He made that touch-down. Captain Bill McDever reached him, pounded him on the back, and grinned, asking cheerfully, “What were you running so fast for? Nobody near you. Save your wind.” Poodle had sneaked into the field. He got there just in time to explain. “Hike forgot his handkerchief and went back to get it,” before he was ordered off the field.
Then, to add to the general joy, Snifty Carter kicked goal, safely.
For the rest of the game, not another score was made. But the game was won for Santa Benicia and—but let Poodle explain—“and Hike had that job as right-half cinched for the rest of his life, with a raise every week!”
The team was stripping off sweaters and socks, when Taffy Bingham came up to Hike.
“Griffin,” he said, “that was a great run you made. And it was my bum playing that made it necessary. You made me want to buck up and—Shake hands, Griffin—uh—Hike, old man!”
The coach said nothing, but he was very glad, because he knew that this meant all the bad blood between Hike and Taffy had flowed by.
And Hike rejoiced, because he hated to have any one hate him. Also, he now realized that he must have made a good run. He had been too busy to think much about it. Timidly, he approached the coach and asked, “Do you think I’ll have a chance to stick on the team, now?”
“Well, if you don’t put some form into your running, and quit thinking about chewing gum and aviating when you ought to get into the game, we’ll use you for taking tickets,” growled the coach.
As that was all he said, Hike rejoiced, for he knew that he was practically safe for three years of playing! Otherwise the coach would have eaten him at one bite.
Lieutenant Jack Adeler was reading, that evening, amid a confusion of diagrams of wireless instruments, and plans of motors, when Mousey Tincom and four other Sophomores knocked.