“You’re coming on,” said Coach Lighton enthusiastically. “I think you’ll do, Tom. Keep it up.”
There had been particularly hard practice one afternoon, and word went down the line for some kicking. The backs fell to it with vigor, and the pigskin was “booted” all over the field.
“Now for a good try at goal!” called the coach, as the ball was passed to Holly Cross, who was playing at full-back. He drew back his foot, and his shoe made quite a dent in the side of the ball. But, as often occurs, the kick was not a success. The spheroid went to the side, sailing low, and out of bounds.
As it happened, Professor Emerson Tines, who had been dubbed “Pitchfork” the very first time the students heard his name, was crossing the field at that moment. He was looking at a book of Greek, and paying little attention to whither his steps led. The ball was coming with terrific speed directly at his back.
“Look out, professor!” yelled a score of voices.
Mr. Tines did look, but not in the right direction. He merely gazed ahead, and seeing nothing, and being totally oblivious to the football practice, he resumed his reading.
The next moment, with considerable speed, [the pigskin struck him full in the back]. It caught him just as he had lifted one foot to avoid a stone, and his balance was none too good. Down he went in a heap, his book flying off on a tangent.
“Wow!” exclaimed Holly Cross, who had been the innocent cause of the downfall. “I’ll be in for it now.”
“Keep mum, everybody, as to who did it,” proposed Phil. “The whole crowd will shoulder the blame.”