For my part I think that many of Harry’s fears were groundless and that in pitting the two boys against each other Worden was only trying to develop each to the utmost. Harry’s dashing brilliancy in a broken field kept him head and shoulders above his rival, who, even if he could punt well and might be needed in the big game for that accomplishment, was only a fair ground-gainer after all. But Harry didn’t realize that and there were moments, when, as it seemed to him, Dyker was pressing him closely for his place, that Harry could almost find it in his heart to wish that Dutch would bust something and retire from the struggle.
Work grew very strenuous that last fortnight. The dummy was resurrected and hung again on his twenty-foot railway, and for three days the first team fellows went back to first principles, throwing themselves upon the stuffed and headless figure at the end of the chain, falling on wabbling, elusive balls and chasing them across the turf to catch them on their erratic bounds. And with this primary instruction went final polishing in signal work and the development of the attack. And almost before anyone realized it, it was Saturday and the day of the Norwich contest, beyond which lay but four days of practice before the final struggle of the football season.
Barnstead turned out to a boy that afternoon, in spite of a drizzling rain, and practiced the songs that were to be sung at the St. Matthew’s game and cheered on the slightest provocation at the behest of eight tireless, merciless cheer leaders who, armed with brown megaphones, waved their arms and shook their fists and demanded “A regular cheer, fellows, and make it good!” on the slightest provocation. Norwich sent over a small but determinedly noisy group of youths, who answered every vocal challenge from across the wet field.
Harry started the game at left half, and provided the first sensation when, two minutes after the kick-off, he stole a forward pass and dodged and squirmed his way through the ruck of players and sped across seven white lines for the first score of the game. When, having placed the pigskin squarely back of the posts with practically no opposition, he scrambled to his feet, eight discarded brown megaphones were tumbling about the turf in front of the stand and eight red-faced cheer leaders were leaping and gesticulating, while from some two hundred eager throats a vast and deafening roar of sound was sweeping across the field.
Later, in the second twelve-minute period, Harry again brought the stand to its feet when, from a double pass behind the line, he got safely away around his own right end and reeled off almost thirty yards before he was pulled down into a puddle. But the most encouraging feature of that game was the work of Captain Corson at right guard and of Carstairs at fullback. Corson was as steady as a wall against the strong attack of Norwich, while Carstairs, in a position he had played but a few days, shone brilliantly. The first half ended with the score 7 to 6, Norwich having failed to kick goal after her touchdown in the second period.
Worden made several changes in the line-up when the second half began. A new left tackle went in, a substitute center was tried, Jones took Peel’s place at quarter and both halfbacks were fresh men. Harry viewed Dyker’s substitution with misgiving as he drew a blanket about him and settled down to watch the contest from the bench. He was a little bit angry with the coach and looked so glum that Bob Peel, squeezing himself into a seat between Harry and a substitute end, ventured consolation.
“Cheer up, Danforth,” said the quarter, kicking him good-naturedly on the ankle. “You don’t know when you’re well off. All we have to do is sit here and see those poor chaps work. It’s fine!”
Harry smiled faintly. “That’s all right for you, Peel. You’re sure of your place. I’m not. Just when I get going fairly well Worden yanks me out and puts in Dyker.”
“Oh, I guess he wants Dyker to help with the punting. It’s up to Carstairs, and it won’t do to work him too hard to-day. As for being sure of your place”—Peel shrugged his shoulders—“there’s no such thing, Danforth. Any of us may wrench a knee or an ankle or something, and then where are we? Why, it’s the uncertainty that makes half the fun!”
“Is it?” muttered Harry without enthusiasm.