“I’ll tell you frankly, Burtis, that your form is miserable, but that’s something that can be easily mended. If you swung freer from your hip, kept your knee locked tightly, you’d get another ten yards, I believe. But I’m not finding any fault, my boy. I used to be a pretty good kicker in my day, but I couldn’t have equaled that last one before my freshman year in college. Let’s try a couple more if you’re not tired.”
“I’m not tired at all,” Kendall answered, trying to hide the pleasure he felt, “but I’m a little stiff yet.”
“All right; we’ll get rid of some of that stiffness.”
Ten minutes later Mr. Dana, satisfied, told Kendall to get his coat and vest. Then they went back to the field. On the way Mr. Dana said: “Burtis, I ought to apologize to you. When you told me you’d done seven out of ten from the thirty-five-yard line I—well, frankly, I thought you were spreading it a bit thick. After what you’ve shown me, though, I don’t doubt it. The one thing I don’t understand is why Payson hasn’t had you in training. Well, I wonder how the fortunes of war are going. You go back to your bench, Burtis, and have a rest. I want to see Payson.”
He found the coach down opposite the play, crouching low and pulling gently on a pipe that had long since gone out. Broadwood had kicked her goal and Yardley had the ball near the Green’s forty yards. Mr. Payson looked up as the other knelt beside him.
“Hello,” he said. “Have you noticed that quarter-back of theirs, Dana? He’s going to make the All-American some day if he keeps on the way he’s started.”
“That so? I hadn’t noticed him especially.” Yardley lost the ball on downs and Broadwood punted. “Think we can do the trick, Payson?”
“I doubt it. Our fellows are getting pretty tired. Watch this now. Simms has got it.” The little quarter-back skirted the end and made his twenty-yard gain, while the stand behind them shrieked wildly. Then Fayette got through for twelve, and the coach took his pipe from his mouth, tapped the ashes out carefully and replaced it between his teeth. Mr. Dana, watching sympathetically, smiled. He knew pretty well how the coach was feeling just then, for he had been through it himself.
A minute or two later came Fayette’s fumble, Broadwood’s punt and Stearns’s clever run after the catch.
“Time must be getting short,” said Mr. Dana. The coach nodded.