It wasn’t until Wednesday of that week that Captain Emerson’s quasi-promise bore fruit. Then Coach Cade, consulting his note-book, announced “Lawrence and Grant, tackles.” Leonard wasn’t quite certain he had heard correctly, but Leo Falls, beside him on the bench, nudged him into action and he cast off his enveloping gray blanket and picked up a helmet.

“Substitutes take the north goal and kick off,” directed the coach. “All right, Appel! Hurry it up!”

Leonard trotted out with ten other youths and called to Appel, substitute quarter in charge: “Where do I go?” he asked.

“What are you playing?”

“Tackle.”

“Well, for the love of lemons, don’t you know your position at kick-off?” asked Appel impatiently. “Get in there between Squibbs and Gurley.”

As, however, Lawrence beat him to that location, Leonard disobeyed orders and sandwiched himself in at the left side of the line. Then Garrick kicked off and the scrimmage started. Truth compels me to say that Leonard did not cover himself with glory during the ten minute period allowed him. He tried hard enough, but there is a difference between playing guard and playing tackle, and Leonard was much too unfamiliar with the subtleties of a tackle’s duties to put up much of a game. Besides, he was faced by two veterans in the persons of Captain Emerson at end and Billy Wells at tackle on the first. Raleigh, who played guard beside him, gave him hurried cues more than once when the play was headed his way, but that didn’t always prevent him from being turned in by the truculent Wells while a first team back galloped past for a gain. On offense Leonard did better, but he couldn’t think of much to console himself with when the period was over. First had scored twice, once by a touchdown and once by a field-goal, and the subs had never got inside the other’s thirty. To add to Leonard’s discomfiture, he had plainly heard Appel inquire on one occasion, seemingly of the blue empyrean, and in pained tones, what he had done to be inflicted with a tackle who couldn’t stop a toy balloon! About the only thing that Leonard could think of to be thankful for was the fact that Carpenter had selected the right of the sub’s line for the attack that had brought the touchdown. It wasn’t much, but it was something!

With half a dozen others he was sent off to the showers after the first period, and so he couldn’t see that Cash, who took his place in the succeeding period, did scarcely any better. Since Cash, though a newcomer, was a professed tackle, Leonard might have been cheered a trifle by witnessing that youth’s performance. As it was, however, it remained for Slim to dispel the gloom to some slight extent. “Why, you poor prune,” scoffed Slim later on in Number 12, “you don’t need to get hipped about what happened to you. Why, say, if you think you played punk you ought to see some of ’em! Bless your dear soul, sonnie, you were head and shoulders above a lot that get in. I was rather too busy myself to watch how you were getting on very much, but as I didn’t hear Appel saying much to you I judge that you did fairly well.”

Leonard repeated the quarter’s remark about a tackle who couldn’t stop a toy balloon, but Slim only chuckled. “If that’s all ‘Bee’ said you must have done mighty well,” he answered. “That little hornet has a sting when he wants to use it, believe me, General! And if he’d been really out of patience with you he’d have been all over you!”

“Well, I can’t play tackle,” said Leonard sadly. “That’s one sure thing.”

“Oh, piffle! Snap out of it, General. To-morrow, or whenever you get another chance, you’ll do a heap better. Anyway, you were on the hard side there, with Billy and Rus against you. Those two tough guys could make any one look sick!”

“I don’t believe I’ll get another chance,” said Leonard.

“Sure, you will. I dare say Johnny’ll have you back there to-morrow. Just you forget about being on earth for the sole purpose of playing guard and watch how the tackles handle their jobs. Then you go in and bust things wide open. If Billy gets too gay with you and passes out compliments, tell him where to get off and poke your elbow in his face. Don’t let him think you’re soft and easy, whatever you do. But, if you’ll take my advice, you’ll play right tackle next time!”

“N-no,” said Leonard, “I guess I’ll stick where I was to-day—if I get another chance to.”

“You’ll get the chance,” predicted Slim. “And I don’t know but what you’re right, at that. You’ll learn a heap more and learn it quicker playing opposite Billy than you would against Butler.”

Disquieting rumors had reached Alton from Lorimer Academy. The Lorimer team was said to be unusually good this season, and since when only ordinarily good it gave Alton a hard battle, it was considered wise to make a few extra preparations for the next game. The result of this decision was to eliminate scrimmage on Thursday. Instead the first team and substitutes underwent a double dose of signal drill and learned two new plays. Perhaps the plays weren’t exactly new; few are any longer; but they were new to Alton, and Coach Cade devoutly hoped that they’d be new to Lorimer! Leonard, trailing his blanket around the sod in the wake of the team, was disappointed, for he had hoped to get another try-out to-day and had earnestly resolved to comport himself so much better than yesterday that Quarterback Appel would ask no more despairing questions of the heavens. But it was not to be. Instead, he was relegated to the rÔle of looker-on, he and some twenty others, and so wandered up and down the field behind the workers, supposedly imbibing wisdom as he went. Finally all were dismissed except a handful of kickers and sent back to the gymnasium and showers.

The first cut was announced the next morning, and that afternoon the second team came into being. Leonard was as surprised as relieved to find his name not among the seventeen on the list. He read it three times to make sure. Then he remembered that there would be other cuts coming, and felt less jubilant. There was a long and hard scrimmage that Friday afternoon, but he didn’t get into it. However, since the coach had his thoughts centered on the morrow’s contest that day, Leonard was not unduly chagrined. It wasn’t likely that any fellow who hadn’t a chance of being called on to face Lorimer would command Mr. Cade’s attention to-day. The new plays didn’t go any too well, and some of the older ones went little better. On the whole, there was a general air of dissatisfaction apparent about the field and, later, in the locker room of the gymnasium. Of course, as Slim remarked, walking back to hall with Leonard, beating Lorimer “wasn’t anything to get het up about, but, just the same and nevertheless and notwithstanding, it would sort of feel good to hand those lads a wallop!”

“I’ve got a hunch we’ll win,” said Leonard comfortably.

“You have, eh? Well, I’ve got a hunch that we’ll have to show more form than we did to-day if we do lick ’em,” answered Slim grimly. “No one had any punch this afternoon. I don’t blame Johnny for being sore.”

“Was he?” asked Leonard, surprised.

“Was he! I’ll say he was! Don’t you know the symptoms yet?”

Leonard shook his head apologetically. “I guess I don’t. He didn’t say much, did he?”

“No, he said mighty little. That’s his way. When he gets sore he shuts his mouth like a clam. Oh, of course, he talks up to a certain point, but after that—” Slim shook his head. “This afternoon he was so silent it was creepy! I wouldn’t be much surprised if there was a fine old shake-up about Monday. Well, we who are about to die salute you!”

Slim drew aside at the entrance to Haylow, his fingers at his forehead, and Leonard passed impressively by.

“I shall always remember you kindly, Slim,” he said.

Leonard had been watching the Lorimer game exactly four and one-half minutes the next afternoon when the conviction reached him that the Gray-and-Gold was in for some hard work. It was four and a half minutes after the start of the contest that the Lorimer Academy full-back shot through the left side of the Alton line and, shaking himself free from the secondary defense, plunged on for fourteen yards before he was finally dragged down, landing the pigskin on the home team’s thirty-five. Leonard’s conviction was accompanied by a premonition of defeat. There was something decidedly awe-inspiring in the smooth efficiency of the invading horde. They were big chaps; big in a rangy way, though, and not merely heavy with flesh; and they moved with speed and precision and a kind of joyous zest that promised trouble for those who should get in their way. According to the stories one heard, the Lorimer team was composed entirely of third and fourth year men, with five of the eleven first-choice players seniors. Leonard could well believe that, for none of the enemy appeared to be less than eighteen years old, while three or four were probably nearer twenty. Opposed to them was a team of much younger players, of whom only three were seniors. Greenwood and Smedley, oldest of all, were but nineteen. Captain Emerson was eighteen. The balance of the players ranged from eighteen down to, in the case of Menge, sixteen. Alton was, also, many pounds lighter, especially in the backfield. Coach Cade might have presented a heavier line-up than he had presented, however. With Newton at center in place of Garrick and Stimson at left guard in place of Smedley the line would have gained several pounds of weight. The backfield likewise might have been improved in the matter of avoirdupois by substituting Goodwin for the diminutive “Cricket” Menge. Reflecting on these things, Leonard, draped in his gray blanket, watched anxiously from the substitutes’ bench while Jake, the trainer, restored Kendall with a sopping sponge and, behind him, the Alton supporters cheered encouragingly. After all, Leonard told himself, this was only the beginning and Lorimer’s superiority might be more apparent than real. It took more than age and weight and bright yellow head-guards to win a football game!

Lorimer had won the toss and given the ball to Alton. Garrick had kicked off and his effort had scarcely reached the enemy’s twenty-yard line. From there it had been run back some five yards. Lorimer had tried the Alton center and made less than two. Then she had punted and the ball had gone out at Alton’s forty. Joe Greenwood had made three at the right of the visitor’s center, Kendall had lost a yard on a try at left end and Carpenter had punted to Lorimer’s twenty-eight. Then the enemy had thrown an unexpected forward-pass from regular formation on first down and made it good for twenty-three yards, Captain Emerson pulling down the receiver just over the center line. Then the visitor’s big full-back had torn through for that astounding gain, and now, with the game less than five minutes old, the enemy was almost inside the scoring zone.

Lorimer used a four-square backfield formation and a last-minute shift that was difficult for the opponent to follow. As the game went on she varied the direct pass by a snapback to the quarter, and a delayed pass following the latter proceeding accounted for several gains. Most of all, however, Lorimer had experienced players with weight and speed, which is a combination difficult to beat, and the game went badly for the Gray-and-Gold during that first half. Although a stand was made on the twenty-two-yard line that held the invaders for three downs and necessitated a try for a field-goal that failed, Alton’s moment of humiliation was only postponed. It came finally soon after the beginning of the second period. An exchange of punts had gained a slight advantage for Lorimer and the “Yellow-Tops,” as they were now being called in the stands, had twice made their distance, putting the ball down on Alton’s forty-one yards. Then came a play that fooled the home team badly. What had every appearance of being a plunge by left half through his own side, with the whole Lorimer backfield in it, proved a moment later to be the old hidden ball stunt, with the long-legged Lorimer quarter sneaking around the other end and no one paying any heed to him. The whole Alton team had been pulled to the right, and the runner had a clear field for several precious moments. When Carpenter tackled him he was only seventeen yards from the last line.

That misadventure seemed to place the defenders of the north goal in a condition of consternation from which they didn’t wholly recover until the enemy had pushed the ball across. It took them but seven plays to do it, concentrating on Smedley and Butler and using their battering full-back for four of the seven assaults. It was a sad sight to the Alton sympathizers on stands and bench, for the Gray-and-Gold warriors looked strangely helpless and their efforts to repel the attack only half-hearted. Yet, scarcely a minute later, those same warriors broke through the enemy line and spoiled the try-at-goal, a feat that had seemed impossible!

With the score at 6 to 0 the game went on to the whistle that ended the second period, Alton battling fiercely to reach the Lorimer goal and never getting nearer than the thirty-six yards. Lorimer appeared willing to cry quits for the balance of the half, kicking on second down and seeming satisfied to play on the defensive. It was a penalty against the visitor for holding that aided Alton in penetrating as far into the enemy territory as the thirty-six. There, with two to go on fourth down, Captain Emerson, faking a placement kick, threw over the line. Menge, however, who was to have taken the pass, failed to get into position and the ball grounded. The half ended there.

Leonard plodded back to the gymnasium with the others and sat around and felt very small and useless. There had been plenty of minor casualties, and Jake was busy all during the intermission. Coach Cade talked earnestly to this player and that and finally to them all. He didn’t say much. He told them, in effect, that they were playing a mighty good team and there was no disgrace attached to the touchdown that had been scored against them. He said that in the next half they would find it easier to stop Lorimer’s rushes, now that they knew her game better, and that he didn’t see why they shouldn’t be able to score a couple of times themselves. “Of course,” he added quietly, “you’ll have to play very differently from the way you’ve been playing, fellows. I’m willing to take my share of the blame, but there isn’t one of you with enough assurance to tell me that you played that half the way I’ve taught you to play! You tried out a system of your own. And it didn’t work. Now, then let’s try the other style of football, the sort you’ve been learning for the last two years. Watch the ball and not the players. You’ve been fooled so often you ought to have enough by now! And when you have the ball start sooner. Don’t let the other fellows stop you on your side of the line. And play hard, fellows, hard! Why, you haven’t any of you perspired yet! Come on out now and show those big guys what a lot of poor shrimps they are!”

Of course what ought to have happened then is this. Alton, inspired by the coach’s words, filled with a new courage and a greater determination, returned to the field and trampled the foe underfoot, showing a startling reversal of form and winning the game by an overwhelming score. Well, maybe, but it didn’t happen that way so any one could notice it. This is a truthful narrative, and facts are facts.

The line-up for the third period was the same as for the first with the exception of Stimson at left guard in place of the much-battered Smedley. There were plenty of other changes before the game came to an end, but they were not yet. Lorimer kicked off and Kendall caught and was downed after a twelve-yard run-back. Carpenter sent Greenwood at the line and Joe hit something hard and bounced back. Menge got three outside left tackle and Carpenter punted short to midfield. Lorimer made her distance and placed the pigskin on Alton’s forty-two. A delayed pass lost a yard. A plunge at left tackle was smeared by Stimson. Lorimer kicked to the ten yards and Carpenter ran back to his seventeen. Kendall got through on the right of the line for six yards. Kendall tried the same place again and was stopped. Carpenter ran wide around his left and gained two. Kendall punted and the Lorimer quarter was thrown in his tracks by Emerson. Lorimer started back from her twenty-four yards and found a soft place at Wells, making it first down on her thirty-seven. Another try at Wells was good for only a yard. Lorimer then threw forward, but the pass was knocked down by Staples. A second forward to the other side of the field grounded. Lorimer punted.

And so the game went. Alton was playing better and harder, but she couldn’t make much headway at that. Carpenter seemed unwilling to attempt variety in the plays he ordered, and Lorimer solved most of them before they started. Several penalties were meted out, both teams sharing about equally. The third period ended with the ball in Alton’s possession on her own forty-yard line. With ten minutes left to play, a victory for the home team was scarcely within the possibilities, while, on the other hand, it was very generally predicted that Lorimer would not be able to add to her holdings.

Five fresh players went in for Alton. Newton succeeded Garrick at center, Renneker gave way to Raleigh, Wells to Wilde, Carpenter to Appel and Kendall to Reilly. Leonard, who had expected to see the hard-fighting Goodwin replace young Menge at left half before this, was surprised to observe “Cricket” still in place when the whistle blew again. Appel proved an improvement over Carpenter right away. “Bee,” as Slim had once remarked, had a sting, and it wasn’t long before Lorimer experienced it. The new quarter appeared to possess no awe of the enemy. He banged “Red” Reilly into the line once and then called for a risky double-pass play that threw Menge around the enemy right end with almost a clear field ahead of him. The Lorimer right half nipped the play and stood the diminutive Cricket on his head after a seven-yard gain, but Alton cheered loudly and triumphantly and took heart. But the Alton advance ended four plays later when Reilly fumbled and a Lorimer back shot through and fell on the rolling ball. Lorimer worked to Alton’s thirty-one, was held for three downs and attempted a desperate placement kick that fell five yards short. Seven of the last ten minutes were gone when a short forward-pass straight over the middle of the line gave Emerson a chance to dodge his way for a dozen yards and put the pigskin down on the enemy’s thirty-four.

Carpenter had twice tried the new plays for no results, and now Appel had a go at one of them. The one he selected was a half-back run from close formation, the ball going to quarter and from him to one of three players running past him and turning in around a boxed end. The chief merit of it lay in the fact that the ball was well hidden and the play could be made fast. Much, naturally, depended on the work of the linemen in doing away with the enemy defense. The ball went to the second runner in the tandem, who might be either one of the backs. The first man’s duty was to clear away the enemy’s secondary defense long enough for the man with the ball to get clear of the line. After that it was mainly up to the latter to look after himself, although, theoretically at least, he was protected from behind.

Appel chose this play—Number 39 was its official title—with the ball on Lorimer’s thirty-four-yard line well over toward the west side of the field. Cricket Menge was second in line when the backs turned as the ball was snapped and ran past the quarter. The play was nearly spoiled by Slim’s inability to throw the opposing end in, but he did the next best thing and allowed him to go past on the outside. Reilly took the Lorimer right half and disposed of him neatly and Cricket piled around on his heels. Greenwood prevented a flank attack and then confusion reigned and for a moment no one could have said exactly what did happen. But when the moment—a brief one—had passed, there was Cricket running two yards ahead of the nearest pursuer and making straight for the goal. It was Appel who put the crowning touch on his work by spurting through the ruck and engaging the Lorimer quarter just in time. Menge, small and fleet, reached the goal-line an instant later almost unchallenged. And after that the Gray-and-Gold held firmly against the charge of a frantic opponent and Rus Emerson dropped the ball very neatly between the uprights and well over the bar, doing what Lorimer had failed to do on a like occasion and so winning a game that, viewing the matter without prejudice, belonged to the enemy!