Despite their efforts the varsity could not cross the line and the ball went over to the scrubs on the twenty yard line.
"Can any one in this gang punt?" asked McCabe, the quarterback. "We've only got one real punter in this college an' that's Benz."
"I used to be able to kick some," volunteered Judd, to McCabe's amazement.
"Play ball!" growled the varsity, anxious for more scrimmage.
"Good! I'll drop into your position. You go behind the line and receive the ball. We haven't any handsome array of signals yet. Give that pigskin fits!"
"I'll try!" grinned Judd, trotting back.
The students along the sidelines wondered at this latest move of Judd's. They had opened their eyes wide at the way he broke up the interference and nabbed Benz for a loss, a few plays before. Was he going to bring more renown to himself by disclosing some real toe work?
The ball was snapped back. Judd caught it clumsily but seemed over-anxious. The pigskin dropped and his mighty leg swung up to make the punt, but in some unaccountable manner, ball and foot missed connections and Judd described a graceful semi-circle, alighting flat on his back. It was so funny that the players on both sides refused to play. They just fell in their tracks and howled. Judd crawled slowly to his feet, his face crimson, his jaws set tight. The field was ringing with laughter. Even immobile as he usually was, Coach Phillips could not refrain from smiling. Luckily a scrub recovered the ball, but eight yards had been lost on the play.
"Call that play again!" Judd demanded, somewhat angrily.
"What! You're not going to repeat that performance, are you?" taunted
Benz, elated at Judd's poor showing.