Right Half Hollins

by Ralph Henry Barbour

There was no more scoring until just before the end of the half. Then Lorimer, who had twice plugged her way well into Alton territory, the first time to lose the ball on a fumble, found herself on the enemy’s twenty-eight on first down. That sweep play netted a scant three yards and placed the pigskin close to a side-line. A four yard smash straight through Captain Lowe followed. Then, with three yards to go, Lorimer prepared for a placement kick. The angle was extreme and Alton warned against a fake. When the ball went back to the quarter that youth arose from the ground and passed across to a running end, and the end scampered off and around the Alton right for half the distance to the goal before Jim Galvin thumped him down. From the ten yards, although the Gray-and-Gold contested every foot of the ground, Lorimer pushed steadily forward, finally thrusting a back through on fourth down for a scant yard and the coveted touchdown. Goal was missed.

When play was resumed after the intermission there was but one change in either line-up, and that change was the substitution of Thomas for Dozier at left tackle on the Alton team. Other changes came, but they were few and occurred mostly in the final period, by which time it seemed fairly apparent that Alton was destined to be on the short end of a 9 to 6 score. Each team added a field-goal in the third quarter, Alton following Ted Ball’s forty-two-yard gallop to Lorimer’s twenty; Lorimer after she had pulled down Storer’s short punt in the center of the field and desperately worked down to the thirty-one. Lorimer’s placement goal from the forty-yard line was one of the few outstanding features of the game. To be sure the ball was directly in front of the goal, but even so forty yards is a long distance for an eighteen-year-old foot to accomplish, and after their first instant of consternation some two hundred Alton supporters applauded generously. Another outstanding feature of the contest was seen some two minutes before play ended and was hailed with far less acclaim by the visitors.

Mr. Cade had begun to relieve the more wearied of his players, and the line-up showed half a dozen new faces. Captain Jonas, however, was still in, and so were the first-string ends, Joe Tate and Chick. Lorimer, too, had introduced fresh material, even more lavishly, and Alton, after receiving a punt on her thirty-nine yards, was trying desperately to tie or win. Fitz Savell twice worked himself loose for short runs and Couch, who had taken Galvin’s place, ripped a hole in the left of the enemy line and romped through for eight yards before he was smothered. Keys failed to gain from the Lorimer forty-three, and Couch faked a forward and then tried the Lorimer left and gathered in almost enough to win a first down. Savell added the necessary yard and then, on the subsequent effort, once more shook off the enemy and reached Lorimer’s twenty-two. There the enemy stiffened and, after two unsuccessful attempts by Couch and Keys, and with the sands of time running low, Couch went back to kicking position. He wasn’t much of a goal kicker, and, although he was standing inside the thirty yards, those in the Alton section of the stand, even while they shouted hoarsely for victory, had little hope of a score. What they did hope was that, since this was only third down, Couch or some one else would try a forward-pass before risking all on a kick. And, lo, that is just what Couch did try.

Taking the pigskin on a pass from center, he retreated to the right, poising the ball in a generous hand, and, at the last instant of safety hurled it down the field to where Chick lurked unnoticed of the defenders. The throw was well-nigh perfect and covered all of twenty-five yards, and Chick had only to step back a pace to get it, and, having got it, need only leap across a scant ten yards to turn defeat into victory. Alton started her pæan of triumph while the pigskin still spun lazily in its flight, while Lorimer visioned defeat and sought desperately to reach the unguarded receiver. Chick had his heroic moment then, poised steady and confident in the path of the ball. Doubtless every faculty was alert, every nerve tense. And yet success slipped through his fingers or bounded out of them! The watchers would have sworn that he had the ball safe, that he had turned to run, and yet in the next instant the ball was a free agent, arching maliciously beyond his frantic clutching! It struck the ground, went bobbing across the side-line, and some two hundred mouths, vocal a second before, remained open but empty of sound!

And from somewhere half-way up the stand came a familiar voice in tones audible on the gridiron. “You’ve got to hold it, Chick,” called Tommy Parish, “or it’ll get away from you! Guess nobody told you that!”

Couch made a hopeless try at a goal from the thirty yards, failed miserably and the ball went to Lorimer. There was no more.

Bert, who in spite of bright expectations, had viewed the game through from the substitute’s bench, went dejectedly toward the dressing room. Every one was unusually silent. He was careful not to look around lest he encounter Chick’s eyes. He wasn’t ready to look at Chick yet. He wanted to show sympathy when he did look, and just now he was too disgusted and downhearted.

Going back to Alton wasn’t as bad as Bert had feared it would be. By common consent the game was avoided as a matter for present conversation. Mr. Cade appeared unaffected by the recent defeat and talked unconcernedly with Coles Wistar much of the way home regarding arrangements for the next trip away, a fortnight distant. After Lorimer had been left well behind the spirits of the fellows lightened and one even heard laughter, although it wasn’t very hearty yet. Chick’s attitude surprised and perplexed Bert. Bert thought that if he had been the one who had fumbled that pass he would be trying to hide under a seat. Chick, however, seemed to have forgotten the incident entirely and was in and out of the conversation about him as cheerfully as any. Perhaps there were others in the bus who considered Chick’s manner unusual, but Bert could see no indication of it. Well, he did surprise Captain Jonas once in a long and contemplative regard of Chick, but Jonas’s countenance conveyed no emotion. Of course there was no use in crying over spilled milk, reflected Bert, and perhaps a fellow was wise not to let misfortune prey on his mind, but, just the same, he felt that Chick was overdoing the composure.

Even after they were alone in Number 21 Chick’s nonchalant air continued. Bert was glad that they were obliged to hurry over to supper, for he was beginning to experience intense exasperation and was certain that if he remained alone with Chick very long he would say something offensive. Not a few of the students were still absent from dining hall when Bert followed Chick over to the training table, and the former was eager to credit the lack of hand-clapping to that fact. None of the players got much applause that evening, although Captain Jonas and Lum Patten, entering late, received fair acclaim. Mr. Cade was not in his place at the head of the table and Andy Dozier said he had taken a taxi and hustled over to the Junction to get an early train home.

“Wish I could,” sighed Hop Meecham. “We have baked beans and fish-balls at our house Sunday mornings; and flannel cakes and syrup, too, generally.” Hop’s countenance assumed a look of intense longing.