“After that threat,” laughed Poke, “I shall simply eat ’em alive, Hope!”
The rest of the household, Jim, Jeffrey, Hope, Mrs. Hazard and Mr. Hanks started an hour later. Mr. Hanks, having had football thrust suddenly into his philosophy, displayed an amazing interest and curiosity. “You see,” he confided to Mrs. Hazard, “I have never witnessed a game of football. This may seem strange to you, for my college was, I believe, very successful at the game. The fact is, however, that I never had time to attend the contests. I am really quite curious to see how the game is played. I think it must be—er—quite interesting.”
When the Sunnywood party arrived Hawthorne, looking in its black and orange like an army of young Princetonians, was on the gridiron warming up for the fray. Along the ropes on the other side of the field Hawthorne’s supporters were already shouting to the sky. The sun, still coy, broke through every few minutes and cast a pallid wash of gold over the sere turf. It was cold enough for rugs and heavy coats, and Hope was secretly pleased that she had managed to snuggle in between her mother and Mr. Hanks. Beyond Mrs. Hazard sat Jim with Jeffrey beside him. By a quarter to two the Crofton side of the field was three and four deep along the ropes and at ten minutes to the hour two things happened simultaneously; the Crofton eleven, brave and colorful in new uniforms of crimson and gray, trotted onto the field, and the sun burst through the murk in a sudden blaze of glory.
“That,” cried Hope ecstatically, “means that we shall win!”
Crofton took the field for practice, Gary, back in his togs once more, racing down the gridiron like a colt. A moment later Gil ran up and called to Jim across the rope.
“Come on and be our linesman, Jim. You see,” he continued as Jim ducked under the barrier and strode across the field with him, “you’ll be nearer things and can watch the game a heap better. There’s your partner in crime over there with the chain. Introduce yourself like a gentleman, shake hands and welcome him to the funeral. They’ve got a pretty husky set of men, haven’t they? That’s Gould, the little chap talking to Johnny. He’s the man we’ve got to watch to-day. Gee, I wish you were playing, Jim!”
“So do I. Is Gould their quarter? He doesn’t look such a wonder, does he?”
“Wait till you get a good look at his face. There’s the whistle. Wish us luck, Jim!”
Jeffrey moved into the seat next to Mrs. Hazard, depositing an extra coat beside him so that Jim might have his place if he returned. Hawthorne spread herself over the west end of the field to receive the kick-off, Duncan Sargent patted the tee into shape, poised the ball and looked around him. “All ready, Hawthorne? All ready, Crofton?” questioned the referee. Both teams assented, the whistle blew, Sargent sent the ball spinning down the field and the game was on.
Crofton displayed her offensive ability at the start. Johnny had instructed the team to get the jump on Hawthorne in the first minute of play and carry her off her feet if possible. Arnold obeyed directions to the letter. From the first line-up, after the full-back had caught and carried the ball to his thirty-five yards, Poke Endicott tore off eighteen yards outside of tackle and began a rushing advance that took the ball to Hawthorne’s fifteen-yard mark. Hawthorne stiffened as the play neared the goal line and Arnold tried a forward pass to Tearney, right end. This failed and the ball went to the Orange-and-Black. But on the very next play Hawthorne’s left half fumbled and Benson, Crofton’s full-back, dived into the scramble and recovered the pigskin. Crofton’s machine started up again and after three rushes Poke shot through and over the goal line for a well-earned touchdown. Sargent kicked goal.