Time was taken out for Curran and he limped off, Noyes taking his place. From midfield, using every trick she knew, the Orange began a slow advance toward the Blue’s goal. Yardley fought hard but was forced to yield. Both teams were pretty well tuckered and after each play substitutes flocked in, and with their arrival the game became more erratic. Penalties were dealt to each side fairly impartially, signals were misunderstood and the play became slower and slower, and at last, with the ball still in Brown and Young’s possession near the home team’s thirty yards, the whistle sounded the end of the battle.
As unsatisfactory as the outcome was, the teams parted with mutual respect, and when Brown and Young’s supporters formed into ranks and marched off the field, cheering mightily, the Blue’s partisans had no criticism to make. As Grover Beech put it, as he and Toby and Sid climbed over the barriers and joined the throng beyond, Brown and Young’s had played a hard, clean game and, on her showing in the last half, had deserved a victory.
“Which,” observed Sid Creel dryly, “I am pleased to say she didn’t get!”
The Brown and Young’s contest ended Yardley’s preliminary season. Four games remained, those with Carrel’s, Nordham, St. John’s, and Broadwood. Two of these, the Carrel’s and St. John’s games were to be played away from home. All were looked on as hard battles, although it might well be that none would prove harder than the contest just played. Brown and Young’s had been underestimated, and it was certain that another year her place on the Yardley schedule would be much further along. Still, there were no regrets over that game. Yardley had showed her faults in time to allow the proper remedies to take effect, all of her players had come through the grilling without serious damage and several second and third string players had found the opportunity to show ability. Will Curran’s injury was slight, it seemed, and he would be out of the game but a few days. Some over-eager Brown and Young’s man had trampled over his prostrate form and placed a heavy foot against his knee, but treatment and an elastic bandage would repair the damage. On the whole, Yardley Hall School, coach, players and noncombatants, were rather well satisfied with the recent engagement, and there was a general verdict to the effect that the Blue had been extremely fortunate to get through it without a beating.
Arnold was somewhat downhearted for a day or two, maintaining sadly that the Orange’s score could be blamed on him, and relating the incident in appalling detail to Toby until the latter youth begged him to forget it. “No one else expected a forward-pass then,” said Toby, “so why should you have looked for one? Besides, it was up to Ted Halliday as much as to you. Cheer up and ease your face, Arn. You still have me to live for!”
The final argument didn’t seem to make any great appeal to Arnold at the moment, but by Monday, after a light session on the gridiron, he returned to his wonted cheerfulness. That Monday witnessed what, to Toby at least, was a most surprising event. He learned of it after practice when, returning to Number 12, he found Arnold there before him.
“I suppose you know about the new end we’ve acquired,” said Arnold, smiling broadly.
“End? No, what do you mean?”
“What! You haven’t missed him? Such is fame! Ain’t it sad?”
“What are you jabbering about?” Toby relaxed on the window-seat with a sigh of weariness. “Who haven’t I missed?”