“But suppose she doesn’t come?” demanded Goldie. “What shall we do?”
“Why, I’ll play, of course. The others are all here, aren’t they?”
“Yes, but that leaves us without a single sub. Suppose something happens—five personal fouls on a player, or somebody gets knocked out——”
“We shan’t worry about that till the time comes,” replied Marjorie coolly. “Let’s go into the dressing room, while I get ready. Above all, girls, don’t lose your nerve. We must win tonight!”
They found the other members of the team—Stella, Annie and Sophia gathered together on one of the low benches in a corner of the room, talking with the same nervous rapidity as the others had displayed. Marjorie immediately set about her task of reassuring them; in a few minutes she had restored their natural good spirits.
Yet for all her own words to the contrary, she was actually alarmed herself at the event which in her heart she believed would prove a catastrophe, not so much for the team, as for the troop. If she put forth a tremendous effort by sacrificing herself, she could probably play as good a game that night as Queenie, for what she lacked in energy, she would offset by superior knowledge and experience. But the effect upon the troop in general would be far more disastrous; if, as she now really believed, Queenie had lost interest in the scouts, the patrol would be without a leader, the girls would be at loose ends.
Eight o’clock struck and both teams assembled on the floor to “warm up.” A reassuring cheer from the balcony greeted their own arrival, and caused the girls to glance up with pride at their well-filled section of the balcony. Marjorie caught Lily’s eye, gazing at her in questioning disapproval, but she only nodded and smiled as if nothing had happened. Mr. Richards slipped into the seat that John had saved for her, and waved to her in encouragement.
The whistle blew, the captains shook hands, the players fell into their places. A sudden silence took possession of the spectators as the referee tossed the ball into the air.
Tense with determination, Marjorie jumped high into the air; but perhaps because she was out of practice, or possibly because she was so tired, she had not timed her jump with the accuracy of her opponent. The other girl was too quick for her; she tapped the ball back to her side-center, who, with the agility of a tigress, had slipped it into the right position, caught it, and tossed it over to her forward. Marjorie cast a desperate appeal to her guards, hoping that they would intercept the pass. Perhaps they might have succeeded, if Cornflower Troop had not done the unexpected. Instead of the forward’s passing it to her companion under the basket, who was well covered by Stella, she slipped it back to the side-center, got free herself again, and almost too quickly for the spectators to follow, received it back and shot for the goal. The ball dropped neatly through the basket, scoring two points in Troop One Hundred Sixty-one’s favor.
Marjorie did not trust herself to look at her players during the applause which followed, but added her own expression of appreciation to that of the others. The trouble was entirely with her, she believed; if she could only succeed in getting the jump, everything would be different.