CHAPTER XXX
THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN
Wild cries of delight, victorious shouts, the shrill voices of thegirls, mingling with the hoarser tones of the men and youths, the wavingof flags and banners, the shaking of canes adorned with the Blue Hillcolors, showed the appreciation of the first gain in the battle.
"Yah! I thought your team was such a much!" yelled an ardent Blue Hillsupporter to some Kentfield cadets in the stand next to him.
"So it is," was the cool answer, though there was a sore heart back ofit. "We never play our best until the other team gets a touchdown.That's the only look-in your fellows will have."
"Oh, it is; eh?" demanded the other with a hoarse laugh. "Well, justwatch our boys rip you all to pieces from now on."
The goal was kicked, making the score six to nothing against ourfriends, and Dick saw dubious looks on the faces of his chums.
"This is nothing!" he cried gaily. "It's the only taste of the honey-potthat we'll let them have. Come on now, we've got time to make atouchdown this half."
Play was resumed after the kick-off, and an exchange of punts followed,both sides seeming willing to take this method of regaining theirstrength, which had been almost played out.
When Blue Hill got the ball after a series of brilliant kicks that haddelighted the spectators, she once more began her rushing tactics. Buteither some of her men were careless, or they were too eager, for theygot off side, and there was some slugging which the alert umpire saw,and as a penalty the ball went to Dick's side.
"Now rush it up," he called eagerly, and then began such a whirlwindattack that Blue Hill was fairly carried off her feet. Right up thefield from her own thirty-five yard line did Dick's men carry thepigskin, until on Blue Hill's twenty yard mark the young millionairedecided for a try for a field goal. It was a magnificent attempt butfailed, and before any more playing could be started the whistle blew,ending the half.
Rather dejectedly Dick and his team filed to the dressing rooms. The twocoaches met them.
"It's all right! It's all right!" cried Mr. Spencer. "You boys couldn'tdo better. You haven't made any mistakes. Keep on the same way next halfand you'll have them."
"I hope so," murmured Dick.
"I know it!" declared Mr. Martin with conviction. "They can't keep uptheir pace, and they haven't any good subs to put in."
"That's right," agreed his colleague. "The way you carried the ball upthe field after their touchdown showed what you could do. If there hadbeen time you'd have scored. They can't stand that smashing attackingbusiness, but you can hold them if you try. Then, at the right time, getthe ball and take it up. One touchdown and goal will tie the score, andanother touchdown will win the championship for you."
"Boys, will we do it?" cried Dick, turning to his cadets as theysurrounded him in the dressing rooms under the grandstand.
"Will we?" cried Innis Beeby. "Will a duck eat corn meal, boys?"
"Sure!" came the enthusiastic answer.
Back again on the gridiron trotted the twenty-two sturdy lads to indulgein a little limbering-up practice before the second half should start.Then came the warning whistle.
"They'll kick off this time," said Dick to his men, "and that will giveus the ball. We want to rush it right up the field without giving 'emtime to catch their breaths. Try the sequence plays again, they workedwell."
With a resounding "pung" the leather sailed into Kentfield territory.Beeby caught it and began a rush back that was not destined to lastlong, for with great fierceness he was tackled by Lem Gordon, andheavily thrown. But Beeby was as hard as nails, and arose smiling,keeping his foot on the ball.
"Now boys, play like mustard," called Dick, as a signal for thesequence plays, none other being given. The successive rushes thatfollowed fairly carried the Blue Hill players off their feet, and soimpetuously did Dick and his men smash into the line, going throughcentre, between guards and tackles, and around the ends that, inside offive minutes of play, the ball was on Blue Hill's ten yard line.
"Wow! Wow! Wow!" yelled enthusiastic Kentfield "rooters," and from beingglum they were now wild with delight and eagerness.
"Touchdown! Touchdown!" came the imperative demand.
"Hold! Hold 'em!" pleaded the Blue Hill throng.
"They ought to make it now or never," said a gray-haired man as he halfrose to watch the next play. "They must shove it over if they work asthey have all the way up the field."
Dick paused for a moment. He was deciding on the next play. Blue Hillwas frantic and might take any unfair advantage. The Kentfield men werelike hounds after a stag--it seemed that nothing could keep them back.Dick sent Ray Dutton through centre for five yards.
He came back into the line gasping, for he had been tackled hard.
"Only a little more now, fellows!" yelled the captain. "Nothing can stopus now."
"Yes, we can!" cried Haskell in desperation. "Don't let 'em through,boys!"
His half-wild players managed to stop Stiver with the ball after a threeyard gain. But two more yards were needed--six feet.
Dick gave the signal for big Beeby to take the ball, and the nextinstant the sturdy guard had hurled himself into the gap made for him.For a second or two it seemed that he could not make it, so fiercely didBlue Hill brace. Then, slowly but surely they began giving way under theterrific pressure of the eager Kentfield cadets, and then came a wildyell from Beeby, who was half smothered under a mass of players.
"Down!" he gasped, and with his last strength cried "Touchdown!"
The heap of players slowly dissolved. For a moment the spectators werein doubt, and then, as the meaning of the joyous dancing about ofKentfield, and the glum appearance of her opponents was borne to them,the sympathizers of Dick's team burst into a frenzy of shouts and cheerswhile the flags and banners were riotously waved in the maze of color.
The score was tied a moment later as the goal was kicked. Who would makethe next points?
Quickly the ball was put into play again, and there followed an exchangeof punts--a grateful relief from the line-smashing tactics that hadcarried the pigskin over the goal mark. It was a rest for both sides forBlue Hill had been played almost to a standstill and Dick's men werepanting and gasping from their terrific efforts. But it seemed worth allit cost.
Seldom had there been such a situation in the annals of the MilitaryLeague. Two of the best teams that had ever been represented playingsuch fast football, and the score tied at such a critical moment meantsomething. Add to it that the elevens were not on the most friendlyfeeling, because of what had taken place early in the season, and therewas a situation that would make even a blase football enthusiast "sit upand take notice," as Innis Beeby said.
The slightest turn of events might send the scale up or down now,bringing victory or defeat. For a time both sides played warily, takingno chances for the championship hung on the next few minutes.
Then, as Dick's side got the spheroid, he called for some more of theterrific playing. Nobly his men responded and eagerly. Almost tooeagerly it seemed for there was a fumble at a critical point and one ofthe Blue Hill men seized the ball. Back toward the Kentfield goal hesprinted with it, and for a moment Dick nearly had "heart disease" as hesaid afterward. But this time Teddy Naylor, who had gone in to replaceHal Foster at full, because Hal's weak ankle went back on him, tackledthe man, and the danger was over. But Blue Hill had the ball, and tookadvantage of it by kicking it far enough away so that Kentfield wouldhave to work hard to regain the lost ground.
"Smash 'em! Smash 'em!" ordered Dick, as his men lined up. So fierce wasthe attack and the offense that Paul Drew was knocked out, and could notcome back in time to play. Ford Baker went in.
This was rather a blow to Dick, and when John Stiver keeled over alittle later, from a blow on the head, the chances of Kentfield were notimproved. Sam Wilson went in at left half, and his playing was adistinct revelation, for he jumped into the line with such energy thathe tore off ten yards on his first play.
/> "Good!" cried Dick. "A few more like that and we'll have the game."
The half was nearing a close. There had been more kicking, and severalscrimmages. Then Blue Hill had the ball, and Haskell called on hiscadets for a last desperate effort. They responded nobly, and Dick'steam, weakened as they were by the extraordinary hard pace, began togive way.
Up the field they were shoved until they made a stand on their twentyyard line.
"We've got to hold if we want the championship," said Dick simply, buthis words meant much.
And then came one of the surprises of football. The people on the standswere holding their breaths in anxiety, each individual almost prayingfor his particular team. It looked bad for Kentfield, as she was beingsteadily shoved back, and the time was fast passing. It seemed that shewould either be beaten, or that a tie game would result, necessitatinganother conflict.
Haskell gave orders for a fake kick, and so often had he worked thatplay during the game that Dick's men at once were aware of what wasgoing to happen. Around the end of the line came smashing the Blue Hillfull-back who had taken the ball from his left half-back. Right aroundhe came, but Dick was there to tackle him. With all the fierceness andenergy of which he was capable the young millionaire sprang at his man.They came down together.
The ball rolled from the full-back's arms at his impact with the earth,and like a flash Dick saw his chance. He was up in an instant, hadgrabbed the leather, tucked it under his arm and was racing down thefield toward the goal of his enemies.
He had a ninety yard run ahead of him, and the Blue Hill full back waswaiting for him with open arms. How he got past Dick never knew, butthose watching saw him fiercely bowl over his opponent like a tenpin.Then on and on he sprinted, while a wild riot of yells from thegrandstands urged him forward.
On and on he ran--on and on. His breath was rasping through his clenchedteeth--his legs seemed like sticks of wood, that were somehow actuatedby springs which were fast losing their power.
"Can I do it?" he gasped. Then he answered himself. "I'm _going to doit_!"
He heard the pounding of feet behind him, but he dared not look back. Onhe kept. Chalk mark after chalk mark passed beneath his vision. At lasthe ceased to see them. He looked for the goal posts. They seemed milesaway, but were gradually coming nearer through a mist.
He felt someone touch him from behind. He heard the panting breath of arunner--he felt his jacket scraped by eager fingers, but he kept on.
Then, when he had no more breath left; when it was all black before hiseyes, he crossed the last line--fairly staggered over it and fell withthe ball in the final touchdown--the score that won the game--for thewhistle blew as his men and their enemies were running up.
Dick had won the championship.