On the fifteen-yard line, however, Alton, reinforced by two first-string backs, stopped progress. New Falmouth shot a forward to the left only to have it knocked down by Billy Frost. A plunge off tackle gained less than a yard. Faking a try-at-goal, the invaders tossed over the middle of the line and in the wild scramble that ensued the pigskin again went to earth. With one chance left New Falmouth put it up to the toe of her full-back and, although Alton tried desperately to break through, and although both Jim and Hick Powers actually did succeed in almost reaching the kicker, he made good and sent the pigskin neatly between the uprights for New Falmouth’s single score of the day. In revenge the visiting team took the ball a few minutes later and, strengthened by the return of many of her players who had started the contest, walked down the field for the last tally, sending Steve Whittier over for the fifth touchdown just before time was up. Steve added the 1 to the 6 a moment later, and, since she had previously scored a field-goal, Alton Academy returned home in the November twilight with a 37 to 3 victory.
On the train Lowell Woodruff sat with Jim and was very talkative on the subject of the contest and the lessons to be learned from it. Jim, feeling rather glum, would much rather have watched the gray landscape and thought his thoughts, even if they weren’t very cheering. But he managed to make Lowell think he was attentive, and, since Lowell never demanded too much of his listeners, he had little opportunity to commune either with Nature or with Jim Todd during that forty-minute train ride. “We don’t want to get proud and haughty about this game,” was part of the wisdom imparted by the manager. “Of course, it wasn’t so bad, and if we’d played our best men all through we might easily have scored a couple more times and kept our own slate clean. But the point is that those raw meat eaters back there are slow as cold molasses. And their brains are sort of torpid, too. If they had a chance to make a gain they went into conference, you might say, and by the time they’d reached a decision some one of our crowd spilled the beans. I wouldn’t wonder if they had a pretty fair team by the end of the season, but any fast bunch could tie knots in ’em. That’s one thing we showed ourselves to be to-day, Slim, fast. Yes, sir, we’re plumb sudden the way we get started and move around. And Johnny Cade was mighty pleased, too. I guess there was a whole lot he didn’t like, but the speed we showed had him tickled to death. All we’ve got to do is keep up the speed, work out a nice running and passing game, and walk right away from Kenly Hall.”
“You think we can do it?” asked Jim, who, having heard no more than half of Lowell’s remarks, was driven by compunction to a show of interest. Lowell grunted and looked past Jim into the gathering darkness.
“I think we can beat Kenly, but I don’t think it the way I talked then,” he replied slowly. “That’s the trouble with these easy games. They make you see things that ain’t. Kenly licked the boots off us two years ago and tied us last, and I don’t see why she shouldn’t do it again. That is, if we aren’t a hundred per cent better than we were when she did it before. We’re some better already, but we’re a long way from twice as good. Kenly’s got most of her last year crowd on hand again, and you know we’ve had to build almost a new team. Anyway, I’d rather see Kenly win than tie us. There’s something beastly unsatisfactory about a game that neither side wins. Seems as if all the season’s work and planning had been wasted. It’s like a crazy dream I had once. I dreamed I was climbing up a lot of ladders hitched together at the ends. There were dozens of ’em, and I kept on climbing, rung over rung, scared blue all the time. And then when I finally reached the top of the last ladder I was just where I’d started!”
Jim laughed. Then: “Tie games never come together, though,” he said knowingly. “I noticed that when I was reading the football records the other day.”
“I dare say that’s so,” said Lowell. “I think we’ve only played three of them with Kenly since the fun started. Anyway, I don’t want to see another one this year. How did you get on to-day?”
“All right, I guess,” answered Jim without much conviction in his tones. “Not so well as sometimes, maybe. Guess I didn’t feel very zippy to start with.”
“I dare say. Every fellow has an off-day now and then. Probably ate something. Take it easy to-morrow and be good to yourself. You know, Todd, I’m kind of banking on you to finish the season strong. ‘Slim and Victory’s’ my motto!”
“Shucks,” muttered Jim. “I ain’t much good, I guess.”