  For nearly an hour Russell had sat, blanketed, tense of nerves, on the narrow bench on the Alton side of the field and watched the fortunes of battle. There had been no scoring. Twice Kenly’s red-stockinged warriors had threatened the home team’s goal, once trying a drop-kick from an almost hopeless distance and once piling up on the twenty-three yards for three downs and no gain and then hurling a hit-or-miss forward pass that, fortunately for the defenders, had missed! Once Alton had rushed as far as Kenly’s eighteen yards where an off-side play had spoiled her chance of scoring. A desperate fake kick, with Harmon taking the pigskin around left end, had lost the ball on the nineteen. For the rest of the time the two teams had edged back and forth across the almost obliterated fifty-yard line, rushing, passing, punting, playing somewhat ragged football to be sure, but playing it very desperately. Now the Gray-and-Gold was back in the gymnasium, sore and battle-scarred; weary, too, but not knowing it. And the minutes were ticking away fast toward the second half. Manager Johnson, watch in hand, pale-faced and as nervous as “Time’s about up, Coach!” called Johnson. The group of three broke up. The coach nodded to the manager and then held up his hand. “Same line-up,” he announced, “except Longstreth at right half and Emerson at right end. All right! You know what to do, fellows! Let’s get them this time!” There was a cheer, hoarse, deafening, and then they crowded eagerly about the door, pushing and shoving good-naturedly, laughing, pranking, until, outside, they waited for Mart Proctor to take the lead. Then they trotted back to the gridiron, while the long Alton cheer broke forth from the stand. Russell, keeping close beside Jimmy, tugged his sleeve. “Jimmy,” he asked with dry lips, “Jimmy, did he say me at right end?” Jimmy turned and laughed at sight of Russell’s face. “Yes, you lucky dog! For the love of Pete, don’t look like that, Rus! What’s the matter?” Jimmy knew, but pretended he didn’t. Russell grinned crookedly and wet his lips with his tongue. “I—I’m scared!” he croaked. “Fine stuff! Hand it on! I’ll be with you pretty soon, son, and we’ll show those red-legs how to play football!” During the first half of the game McLeod had Kenly kicked off and Longstreth captured the short kick and was brought down with no gain. From the twenty-eight yards Alton began her journey. Kenly’s line from guard to guard was impregnable. That had been already proved. Her tackles, too, were clever and not easily fooled. In short, gains through the Kenly line were few and far between, and Alton had recourse now to end runs and occasional forward passes. Russell’s stage-fright lasted through two plays. Then he forgot to be scared, forgot everything but his overmastering desire to serve and win. After all, this was not greatly different from playing against the first. Those red-legged, red-sleeved opponents seemed no more in earnest than the old opponents and played no more desperately. The big, square-jawed tackle who faced him at times was no more formidable than Mart Proctor Like the first half, the second proved the teams too evenly weighted and skilled for long gains by either side. Two yards, three, two yards again, and then a punt. Sometimes one or the other managed an end run that brought a larger gain, but neither team made first down by straight rushing until the third quarter was almost done. Then Kenly worked a criss-cross of a pattern as old as the hills and got seven yards through Stimson, placing the pigskin on Alton’s thirty-eight. Yet two minutes later the Gray-and-Gold was again in possession and Ned Richards’ voice was chanting his shrill signals. Back and forth across the middle of the field went the ball. Penalties for off-side were many. There were a few for holding. Each team suffered about equally from these. The quarter came finally to an end and the rivals drew away and the ball was taken across the field and deposited close to the forty-five-yard line. Raleigh and Mawson trotted on, then Linthicum. But Lake did not come back. It didn’t occur to Russell to give consideration to this fact. The whistle blew again and the lines once more tensed. On the stands the prospect of a no-score game was already a favorite topic of discussion. The teams Once, soon after the last period started, Ned Richards brought the Alton stand to its feet with a thirty-yard run that, for one ecstatic moment seemed to spell a touchdown. But he was spilled on Kenly’s twenty-four, and, although Alton chanted lustily for a score, two rushes made no headway, a forward-pass grounded and Linthicum’s effort at a drop-kick was a sad performance. Coach Cade began on his reserves then, and from that moment new men appeared at short intervals. Jimmy joined soon after the period started, and afterwards came Cravath and Johnston and Smedley and still others. Russell had long since proved Coach Cade’s wisdom. Harley McLeod was no more fleet of foot under kicks than Russell, nor were there more gains at Russell’s end of the line than at the other. At tackling Russell showed himself earnest and Kenly was becoming almost hysterical now in her mad efforts to score. Forward-passes that were on the face of them forlorn hopes sailed through the air. Twice the Cherry-and-Black almost made them good, but once Captain Proctor saved the day and once it was Russell who at the last moment shouldered the expectant catcher aside. Alton tried her best to win, but she indulged in no risky plays. To keep the ball and get a back away inside or outside tackle was now her only hope until she could reach a point inside the enemy’s thirty yards. Once there, she would try a field-goal. But the backs couldn’t get away, at least, not far. Kenly watched Harmon, and subsequently Mawson, as a cat watches a mouse. So, as through the former periods, the ball remained well inside the two thirty-five-yard lines and, so far as scoring was concerned, the game was already evidently at an end. The time-keeper announced four minutes, then two. The stands were emptying. Kenly, who had risked all on her first-string men until now, began to hurl new warriors into her army. Every other moment the pauses were prolonged by the appearances of hurrying, eager substitutes. The shadows were deepening about the field and over on The fox faltered once near the twenty, and the nearer hound lessened the intervening space, but a third actor had joined them now. Close to the fifteen yards he made his final desperate effort. Drawing even with the red-legged pursuer, he launched himself sidewise. Together the two went down and rolled over, and the fox ran free! Another white line passed under his feet, and another. Bedlam had broken loose on the Alton stand and that last faint streak was crossed to the wild exultation of victory! And having crossed the line, Russell set the ball down and set himself down beside it. Then he closed his eyes while the nearer goal-post swayed like the mast of a vessel in a heavy sea! It was Jimmy who reached him first, Jimmy who, panting and exhausted, threw an arm about his shoulders and rubbed streaming eyes against a dirty sleeve. “Oh, Rus!” muttered Jimmy. “Bless your heart, son! We’ve won! Do you get it, Rus? We’ve won the old ball game!” THE END Football and Baseball Stories Durably Bound. Illustrated. Colored Wrappers. In these up-to the minute, spirited genuine stories of boy life there is something which will appeal to every boy with the love of manliness, cleanness and sportsmanship in his heart.
Every boy wants to know how to play ball in the fairest and squarest way. These books about boys and baseball are full of wholesome and manly interest and information.
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers,NEW YORK STORIES OF SPORT AND ADVENTURE May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Dunlap’s list. Here are thrilling baseball stories filled with fast playing and keen rivalry. The author of these books writes from his own experience as a player.
These stories of the gridiron are packed full of excitement and real smashing, heart-breaking football.
These stories record the uphill fight of a group of boys to rouse the citizens of a dull town by winning a championship against great odds.
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers,NEW YORK BUDDY BOOKS FOR BOYS Illustrated. Individual Colored Wrappers. Tales of old Western pioneer days and the California gold fields; tales of mystery, humor, adventure; thrilling stories of sports and aviation. There is a wide range of subjects in this list of titles—all by well-known authors of books for boys.
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers,NEW YORK FLYING STORIES FOR BOYS Illustrated. Every Volume Complete in Itself. Mr. Adams, the author of this flying series for boys is an experienced aviator and has had many thrilling adventures in the air—both as a member of the famous Lafayette Escadrille in the World War and in the United States Naval Aviation Service flying with the squadrons patrolling the Atlantic Coast. His stories reveal not only his ability to tell daring and exciting air episodes but also his first hand knowledge of modern aeroplanes and the marvelous technical improvements which have been made in the past few years. Andy Lane flies the latest and most highly developed machines in the field of aviation. Andy refuels his ship in the air and sets a new endurance record. In a giant flying boat Andy beats his enemy in a dash to the South Pole. In a series of thrilling flights Andy wins an air dash around the globe to win a $100,000 prize. Through foggy skies Andy Lane brings back the world’s greatest passenger carrying dirigible, blown away on the wings of a storm. Andy Lane pilots the giant passenger plane Apex No. 4 across the Atlantic in the face of almost overwhelming odds. Andy makes a forced landing in the South American jungle in the dead of night and has thrilling experiences with the natives. Andy Lane and his restless crew take off in a monster autogyro in search of pirate treasure. GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers,NEW YORK THE REX LEE FLYING STORIES Illustrated. Every Volume Complete in Itself. The author of this series of exciting flying stories is an experienced aviator. He says, “During my five years in the army I performed nearly every sort of flying duty—instructor, test pilot, bombing, photographing pilot, etc., in every variety of ship, from tiny scout planes to the gigantic three-motored Italian Caproni.” Not only has this author had many experiences as a flyer; a list of his activities while knocking around the country includes postal clerk, hobo, actor, writer, mutton chop salesman, preacher, roughneck in the oil fields, newspaper man, flyer, scenario writer in Hollywood and synthetic clown with the Sells Floto Circus. Having lived an active, daring life, and possessing a gift for good story telling, he is well qualified to write these adventures of a red-blooded dare-devil young American who became one of the country’s greatest flyers.
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers,NEW YORK THE WESTY MARTIN BOOKS Author of the “Tom Slade” and “Roy Blakeley” Books, Etc. Illustrated. Every Volume Complete in Itself. Westy Martin, known to every friend of Roy Blakeley, appears as the hero of these adventures. As a scout in Bridgeboro and Temple Camp he has learned the rudiments of scoutcraft. Now as an Eagle scout you can follow him along new trails and among new adventures. How he became the companion of an old trapper on a trip into the heart of the Rockies, how he followed an old Indian trail, how he explored the vast spaces of the old Sante Fe Trail, and later was plunged into the dramatic events of the Mississippi flood, is told in these stories teeming with action and thrills.
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers,NEW YORK BOOKS BY LEO EDWARDS Illustrated. Every Volume Complete in Itself. Hundreds of thousands of boys who laughed until their sides ached over the weird and wonderful adventures of Jerry Todd and his gang demanded that Leo Edwards, the author, give them more books with belt-bursting laughs and creepy shivers. So he took Poppy Ott, Jerry Todd’s bosom chum and created the Poppy Ott series. Now there are two more series, The Andy Blake and the Trigger Berg—and if such a thing is possible—they are even more full of fun and excitement than the Jerry Todds.
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers,NEW YORK THE PEE-WEE HARRIS BOOKS Author of “Tom Slade,” “Roy Blakeley,” “Westy Martin,” Etc. Illustrated. Every Volume Complete in Itself. All readers of the Tom Slade and the Roy Blakeley books are acquainted with Pee-wee Harris. These stories record the true facts concerning his size (what there is of it) and his heroism (such as it is), his voice, his clothes, his appetite, his friends, his enemies, his victims. Together with the thrilling narrative of how he foiled, baffled, circumvented and triumphed over everything and everybody (except where he failed) and how even when he failed he succeeded. The whole recorded in a series of screams and told with neither muffler nor cut-out.
GROSSET & DUNLAP,Publishers,NEW YORK Transcriber’s Notes: Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to follow the text that they illustrate, so the page number of the illustration may not match the page number in the Illustrations. Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected. Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. The Author’s em-dash style has been retained. |
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