CHAPTER XXVI
SID IS BOGGED
Phil Clinton opened his eyes. His face, that had been pale, was nowflushed. The reaction had set in, and he tried to struggle to his feet.
"Signal!" he cried. "Eighteen A B X--two twenty-seven Z M!"
He tried to get in position to take the ball from Snail Looper, who wasstanding up, regarding him curiously.
"What's the matter?" cried Phil. "Why don't you get down to snap itback, Snail? Isn't it our ball? Have we lost it on a fumble? Are theybeating us?"
"You--you can't play," spoke Holly Cross brokenly.
"Can't play! Nonsense! Of course I can play! I'm all right! I was justknocked out for a minute. Get down there, Snail. Signal----" But Philfell back into the arms of Tom and the doctor, and lapsed intounconsciousness.
"Carry him off the field," said the medical man softly. "He's got lotsof grit, but a horse couldn't play with the fever he has."
Sorrowfully they carried the stricken quarter-back from the gridiron. Itwas a hard blow to the Randall team, for it meant that a new man wouldhave to go in and play what was probably the most exacting position onthe team.
"Jerry Jackson, go to quarter," called Holly Cross. "I'll put Hayden atleft half-back," and the substitute was summoned from the side lines.The play went on, but, as might have been expected, Randall was at adisadvantage. When they had the ball they managed to gain considerableground, and as much punting as possible was done. But Wescott torethrough for another touch-down, while the solitary one gained in thefirst half was the limit of the scoring the visitors could do. There didcome a brace on the part of Randall toward the close of the game, andwhen the whistle blew they had the ball on the ten-yard line of theiropponents. They had put up a plucky fight against big odds, and theWescott players realized it, for they cheered lustily for their enemies.There was lack of heartiness, not alone from the sense of defeat, in thecheer and college yell with which Randall responded. Then they filedsorrowfully off the field, while Tom, Holly Cross and the coach, as soonas possible, went to the hotel where Phil had been taken in anautomobile.
They imagined all sorts of things, and were not a little relieved whenthe doctor told them that, at worst, Phil only had a bad attack ofbilious fever. The change of diet, necessitated by the trip, had broughtit on. With rest and quiet he would be all right in a week, the medicalman said.
"And when can he play football?" asked Holly Cross anxiously.
"Not for two weeks," was the reply, and the coach and captain groaned.They had a game with Fairview in prospect, and must needs win it if theywere to have a chance for the championship.
"I wonder if we can't postpone it?" asked Holly dubiously.
"Impossible," answered the coach. "We'll have to play Jackson atquarter. I'll take him in hand at once. We only have a week, but in thattime the Jersey twin will do better than Moseby, who's been playingquarter on the scrub. It's the best we can do."
Phil was too sick to accompany the team home, and Tom volunteered tostay with him for a couple of days, the coach and captain agreeing toexplain matters at college. So the despondent players returned toHaddonfield, while Tom remained with Phil at the hotel. Three dayslater, thanks to the skill of the doctor, Phil was able to travel,though he was quite weak. He was broken-hearted at the way he hadcollapsed in the critical part of the game, but Tom would not listen toany of his chum's self-reproaches.
"I'll make up for it when we play Fairview!" declared Phil. He was in abad state when told that he could not play that game, but there was nohelp for it.
Ruth called to see her brother, accompanied by Madge Tyler. He wassitting in the dilapidated easy chair when the girls came in, andapologized for it.
"Oh, we're glad to see you even in that state, Phil, as long as it's noworse, aren't we, Madge?" spoke Ruth.
"Of course," answered Madge brightly. "I wish you were better, so youcould play Saturday against our college."
"We'd be sure to win, if he did," interposed Tom. "As it is, yourfellows have a better chance."
"I--I don't care if we do lose!" exclaimed Madge, and she blushedprettily. "That is----" and she paused in some confusion.
"Why, Madge Tyler!" exclaimed Ruth. "That's treason!"
"I don't care," was the answer, with a toss of the head. "Don't you wantyour brother to get well?"
"Of course, but----"
"Well," was all Madge said, and Tom wondered what she meant.
But Randall did not lose to Fairview in the second game. It was a hardone, but the Jersey twin did good work at quarter, and Hayden proved a"star" end, making a brilliant run and a touch-down. The score wasseventeen to five, a solitary field goal being all that Fairview wasable to accomplish.
"Well, now we'll have a chance at the championship, when we meet BoxerHall next," said Phil, who had watched the contest from the grandstand,though he was as nervous as a colt all the while.
The 'varsity quarter-back was allowed to begin practice the followingweek, and was soon playing with his old-time form. In fact, the littlerest seemed to have benefited him, and this, added to the fact thatencouraging news had been received concerning his mother, made him lessapprehensive when he was on the gridiron. There were two more ratherunimportant games in prospect before the final contest with Boxer Hall,and all the energies of the Randall eleven were now turned to thedeciding contest.
"I say, you fellows," remarked Sid one sunny November afternoon, whenall three chums were in the room after lectures, "don't you want to takea walk with me? I've got to do some observation work in my biologycourse, and I'm going to take my camera along and make some pictures."
"Where you going?" asked Tom.
"Oh, along the river. Then I'll strike across country, and fetch upsomewhere. We'll not be gone over three hours, and we'll get back bydark. Come along; it will do you good."
"Shall we go with the old gazabo, Phil?" asked Tom.
"If he guarantees not to get us lost in the woods, so we'll have to stayout all night," replied the quarter-back.
"Oh, I'll get you home safe," declared Sid. "We'll have a nice walk.I'll be ready in a jiffy," and he proceeded to load his camera withfilms. It was a large one, and he often used it to make pictures whichhad a bearing on his class work in biology and evolution. The threechums were soon strolling along the banks of the river, Sid on thelookout for late-staying birds or some animal or reptile which he mightadd to his photographic collection.
"You must be fond of this sort of thing, to lug that heavy camera aroundwith you," commented Phil.
"I am," said Sid. "It's very interesting to study the habits of birdsand animals. You'd ought to have taken that course."
"I wish I had, instead of mathematics," put in Tom. "I'm dead sick ofthem, but I guess I'll have to stick at 'em."
For a mile or more Sid saw nothing on which to focus his camera. Hesuggested that they leave the vicinity of the river and strike acrosscountry, and, as his chums left the matter entirely to him, this planwas followed. Suddenly, as they were going through a clump of treesabout a mile from the stream, Sid uttered an exclamation.
"Hold on, fellows!" he cried. "I can get a beautiful snapshot here," andhe motioned them to stand still, while he got his automatic hand camerainto position.
"What is it?" whispered Phil.
"A _vulpes pennsylvanicus argentatus_!" answered Sid as he turned thefocusing screw.
"What's that, for the love of Mike?" spoke Tom.
"Blessed if I know," retorted Phil. "I don't see anything. Maybe it's asnake."
"It's a fox, you chumps!" came from Sid. "Keep still, can't you? I'vegot him just right. He can't see me, and the wind is blowing from him tome. I'll have his picture in a minute!"
But, as bad luck would have it, just as Sid was about to press thelever, releasing the shutter, Phil leaned too heavily on one foot. Astick broke under him with a snap, there was a sudden rustling in thebushes, and Sid uttered a cry of dismay.
"There he goes!" cried the naturalist
. "What's the matter with youfellows, anyhow? Can't you keep still? Now it will take me an hour totrail him, and the chances are I can't do it."
"It wasn't my fault," explained Tom. "Phil did it."
"I couldn't help it," came from the guilty one. "What do you want tophotograph such scary things as foxes for, anyhow?"
"Humph!" was Sid's exclamation. "Well, there's no help for it. Come on."
"Where?" inquired Tom.
"After the fox, of course," and Sid started resolutely forward. Tom andPhil followed for a short distance, then Phil called out:
"Say, it's getting swampy here."
"What of it?" asked Sid, whose enthusiasm would not let him notice suchsmall matters.
"Lots of it," came from Tom. "We're getting our feet wet."
"Ah, don't be babies!" retorted Sid, plunging into a deep, muddy hole."Come on."
"I'm going to find a dryer path," said Phil, and Tom agreed with him.They turned aside, but Sid kept on. Soon he was lost to sight in thewoods. Phil and Tom looked in vain for a better route, and, findingnone, decided to turn back.
"We'll wait for you out on the main road," Phil called to his unseenchum. An indistinguishable answer came back. The two picked their wayto higher ground, and edged off toward the road which skirted the woods.
"Photographing in a swamp is too rich for my blood," commented Phil.
"Same here," agreed Tom. "But Sid doesn't seem to mind it. Smokedmackerel, look at my shoes!" and he glanced at his muddy feet.
"I'm in as bad," added Phil. "Let's walk through the grass and----"
Just then they heard Sid calling from afar.
"What's he saying?" asked Tom.
"Listen," advised Phil.
Again the cry was heard.
"Sounds as if he was calling for us to come to him," ventured Tom.
"That's it, but I'm not going. I'm just as well satisfied to look at thephotograph after he's developed it. I'm going to stay here," came fromPhil.
"Sure," added Tom.
The cries continued, and then ceased. Tom and Phil waited nearly an hourfor Sid to reappear, and when he did not come they started back forcollege, thinking he had gone another way. But poor Sid was in direstraits, as we shall soon see.