Bert went to the training table with the more important members of the squad on Wednesday, and, contrary to expectation, Mr. McFadden, Second Team coach, gathered his charges together on Friday and started to whip them into shape. While Bert had not actually feared being released to the Scrub, he nevertheless experienced some relief when Mr. McFadden began operations without him. The removal of the Scrub players from the big squad made quite a difference about the First Team gridiron and practice on Friday seemed more methodical. Bert had a long try-out at half-back during the scrimmage and managed to show speed and clean handling of the ball. But the plays used against the first-string fellows were not of the sort calculated to advantage a light back, no matter how fast, and Bert had small success when carrying the ball. Fitz Savell, who played inside half, did much better, and after work was over Bert tried in vain to believe that he had made an impression on Coach Cade.

Saturday Banning High School came and presented a light but snappy opposition. In the first half the ball was seldom far out of Alton territory, for Banning had developed a clever passing game last season, by which she had scored twice on the Gray-and-Gold, and hadn’t forgotten how to use it this fall. She had, too, a punter who managed to get some five yards more than Nip Storer, who did the kicking in the first half, and as a result of punts and passes Alton was placed on the defensive early and kept there most of the time. Banning failed to score, however, although a difference of a few inches would have converted a failure into a field-goal in the second period.

When the last half began Coach Cade used his second-string players extensively; Kruger and Thomas and Wick at the left of center, Tifton in Captain Lowe’s place, Lovell at quarter, Savell and Keys in the half-back positions. Since the first-string men hadn’t been able to more than hold the enemy in the first half, there were those among the audience who censured the coach’s move. But Johnny had his own notions, and he seldom bothered about what the School thought of his methods. Here was an enemy strong enough to offer real opposition and yet of slight importance as a rival. Usually the early season opponents were unable to provide more than good practice for Alton; were, of course, selected for that reason. But Banning, partly because of having held over some seven or eight of last fall’s players, was well advanced, while Alton, for some reason not so easily determined, was fully a week behind normal development, and what had been looked on as an easy contest had assumed the aspects of a real struggle.

Coach Cade might have worked his best players through three periods and made victory more probable, but he chose to risk defeat in order to give the substitutes a taste of real battle. Since all the first-choice men had played through to the whistle in the first half, they could not be counted on for later aid, and Johnny must needs place full dependence on his lesser heroes. When the third period started he still had Patten at center, Haines at right tackle, Chick Burton at right end, Ted Ball at quarter and Galvin at full-back, all members of the Old Guard, but one by one they retired until by the time the second half was five minutes along second- and third-string players held all the positions. Since Banning was still using or could call on every man who had begun the battle, the odds looked heavily in her favor. But the Alton substitutes were old hands at the game and were not to be dismayed by a high school team, especially a team against which several of them had played last year and defeated, and Bus Lovell, who had taken Ted Ball’s place, set about his task with fire and enthusiasm. After Banning had kicked off and Larry Keys had run the ball back nearly twelve yards, Bus began sending Couch back to punting position and running his plays from that formation. Savell and Keys made good gains outside the tackles and twice Couch tore off fair yardage on wide runs. He was a heavy chap and hard to stop, and usually added two or three strides to his progress after he was tackled. Alton reached the middle of the field without yielding the ball, crossing the center-line finally on a forward pass from Couch to Dutch Kruger that was good for nine yards.

The stand cheered incessantly, wrought to quite a pitch of excitement, and demanded a score. But Keys fumbled a pass and Banning fell on the ball on her forty-seven and the tide of battle flowed the other way until Alton was back on her twenty-eight. There she twice stopped Banning’s punches at the line and knocked down a forward-pass. Banning sent her place-kicker back to the thirty-nine yards and, with what breeze there was blowing straight from behind her, looked suddenly dangerous. However, one fumble leads to another, and the ball was never kicked. Whether the fault was the Banning center’s or the quarter-back’s is immaterial. The pigskin struck the ground before the holder could get his hands on it. After that it was juggled just long enough for Gus Thomas to upset his opponent and arrive on the scene. Thereupon the quarter-back did the sensible thing. He laid himself flat and snuggled the ball to him fondly.

Thirty seconds later Lovell caught a punt on his five-yard line and the Gray-and-Gold started once more toward the distant goal.

If there was one man who stood out above the others in the ensuing march it was Larry Keys, playing right half-back. Only once did he fail to gain when the ball was given to him. He had weight and speed and a nice discrimination in the matter of choosing his outlets. On a play from kick formation in which two backs faked an attack on the right of the line and Larry went outside tackle on the left, with right tackle swinging out and going ahead as interference, he twice made advances of more than ten yards and netted shorter distances until Banning solved the play and stopped it. However, once inside the visitor’s forty yards, Alton’s advance slowed and staggered, and when two slams at the wings had failed and a forward-pass had grounded, Couch punted from the forty-six.

By that time the fourth quarter was well along and Alton had the light wind behind her. The Banning quarter misjudged the kick, touched the ball without catching it and chased it back toward the goal-line, closely pursued by Dutch Kruger. Pigskin, quarter-back and Dutch arrived simultaneously at the last streak of lime, and when the whistle had blown Alton had scored two points on a safety. The Gray-and-Gold cohorts cheered and the game paused while the Banning captain made an impassioned plea for a touchback. In the end he was persuaded that the official’s verdict was just and the battle waged again. That incident, however, while it gave Alton a score, resulted disastrously in the end. Banning, it seemed, needed but that filip of hard-luck to start her going with a new impetus. Three fresh players were hurried in and Banning bounded away from her thirty-yard line like a runner from his mark. She used one or two new plays that puzzled the adversary until the middle of the field was reached. There a long forward-pass, almost successful, led Alton to playing her backs deeper. Banning switched promptly to short passes and gained her distance on two such, making Alton’s thirty-eight yards. Another overhead attempt grounded and Banning tried the left end and got four on a wide run. Inside the thirty-five-yard line she tried a sweep to the left which, while it centered the ball, lost about a yard. On fourth down she staged a placement kick but didn’t carry it out. Full-back took the pass and went through inside Hank Howard for all but a foot of the required distance. After the gain had been measured Alton was awarded the pigskin.

With something less than two minutes left, the stand breathed loudly with relief and Coach Cade hustled an assortment of substitutes on. Among these was an entire new backfield: Riding as quarter, Tyron and Parkhurst as halfs and Franklin as full. Obeying instructions, Riding shot Tyron at the Banning left tackle on first down and got two yards. A second attempt, however, yielded nothing, and Riding dropped back to his sixteen yards to punt. Thus far Alton’s line had held against all assaults of the enemy during like operations, but this time Banning had her eyes on that goal that loomed so close and put everything into a desperate charge that tore a gaping hole in the right of the Alton line. Riding received a pass that was a bit too low, straightened, turned the ball and started his swing. After that there was much confusion, a confusion of seething forms about a loose ball, for Riding had kicked the pigskin squarely into the body of a charging enemy!

When the whistle blew a Banning player, the undermost of a pile of several, had the ball, and a bare two inches of its scarred surface overlapped Alton’s five-yard line. In the stand some four hundred youths stood and frenziedly implored their warriors to “Hold, Alton!” But Banning had tasted blood, had liked it and wanted more. Two new linemen were sent galloping on, and then, with less than sixty seconds of playing time remaining, Banning High School took revenge for several years of drubbing at the hands of Alton Academy. It required the full four downs to put that ball over, but over it went finally, while the timekeeper’s watch ticked off the last few seconds, over on a last frenzied surge at the very center of the Gray-and-Gold line from the two yards, with the back who carried the pigskin hurtling his way to victory over the shoulders of the defenders. Little cared Banning that she missed the try-for-point. She had won, 6 to 2. That was glory enough!

The School was disappointed and showed the fact. The applause that almost invariably greeted the players as they sought their table in dining hall was lacking this Saturday evening; or was so faint it merely emphasized the absence of the customary demonstration. The game caused a good deal of discussion, and the consensus of opinion was to the effect that the defeat had been unnecessary and that Coach Cade had, in the popular phraseology, pulled a boner. Of course there were those who stood up for Johnny, and among them was Tommy Parish. As always, Tommy’s views met opposition, and, as always, that fact merely spurred him to more brazen assertions. Tommy had the misfortune—for so it was considered at Alton—to sit at a table accommodating not only a number of fellow students but a member of the Faculty, one Mr. Peghorn, who instructed the Junior and Senior classes in physics. However, it must be said that Tommy allowed “Peg’s” presence to “cramp his style” very little, while—and this is a secret between us—Mr. Peghorn, who had taught boys for so long that his enthusiasm was fast wearing thin, seldom lifted his head from above his plate save when Tommy was going well. Then he occasionally darted a frowning glance toward that youth that might have silenced another but that left Tommy untroubled. Perhaps Tommy somehow knew that under that frown, or behind it, Mr. Peghorn was secretly sympathetic. When one has listened to conventional and uninspired table-talk for many years even a jarring note is a relief.

“Trouble with you guys,” declared Tommy in that aggravating, assured manner of his, “is that you can’t see beyond the end of your noses. You get sore because Coach doesn’t win a game that he doesn’t care two cents about.”

“A game’s a game,” said the freckle-faced boy across the table.

“And a slice of beef’s a slice of beef,” retorted Tommy, “but I noticed you were mighty careful not to pick out a little one just now!”

“Just the same,” said another fellow above the chuckles rewarding Tommy’s sally, “it doesn’t look very well, Tommy, to play two games, as we’ve done, and not win either of them. I say it wouldn’t have hurt Johnny to have kept his best men in and put the game on ice. Then he could have tried out his subs if there was time.”

“Put the game on ice!” exclaimed Tommy. “Comment? Those dumb-bells couldn’t put anything on ice, Harry. They’re so dead on their feet you could put lilies in their hands without waking ’em! Why, the only chance Johnny had of winning to-day was to put in his third-string players. If he had played his second-string all through he might have tied, but it would have taken the third-string bunch to win!”

“Oh, don’t talk like a baked apple,” protested some one farther along. “Do you mean to say that Banning could have pushed across for that touchdown if the regulars had been in the line-up? If you do you’re cuckoo!”

“Tres bien, cher ivorie solide. What happened in the first half when those mighty heroes held forth? They pushed Banning all over the field, non? And scored at will, did they not? Listen, you big boob; if the first-string guys had played through the game the score would have been something like twenty-five to a goose-egg. We wouldn’t have had even those miserable deux points!”

This heresy brought forth, a groan of derision. “Tommy, you’re a nut!” proclaimed Harry. “You just like to hear yourself talk. I suppose Lovell is a better quarter-back than Ted Ball and Tifton is a better guard than Jonas Lowe! You’re all wet, son!”

“Well,” answered Tommy judicially, “Jonah Slow may still have a slight edge on Tif, but Tif’s coming along pretty fast. As for Ted Ball, he’s the best quarter we’ve had in three years, but you’ve got to have more than a quarter-back to make a football team. Even without Ball the backfield that played in the last half was far better than the first combination. Look at Savell! There’s a clever lad for you. If he isn’t on the ‘big time’ before I’m much older I’ll eat my hat.”

“I don’t believe you’ve got one,” said Harry. “Savell was all right, but Storer’s a heap better. Say, if the second and third bunch are so much better, why doesn’t Johnny scrap the first and put them in?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did eventually,” answered Tommy, helping himself to half of a neighbor’s biscuit. “After to-day’s game he’s probably thinking of it more than ever. Of course he’s likely to keep three or four of the first-string crowd. They aren’t all rotten. Ted Ball and Billy Haines and Joe Tate and, of course, Captain Jonas, would probably stick. Maybe another.”

“You’re a crazy coot, Tommy!”

“Mille remerciements. I may be crazy, but I’m not foolish. You fellows don’t know a thing about football, and I do. That’s why you find my remarks incomprehensible.”

“Where’d you get your football knowledge?” jeered one of his audience. “Taking tickets?”

“That’s all right, you piece of cheese rind,” replied Tommy sweetly. “Perhaps between the lot of you you can tell me who the lad is that’ll be doing most of the scoring for us by the end of the season. Perhaps you can, and then encore perhaps you can’t!”

“Nip Storer.”

“Jim Galvin.”

“He doesn’t have to be on the first line-up just now,” said Tommy.

“He means Fitz Savell,” suggested one.

Tommy shook his head sadly. “I didn’t think you could,” he murmured.

“Well, who is he?” demanded Harry, with a wink for the table at large. “Any one we’ve ever heard of?”

“I can’t say whether you’ve heard of him, Harry. His name’s Hollins.”

“Hollins! You mean Bert Hollins?”

“Absolument.”

“Why, that fellow hasn’t—isn’t—”

“I never said he was,” answered Tommy, pushing back his chair and rising superbly for one of his build. “I said he was going to be. Now don’t chew the rag about it, pie-face, for it’s something you know nothing of. Just remember what I’ve told you and wait for developments. Bon soir, vous pauvre noix!”