“McDowell the infant wonder,” commented Stover, as the boy dropped sharply and cleanly on the ball, falling along knee, thigh, and hip, in one continuous and perfectly easy motion.
“What’s the sense in wasting time on a kid like him?” muttered Reeves. “Firman of Newbury would carry half a dozen of him on his back.”
The coach evidently had his own views as to the usefulness of McDowell, for he made the boy repeat his performance several times to show the less skilful how the trick should be done. Meantime Talbot, who was catching punts, drew over near the criticising group, and the comments became less audible. As regards side-line ridicule, Talbot held forcible opinions which he had no hesitation in expressing nor reluctance to defend. The trio moved farther down the line, and their wit flowed anew.
“They ought to tie a string to it and give Fatty the end.”
All three of the newcomers got into the line-up of the second that afternoon. Bumpus thrashed about with more uproar than success at guard, while McDowell and Hardie were placed at right end and right tackle respectively. Harrison gave them a general exhortation to “play sharp now,” and Talbot urged Hardie in specific terms to “get right into Dunn.”
“You can manage him all right, if you stand right up to him,” he said. “Forget everything but the play!”
Hardie nodded gratefully. He felt no fear, nor was he by any means new to football, but he was conscious that the school did not expect much of him, and the personal interest of an important fellow like Talbot was, therefore, especially gratifying. In the big athletic school from which he had come to Boston, he had learned to think modestly of his prowess. While he had made his class eleven there, the school team lay beyond all reasonable hope. It was not easy for him to think of himself as ‘varsity material, even at Westcott’s!
Talbot kicked off, the ball sailing over Roger’s head down into McDowell’s territory. Lingering long enough to see the boy gather in the ball and tuck it safely under his arm, Hardie ran forward at three-fourths speed to take the first onset of the school linesmen and permit Mac to slip by. The first comer was Dunn, who caromed off Roger’s shoulder without so much as touching the runner. Eaton, the left tackle of the first, McDowell dodged by an abrupt stop and a dart outside; and beyond Eaton again, Hardie was at his side to take Channing, the right guard. The two disentangled themselves and followed after as McDowell zigzagged on, emerging from between Lowe’s hands and leaving Talbot on the ground behind him. Sumner, the quarter-back, at last drove him outside at the forty-yard line.
The coach carried the ball in and put it down for the scrimmage, first giving the little end a deserved compliment, and then scoring the first severely for careless tackling. The glory of the second faded quickly. The quarter fumbled and lost a yard. Bumpus let Eaton through on the waiting half; the third down was followed by a feeble punt which Sumner ran back twenty yards. Then came a quick reversal. The first had the men and the signals. The ball was pushed rapidly through the centre, through the right side, again through the centre and again through right. At a new signal Hardie caught a change of expression in Dunn’s face, and knew that his own turn had come.