Toby and several others who had played through the whole twelve minutes were dismissed to the showers, although all would have preferred staying and watching the second half. Instead, they argued hotly all the way up to the gymnasium—the two teams being very equally represented—and still argued, though with diminished heat, while the showers hissed. Toby was secretly rather well satisfied with his performance that afternoon until, later, he learned that B Team, under Roy Frick’s generalship, had actually scored a touchdown in the last period of play!
On Tuesday, after a half-hour of light practice, the Second trotted over to the First Team field and, before a large and interested audience, was badly mauled and beaten. Frick and Rawson played quarter through two twelve-minute halves, and Toby and Stair—Bird, it seemed, had retired to private life—sat on the bench and watched and worried, trying to believe that things would have gone no better for the Second if they had taken part. Second used most of her substitutes in a vain effort to stave off, not defeat, for that was inevitable, but dishonor, and could make nothing of it. First Team piled up the scores with a merciless and monotonous succession and the audience yawned and drifted away.
“What’s that?” asked Lou Stair drearily. “Twenty-three?”
“Twenty-six,” answered Toby glumly.
“Gee-jiminy-gosh!” groaned Stair. “Say, what’s the matter with the Second, anyway? What’s got into ’em, Tucker! Look at Smith, will you? Why doesn’t he get down? Why doesn’t Frick get after him? He thinks he’s a skyscraper! And there goes Dawson off-side again! Gee, our bunch is playing like sand-lot kids! Well, he got away with it, and that’s something!”
“What of it?” asked Toby dully. “We didn’t make enough to plant a row of beans on! That’s third. White’ll have to punt.”
“Yeah, as much as ten yards!” jeered Stair. “What’d I tell you? Guess he’s got a friend on the side-line, the way he kicked the ball there! Well, here’s where First scores again!”
And presently First did that very thing, Toby’s gloom being slightly relieved by the fact that it was Arnold who took the ball over by a slashing run from the Second’s eighteen yards. Gloom enveloped the whole blanketed line of watchers that second half, for they had been doing a good deal of talking as to what was to happen to the First Team when they tried conclusions. In fact, Second had even gone so far as to hint that the real reason Coach Lyle hadn’t let his team face the Second before was his fear of a disastrous defeat. Toby wondered how Coach Burtis, pacing tranquilly to and fro along the side-line, his hands buried in his trousers pockets, could maintain his expression of unconcern in the face of such direful happenings! Toby would have felt a heap better if Mr. Burtis had scowled or kicked at a pebble or shown distress in some other manner. The coach’s unruffled demeanor seemed to Toby to smack of treason! He was very glad when that farcical game came to an end with a final score of 33 to 0.
Second, fagged, disheveled, outraged, climbed a weary path to the gymnasium, muttering threats of vengeance; hearing which Coach Burtis smiled a secret smile of satisfaction. Toby felt quite disgraced until the lapse of an hour or two brought a realization of the fact that such things had happened before and would happen again, and that no one took them very seriously. At supper Mr. Burtis ate quite as much as usual and with as much enjoyment, and talked and jested in his accustomed manner; which encouraged Toby to satisfy a really ravenous hunger. After a steak and a baked potato and the usual trimmings he found that he could view the afternoon’s Waterloo with equanimity. There was, he reflected, another day coming!