On the sidelines a small commotion was evident. The great Bob Billings had arrived! He'd intended to see the entire game but had missed train connections at the junction. It had been his desire, however, to keep Judd from knowing of his contemplated presence. The substitutes crowded around the former Trumbull star in eager admiration. Bob sought out Coach Little.
"Mister Little … my name's Bob Billings … how's the game going?"
"Too much beef for us in weather like this … the boys are putting up a great fight though!"
"How … how's my kid brother doing?"
Coach Little looked out upon the field. The teams were changing ends and getting in position to take up play in the last quarter.
"I can't understand him. He scored our only touchdown on a great fifteen yard sprint. Then he stopped that big bull … Drake … just as it looked like Drake had a clear field. Drake fell on Judd after the tackle and hurt him … He'd have quit the game then and there if it hadn't been for a piece of paper."
"A piece of paper?"
Coach Little laughed. "Yes … I found it in his cap and gave it back to him without reading it on his promise to stay in the game. I suppose the kid's sweet on some girl and was more afraid of being embarrassed than he was of being hurt!"
The great Bob's eyes clouded over, and his jaws tightened. "Poor
Buddy!" he said, softly.