"We're licked," Bunny muttered, digging his finger tips into moist palms, "unless—"
It was like a cue for Sheffield's action. Before the ball could be put into play again, the Lakeville captain stepped to the referee's side and said something in a quick, decisive manner. The man nodded. Then Sheffield lifted a beckoning finger toward the substitutes' bench.
Bunny looked at the other three, as if expecting one of them to rise at the signal, and the other three looked at Bunny the same way. None of them seemed to know which substitute he wanted.
"Come on!" called Sheffield gruffly; then, after one heart-breaking instant of hesitation, "All of you!"
At that, of course, they dropped the single blanket they had thrown over their shoulders and scampered out upon the floor. They tried to look unconcerned during the little journey, but nobody was much deceived. Barrett, Kiproy, Collins and Turner, walking wearily and dejectedly toward the bench, passed them without speaking.
There was no time for Sheffield to coach them in the style of game he wanted them to play. Possibly, too, he thought any instructions of his would be so much wasted breath. All he could do was to hope for the best, in a forlorn sort of way, and trust to their natural ability to net a basket when the opportunity offered. They knew the formations and the signals; individually, he admitted, they were crack players. Well—
Lakeville had practiced its deceptive forward crisscross at least one hundred times. When Sheffield hit the ball on the toss-up, he sent it directly across the floor to S. S., playing left guard, on the double hope that this unexpected maneuver would fool Elkana again and that young Zane would be ready for the catch.
Never had Bob Collins played it better. With a deceptive lunge, S. S. shook off the player hovering about him, dashed forward, took the pass, dribbled the ball till the very last safe moment, and then shot it across to Bi, at right guard. From him it zigzagged back to the opposite side, into Jump's waiting hands, and, with just enough delay to pull in the baffled Elkana players, on to Bunny, playing in one corner of the court, within easy looping distance of the basket.
All this time, of course, Sheffield had been racing down the middle, till he was now squarely in front of the goal, with only one negligent guard anywhere near him. But Bunny was also clear for the moment.
"Shoot it!" shouted the captain, eyes already raised to the basket for the try.