The Winning Touchdown: A Story of College Football

  CHAPTER XXIV

  DEFEAT

  There was a buzz of excitement; everyone was whispering to his neighbor,and there was even talking among the members of the faculty.

  Dr. Churchill gave a few more facts concerning the matter, stating thatthough the first move had gone against the college, the Randall legalrepresentatives hoped to be successful in court.

  "I might add," went on the good doctor, "that we are making every effortto locate the missing quit-claim deed. And I might also add that if anyof you young gentlemen happen upon it, the faculty and myself, as wellas the directors, will be under great obligations to you, if you willturn it over to us.

  "To that end, perhaps, I had better describe the deed," which thepresident did, at the same time making a few remarks concerning legalmatters, and impressing on the students the necessity of taking care oflegal papers.

  "You will now know the document, if you should happen to see it," heconcluded, "though I fear we cannot hope for that. But we will not giveup yet," he added, and then the exercises came to an end.

  Discussion on the new development of the trouble continued, as thestudents filed out of chapel, and strolled across the campus, some tolectures, some to studies, while others, who had the early periods free,made for the football field.

  "It's a rotten shame, isn't it?" exclaimed Holly Cross, as he dug histoe into the pigskin with vicious force. "I wish I had some of thelawyers who are making the trouble where this ball is," and as thespheroid again sailed high into the air, Holly grinned in delight at hiseffort.

  "Yes, it's just like Langridge to make trouble," agreed Tom. "Probablyhe's delighted at the turn affairs have taken, and he very likely hopesto see Randall down and out."

  "Well, he won't!" declared Frank, as he passed the ball to JerryJackson. "I feel sure we're going to win. As sure as I feel that----"

  "We'll put it all over Fairview," finished Billy Housenlager. "We'vejust _got_ to do 'em!"

  "Glad you feel that way," spoke Captain Woodhouse. "But with Phil laidup----"

  He did not finish, but they all knew what he meant. Up to the last,there was hope that Phil might pull around in time to play at leastpart of the game, but the doctor soon put an end to this thought.

  "It's utterly out of the question," he said, and Phil, with a groan,turned his face to the wall.

  As if Randall did not have trouble enough, more developed the nightbefore the game. There had been a final meeting of the eleven, and Philhad managed to limp to it on a crutch. Final instructions were given bythe coach, some new plays were decided upon, and a particular code ofsignals, of which there were several in use, was adopted.

  "No objections to taking a glass of ginger ale before we turn in, isthere, Mr. Lighton?" asked Jerry Jackson of the coach, who was a stricttrainer.

  "I'll allow you one," he answered.

  "Come on then, fellows, I'll stand treat. Got something extra in myallowance this month," went on the Jersey twin, and he led a crowd ofhis chums to a small refreshment place that did a thriving business justoutside the college grounds.

  Whether it was the ginger ale, or the excitement caused by anticipatingthe game, was not ascertained, but it was a fact that in the night SidHenderson was taken ill. Tom heard his chum groaning, and, sitting up inbed, asked:

  "What's the matter, old man?"

  "I don't know, but I feel as if I was burning up inside."

  Tom was at Sid's bed in a moment, and placed the back of his hand on hisfriend's cheek.

  "Why, you've got a fever!" he exclaimed "I'm going to call for Dr.Marshall."

  Wallops was sent for the physician, who pronounced Sid a very sickyouth, and ordered his removal to the sick ward, a sort of emergencyhospital maintained at Randall.

  "I shouldn't be surprised but what it was the ginger ale," said thephysician, after questioning Sid. "You have a very bad bilious attack."

  "Will I--will I be all right by morning?"

  "By morning? Gracious, young man, what do you think we doctors are,magicians? We have to wait for Nature to help us."

  "Then I can't play."

  "Play? I should say not! You've got to stay in bed."

  "Well, wouldn't that get your goat!" exclaimed Tom, when he heard thenews. "Phil and Sid both out of the game. Now we _are_ up against it,for further orders."

  Phil did not answer, but he gritted his teeth, and in the darknessstepped out of bed, bearing his weight on his injured ankle. He couldhardly keep back an exclamation of agony, as a sharp pain shot throughhim, and he knew that what he had hoped for--that he might possiblyplay--was out of the question.

  The day dawned cold and fair, ideal weather for football, with no windto make kicking difficult. The contest was to take place at Randall, andthe squad was out early at practice. It was rather a serious gridironsquad, too, for the absence of two of the best players crippled the teamin a manner that none cared to think about.

  "Jove, but I wish I was going to be with you!" spoke Sid softly, whenTom paid a visit to him, just before the time for calling the game.

  "I wish you were," said the end. "I guess you'd better pray for us, Sid,for we sure are up against it."

  Phil managed to limp out on the side lines, where he sat wrapped in ablanket like an Indian brave, and watched the preliminary practice,unable to keep back the tears that came into his eyes.

  There was a big crowd present. Every stand was filled, and there werethrongs about the field. George Carter was to play in Sid's place,and Art Benson would be at quarter. The rest of the team was made upsubstantially as the one that had played the previous games, save thatFrank Simpson was slated to play one half at left guard, dividing withSam Looper.

  It was the first big game of the season, and both teams were on theirmettle. In the stand given over to the cohorts of Fairview there was abig crowd, of which a goodly part were girls from the co-educationalinstitution. Their shrill cheers, songs and cries mingled with thehoarser shouts of the Fairview lads.

  "I wonder if Madge and the others are cheering against us?" asked Tom,as he passed the ball to Simpson.

  "Well, you can hardly blame them for sticking up for their own college."

  "No, that's so. Say, they're a lively eleven, all right, aren't they?"

  "They sure are! Never mind, though, Parsons, we'll go through 'em allright."

  There had been many changes in the Fairview eleven, but some of the ladswho had played before were on the team. There was Lem Sellig, who playedquarter, instead of in his old position of left half-back, FrankSullivan was at right end, and Roger Barns was full-back; Ted Puder wasplaying left guard.

  The practice was over, the toss had been made, and Randall was to kickoff. Bean Perkins had led his cheerers in many songs and college yells,and the colors on his cane were frayed from much waving.

  The referee's whistle blew, and Kindlings, with a final glance at hisown men and those of Fairview, nodded to Holly Cross, who was to sendthe ball down the field.

  There was a thud as the toe of the big centre met the pigskin, and awayit sailed. It was caught by Ed Turton, who was playing left half-back,and he managed to get over about fifteen yards before he was caught andheavily thrown by Tom Parsons. Then came the line up, and the firstscrimmage.

  At the line came Fred Hanson, the right half-back, aided by his mates.Right for a space between Bert Bascome and Snail Looper he headed, andmanaged to get through.

  "Hold 'em! Hold 'em!" begged Kindlings, desperately, but his men wereshoved back, and there was a two-yard gain. It was not much, but itshowed the power that was behind the Fairview plays. There was a burstof triumphant cheers from the co-educational supporters, and silence onthe part of the cohorts of Randall, as they waited for the next play. Itcame promptly, and netted three yards. Then a run around right end toreoff four yards more, and it looked as if Fairview would rush the ballfor a touchdown in short order.

  But, in answer to the frantic appeals from Kindlings, his players braceddesperately, and held their o
pponents to such advantage that Fairviewwas forced to kick, and Randall had the ball, and a chance to show whatshe could do.

  "Now, then, boys!" cried Benson, as he began to give the signal, "tear'em apart!"

  It was a heart-meant appeal, but something was lacking. Phil's magneticpresence was needed, and though Pete Backus, to whom the ball waspassed, managed to wiggle through for a yard gain, there was noticeda great strength in the line of Fairview, against which the Randallplayers hurled themselves. Another try only netted two yards, and then,not wanting to give up the ball by sending it sailing into the enemy'sterritory, Benson signalled for a fake kick, Joe Jackson dropped back,and Holly Cross snapped the ball to George Carter, who was playing inSid's place. Carter at once passed it to Joe, who ran with it. But, alasfor the hopes of Randall! Joe dropped the pigskin, and Jake Johnson, thebig centre of Fairview, who had broken through, fell on it.

  CARTER AT ONCE PASSED IT TO JOE, WHO RAN WITH IT.]

  There was a wild riot of yells on the part of the Fairview crowd, andgroans of anguish from Randall. The Fairview players quickly lined up,and almost before Kindlings and his men had recovered from theirastonishment and chagrin, Fred Hanson had broken through, and wasspeeding for the goal line. He got past all the tacklers, and after asensational run, planted the ball between the posts.

  "Touchdown! Touchdown!" came the fierce cries. Randall realized that shehad been scored upon for the first time that season, and the fact wasbitter to her.

  The goal was kicked, and there were six points against our friends. Itwas disconcerting, but they went back into the play with such fierceenergy that inside of the next ten minutes they had forced theiropponents up the field to their five-yard line.

  "Now, boys, give it to 'em! Don't wait until you can see the whites oftheir eyes, but give it to 'em!" howled Bean Perkins.

  "Touchdown! Touchdown!" yelled the Randall crowd.

  "Give 'em the good old song, fellows," fairly screamed Bean. "Conquer orDie," and he led the singing of "_Aut Vincere, Aut Mori_."

  It was just the note needed to make the Randall players turn themselvesinto football fiends, and they ripped the Fairview line apart, and hadthe ball over in another minute.

  "Now, kick the goal, and tie the score!" urged Bean, but it was not tobe. The ball hit the post, and bounced back, and Fairview had still onepoint the better.

  There was hard playing the rest of the half, but neither side scored.

  "Well, what do you think about it?" asked Kindlings, of the coach,during the rest period.

  "I'm afraid to say," was the answer. "We'll have to do better, or----"

  "Lose," spoke the captain, grimly.

  The story of the second half of the game is shameful history to Randall.It started off fairly well, but there was fumbling, and even thepresence of the big Californian, who replaced the Snail, could not avertthe defeat that was in store.

  Try as Randall did, she could not make the necessary gains, and theplayers hurled themselves against the stone wall defense of Fairview. Onthe other hand, the Fairview players found several holes in theiropponents' line, through which they made substantial advances with theball.

  "Hold 'em! Hold 'em!" begged Kindlings, desperately, the fear of defeatstaring him in the face. His men worked like the ancient trojans, andTom Parsons covered himself with glory twice; once when he made asensational tackle, and saved a touchdown that seemed imminent, andagain when he made a brilliant run of sixty yards, and would havescored, but for an unfortunate slip that enabled George Curtis, theFairview left end, to nab him.

  That was as near as Randall came to scoring in the second half, whileFairview made three more touchdowns, though only one resulted in a goal.The score stood twenty-two to five against Randall when she was awardedthe ball for interference and offside play on the part of her eagerrival, who wanted to roll up a bigger total. There was only a littletime left to play, and Kindlings desperately called upon his men inevery way he knew how to rally and score again.

  There were desperate--aye, even tear-stained faces--among the Randallplayers as they lined up. Hearts were beating as though they wouldburst. Lungs were panting, and tired muscles fairly begged for relief.There came a great heave as the big Californian tore a hole in theFairview line to let Pete Backus through, but Pete was almost downed inhis tracks, and ere the line could be formed again, the whistle blew,and the game was over.

  For a moment the struggling players could scarcely realize it, and then,as the truth broke over the Randall lads, and they heard the shouting ofthe great crowd--as they knew the score--twenty-two to five--they filedsilently from the gridiron.

  It is not writing of anything disgraceful against old Randall when I saythat more than one player shed tears--bitter tears. And they were notassuaged by the hearty cheer which Fairview gave her rival.

  "Now--boys, three--three cheers for Fairview!" called Kindlings brokenly,in return, and his voice was not the only one that faltered when thetiger was given.

  Silently the Randall crowd left the grandstands, while the victoriouscohorts of Fairview were singing their songs.

  "Boys!" cried Bean Perkins, eagerly, "don't let our fellows go off thatway. Give 'em the 'Conquer or Die' song, but--sing it softly!"

  And then, out over the big field, welled the beautiful strains of theLatin hymn. The effect was wonderful, for the boys were good singers.The great crowd halted and listened, as the last chords died softlyaway.

  Then came a great cheer--a cheer from friend and opponent alike--a cheerfor defeated Randall--for Randall that had not conquered, but had beenconquered. Then the players filed to their dressing rooms.