“Touchdown! Touchdown!” yelled the excited mob. Johnny looked at his watch. “One minute to play, one minute for a touchdown. Regular Jack Armstrong football,” he murmured.
Almost, but not quite. Finding himself in the open and in full possession of the treasured pigskin, Artie Stark once again shot forward toward the goal line. An enemy appeared on the right. He dodged him. One on the left, another on the right, a third directly before him. No chance. His eyes roved the field. “Than—thanks, good fortune,” he murmured as he sent the ball on a long, looping curve toward Ballard Ball, the slim Kentucky boy, who stood waiting all alone on the enemy’s five yard line. It was a perfect pass. Ballard was not obliged to move a foot. The ball dropped squarely in his arms. Yet—Johnny could not believe his eyes—the ball went bouncing in air to at last strike the earth and roll away.
“Incomplete pass,” Johnny groaned. “One, two, three passes, all incomplete. The ball goes back miles and miles. And with only a half minute left to play.” He groaned again and all Hillcrest groaned with him. And well they might for, scarcely had the teams lined up for play when the whistle blew. The game was over. Hillcrest had lost 13 to 7.
When Johnny and Jensie went in search of Ballard they did not find him on the field. He had vanished.
“Johnny, we must find him,” Jensie exclaimed. “We really must! I know Ballard. I’ve known him a long, long time. He’s too good to be true. He’ll blame himself for the loss of that game. He—why he may start for home tonight. You never can tell.”
CHAPTER VI
OLD KENTUCKY
After a futile search for Ballard, Johnny wandered back to the Blue Moon. The Blue Moon was Johnny’s latest financial venture in a strange and troubled world. It promised to be a grand flop and Johnny was duly unhappy about it.
The establishing of the Blue Moon had been a suggestion of Johnny’s grandfather. The old man was seldom wrong. This time, however, it did seem that he had erred.
It had started with Johnny’s determination to find his young Kentucky friend a job, anything at all that would enable him to earn money for food and lodging. At first it had seemed simple enough. In the end it proved impossible. Everything was taken.
“Way to get a job these days,” Johnny’s grandfather had said, “is to make one for yourself.”