In the Line

by Albertus T. Dudley

The pile that covered the ball three yards beyond.
Page 271.

The play was now near the middle of the field, bringing the rear of the Seaton line for the first time within Mr. Lindsay’s line of vision. He saw Milliken receive the ball and leap at the line like a tiger springing on its prey. He saw the centre open and take him in, saw the struggling mass behind the Hillbury line and the pile that covered the ball three yards beyond; but he had not seen that it was the Seaton left guard who opened the way and made the play possible. Around him the spectators were exclaiming and chuckling with delight, and exchanging explosive praises of the irresistible Milliken. On the side-lines, however, where the experts were gathered, another name was mentioned first, the name of the Seaton guard who was “handling” his heavy man.

The team was going now with the momentum of success and hope. Buist drove his way through behind Laughlin. Wendt found a hole inside left end, Jackson called back his right tackle and sent him through the left side for a decided gain; then he brought back the left tackle, and apparently started a similar play for the other side. The interference charged hard and fought desperately as they struck the line, but the ball was not with them. Jackson, after pretending to pass to the tackle, had held it a moment and tossed it to Wendt, who sped through the centre unexpected, and with Wolcott at his side, and Read, the Seaton end, not far away, seemed for a moment likely to get by the last Hillbury back and score a touchdown. Wendt, however, slowed down to let Wolcott interfere, and a Hillbury pursuer overtook him and laid him low.

“Twenty yards now to a touchdown,” said the Harvard student on Mr. Lindsay’s right. “They’ll make it in about six downs if they can only hold the ball.”

Mr. Lindsay nodded and smiled. He still disapproved, but he was enjoying where he could not wholly understand and did not at all wish to enjoy. He turned to his friendly neighbor with a question on his lips, but before the question was out, the game again drew his whole attention and that of his neighbor. In some strange way the ball had slipped from the grasp of the Seaton back, and the quick Hillbury tackle had thrown himself upon it. The blue-stockinged back, who had been playing far in the rear, came running up to the Hillbury line, while Jackson turned and scampered back to the centre of the field. A groan ran along the Seaton benches; the ball was Hillbury’s!

“What a rotten fumble!” ejaculated the Harvard student. “Who made it, Bill?”

“Milliken,” snapped back the disgusted Bill. “He ought to be hung!”

On the field no one asked that question, but the men in the line said things under their breath; and sore at heart that the fruit of their toil should be lost just as it seemed within their grasp, turned discouraged but dogged to their defensive game. “Never mind, fellows,” rang out Laughlin’s voice. “We can hold ’em. Get into the game, every man. Watch the ball!” And they stooped to their places, determined to hold the ground they had gained.

The first attack was straight at centre, but the Seaton trio played low, and the Hillbury runner struck a wall and stopped short. Then came a double pass for an end run by Joslin, the speedy back; but Hendry, the Seaton tackle, burst through and drove the runner into Read’s arms with a loss of a yard. So Hillbury was forced to punt, Jackson got under the ball in the centre of the field, and was downed in his tracks by the Hillbury end.