“Cover up! Cover up!” shrieked the Broadwood captain, as he bounded toward Tom. Tom side-stepped and let his antagonist stagger by. Then a short pass to Derrick, and the two started down the floor toward the Green’s goal. Derrick passed back and Tom caught the ball in spite of the opponents who were massing about him, wheeled, feinted, dashed through the mêlée, dribbled, and then threw to a blue-shirted youth waiting near Broadwood’s goal. It was a hard, fast throw, but the youth caught it, struggled a moment under the attack of his adversary, broke loose, and threw somewhat wildly for the basket. The ball struck the frame above and came down into the waiting hands of Derrick. Two Broadwood fellows hurled themselves toward him but not before the ball was out of his hands again. There was a moment of suspense while it rolled leisurely, undecidedly around the hoop. Then in it dropped, through the mesh and back to the floor amidst the triumphant yells of Yardley. And the two excited youngsters operating the score-board in the balcony almost fell over the railing in their endeavor to change the Yardley 8 for a 10.
Gerald, who, with Dan and Alf and Joe Chambers, had been early on the scene and had secured seats in the front row on the floor a yard back of the boundary line, let out such a shriek of delight that everyone in the hall heard and laughed. Covered with confusion then, he sank back between Dan and Joe. But no one paid any more attention to him and his blushes soon passed. He was wildly excited, and once Dan had had to hold him into his seat for fear he would go toppling out onto the floor under the players’ feet.
The ball was centered once more and the clock proclaimed but four minutes of playing time left. Broadwood became desperate. Capturing the ball near the middle of the floor, she tried a long shot that struck the frame of the basket but didn’t go through. Again she got the leather, and this time she tried to reach scoring distance, but the Yardley defense was so tight that she lost the ball. Then came another rush down the floor, with the Yardley team working together like clockwork, and another goal thrown by the Blue’s left-guard. After that the visitors went to pieces. In their frantic endeavors to score they failed to cover closely and became so strenuous that two fouls were called on them in succession, neither of which Yardley was able to convert into points. Then, with a little more than a minute to play, Yardley began to sweep her rival off her feet and to score almost at will. One goal—another—a third from a difficult angle at the side of the hall, and Yardley’s score was growing by leaps and bounds. Tom dropped out now and one by one the substitutes were put in, in order that they might get their letters. And then, with a blue-shirted youth poised for a shot, the whistle blew and pandemonium reigned. Up on the score-board the final figures stood 18 to 5.
Gerald found himself one of a seething, pushing, shouting mass of spectators out on the floor. Dan and Alf and Joe were lost to sight. The players, after cheering for Broadwood, were trying to reach the dressing room uncaptured. But none escaped. Each one was caught and borne shoulder-high from the hall. Gerald felt someone smash into him from behind, turned, and found Derrick struggling with a group of enthusiastic captors. They were trying to lift him onto their shoulders, but the crowd was packed so tightly that for a moment their efforts were in vain. Derrick, laughing and fighting, was almost squirming away when a big youth seized him around the waist and shouted to Gerald to catch hold. Gerald caught hold, somehow, somewhere, and the next thing he knew he and the big fellow were staggering through the jam with Derrick on their shoulders and a happy mob of fellows around them. Down the hall to the stairway they went, Gerald panting, struggling to keep his feet, and immensely proud.
And the next morning, when he awoke, he wondered why his back and arms ached so!
[CHAPTER XIII]
WORK IN THE CAGE
March came blustering in with cloudy skies and cold winds. But in a week it had quite changed its tune. One morning Dan awoke to find the sunlight streaming through the front windows and a new quality in the air. For a moment he lay under the covers and wondered sleepily what it was that brought the strange stirring to his heart. Then he was out of bed, had thrown the window wide open, and was leaning forth in his pajamas breathing in the warm, moist air. Spring had come in the night. All about him were signs. Above was a mellow blue sky dotted with little feathery white clouds. In the roadway beneath the snow was melting fast and the gutters were astream with trickling water. Even the stone window coping under his hands seemed somehow to hint of Spring; it was warm to his fingers and moist where a little rim of ice had melted. There was a faint, heart-cheering aroma of brown earth and greening sod released from their winter coverings. Dan gave a shout and drew his head in long enough to awaken Gerald.
“Get up!” he cried. “It’s Spring, Gerald! Get up and hear the birdies sing!”