! Say, I'm awfully glad----" Dick's wordsstopped in his throat. Then: "_Dad!_" he gasped.
Mr. Bates laughed a trifle embarrassedly as he took Dick's hand in bothof his own. "Yes, it's me, Dick. I--I thought I'd come along and keepthese young fellows in order, you know. Well, how are you, son?"
"I'm great," answered Dick, "but I'm so knocked in a heap--Think ofyou coming, dad! Gee, I'm glad to see you! How are you? Let's get outof here where we can talk." Dick took his father's arm and piloted himout to the sidewalk. Taxicabs were not to be thought of, for the demandalready exceeded the supply six to one, and so they set off along thestreet afoot, Dick talking and asking questions and all the otherschiming in every minute. It wasn't until they were crossing the campus,Dick pointing out the sights, that he remembered the appointment withMr. Driscoll. Then he hurried them all to the room in Sohmer and leftthem in charge of Stanley while he and Sumner went on to the gymnasium.On the way Dick explained the situation to his companion, perhaps notvery lucidly, and Sumner was still in a most confused condition ofmind when he faced the coach. But it didn't matter, for Mr. Driscoll'squestions were few and somewhat perfunctory after Dick had had his sayabout Sandy Halden. "I think, sir," Dick ended, "that Halden didn'tfind that piece of an envelope at all. I think he addressed it himself,copying my writing the best he could."
"And I think you're right," agreed Mr. Driscoll. "I'll have somethingto say to Halden after this game's out of the way. He's a dangerousfellow to have around."
Five minutes later they were back in Number 14, in the midst of a merrydin of talk and laughter. Dick couldn't remain with them long, however,for luncheon for the players was at a quarter to one, or as soon asthe Kenwood party vacated the dining hall, and so, giving the ticketshe had obtained for them to Sumner, he hurried away. "Stan will lookafter you," he shouted back from the door. "There's a stand-up lunchin Alumni for visitors at one-thirty, or you can get real food in thevillage. Stan will take you over to the field in plenty of time andI'll see you here after the game. So long, dad! So long, fellows!"
"Go to it, Dick!" cried Sumner. "Eat 'em up, old scout! We'll berooting for you!"
A sketchy luncheon in the dining hall, with no one eating much, noteven the veterans like Bob Peters and Harry Warden, a flight by wayof the service entrance to the gymnasium and the usual confusion ofchanging to playing togs and listening to final instructions at thesame time. Then, at last, just before two o'clock, a heartening, quiettalk of a minute by the coach.
Kenwood was already at practice when Parkinson reached the field. Thehome stand arose and gave the "long cheer" and the base drummer of theWarne Silver Cornet Band thumped vigorously. Counter cheers mingledfrom across the field and then the visitors cheered for Parkinson, andCaptain Bob led his men forth and a ten-minute warming-up followed,with three squads trotting up and down and the punters stretching theirlong legs down by the east goal. It was four minutes past two when theteams took their places and the din of cheering and singing subsided.
In seats half-way up the centre of the south stands Mr. Bates andSumner White and the other three visitors from Leonardville watchedintently. Sumner had just discovered that Dick was not in theBrown-and-White's line-up and had proclaimed the fact disappointedly.
"What's that mean?" asked Mr. Bates anxiously. "Isn't he going to play,Sumner?"
"Oh, yes, sir," replied Sumner, assuming more confidence than he felt."You see, a quarter-back doesn't often last a whole game. It's apretty hard job. So they generally put in one to start the game andthen run the other fellow on later. I guess Dick will get in before thehalf's over, Mr. Bates. I think I see him down there on the bench. Yes,there he is, sir."
Mr. Bates had to have his son pointed out to him, and then a shrillwhistle blew and Kenwood, having lost the toss, kicked the ball highand far into the sunlight.
For the first ten minutes of that game Parkinson and Kenwood triedeach other out and neither team approached a score. Kenwood had whatadvantage lay in a mild westerly breeze and she punted often. But ifshe expected fumbles or misjudgments she was disappointed, for eitherStone or Warden caught unfailingly and usually took the ball back overone or two white lines before being stopped. Just at first Mr. Bates,whose football education had been sadly neglected, thought the gamemuch too rough and predicted broken legs and worse, but before thatfirst quarter was at an end he was inured to the ungentle behaviour ofthe contestants and was following the varying fortunes of the game withgrim lips and flashing eyes.
Parkinson made one first down and Kenwood two in the initial period,the second of the Blue's successes coming just at the end when aback shot unexpectedly around Peters' end and made all of seven yardsbefore he was pulled to earth and enthusiastically sat on by most ofthe Parkinson team! Two attacks on Newhall and Wendell added the threemore and the chain was trailed to a new position. But the Blue wasstill well away from the home team's goal and shortly after the secondquarter began she had to punt again.
Neither team appeared to be able to gain consistently through theopposing line, while neither team had shown thus far much ability torun the ends. It looked like a punting duel all the way, with thevictory depending on a "break" in the defence of one side or the other.It was a ding-dong affair for thirty minutes of playing time, and whenthe first half ended neither team could claim the advantage.
"You wait till Dick gets in, though," said Sumner to Mr. Bates when thefield had emptied and the Silver Cornet Band was blaring forth again."That quarter they've had playing may be good, but I'll bet Dick canplay all around him. He's awfully slow, for one thing----"
"Dick is?" inquired Mr. Bates, anxious to learn football lore.
"No, that fellow Stone. Dick's a streak when he gets started. Why, hecan do the hundred in ten and two-fifths, sir!"
"You don't say!" murmured Mr. Bates. He wondered what the hundredwas and how Dick "did" it, but he had no intention of exhibiting hisignorance any further. He was still recalling Sumner's expression whenhe had innocently asked which team the little man in the grey flanneltrousers--he happened to be the umpire--played on!
Stone, however, was still in the line-u
p when the third period beganand Dick was anxiously looking on from the bench, one of some fifteenother equally anxious substitutes. It was when the last half was butfour minutes old that Kenwood sprung her big surprise. The surprise wasa tow-headed youngster who had been substituted at right half. Someonenear the Leonardville contingent said his name was Marvel, and Sumnerdeclared heartily that he was well-named. The next day's papers calledhim Marble, which was probably correct but not nearly so descriptive.Marble was the nearest imitation of an eel that the Parkinson team hadever had to contend with. Kenwood played him close to the line, gavehim the ball on a direct pass from centre and then set him loose. Afterhe was loose he was about as easy to locate as a flea, and, havingbeen located, about as easy as a flea to capture! His first stunt,and one that brought the visiting rooters to their feet with a suddenfierce and triumphant yell and sent Parkinson hearts into Parkinsonboots, was a dash through the brown-and-white line outside left tackle.He went through much as a hot knife cleaves its way through butter, andafter he was through he feinted and squirmed and doubled and twisteduntil only Stone stood between him and the Parkinson goal. And Stonemissed him!
That forty-seven-yard run that ended in a touchdown squarely betweenthe posts was just the medicine Parkinson needed, however, and with thescore seven to naught against her, for Kenwood couldn't have missedthat goal with a blind and one-legged kicker, she set to work witha new determination and a new vim. Stone remained in just two playsafter the kick-off. Then, not a little groggy, he limped off, loyallycheered, and Dick took his place.
Dick carried but one instruction with him. "Hustle your team, Bates,"Mr. Driscoll had said quietly.
With the coach's encouraging thump on his shoulder to remember and theknowledge that his father and Sumner and the others were wishing himluck, Dick raced on with every nerve tingling and a big, hot desirein his heart to vindicate their faith in him. Bob Peters hailed himjoyfully. Bob was as happy as a clam, despite an ensanguined nose. "Ataboy, Dick!" he sang out as Dick came up. "Look who's here, fellows!What do you say?"
The others said many things, somewhat breathlessly but heartily, andDick hurried back to his position the instant he had reported. "Allright now, Parkinson!" he cried cheerfully. "Let's see what we can dowhen we _try_! Every fellow on his toes and play fast! You've beenasleep, every one of you! Let's have some action. Let's show 'em thegame!"