“Saved!” Johnny breathed. “Saved! But the score is still 7 to 0. Wonder how a football player behaves after an attempt has been made upon his life.” He was to see.
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE FLEA FLICKER
“Paying me a compliment,” Red grumbled to himself, as the third quarter ended with no success. “Tried to kill me, that tough egg sent by Angelo and his gang. As if I’d do them any harm playing football!” He was thoroughly disgusted with himself. What was the trouble? He could not get going, that was all. And the game was slipping away, with one more quarter to play.
The fourth quarter began as the third had ended, with the two teams driving one another back and forth across the field. Eleven precious minutes of play passed into eternity. Still no score. And then came a change.
From time to time, as the teams moved toward the center of the field, Red had stolen a glance at Berley Todd. She had not been home. Apparently this game was, for the time, all that mattered. As the young football star thought of this a lump rising in his throat all but choked him.
Somehow Berley had secured a place directly behind the rail in the first tier of seats. Every time Red stole a glance at her he found her sitting there, sober-faced, tense, expectant. She did not leap and scream as others did. She did not join in the shouting.
“I’d almost say she was praying,” Red told himself. “Wonder if any one ever prayed at a football game?”
Surely if ever there was occasion for sober thoughts over a ball game, this was the time. A thousand, five thousand, perhaps ten thousand foolish men had been tricked into gambling on what they believed to be a sure thing.
“We don’t care for them,” Drew Lane had said. “If they were the only ones to suffer they should lose. But if they do lose, their families will suffer; women and children. So Red, you must fight! Fight! Fight!”
He had fought. But all in vain. Somehow he could not get into the game. The very weight of responsibility seemed to crush the spirit out of him.