Friday dawned fair and warm, and Willard, looking forth from a window while dressing, smilingly pictured McNatt, far afield, gathering mushrooms from the sunlit meadows. One thing, however, was certain, Willard reflected, and that was that the enthusiastic McNatt would never induce him to partake of that mushroom supper! Yesterday he might perhaps have taken a chance, but today life was too well worth living.

In the afternoon, contrary to custom, there was a hard and prolonged scrimmage between the first and second teams. Ordinarily the day before a contest was given over to formation drill, with only a brief line-up, but today, with Lorimer Academy looming dangerously ahead, Coach Cade couldn’t afford to be lenient. One radical change in the first team line-up was apparent when the two teams faced each other. Arnold Lake, the regular left half-back, was at left end in place of Sanford, and Mawson was at left half. Doubtless it was only an experiment and might not prove satisfactory, but Willard saw, with a quickening of his pulse, that if the change became permanent he would be one notch nearer the realization of his hopes. With only Mawson and, perhaps, Moncks ahead of him, the position of first substitute was just over the horizon. And events that day certainly fostered optimism, for before the practice game was over Mawson was relegated to the bench and Willard took his place. For something like ten minutes life was very strenuous for him. The first was thrice given the ball on the second’s twenty-yard-line and thrice failed to take it over, although Coach Cade stormed and Gil Tarver commanded and Captain Bob Myers implored. The second fought desperately and would not yield the final few feet. In those assaults Willard played his part well, making up in speed and aggressiveness what he lacked in weight. If he didn’t perform any outstanding feat, at least he gained as certainly as Cochran, beside him, and more surely than Steve Browne, again restored to full-back position for lack of a better man. The nearest thing to a mishap befalling Willard was his failure to hold a short forward-pass over the left of the line that might possibly have produced the desired score. But he was sorely beset and, jostled and badgered by the second team backs, he could not make the ball secure after it reached him. That came in the last attack, and afterwards, when Cochran’s desperate attempt at the left of center had failed to carry him over by two feet, the ball was given to the second and Greenwood, standing behind his goal, kicked to safety. It is quite possible that Willard looked for some slight expression of commendation from captain or coach when the whistle blew, for he was under the impression that he had done none so badly for a first appearance on the big team, but the only mention of his part in the fracas that he heard was made by the quarter-back. Probably Tarver had no intention of being unkind, but his regrets haunted Willard for the rest of the day.

“Too bad you couldn’t hold that forward, Harmon,” Tarver said on the way back to the gymnasium. “Gee, we’d have had a score sure if you had!”

Seeking sympathy, Willard repeated the remark to Martin that evening, expecting Martin to tell him that it wasn’t his fault and that Gil Tarver was unreasonable. But Martin only shook his head as he replied cheerfully: “Yes, it was a shame, Brand. Still, I don’t believe first would have scored. Gil threw too short and you were five yards from the line.”

“We-ell,” said Willard, “you think I ought to have caught it?”

“What? Oh, I don’t know about that. You’ve got to be mighty quick to get your hands around a forward or else you’ll miss it. And it’s a heap easier than it looks, usually.”

Willard went to sleep that night somewhat disheartened by the conclusion that Fortune had given him an opportunity to prove his ability and he had failed. Doubtless, he thought, another such opportunity would be long in coming. He lived over that disastrous attempt to catch the forward-pass and wondered whether, had he leaped an instant sooner, he would have held it; whether, in short, anything he could have done and didn’t would have insured success. He tried to comfort himself with the reiterated assertion that no one, not even Captain Myers, whose work on the receiving end of forward-passes was phenomenal, could have done any better, but he fell asleep before reiteration produced conviction and passed through a number of unpleasant dreams before he awoke again to a bright and brisk October morning.

Lorimer was always an uncertain quantity when it came to the yearly gridiron contests with Alton, and, since the red-legged invaders had nosed out a victory over the Gray-and-Gold last fall, it was held to be highly desirable that a conclusive defeat be handed them on the present occasion. And there appeared to be no good reason why Alton shouldn’t win, for, while Lorimer was well coached and knew plenty of football, she had sustained two defeats so far this season and had but one victory to her credit.

To Willard, observing proceedings from the bench, sandwiched between Martin and Ned Richards, the playing of Lake at left end again brought renewed encouragement. At least it was evident that Mr. Cade believed well enough of the experiment to give it a thorough trial, and all during the game Willard rooted hard, if silently, for the ex-half-back and prayed that he would make good as an end! Lorimer took the kick-off and at once showed her running ability when a tow-headed right half reeled off nearly thirty yards before Cochran brought him down. The enemy showed several novel variations of old plays and twice made first down before she was finally forced to kick on Alton’s forty-two yards. She was master of the shift and sent her plays at the long or short side of the line with beautiful and confusing impartiality. Also, her backfield was composed of slim, fast and elusive youths who had a remarkable faculty of slipping out of the opponents’ clutches. In brief, it became apparent during the first few minutes of play that the home team was destined to have her hands full that afternoon and would be supremely fortunate if she kept her goal-line inviolate. The first quarter, however, passed without either team reaching scoring distance. There was much punting, at which Alton was slightly superior, and many attempts at end running by Lorimer, some of which succeeded. Only one forward-pass was tried, and that, by the enemy, went wrong and landed the ball in Alton’s hands. The latter made her distance five times and Lorimer four, and at the end of the first twelve minutes an unbiased critic would have said that on performance the opponents were about equal. He might have added, however, that the Red somehow gave the impression of having more in reserve than the Gray-and-Gold, and if he had said so he would have been proved correct by future events.

Alton started a brave advance in the second period and, with Cochran and Mawson alternating on attacks between tackles and Gil Tarver scampering around the ends, thrice made it first down in enemy territory. But on Lorimer’s twenty-seven yards, Lake became too eager and Alton was set back for off-side, and after a futile attempt to make up the lost ground, Tarver fell back and kicked to the three yards. Lorimer punted on second down and the pigskin fell into Tarver’s hands in midfield and that hustled back seven yards before he consented to stop. Alton took up the journey again, while some three hundred brazen-throated adherents cheered encouragingly from the stand. Halted on the thirty-six, Browne threw overhead to Joe Myers and Joe caught brilliantly and was toppled for an eight-yard gain. Lake, skirting around, took the ball from Tarver and tried hard to make good on the farther side, but was run back for a two-yard loss. Another forward grounded, and Tarver, with twelve to go on third down, faked a kick and carried outside right tackle to Lorimer’s sixteen for the distance. The Gray-and-Gold shouted jubilantly and chanted her desire for a touchdown. But, although Mawson got three through Lorimer’s left and followed it with two more off tackle on the other side, again Fortune turned her thumb down. Stacey Ross was caught holding and a stern referee paced the pigskin back an interminable fifteen yards. Tarver’s run from kick formation failed to fool the enemy and he regained but twelve of the fifteen. Perhaps a forward-pass would have gained the distance, but Tarver chose to try for a field-goal, and, standing near Lorimer’s twenty-five-yard line, he held out his hands while the stands grew still. The angle was not severe and if Leroy, at left tackle, had held firm, the quarter would probably have scored three points that later in the day would have loomed large. But Leroy gave before the desperate onslaught of the foe and Tarver was hurried. The ball had height and distance, but not direction, and passed a foot to the right of the nearest upright.

The half ended a minute later with the pigskin in Lorimer’s possession near her forty.

Willard trotted back to the gymnasium with the rest and hugged the knowledge that Arnold Lake had shown himself a valuable man at the end of the line. Willard could have told you almost every move that Lake had made during those twenty-four minutes of playing time! Coach Cade was sparing of criticism today, for no glaring faults had been apparent and the fighting spirit had been evident. He did warn against infractions of the rules, however, pointing out that had it not been for Ross’s holding Alton would now be at least six points to the good. “We lost thirty yards by penalties, and Lorimer lost only ten. The twenty yards’ difference may mean the loss of the game. Guard against being off-side, fellows, and against holding. Don’t let’s make the opponent any gifts! You’ve got to fight harder this half and run your plays off quicker. You’re up against a heady bunch of fellows and you’ve got to outwit them as well as outplay them if you’re going to win. I want to see the backs start a little quicker and hit the line with more steam. That applies to you especially, Browne. You have a rotten tendency to slow up at the line, just when you should be going the hardest. You miss two and three yards regularly on every play by that sort of thing. See if you can’t put more slam into it!”

Five minutes later they were back again, greeted by the longdrawn “A—l—t—o—n! A—L—T—O—N!! A—L—T—O—N!!!” from hundreds of throats. And, when the Gray-and-Gold-striped players had spread down the field for the kick-off, there came the sharp, rifle-shot cheer of

A-L-T-O-N!A-L-T-O-N!!A-L-T-O-N!!!
Win! Win! Win! Win! Win! Win! Win! Win!

It was nip-and-tuck for the first half of that third period, with neither team making headway and the ball in air half the time. Alton’s forward-passes failed whenever tried, for Lorimer had a really brilliant defense against that play. From one thirty-yard line to another the battle raged, Lorimer making up for Alton’s slight superiority at punting by a better end attack. Gains through the line were not forthcoming to either team. Lorimer began to use her substitutes and Coach Cade followed her example by sending in Martin Proctor for Ross. Just before the period ended Gil Tarver gave way to Hutchins at quarter-back. There was no scoring and the whistle piped with the ball in Alton’s hands on her opponent’s thirty-eight.

While the referee carried the ball across the center and the players gathered about the water pails Willard heard his name called and looked down the bench to see Mr. Cade beckoning. His heart turned a complete somersault—or seemed to—while he traversed the eight yards and halted before the coach!

“Harmon, you’ve showed a pretty fair knack of getting away outside tackles,” said Mr. Cade. “Do you think you could manage to do it if you went in there now?”

Willard was conscious of the players on either side of the coach, could feel their slightly amused glances on him and knew they were waiting intently for his answer. He felt supremely awkward and embarrassed at that moment. But he had to say something, for Mr. Cade, although he was watching the players assembling again, was awaiting a reply.

“I’ll try, sir,” he managed.

Mr. Cade nodded. “Won’t promise, eh?” He looked up then into Willard’s face, and the boy was vastly relieved to see that his eyes were twinkling. “All right, go ahead,” said the coach. “Your right end looms the easiest, Harmon. If you can get that left end of theirs to play wide for a forward-pass you ought to be able to get started. Do your best, boy,” Mr. Cade nodded again, smilingly.

“Left half, sir?” asked Willard, through the folds of his sweater, which simply wouldn’t come off.

“Left half,” responded the coach.