Well, if he couldn't talk to the coach, he must put the matter squarely before the next man under him. But the person now in charge of the team was Buck Claxton; and Buck—well, Buck was Buck! He couldn't bring himself to tell Buck anything. He even started to squat again on his blanket, when, quite to his own surprise, he found himself walking over to the side of the captain. After all, as long as he practiced with the squad, he must be loyal.
"Oh, Buck!"
"Well?" snapped Claxton. "What d'ye want?"
Rodman hesitated, tempted at the last second to turn back with the message undelivered. But once more a better impulse prevailed. In a voice purposely low, that the others might not overhear, he offered his explanation.
"That play where the whole Grant team gets to talking before the ball is passed—watch it! I thought first it was some trick, but it's really only a straight plunge by their half. The reason they gain is because they throw you fellows off by yelling for the signal and all that. Part of the line stands up and looks at the quarterback. You all think they are mixed on the signal, but they aren't. The reason it works is because they catch our team when it doesn't expect the ball to be passed, when our own guard and tackle have straightened up a little, too, to see what's going on. Yes, they do! I've been watching 'em. But they don't realize it."
Buck tried vainly to interrupt, but there was no checking the torrent of Rodman's words.
"They get all your attention off the game, and then, bingo! the ball is put in play. It's a fact, Buck! Remember now, if they start jabbering at each other, and one side of the line begins to stand up straight, that means the play is going right through there. Remember that—"
He was still talking earnestly when the whistle blew, with Buck, his face stolid, staring steadily at the ground and scraping marble rings in the dust with his right shoe-toe.
"Ready, Lakeville!" shouted the captain; and the game was on again.
A lucky fumble brought the ball into the home team's hands, and Bunny punted out of danger. After that, steadily and surely, with all the advantages of weight and experience, the Grant eleven began to grind its way down the field. Desperately, Lakeville crouched and set itself; still more desperately, Grant City ploughed onward. The formations were slow and deliberate; the visitors risked no fumble or error. Often the gains were only a foot or two, but each fourth down found another ten yards covered. Rodman realized that some keen brain was directing the team, balancing time against gains, and playing for one touchdown that would turn the threatened defeat into a victory.