There had by that time been three changes in Alton’s line-up, all in the second quarter. Cahill had gone in at center for Lum Patten, whose game knee had received a further indignity, Ness had superseded Storer and Keys had taken Walsh’s place at right half. Walsh had shown up rather poorly on defense. Nip had been retired that he might be returned later in fresh condition. In the draped-off corner of the gymnasium floor during the fifteen minutes between the halves Coach Cade talked very quietly and convincingly. They had, he told them, shown themselves able to stop Mt. Millard’s line attack. Consequently, the adversary would undoubtedly rely more strongly than before on her aerial game. And she would get away with it unless Alton watched more closely and covered the opposing eligibles. “You must stop trying to guess the play, fellows. You can’t do it against a team like the one you’re up against to-day. The only way to find what the play is going to be is to use your eyes and your brains and, above all, watch the ball! Don’t think that the enemy is going to do a certain thing just because it’s what you’d do in her case. She’s got a clever quarter in there and he has caught you napping twice already. Watch the ball every minute and follow it close. That’s the only way you’ll stop Mt. Millard.”
The third quarter was Mt. Millard’s, although there was no scoring. A forlorn attempt from Alton’s thirty-seven yards to put the ball over from a placement kick failed badly some five minutes after the start. Still later, after Alton had made a fine but futile drive down the field from her own thirty-eight to Mt. Millard’s thirty-six, the home team took possession of the ball and by plays off the tackles, two forward passes that netted but twelve yards and a twenty-odd-yard dash by the left half worked the pigskin back to the visitor’s twenty-eight. There it was when the third quarter ended.
Nip Storer had already returned to his position at left half and Patten was back at center. Nat Wick, hurt in a savage attack at his position, had yielded to Hop Meecham. Now another change was made, for Ted Ball hobbled on and relieved Bus Lovell. Not that Bus appeared to view it as a relief, however! With two downs remaining, Mt. Millard tried her familiar trick of faking a kick and threw forward. Dutch Kruger, though, had his man covered well and the ball grounded. The Mt. Millard full-back strode off to the thirty-seven yards and held out his arms. But before his foot reached the ball Billy Haines was on top of him and the kick only sent the pigskin bounding back from Billy’s body. Followed a wild and frantic pursuit that was finally ended when Fitz Savell fell on the ball close to the forty-five-yard line.
Alton now brought her heavy artillery into play, hurling Jim Galvin and Storer at the wings on short plunges that twice won first downs and took the ball to Mt. Millard’s thirty-three. There, however, the enemy closed up, and after a sweep to the right, with Keys carrying, had failed of more than a yard Galvin tossed across the center to Savell who was downed where he caught for a six-yard gain. Jim smashed out two more at center with Number 14. (The delayed pass play had been used but twice before that afternoon and had failed each time, seeming to prove Chick’s contention that it wouldn’t fool a wide-awake opponent.) But this time it succeeded, if not greatly, and left the pigskin less than a yard short of the distance. Ted Ball asked for time and conferred with Captain Jonas. Ted favored a field-goal and a tied score, for, with Storer drop-kicking from the thirty-three yards and almost in front of goal, the chance was excellent. But Captain Lowe held other views. The game was close to its end and in his judgment a tied score was tantamount to defeat, and Jonas wanted a victory. While they were still talking, two substitutes ran on. These were Tyron and Hollins, relieving Nip Storer and Larry Keys. Nip raged and Ted Ball protested, but rage and protest carried no weight with the official. Nip went off, plainly incensed, followed more mildly by Keys, and Ted knew that Captain Jonas had won the argument. With Storer out of the backfield there was no one remaining who could be relied on for a field-goal. Of course Coach Cade had sided with Jonas and this was his way of announcing the fact. Johnny, too, chose to gain all or lose all, and Ted studied the situation. Tyron was a heavy back who had remained a third choice all season. Hollins was a light, fast player who must be provided with safe conduct through the enemy lines before he could prove his value. But Hollins too had more than once completed a forward-pass for a good gain. Ted’s brows wrinkled while he used up every second of the two minutes he had demanded. When the whistle blew he had made his decision.
Of course he must set the stage for a field-goal first, and that he did. But when he called his signals Tyron shouted “Over! Over!” That, Ted reflected bitterly, was like the dumb-bell! Tyron could carry a ball and batter a line, but his was no agile brain! Ted called the play again, changing the first signals, and waited until a show of relief on Tyron’s countenance indicated that the idea had percolated to the seat of reason. Then he repeated and the ball went back.
But not to Galvin, back in kicker’s place. It went to Ted, and Ted swung around with it and, after a tick of time, tossed it toward a speeding form. The whole Alton backfield was moving to the left now, and not only the backfield but Captain Jonas and Hop Meecham and, last of all, Fitz Savell, following around as rear guard. Tyron headed the interference, Bert carried, Galvin ran beside the latter. It was Jim who met the enemy right end and heaved him aside. Bert found himself slowed by Tyron and swung outside as the defensive end went down. Then he wheeled sharply and cut in. A back lunged toward him out of the mêlée, but Savell charged between, and Bert, his head up and eyes busy, saw the open road ahead.
[CHAPTER XIV]
DEVORE COMES TO COLLECT
When he thought about it afterwards, and he did think about it a good deal during the next day or two, it seemed to Bert that it had been absurdly simple, that dash from the enemy’s twenty-four to the goal line and over. To be sure, just at the last the Mt. Millard quarter had forced him well toward the boundary, but he had never been seriously challenged after he had cut through and he had crossed the last streak of lime with his head up and a watchful eye on the approaching safety man; crossed it, indeed, with an unconscious unconcern that had added to the joy of the already ecstatic Alton watchers. It had been very easy, and, while he was human enough to like the applause he had won, and the enthusiastic pummelings of his team-mates, and all the nice things that had been said to him since, he was convinced that any of his fellow players would have turned the trick just as neatly as he had and that, when all was considered, he had mighty little title to the rôle of hero. Of course he had done his best, had used his head and his speed, but there was no getting around the fact that it was perfect interference that had won that touchdown and the Mt. Millard game. If Jim Galvin had missed the end, if Fitz Savell hadn’t taken out that back, if, in short, the whole team of eleven players hadn’t each performed his part perfectly, the play would have fizzled. Where then, reflected Bert, was the glory? Surely the credit should be equally apportioned amongst the team and not given all to him. He was dimly regretful that this was so and wished that he might have somehow really earned the honor that had been accorded him; wished that he might have got away without the help of an army of interferers and made the run on his own. He could have been proud of that. As it was he felt apologetic toward the other fellows of the team and wondered if they were not secretly amused, perhaps nettled, at the praise he was receiving. They didn’t appear to be, though. In fact, they had behaved quite as if that touchdown had been a one-man job, a personal triumph for Bert. He couldn’t understand that at first.