The play that won

by Ralph Henry Barbour

There was a sharp exclamation of dismay and then a crashing of the bushes and low, stunted trees and silence. “What’s that?” called Joe startledly. “Anyone hurt?”

“Someone went over!” cried Hal. “Terry, I think!”

“I’m here! Tolly?”

“Here! I think it was Phil. O Phil!” There was no answer. They called again, creeping cautiously to the unguarded edge of the road. “I heard someone stumble,” gasped Hal, “and then something that sounded like ‘Gee!’ and then——”

“We’ve got to go down there,” said Joe. “I wish we had a flashlight. Who’s got matches?”

They found him presently, thirty feet below, lodged against a small boulder that projected from the steep face of the cliff. They could get no reply to their anxious appeals, and when, by the light of many matches that burned dimly in the heavy mist, they found the back of his head wet with blood the explanation confronted them. Tolly went quite to pieces and babbled incoherently, but the others, to their credit, kept their heads in spite of their horror and fear. It was a hard task to get him back to the road, but they did it at last, and then an attempt was made to use the bicycle as an ambulance. But two trials showed the impossibility of that, for the road was never meant for bicycle traffic. To search for poles to make a litter of was out of the question, for the trees were small, wind-twisted things and the gloom was too deep for searching further. In the end it was Terry’s plan that was adopted. The others were to carry Phil between them as best they might and he would take the bicycle and get to Pearson as fast as he could and bring the doctor back.

Terry is not likely to forget that ride down the side of Bald Mountain even if he lives far beyond the allotted age of man. Once started there was no actual stopping, since he discovered to his dismay that Tolly’s wheel had no coaster brake. All he could do was hold back to the best of his ability, try to keep away from the outer edge of the road and trust to luck. Fortunately the fog thinned almost at once and the road was dimly visible ahead. But rocks and ruts were not visible, at least not in time for avoidance, and more than a dozen times Terry’s heart jumped into his throat as he felt the wheel bound aside perilously near the edge. After a minute or two the descent became more gradual and the roadbed better and he threw discretion to the winds and went tearing, bounding down, clinging to handlebars and saddle on a mad coast. In spite of his danger, or perhaps because of it, there was an exhilaration that made him forget for a moment or two the purpose of his errand. But then a vision of Phil’s white face under the dim light of flickering matches returned to him and he shuddered and would have gone faster yet had that been possible. Then the mountain road straightened out, the fog was gone, the wind ceased roaring past his ears and making his eyes water and lights shone faintly through the late twilight ahead. Short of the village he found his pedals again and, save that his cap had left him far back, presented a fairly reputable appearance as he brought up before the gate of the little white house on which he had noted in the afternoon a doctor’s sign. Fortunately the physician, a middle-aged and rather stodgy man, was at home, and fortunately too his small automobile was standing in the lane beside the house, its little engine chugging merrily, and in less than four minutes Terry had leaned Tolly’s bicycle against the white picket fence and was rattling and jouncing away into the early darkness with Doctor Strang. Presently the little car was panting against the increasing grade but still going well, dodging stones and obstacles, and before it was forced to acknowledge defeat Joe, Hal and Tolly came into sight through the darkness with Phil on their shoulders.

Then, with Phil on the back seat of the car and the boys hanging on wherever they could, the automobile was somehow turned and sent racing down the road again. Terry helped carry the still unconscious boy into the doctor’s office and then stood by while an examination was made. There was one long sigh of relief from all when the verdict was given. Phil had had a pretty hard blow on the base of the brain, producing unconsciousness, explained Doctor Strang, but there appeared to be no fracture of the skull, and it was likely that a few days in bed would bring him around where he could try more fool stunts like walking off the side of a mountain! After that the doctor got efficiently busy and ten minutes later Phil, conscious again, but pretty well bruised and not inclined to talk, was back in the car and they set off for Maple Park. It was nearly nine when they reached school and long after midnight before sleep came to either Terry or Joe.

Phil was a sick looking boy when Terry came in to see him for a minute the next afternoon in the infirmary, but he spoke hopefully of being all right by Thursday and Terry went off to the field presently with no premonition of what awaited him there. Lacon’s list of entries had arrived and Mr. Cramer and Steve Cooper, the latter captain of the Track Team and Maple Park’s all-around athlete, had looked it over and gone into executive session. Lacon had six nominees for the mile run against Maple Park’s three. Of course she might not start them all when the time came, but if she did Maple Park was due for a hard time. Six against three, with all the possibilities of pace-making, pocketing and general team-work, was too great an odds, and coach and captain did some tall thinking. If Hyde was able to run they might chance it, but if he wasn’t they would have only Gordon and Pillon; two entries against six!