Frank Armstrong, Drop Kicker

by Matthew M. Colton

"Put it over this time!" yelled Warwick. "Make it sure!"

The Warwick quarter stood up straight, looked over the backs of his crouching forwards, sized up the positions of the defensive backs and then gave his signal rapidly. The lines met with a crash! But there was a mistake in signals, and the back that was to take the pass from the quarter wasn't where he should have been. The quarter, borne off his feet by the fierce charge of the Queen's line, cried "Down!" from the bottom of a squirming mass. It was second down and 12 yards to gain, which somewhat dimmed the jubilation on the Warwick side.

"They'll try a forward pass now," said Frank to one of the other substitutes. Together they had been crawling down the side-lines on their hands and knees, watching with intense eagerness the great fight their comrades had been making against heavy odds. "Why doesn't Jimmy move out a little? There he goes; he's on to it, I guess. No, he's going back again. What are they going to try?"—for the quarter had called his men together after giving part of the signal and was instructing them probably in the play that was to come off. Suddenly the team sprang back into position, crouching low with finger-tips on the ground.

"Sixteen—sixty-two—forty," shrieked the Warwick quarter. The ball flew straight back to Biglow, who took half a dozen steps to the right to draw the defense in that direction. Then he stopped and shot it far out to the left in the direction of the Warwick end, who had edged out without apparently attracting any attention.

But while the ruse had fooled nearly every one, it had not fooled Jimmy or his Captain. They had guessed the play and even before Biglow had stopped, were already in motion toward the waiting Warwick end.

The ball flew straight, but just as it was about to settle into the arms of the Warwick end, big Wheeler made a leap into the air and succeeded in touching the ball with the tips of his fingers. It was enough to deflect it from its course, and Jimmy, racing behind, was under it like a flash before it touched the ground. He tucked it under his arm and was off down the field like lightning, while Wheeler, his speed unchecked by the leap, tore along at his side!

As it happened, the pass had carried the ball well to the left side of the field, and most of the players of both teams were out of the possibility of either helping or hindering the runner. There were two of the Warwick players besides Biglow, the back who had thrown the ball—the left tackle and the outwitted end—who were within reaching distance, and they went after Jimmy full tilt. Wheeler turned aside and put the end, the most dangerous man for the moment, out of the play by slowing up suddenly in front of him. Then he threw himself headlong in front of Biglow, who went sprawling head first on the ground.

This left the tackle, a boy named Robinson, the only hope of Warwick to prevent a touchdown, for Jimmy had a clear field to the Warwick goal.

And what a race it was! Jimmy, short and stocky, ran as if his life depended on it. He fairly flew over the ground, but the long-legged Robinson gained on him. The stands forgot to cheer in watching that race. Despite Jimmy's best efforts, the tackle still gained on him. He had crossed the center of the field and was bearing directly for the goal posts, with every energy bent on reaching them.

Forty-five, forty, thirty-five, thirty—the lines flew by, and still he kept ahead. At the 25-yard line Robinson was a stride behind, but a few yards farther Jimmy felt Robinson's hand touch his shoulder, as the tackle reached for him. The touch was like an electric shock and Jimmy fairly leaped away, but the big tackle was not shaken off. In two strides more he had again reached Jimmy, and he launched himself with all his might against the Queen's half-back, gripping his legs as he fell. Jimmy felt those steel-like fingers grappling him and gave a last despairing effort. He twisted out of the other's hold, spun completely around, and, staggering blindly, fell over the goal line with the ball gripped in both hands and with knees curled, drawn up to defend it from any attack! But there was no attack, for the two runners had outdistanced all the rest. Queen's had scored!