“Maybe that’s it,” said Clif, glumly. “There’s something wrong. ‘Cocky’ has told me all along that I’m a punk tackler, and I guess I am.”
“Oh, you’re not as bad as that,” said Tom. “There are others!”
“Of course I didn’t think that I was telling you news,” said Loring. “You asked me to tell you what I saw, Tom, and that’s what I’ve done. I still say that it’s cheeky of me to set up as a football authority and critic, you know!”
“I don’t see it,” Tom answered. “You certainly got the dope on us to-day, didn’t you? You keep up the good work, old son. Unless we do a heap better than we did to-day we’re going to need all the help we can get!”
CHAPTER XIV
THE FIGHTING SCRUB
Tuesday found the Fighting Scrub putting up a better defense, even though McMurtry, in Ames’s place, proved a weak point in the line. Later Joe Craigie, a substitute guard, ousted McMurtry and the left side of the Scrub line got back to normal. In the first period of the practice game “Big Bill” banged through for a touchdown and Stoddard kicked the goal, while the best the Scrub could do was repeatedly kick out of danger. In the second go, however, with Fargo out of it and “Swede” Hanbury in his position, the Scrub not only held the enemy scoreless but earned two points when Houston, at quarter, touched the ball down for a safety rather than have a touchdown scored. The Scrub put up a hard fight toward the end and Captain Tom had the ball on the adversary’s twelve yards when the whistle blew.
On Wednesday it became known that Quinlan, of the First, was in trouble at the Office and might not get reinstated in time to do much more playing. Quinlan was only a second-string guard, but he was a good man and his loss was no light matter. “G. G.” reached out and grabbed Clem Henning away from the Scrub, and the wails of that aggregation were loud and heart-rending. As Tom pointed out, and as most of the others acknowledged, it was luck for Clem, and for his sake they were glad enough, but his loss left a gaping hole in the Scrub line that Joe Craigie couldn’t wholly fill. After two days of experimenting, Coach Babcock put Joe back at left tackle and gave the right guard position to Howlett. Howlett was light, but he had plenty of fight, and in time he learned his duties very well. But during the rest of that week the disrupted Scrub took some fine wallopings from the First and got but one score. That single bit of glory belonged about evenly to Clif and Johnny Thayer. It was Clif who pulled down Jackson’s long heave across the left of the line and ran it through a thickly populated alien territory to the four yards where he was tackled from behind by Duval. If Clif was still weak at making tackles he was certainly strong at avoiding them, for no fewer than four of the First at one time or another laid hands on him. Clif had a way of spinning out of delaying clutches that was very pretty indeed! From the four yards, Johnny Thayer, at fullback, took the ball across in one straight plunge on Cotter. Sim Jackson fumbled the pass and there was no goal.
Clif and Johnny were metaphorically presented with the Key of the City by their grateful team mates on Friday night. That score had been sorely needed to prop up the Scrub’s declining self-respect, and so those who had provided it were momentary heroes. Tom didn’t stop lavishing praise on Clif all the evening, and he was ably abetted by Loring. Tom was inclined to lose track of the fact that the First Team was in all ways a superior organization and to lay every detail to the Scrub’s shortcomings rather than to the adversary’s fuller knowledge and better playing. It was hard to make him see why the Scrub didn’t have an even chance at every game. Tom was making a very good captain, although, as frequently happens, being captain had slowed up his progress as a player. Not that Tom wasn’t still holding down the left halfback position in good shape, for he was. He was a more certain gainer through the line than Lou Stiles, was a better punter than any one on the First except “Big Bill” Fargo and could get a forward-pass off in fine style. It was just that his anxiety to have the Scrub a great team caused him to give more thought to its development than to the individual duties of Tom Kemble, with the result that Tom’s progress was not quite keeping up with that of the others. Tom was far from realizing this, although Mr. Babcock, who played no favorites, was after Tom a good deal during practice. Doubtless if Tom hadn’t had so many things on his mind it would have dawned on him that his playing wasn’t meeting with “Cocky’s” entire approval.
Clif encountered Wattles in the corridor on his way back from supper that Wednesday evening. Wattles was carrying Loring’s tray to the dining room. Clif said, “Hello, Wattles,” and would have passed, but Wattles would have speech with him. “Mister Bingham,” said Wattles earnestly, “may I take the liberty of complimenting you, sir, on that remarkable run you made this afternoon? Really, sir, it was a most stirring performance!”