“What’s the matter?” cried Phil. “Why don’t you get down to snap it back, Snail? Isn’t it our ball? Have we lost it on a fumble? Are they beating us?”
“You—you can’t play,” spoke Holly Cross brokenly.
“Can’t play! Nonsense! Of course I can play! I’m all right! I was just knocked out for a minute. Get down there, Snail. Signal——” But Phil fell back into the arms of Tom and the doctor, and lapsed into unconsciousness.
“Carry him off the field,” said the medical man softly. “He’s got lots of grit, but a horse couldn’t play with the fever he has.”
Sorrowfully they carried the stricken quarter-back from the gridiron. It was a hard blow to the Randall team, for it meant that a new man would have to go in and play what was probably the most exacting position on the team.
“Jerry Jackson, go to quarter,” called Holly Cross. “I’ll put Hayden at left half-back,” and the substitute was summoned from the side lines. The play went on, but, as might have been expected, Randall was at a disadvantage. When they had the ball they managed to gain considerable ground, and as much punting as possible was done. But Wescott tore through for another touch-down, while the solitary one gained in the first half was the limit of the scoring the visitors could do. There did come a brace on the part of Randall toward the close of the game, and when the whistle blew they had the ball on the ten-yard line of their opponents. They had put up a plucky fight against big odds, and the Wescott players realized it, for they cheered lustily for their enemies. There was lack of heartiness, not alone from the sense of defeat, in the cheer and college yell with which Randall responded. Then they filed sorrowfully off the field, while Tom, Holly Cross and the coach, as soon as possible, went to the hotel where Phil had been taken in an automobile.
They imagined all sorts of things, and were not a little relieved when the doctor told them that, at worst, Phil only had a bad attack of bilious fever. The change of diet, necessitated by the trip, had brought it on. With rest and quiet he would be all right in a week, the medical man said.
“And when can he play football?” asked Holly Cross anxiously.
“Not for two weeks,” was the reply, and the coach and captain groaned. They had a game with Fairview in prospect, and must needs win it if they were to have a chance for the championship.