There was one anxious moment, with the official, astride the ball, peering through the early twilight toward the linesman’s upraised hand. Then came the verdict, curt, decisive: “First down! About seven to go!”
Monty’s heart thumped triumphantly. He had gained a good six! And he had gained it through that left guard position! He went panting back to his place again, his face lighted with a huge smile.
He wondered if Blake would let him try it again. He knew he could do it. There was never a doubt in his mind as to that. And something told him that that green-and-white stockinged left guard knew it, too! But Blake didn’t know it, and Blake slapped the ball at Boynton, and Boynton, crossing the backfield, slammed past tackle for a scant yard. And Mount Morris shouted hoarsely in defiance. The timekeeper was edging in, step by step, his gaze alternating from watch dial to players. Monty hated him intensely.
Blake was begging them to hurry.
“Come on now, Grafton! Let’s put it over! Hurry up! Hurry up! Signals!”
Then Monty’s heart leaped, for the ball was his again. He felt it jam against his stomach, clutched his hands across it and slammed ahead. The hole was not there this time.
He struck fairly into that left guard and felt his bones rattle. But he meant to get through and he was going through, and he put all his strength into his pushing legs and all his weight into his straining body and the mass about him gave before him or followed after. A yard, half a yard, a foot, another foot, an inch or so——
All about him the sound of rasping canvas, of stertorous breaths, of inarticulate cries, a welter of heaving bodies, of grasping arms! And then, suddenly, he was looking straight into the face of that left guard from the distance of six inches, and the face was despairing! And Monty called on every last ounce of strength and felt his heart swell with the effort and his muscles creak. And the face in front of him passed aside, the eyes very wide and troubled, and Monty’s legs found a stride that they had despaired of and he went on again, at first slowly and then with a sudden rush, and at last, stumbling and falling, he crashed against a canvas-padded post, caromed off it, measured his length on the turf and felt the jar of bodies plunging down upon him and smiled contentedly because the ball was still clutched safely in his arms and he knew that Grafton had won!
Transcriber’s Notes: