The Second Team had a schedule of its own, although it wasn’t very lengthy. It consisted of two games, the first with Greenburg High School and the second with Latimer High School. The Greenburg game came off the afternoon that the First played Carrel’s, and in consequence Toby missed the latter contest. He didn’t mind that, however, for he had a busy and enjoyable time in Greenburg. Besides, he got the full and detailed story of the Carrel game from Arnold that evening and the next day and for one or two days after that. Arnold was very full of football just now and threatened to be somewhat of a bore until the Broadwood contest was done with!

The Greenburg athletic field lay on the side of town away from the river and Yardley and was a rather uneven piece of turf enclosed by a dilapidated high board fence. There was a running track, badly in need of cinders and attention, two weather-stained stands and an unpainted shack that did duty as a dressing-room. The game was not very important from a Greenburg standpoint, and the attendance this afternoon was not large. Usually Greenburg won from the Yardley Second Team without much difficulty, and although this fall High School had heard stories of unusual prowess on the Second Team’s part she was still not much worried. Being a half holiday at the various mills and factories, of which Greenburg held many, the “tough” element of the town—or city, since that is what Greenburg officially was—was well represented. The mill operatives who had paid their quarters for admittance to the game were strongly pro-High School in their sympathies. Or perhaps it would be nearer the truth to say that they were enthusiastically anti-Yardley. In their belief all Yardley students were silk-stockinged snobs, which, while far from the fact, was enough to set the mill crowd against the school. They came supplied with peanuts and, perhaps a hundred in number, took possession of one of the small, tumble-down stands and made their presence known right from the start. But aside from shouting weird cheers for Greenburg, singing, parodying the Yardley slogan in mincing falsetto and shying an occasional peanut at the visitors’ bench in front of them, they kept the peace during most of the game.

Captain Beech wanted to win to-day’s contest, since last year High School had caught the Blue team in a slump and triumphed decisively over it by a memorable score of 38 to 6, and so, with Coach Burtis’s permission, the Second started with the best line-up she could devise. Mr. Burtis had awarded himself a vacation and gone home over the week-end, leaving the captain in undisputed authority. Toby didn’t get into the game until the third period was well along, for Frick, who had started it, played his best and a touchdown by Yardley in the first five minutes of play gave the visitors an advantage that the home team was not able to overcome in the initial half. The Blue defense was too much for the High School eleven although the latter had plenty of talent in its ranks and played a stiff, hard attack. On the other hand, Yardley had her troubles with the High School line, and that single touchdown had been more than half luck. A fortunate forward pass from the middle of the field had put the Blue within striking distance of High School’s goal and a penalty for holding had given her five yards more. Then Frick had fumbled and Nelson had followed the trickling ball back, and, having captured it, found a chance around High School’s left. He should have been stopped half a dozen times, but somehow he sifted through the enemy ranks and landed the pigskin up against the left-hand post before he was brought down.

High School accepted her mishap cheerfully and set to work to do a little scoring on her own behalf, but the half ended without the ball’s having approached either goal again. The second half was eight minutes old when Captain Beech found that Frick’s work was becoming slow and uncertain and sent him off. High School had forced the ball to Yardley’s thirty-one yards and still had possession when Toby went in. He was followed a minute later by Lovett, who was called on to strengthen the right end of the Blue’s line, around which High School had made several gains since the period had begun. Lovett, however, proved no more able to stop those gains than had Connell, and High School swept on to the Blue’s twenty-yard-line in three plays and set her supporters shouting triumphantly. With the cheers of the High School students came approving yells from the mill contingent; hoarse cries of “Eat ’em up, Greenburg!” “Kill the sissies!” “Put it over, Greenburg!” Then, with a score almost won, the High School left end was caught hugging Stover affectionately to his breast, and High School was set back fifteen yards. The mill hands didn’t approve of that and made it known loudly and continuously, hissing and whistling and hurling sarcastic remarks at the referee. After two plays which netted only short gains, High School tried a drop-kick from her thirty yards and failed badly.

The mill operatives still had hurt feelings and were now howling continuously. The referee was accused of favoritism, treachery and several other faults, and Yardley of being “pikers” and “yellow dogs.” Matters became no more peaceful when Toby, getting the kick-off just short of his five-yard-line, dodged it back to his twenty-three. Watson went in for Sid Creel at center a minute or two later and Toby began a systematic assault on High School’s middle positions. Stover gained consistently and White ploughed through less frequently but for longer gains. High School changed center and left guard and Toby switched his attack to the right guard and tackle. There, however, he had less luck, and, well into High School territory now, he called for a forward, and White, from kicking position, threw successfully to Mawson on High School’s nineteen, a long hard heave that brought applause even from the enemy. Mawson reached the sixteen yards before he was tackled and the fourteen before he was stopped.

The third period ended and the teams changed sides. High School fought desperately to hold her opponent and the attack was thrice piled up for little or no gain. Choosing between the possible loss of the ball and a possible three points from a field-goal, Toby selected the latter and Beech went back for the kick. But High School tore through the Yardley left and blocked the ball sufficiently to deflect it harmlessly to the right. That incident gladdened the mill hands considerably and they cheered hoarsely.

High School tried a forward-pass on first down and got away with it for twelve yards. Plunges at the line netted her a second first down. Three subsequent attacks left her four yards shy of her distance and she punted to Yardley’s thirty. There Stover caught and ran back to the thirty-seven. He was hurt in the tackle and gave place to Lippman. Toby tried a quarter-back run after a delayed pass and made a scanty five yards after going half across the field. High School held against two plunges and White punted outside at the enemy’s twenty-eight. High School uncorked a puzzling open formation play that sent the full-back around her short end without interference and almost got him free. But Lippman secured the runner after a fifteen-yard advance. A forward-pass went wrong and, after attempting each end, High School punted. Lippman juggled the catch, recovered it and was downed for no gain on his twenty yards. Toby called on White and made seven straight through High School’s center, and Lippman went outside right tackle for four more and the distance. Then, with the end of the game drawing near, Lippman punted on second down from his thirty to High School’s thirty-eight. Again the latter tried her open formation play, but this time Yardley was prepared and the runner was downed for an eight-yard loss. A forward-pass gave High School ten and a wide end run two more. Then came Waterloo, for a High School back, plunging toward the Yardley right tackle, lost the pigskin as he struck the line and the ball bounded merrily into the air, crossed the heaving lines and was pulled down by Nelson.

The best the Blue’s left half could do was hold tight to his prize, for half the opposing team was on top of him in the moment. But it was Yardley’s ball on High School’s forty-nine yards, and, with less than two minutes remaining, the game was as good as won. Captain Beech ran in four substitutes, about all he had left, and on the first play, one of them, Crawford, at full-back, went through the Greenburg line like a streak of lightning and dodged all but the quarter-back, planting the ball on High School’s thirty-two yards when he was captured. A penalty for off-side on the next play set Yardley back, but Lippman carried the pigskin around left end for three and Crawford made three more, and, on fourth down, faking a kick from placement, Toby took the ball and scampered off around the Greenburg right behind good interference and might have crossed the goal line had he not, as he put it later, fallen over his own feet! The stumble allowed a pursuing High School player to drag him down six yards short of the last white streak.

Then came a heart-stirring climax to a contest that had never failed of interest. The stands had emptied ere this and the audience had been following the game along the side-lines. Now it congregated at the corner of the field nearest the play, flowing over onto the gridiron in spite of the efforts of a few ineffectual officials. In the front of the throng were the mill operatives, noisy and unfriendly to the besiegers, more than willing, it seemed, to take a hand in the game. Toby and Grover Beech consulted while the crowd jeered and hooted. Toby wanted to try a forward-pass over the line, but Captain Beech was fearful of it save as a last resort, and it was decided to batter the opponent’s line so long as gains resulted and then, faking a try-at-goal, attempt a short pass over the center.

Toby called on Crawford and sent him banging at the enemy’s guard-tackle hole on the left. But the hole didn’t develop and the gain was less than a yard. Beech sent Crawford out and brought in Lansing, a heavy youngster whose slowness had kept him on the bench most of the season. The unfriendly critics, edging over the bounds, made scurrilous remarks anent Lansing’s personal appearance and had that poor youth, already made nervous by the honor so unexpectedly thrust upon him, a mass of blushes by the time he was in position. But blushes didn’t take away from Lansing’s weight or strength, and, with Lippman carrying the pigskin, Lansing thrust the runner through for three of the remaining five yards. There was some rough playing in that fracas, and Toby discovered that he had sustained a very ensanguined nose. On third down, with just over two yards to go, Lippman tried a cross-buck and squirmed over the crouched backs of the foe for another three feet, amidst an appalling shouting from the belligerent onlookers. The mill contingent was now so close behind the defenders that it was hard to tell who was a player and who a spectator, and Captain Beech called for time and pointed out the fact. The Greenburg players tried to push the throng back, but, although it good-naturedly shuffled a few yards away, it pressed forward once more as soon as the teams again lined up. The referee and umpire scolded and threatened to call the game, but were only hooted at. To the credit of the High School students present it may be said that they did nothing to encourage the mill hands and themselves remained, if not outside the field, at least away from the scene of play. In the end, finding pleas and threats alike idle, the referee let the game go on.

“We’ll never score against that mob,” whispered Beech disgustedly to Toby. “They’ll jump in and push us back. Might as well call it off. I don’t want any mix-up with those muckers!”

Toby nodded agreement, viewing the grinning, inimical countenances grouped behind the opposing line thoughtfully. Then: “Let me work this, cap, will you? I think there’s just one chance!”

“Go ahead,” said Beech, “but you’ll never make a forward with that gang back there to get in the way.”

“No, a forward’s no good, but—Signals! Come on now, Yardley! One more punch! Signals! 31—51—27——”

“Signals!” cried Lippman wildly, questioningly.

“Shut up!” hissed Toby. “Change signals! 61—54—27—9! 61—54——”

Forward plunged the backs, away sped Toby, scuttling along the back of the short line, the ball snuggled in his elbow. Cries and grunts and the rasping of canvas-clad bodies filled the air. Then a shriek from an excited, despairing high school spectator: “There he goes! Get him, you mutts!”

The play had been close to the left-hand corner of the field and the onlookers had crowded there, along the side-line for a short distance, but principally back of the goal-line. At the other side of the goal, save for a sprinkling of High School girls and their escorts, the field was clear. Toward this side of the gridiron sped Toby. Only Lovett, throwing his opponent in as he plunged through, went with him. But the right end was sufficient. A Greenburg back met him and the two sprawled to the turf together, and Toby, turning on his heel, headed swiftly in. A yard or two short of the line he dodged the only remaining opposition, a despairing High School quarter, and circled back toward the goal. But now there were plenty to challenge. A High School player clutched at him and missed and then Toby found himself in a struggling sea of angry mill operatives. Farquhar tried to reach him, but was pushed aside, and a dozen hands fought for the ball. Toby clung to it as tightly as he could and sought to fight his way forward, but the crowd was ugly. Some one struck him on the mouth and, as his head went back, the ball was dislodged. The yells about him merged in a laugh of triumph and, shoved aside, he sank to the ground, while the mill crowd went piling off toward the entrance, the ball in their possession. None tried to stop them.

The officials allowed the touchdown, but Captain Beech, helping a battered Toby to his feet, declined the privilege of trying goal with another ball. “Had enough, thanks,” he said coldly. Then, to an apologetic and regretful Greenburg Captain: “This is the last game you fellows will get with us, Townsend. Come on, Yardley! Never mind the cheer!”

Toby was not the only one of the visiting team who had sustained a memento of that closing minute. Three other fellows who had sought to reach him had been punched, or kicked, and, including such slighter injuries as had fallen to the Yardley Second during the game, it was a somewhat messed up aggregation that journeyed back to Wissining that afternoon. The last they saw of the mill hands they were having a remarkable football game with the stolen ball in the road outside the field, too busy to more than hoot at the visitors as they passed.

“I’d like to fetch a couple of dozen more fellows down here and wipe the ground up with them,” muttered Beech. “Bet you that’s our last game with Greenburg for awhile, Toby.”

Toby didn’t offer to accept the wager, which was fortunate for his modest resources since, a few days later, the Yardley faculty, having probed the incident, struck Greenburg High School from the list of approved opponents.