“I hadn’t thought of that,” Arthur replied. “I’ll just bet that was it!”
“The explanation,” agreed Tom gravely, “is plausible. I am glad to hear it, Arthur. It restores my faith in your veracity.”
Dan did no work on Monday, Tuesday nor Wednesday. The coach even refused to allow him to visit the field the first two days. By Thursday, Dan’s attack of nerves had apparently departed. There was an extra hard practice that afternoon in preparation for the game with Porter Institute. Porter was known to have what Tom called “a corking lot of huskies,” and was expected to give a good deal of trouble. And so it turned out.
Saturday was a miserable day. It had started to rain Friday evening and had kept it up all night. At eleven the sun shone for a few moments and it was hoped that the afternoon would be fair. But by dinner time the rain was coming down again “fently but girmly,” to use Ned Tooker’s phrase, and so it continued all during the game, clearing finally when the Porter team was rolling stationward with Yardley’s scalps hanging from their belts. For Yardley met her first defeat that day.
Porter Institute had a fine team; there was no gainsaying that; but it must be also acknowledged that Yardley did not play up to form. A fumble by the Porter full-back a few minutes after the game started gave the home team its one lone score. Dan picked up the ball and, with Mitchell assisting for a time, sprinted down the field for seventy yards and a touchdown. Hammel missed the goal with great ease.
After that Yardley was on the defensive for the rest of the first two periods and managed to hold Porter from scoring, although the Blue’s goal was twice threatened. Porter, however, came back strong after the rest and hammered out a touchdown in the third period and kicked a goal. Yardley brought everything to bear that she knew after that and succeeded in reaching Porter’s twenty-six yards. From there, had she possessed a drop-kicker of fair ability, she might have made a field-goal. But Dan and Simms consulted and decided that they had better not risk it, although Norton had been showing fair work in practice. Instead, they went at Porter’s line again and after two downs, which netted them a scant four yards, tried a forward pass that went to a Porter back and lost them the ball. That was Yardley’s only chance to score. In the last period Porter found her adversary’s line less easy and tried end runs and forward passes and on-side kicks. When the game was almost over Porter had the ball on Yardley’s thirty-three yards, made two on a wide run around Norton, and worked the ball back into the center of the gridiron by a whirlwind shift followed by an attack at the guard-tackle hole. With two yards to go the Porter right half stepped back and put the pigskin straight over the bar by a drop-kick, adding another three points to her six. That was the last scoring, and the final account stood 9 to 5.
Dan redeemed himself that day, playing his position brilliantly. The principal fault with the team as a whole was slowness and lack of aggressiveness. The center of the line was especially lacking in the latter. Some two hundred rain-coated youths splashed up the hill after the final whistle had sounded looking rather glum. There were many criticisms. Most of the fellows held that Dan had erred in not trying a goal from the field in the third period. Others pointed out that even had Yardley kicked that goal she would still have been beaten by a point, and maintained that Dan had done the proper thing in trying for a touchdown, which, had it been secured, would have given the contest to the home team. But by the time supper was over the critical attitude passed. After all, Porter Institute was only Porter Institute, and no one really cared very much about her. It was bad to be beaten, but the defeat might act as a tonic and nerve the home team to a grand and impressive victory over Broadwood. And the defeat of Broadwood was the chief aim and consideration.
But Dan was once more in the depths. He had hoped for a clean slate that fall and now here was a beating to be chalked up against him. Payson shrugged his shoulders and smiled, but Dan took the defeat very tragically and refused to be comforted.
“There’s something wrong with our fellows,” he declared in Payson’s room in the village that evening. “They don’t play! They don’t seem to have any punch! They—”