CHAPTER X
CLIF GOES FOR A PAPER
The First Team played its game away from home on Saturday, meeting Minster High School at Minster, and so, at three o’clock, the Scrub lined up against Freeburg High School on the First Team gridiron. A goodly portion of the student body had followed the school eleven, but enough fellows had remained at home to form, with a large delegation of high school boys and girls, a very respectable audience. Doctor Wyndham attended and remained until the third period was well along, and the issue had been definitely settled. Others of the faculty graced the occasion, too, and Mr. McKnight and Mr. Connover joined “Cocky” on the bench. The cold spell had passed, and the weather, clear and moderately warm, with almost no breeze, was ideal for football.
The First Team had beaten the local high school by the score of 19 to 7, and “Cocky’s” charges were certain of their ability to triumph, although none predicted better than a close victory. Mr. Babcock started Adams, Ames, Howlett, Ridgway, Henning, Coles and Bingham in the line, and Jackson, Kemble, Gillespie and Thayer in the backfield. It was evident almost from the first that the Scrub was by far the better team, with a sturdier defense, and a harder and more varied attack. Thayer went over for the first touchdown less than six minutes after play had begun, subsequent to a straight march down the field in which the Scrub opened wide gaps in the High School line, ran the ends for good gains and pulled off one forward-pass, Kemble to Bingham. Later, the Scrub started a second advance, after an exchange of punts had gained a few yards for the home team, and had reached High School’s twenty-five-yard line when the whistle blew. Scrub lost the ball on the seventeen, when play had been resumed, by Thayer’s failure to find an opening. Two inches more would have won a first down. High School rushed once and then punted to Jackson in midfield and Sim scampered back sixteen yards before he was stopped. Scrub took up its journey again and pushed the ball across near the corner of the field, Kemble carrying it. Sim had missed the first try-for-point, but he succeeded this time and the Scrub had the game 13 to 0.
The half ended with no more scoring and with High School still on the defensive.
Gosman went in for Adams when the third period began, and Ike Patch took Clif’s place at the other end. Later, other changes were made until “Cocky’s” complete roster had seen service. Duval, who played quarter in the last period, handled the team so well that Sim Jackson looked distinctly anxious! High School threatened once in the third quarter, getting the ball to Scrub’s twenty-one, but the home team stiffened and High School’s attempt at a field-goal was knocked down by “Babe” and captured on the thirty-four yards by McMurtry. Scrub worked back to the enemy’s thirty-three with two good forward-passes, a long run by Stiles, back at right half, and some good line plunging by Hoppin and Kemble. But on the thirty-three Stiles fumbled and, although he recovered the ball, Scrub was set back twelve yards. Three tries, one of them a forward-pass that grounded, gained but six yards and Tom punted over the line.
High School kept the ball from the twenty-yard line to midfield where a long forward-pass was intercepted by “Wink” Coles, and carried to the enemy’s thirty-eight. “Wink” got knocked breathless in the proceeding, and time was called. Heard took his place. The quarter ended after the next play. In the last period Scrub again nearly secured a touchdown, but down on High School’s twelve yards some one mixed the signals and a four-yard loss resulted. On the subsequent play Scrub was off-side and the pigskin again went back. Finally, with five yards to go on third down, Tom tried a forward heave to Stiles that grounded behind the line. That was the final threat by either side and some fifteen minutes later the last whistle sounded, the score still 13 to 0.
Over at Minster the First had won a somewhat hollow victory to the tune of 26 to 6, and so Wyndham could crow that Saturday evening. The First Team, arriving in the dining hall practically in a body some fifteen minutes after supper had begun, received a salvo of hand-clapping as it made its way to the two training tables at the end of the room. The Scrub, distributed here and there about the hall, received no applause, but every member of it knew where glory really belonged! Hadn’t they completely shut out a team that had scored on the First, but a fortnight ago? They had! Well, then!
Besides, if Charlie Duval hadn’t called for a pass over the line that time, if he had let Kemble shoot the ball over the end, why, it was dollars to doughnuts they’d have had another score. Or if Stiles hadn’t fumbled on High School’s thirty-three before that— Why, any one could see that Scrub’s total ought really to have been 19, at least; maybe 20; and 19 was all that the First had been able to make against High School! Then just because the First ran up a 26 to 6 score against a weak team over at Minster every one had to go crazy about it! Huh!
At Wyndham you made an arrangement with a citizen of Greek birth named—well, no one could pronounce his name in its entirety, but you called him “Poppy,” which was about a quarter of the whole—for your Sunday paper. “Poppy” delivered it, along with some forty others, at the entrance. After breakfast—before if you had time—you went and got it. “Poppy,” however, didn’t attempt to mark each subscriber’s name on his paper. He merely delivered the required assortment, and let you do your own selecting. Nine times out of ten you got a paper. Sometimes it wasn’t the one you had ordered, but it was better than none, and after you had read it you exchanged with some one else for the one you preferred. But on the Sunday morning following the Scrub’s glorious victory over Freeburg High School, a victory he had talked over the evening before until his throat had become dry, Clif found only two papers left, one a Boston publication, and the other, boasting not even a colored supplement, a stingy thing from the state capital.
“I might have known I’d get left if I came down this late,” mourned Clif. He had tarried upstairs to collect his laundry, and make out the list, a duty generally put off until later in the morning. He picked up the Boston paper tentatively, shook his head, and laid it down again just as its rightful owner appeared, viewing Clif with deep suspicion. There was plenty of time to go to the village if he could get permission, and he ascended the stairs again and sought Number 19. There Mr. McKnight, after politely offering Clif the use of his own New York Times, signed his name to a gray slip of paper and Clif started for the village.