“I’m going to win it for ’em!” confided Tommy in a stage whisper. Then, with a magnificent wave of his hand, he went on, pursued by Billy’s cruel and incredulous, if much smothered, laughter.
We needn’t dwell on that first thirty minutes of the game. From the point of view of Hillside it was a sad affair. Meadowville outrushed, outpunted, outgeneraled her opponent. The Hillside line couldn’t hold against the swift, hard attack of the visitors, and the Hillside ends were no match for the fast backs of the Meadowville team. When the first fifteen-minute period was at an end the score was 6 to 0. When the half was over and the rival teams trotted off the gridiron, the score stood Meadowville, 17; Hillside, 0!
Tommy, hunched up on a seat in the grandstand, the magic football clasped to his breast, watched and worried and almost wept. The fairy’s promise wasn’t coming true after all! He wasn’t to have his wish! All his lessons in “ography” and “comeology” were to be wasted! The magic football might just as well be back on the closet shelf, or, for that matter, back in Fairyland! Tommy felt very sorry for himself, very disappointed.
But he made one last, final appeal before yielding to the inevitable. He left his seat and squirmed through the crowd to the home team’s bench when Captain Marquis and his players came back, blankets and spirits both trailing. He got George’s attention for a minute finally, and reminded him of his promise. George was cross and impatient. “You again?” he exclaimed. “Promise? What promise? Oh, that? Well, I said if we were ahead, didn’t I? We aren’t ahead, so that settles that. Now get off the field, Tommy.”
Tommy didn’t, though. He carried his football to the bench and seated himself on it, unchallenged, among the substitutes. They were all too discouraged to care what Tommy did. Then the whistle sounded again and the game went on. The pigskin floated in air, was caught by a fleet-footed Meadowville player and brought back for many yards, the Hillside ends failing lamentably to stop the runner. A plunge at the line and another five-yard mark was passed. A wide end run and two more were traversed. Meadowville was literally eating up the ground, while from across the field came the triumphant shouting of her supporters. And then, not three minutes after the third quarter began, a strange thing happened.
The football in use, a perfectly good, brand-new football, supplied by the home team at a vast expense, began to become deflated. A halt was called and the lacings were undone and they tried to blow it up again. But the air wouldn’t stay in it! It was most perplexing and most annoying. No one had ever seen a football act so before. But there was only one thing to do, and that was to find another ball. Of course, Hillside ought to have had another one, but she didn’t; at least, not at the field. There was an old football at George’s house, but George’s house was a good mile and a half away. So it devolved on Meadowville to loan her practice ball and the Meadowville captain, after sarcastically stating what he thought of the stinginess of Hillside, consented to have the ball used. But when they went to look for it, it couldn’t be found! It had been there a half hour before; they were all quite certain of that; but it wasn’t there now. Boys searched everywhere, even behind the stand, but to no avail. And then, just when Captain Marquis concluded that he would have to dispatch a messenger to his house for the old football, someone brought word that Tommy Piper had a football and that he was sitting on the bench at that moment. Over hurried George.
“Let’s take your ball, Tommy,” he said genially. “Ours is busted.”
Tommy smiled and shook his head. George blustered.
“Come on! We’ll pay you for it, if you won’t lend it! Don’t be a meany!”