At last, "Come on, guys, tell me a little more details. This suspense is awful," he begged.
"Well," volunteered McCabe, "It was the prettiest play of the game. You and Rube got away to almost a clear field. You legged it along all right for ten yards, then you commenced to limp. Rube slowed up for you and Knapp struck you from behind. But somehow you shook him off and stumbled on. Gordon came tearing up and dove at you but Judd threw himself between and Gordon hit the ground like a ton of bricks. You jumped over the two of them and staggered on. My, but those were anxious seconds! At the three yard line you fell upon your knees and crawled the rest of the distance while three tacklers were beating it up to get you. Just as you reached the line all three seemed to hit you at once and knocked you forward. Then the whistle blew! When the referee untangled the mess and rolled you upon your back he found you froze to the ball, a foot over the line. Talk about a death grip—they had to pry that old pigskin loose! Say, Benz, after that,—you missed the biggest lot of noise that ever happened!"
"Tell me about Rube," pleaded Benz, "My touchdown only tied the score.
His kicked goal won the game!"
"Oh yes," went on McCabe, "You made your touchdown at the right side of the field. Time was allowed for the try at goal. Rube was forced to attempt the goal kick at a frightful angle. The crowd was making such a demonstration, some people even running on the field, that I don't see how he ever did it. I held the ball for him. He took his time, fixed it just so; then stepped back. He was cool as a cucumber. The Pennington bunch glowered at him from between their goal posts. Then when the play came the field got suddenly quiet. Everyone was standing up holding their breath as Rube booted the ball. It sailed up, scraped the goal post, just clearing the bar, and the game was ours! After that, … skyrockets!"
"Say! Where is Rube now?"
"Heaven knows! A second later the crowd pounced upon him like a tribe of Indians. I thought they'd tear him to pieces. They carried him off with them."
"The lucky stiff!" laughed Benz, but there was no malice in that remark now.
The students bearing Judd faced about in front of the crackling bonfire. Cries of "Speech! Speech!" came from Bartlett rooters.
Judd sat on their shoulders, blinking from the light of the fire and stage-struck at the sea of flickering, ghostly faces in front of him.
"Say something, quick!" whispered McCabe, who stood eyeing the rube, proudly. "I'd give a kingdom to be in your shoes now!"