The Cadets of Flemming Hall

by Anna Chapin Ray

For one instant he balanced the ball on its end, then snapped it back with suddenness and precision, rising again in time to block his man in the opposing rush line. With the same accuracy that his centre had shown, Leon caught up the swiftly-moving ball in the hollow of his right arm, and with one quick swing, passed it on to the left tackle who darted away down the field, only to be met full in his course by the junior right tackle, who leaped upon him with a suddenness that fairly hurled the ball from his grasp into the clutches of the junior men.

Again came the breathless excitement of awaiting the signal to play. Then the cry of the junior captain, “Five—six!” was followed by the answering signal from Stanley, to warn the snap back that he was ready. Swift as thought, the ball rolled back to his hand, and went flying to Louis who, seizing an unguarded opening between the end and tackle, sprang forward and went dodging down the field, half-way to the senior goal, before he could be stopped. There was a moment of deafening applause; then the tumult was stilled, for all realized that the climax of the game had come.

“Seven—two!” commanded the junior captain.

Again, as the ball rolled back to Stanley, the lines were broken for a desperate, hand-to-hand struggle. Then a triumphant shout from the seniors was met by an answering groan from the friends of the juniors. Stanley had passed the ball to the “scrub” who was substituting for Frank Osborn. Misunderstanding the captain’s signal, he had fumbled in receiving it, and the seniors had fallen on the ball.

For an instant, Paul surveyed the field. In spite of their recent mishap, the juniors were playing finely; still, when it came to a question of brute force, the advantage lay with the seniors, and he gave his orders accordingly. Massing their men into a wedge about the precious ball, the seniors ploughed their way down the field, offering a resistless, impenetrable front to the baffled juniors. Six yards, eight yards, eleven yards, on they swept. Then Louis, who had been watching for his moment to come, all at once plunged through and over the human barrier, knocking the ball from the hands of the man who was holding it, and capturing it in the very midst of the enemy, amidst the jubilant shouts of his allies. Ten minutes more to play, on an almost even score; but the advantage of position lay with the junior team, as once again the elevens lined up.

“Seven—four!” commanded the junior captain.

Once more the ball flew from Stanley to Louis who made a rush towards a weak spot in the opposing line, then, seizing the moment when the senior team had massed itself to protect the threatened point, abruptly passed the ball to Max, who shut his teeth together and punted as he had never punted before. Up and out flew the ball, far over the heads of the rushers, and away sprang the boys after it, with Louis leading the juniors, and the ends plunging along close at his heels. At almost the same moment, Leon and Louis reached the ball. Leon cast himself upon it, but Louis hurled himself on top of Leon and knocked the ball from his grasp. When they emerged from the pile of wriggling boys, it was Louis who held the ball and they were close to the senior goal. Three minutes later, the victory lay with the juniors.

The conquering eleven were immediately seized and surrounded by their schoolmates, for both the spectators and the defeated contestants united in giving them hearty congratulations on their fine play, although Louis was unanimously voted the real winner of the game. There were a few minutes of breathless, noisy chatter; then the band struck up “Hail to the Chief,” and the procession reformed, to march back to Old Flemming for a jolly supper, presided over by no less a person than the doctor himself, supported on either hand by the captains of the rival elevens.

“I say, Hal,” said Paul, stopping him on the piazza; “where’s that young brother of yours? He played magnificently, and I want to tell him so.”

“I don’t know where he is,” answered Harry. “I haven’t seen him since the game. Perhaps he’s gone up-stairs for something; I’ll go and see, if you want.”