The instant the whistle blew, he felt Dave’s hands on his shoulder, helping him to his feet.
“Grand, Old Kentucky! Better’n I expected. Now make it a first down.”
A first down it was. The crowd on the bleachers screamed its approval. The boy could hear them shouting: “Na—per—ville! Na—per—ville! Beat ’em! Beat ’em! Smear ’em! Smash ’em! Kill ’em!” The shout, coming in slow motion at first, picked up speed until it sounded like an on-rushing train.
“Steady, boy!” Dave warned. “Don’t expect too much. Remember!”
“I—I’ll remember,” Kentucky’s breath came short and quick.
There was need to remember, for on the second down he failed to gain and on the third he was thrown for a loss of two yards. It was at this moment that the mountain boy became conscious of that Naperville guard. He was not only a smart boy, he had a mean turn to his nature. He leered as if to say, “Ha! Ha! Big joke! Smeared you, didn’t I?”
Ballard’s face was a mask as he took his place for the next play. Then, as he received the ball, he faked that same line plunge, saw that leering guard leave his place, then, like a flash of fire, shot to the right, through that opening and away.
Then a strange thing happened to his mind. As a player flashed past him, he was to him no longer a player, but old Nicodemus, the Colonel’s ram. And now here was another off to his right. Oh, well! offer him a hip, then fade. He faded down the field. To the left a third Nicodemus appeared. He too was dodged. But here he was now straight ahead of him, not Nicodemus, of course, but the Naperville’s safety man, all that remained between him and a touchdown.
With a friendly grin, holding the ball straight out before him, the Kentucky boy sprang straight at the waiting giant.
Thrown off his guard, the giant reached for the ball. But, of a sudden, the ball was not there. Stopping dead in his tracks, Kentucky had pivoted sharply to the right and was away for that touchdown.