Trumbull High put the skids under Newton Academy in the next to the last game of the season but in so doing the eleven lost the services of its star fullback, Jimmy Blackwell, who suffered a badly sprained ankle. There was gloom in Trumbull that night. Chances were that Blackwell had played his last game for the school and chances were that Trumbull would be no match for Canton High with Blackwell out of the lineup.

Coach Little had no player on the string of first substitutes who could begin to fill Blackwell's shoes. He moved Rudolph, second team fullback, up to Blackwell's position after some consideration. Rudolph was short but stockily built—a good little man. The boy would need a great deal of grooming but he seemed the only one available. In looking about for someone to fill the vacancy on the second team left by Rudolph's advancement, Coach Little thought of Billings. Why not? There was a slight possibility … one never could tell….

When Judd was notified that he was to take the fullback position on the second team he was totally unnerved by the shock. He couldn't sleep for dreaming of what would probably happen to him in scrimmage. The players would all be laying for him. They thought him a physical coward and they would show no mercy. He had done nothing to command their respect. Now that his opportunity had come to redeem himself, he didn't want it. But when school was over the next afternoon, Judd found himself in the dressing room preparing for that which he feared the most.

Just outside, Burton, second team quarterback, was talking to some of his players. "Say, fellows, I just heard the Coach put Judd in at full. Some joke, huh? Watch me. I'll give him the ball every time I get a chance. We'll run him ragged. When he gets through scrimmage today he'll wish he'd never seen a football." The players laughed and sided in with Burton.

Judd finished tying his shoe and stood up, shakily. He had heard what was said. He dreaded to go out on the field. He was the last one to leave the dressing room. No one paid any attention to him. Oh, if he could just crawl off some where—some place where everyone would Let him alone and where no harm could befall him! The shrill blast of the whistle caused him to run toward the field. The teams were lining up….

The kickoff came straight for Judd. He caught the ball and started off, dazedly. He ran five, ten, fifteen yards. Then two tacklers struck him at once before he had time to dodge. He went down with a thud. He was dragged to his feet and pushed into position. Burton began calling signals. He glanced meaningly at Judd. It was his number! Judd was slow in taking the ball. He was thrown for a two yard loss. He heard Burton bawling him out and telling him to "get in there and play, you big dub!" The ball went to Judd again. He followed his interference around the end for a bare yard. He was not putting any drive into his playing.

On the fourth down Burton motioned Judd back and signified that he was to kick. The ball was on the second team's twenty-seven yard line. Judd nervously scraped a level place for him in the sod. The ball snapped back to him. He saw the lines break as his foot swung up to meet the ball. There was an impact as the punt got under way. The next instant Judd landed on his back as Fenstermaker, first team guard, bumped roughly into him.

Coach Little, on the sidelines, whistled his surprise. The punt carried forty-five yards! Rudolph, who caught it, was downed in his tracks. Burton came running up to Judd, in sudden elation, and patted him on the back. "That's the stuff, Judd, old boy. Some punt!" This compliment stimulated Judd and gave him more confidence. He began to forget himself.

Scrimmage that night ended in a hard-earned victory for the first team, 7 to 0. The second team had put up a stubborn defense and Billings' toe had kept the regulars from rolling up the score. Billings had not shown to advantage in carrying the ball. He had fumbled on several occasions and he could not hit the line. But great governor, how he could kick!

Coach Little recognized in Billings the best kicker in the school. He was up against it for material in the fullback position. Rudolph did not excel in kicking. He was a good line plunger and fairly fast around the ends. Blackwell had been a triple threat player. There was a remote possibility that Blackwell might be able to get in part of the Canton High game. If Billings were not afraid of himself and had had more experience! The coach had an idea. He called the second team quarterback to him.

"Burton, I want you to take Billings aside and train him in all the second team plays. Give him the first team signals and plays too. Teach Billings what you can."

Burton did not question Coach Little. He had learned to obey orders. And besides, Burton had to admit—secretly—that his estimation of Billings had been raised. He had called upon Judd to carry the ball at least half of the time. Each time Judd had responded. True, he made no startling gains, his greatest being six yards—but Burton had been expecting an exhibition somewhat similar if not worse than Billings' first sorry showing. Tonight, however, Judd kept coming. The fault, as Burton saw it, was that he stopped for a moment just as he was about to hit the line; he slowed up as he went to circle the ends; he did not take the ball soon enough. But when Burton thought of the farmer boy's kicks, a glint of admiration came into his eyes. Why, even Blackwell could do no better. And Blackwell was about the best football player since the great Bob!

"Billings, the coach wants me to give you the dope on the signals and plays," Burton said to Judd, as they left the dressing room for the street. It was Judd's turn to be surprised. He felt miserable. Every second in scrimmage had been agony. He had played like one in defense of one's life and had used what to him was the utmost caution. He could not help stopping just before hitting the line; he could not keep from slowing up as he circled the ends; it took him just an instant to make himself take the ball each time his signal was called. And when it came to kicking, his only thought had been to get the ball as far away from him as possible. He loathed physical contact. No one had spoken to him outside of Burton. Judd imagined that they all were conscious of his showing the white feather. The first team men seemed especially hostile. They had received a tongue-lashing from the coach for their inability to run the score up. Of course he could not know that they were a bit resentful at him for having thwarted their scoring attempts by his unusual kicking.

Judd made arrangements with Burton to meet him and go over the signals. As they parted, Burton asked him, "Say, why don't you get out to the field early? You don't have a last hour class. And practice kicking … practice drop kicking and place kicking. You've got a good toe. It might be that…"

A warm feeling passed through Judd. He was grateful for the interest shown in him. It helped to have someone believe that he could do something. Judd hesitated.

"… I don't have a class the last hour either. I could go out with you…."

Judd tried not to let Burton see how pleased he was at this offer.
"Why … why, thanks, awfully!" he said, "I'd like to do it."

The game with Canton High was only one week away. Word came from Canton that their team was expected to win by a margin of twenty points. Canton was claiming the state championship. Trumbull High could not make such claims, not having played as stiff a schedule as the rival school. But both Canton and Trumbull had gone through the season undefeated. And Trumbull followers would be glad to make claims if their team could conquer Canton. Sport writers picked Canton to win easily, with Trumbull's lineup weakened by the loss of Blackwell. Even if Blackwell could get into the game it was dubious if he would be able to do much. That sprained left ankle would not be any too strong. The game was to be played at Trumbull. Great preparations were started to take care of a monstrous crowd.

Three days before the game, Coach Little came on the field early and saw an interesting spectacle. Burton and Billings were on the gridiron. Billings was standing on the thirty-five yard line, facing the south goal posts. Ten yards in front of him knelt Burton with his hands on the ball. Billings motioned. Burton passed the ball between his legs. Billings caught it deftly and plied his toe to it as the ball struck the ground. The oval raised in a swift, short arch and sped over and between the uprights. Coach Little stood still in astonishment. The boys did not see him. Burton ran after the bounding ball. He returned. The process was repeated, Billings moving back to the forty yard line. Coach Little hastened out on the field.

"Here, what are you boys doing?"

Burton and Billings looked toward the coach in surprise.

"Practicing, sir." It was Burton who spoke.

The coach looked at Billings, who stood embarrassed and with his toe kicking at some uneven rises in the ground.

"Judd, if you could run with the ball as well as you can kick, you'd be of value to the team."

Burton wanted to tell the coach that he thought Billings was getting better. Billings had made a twenty yard run last night. And he had not seemed so afraid of getting hurt.

"I think Judd is …" started Burton, but thought better of it. The coach was no fool. He was probably aware of Billings' improvement.

Judd knew that he was getting better control of himself. Each little victory that he won, no matter how much anxiety it had caused, seemed to lessen the effort he had to put forth the next time. And Judd had escaped even the slightest injury. Football was not as rough as it looked and a fellow didn't get hurt every time he fell down. On top of this he was beginning to develop a fighting blood. He could sense himself creating an objective and then feel a desire to reach that objective. If it was the fourth down and they needed three to go, Judd tried to make the three yards with some to spare. He could see himself making it and before he got a chance to wonder whether anything would happen to himself or not, he was in motion. Sometimes he reached the objective and sometimes not, but it wasn't many minutes before he found himself facing a new situation that had to be settled. And so it went, until the scrimmage was over, Judd not sensing any fear until the actual moment of contact when he was greatly disturbed until he found that nothing had happened to him.

To Judd, football was a variety of hot and cold sensations. The moment he could absolutely overcome his apprehension he knew that he would be able to hit the line hard, that he would be able to run the ends and that he would take the ball when his signal was called with the proper snap and drive.

"Billings, I am moving you up to the first squad tonight," said the coach, deciding. "This will be our last scrimmage before the big game. We may have need for your toe."

Burton could not conceal his joy. He had taken a liking to Judd … a peculiar friendship had sprung up between them … his contempt for the great Bob's brother was gone.

Hopes of Trumbull followers were heightened when Jimmy Blackwell put in his appearance for practice and limped through signals with the team, his ankle heavily bandaged and supported. Blackwell got away several kicks but they carried little better than thirty yards. He did not take any chances in scrimmage.

The first team lined up for scrimmage with Rudolph in the fullback position. Blackwell, wrapping himself in a blanket, came over to sit down beside Billings.

"Well, Judd, I hear you've been placed on the first squad," said
Blackwell. There was the trace of chumminess in his voice.

Judd nodded his head, not knowing what to say.

"Looks like we'll need you, too. I understand you've developed into quite a kicker." Blackwell was trying to draw him out.

"Oh, I don't know…" said Judd, hesitatingly.

Blackwell lowered his voice.

"Say … I've never told this to anyone and I wouldn't want you to repeat it. This is my last year in high school … same as it is yours. It's my third year on the football team. When I first started in I was so afraid of myself that I'd worry myself sick over things that never happened. I could never quite figure you out until that time when I tackled you. I know what it means to stick it out the way you have. But you'll come out on top if you hang on. Nothing bothers me any more…"

Judd could hardly believe his ears. Could it be possible that a player like Blackwell had experienced the same feelings? Judd thrilled with the thought. It was good news to hear that another person had overcome something similar to that which he was struggling to conquer.

"How … how long did it take you to … to get the best of it?" Judd asked, interestedly.

"I still have to fight it … at times…" replied Blackwell, gazing down at his bandaged ankle. "But the old feeling doesn't stay with me long. I soon get the upper hand … The reason I'm speaking about this to you is partly a selfish one. It's been my ambition to see Canton High defeated. For two years I've played on the losing team. This year we counted on turning the trick … until I was injured. Between you and me, Rudolph can't make the grade. He is fast but too small. We'll be outweighed at least ten pounds to the man. Rudolph will play for all there is in him but there isn't enough. If I get in I won't last long. You saw me out there … kicking. It's about all I can do to put the weight of my body on this left foot, to say nothing of booting the ball at the same time … I don't know whether the coach will give you a chance unless it's to make a kick. But if you could get a grip on yourself and let loose once … say, I'M not even trying to guess what might happen!"

Judd sat, his blood pounding in his veins, thinking of what Blackwell had told him. He was vaguely conscious of the sound of signals being called, of cries of spectators, of the dull tread of running feet. Out on the field the loyal sons of Trumbull High were doing their utmost to get in tip top shape for the biggest battle of the season.

A sudden yell went up as Burton recovered a first team fumble and started on his way toward the goal with a clear field ahead of him. Rudolph was in pursuit.

It looked like a touchdown for the second team. But Rudolph was slowly gaining. The goal was only fifteen yards away … now ten … now five. Rudolph left his feet and his arms encircled the flying Burton. They came to earth two yards from the last line. The elated second team lined up for first down.

Blackwell nudged Billings. "There's a situation that might develop in the game with Canton," he said. "Imagine that the second team is Canton. If we hold 'em for downs I'll bet the coach calls you in to kick."

Judd bit his lips and watched. Three times the second team backfield dove into the first team line. But the first team was holding madly now. On the last down the ball was but a foot from the goal line. Fenstermaker, big guard, broke through the defense and dropped Burton for a one yard loss. The ball went over.

A halt was called in the game. Coach Little had motioned to Rudolph. Blackwell pushed Billings to his feet. "Get in there! The coach is calling you. What did I tell you? … Come on … let's see a real punt!"

Judd pulled off his sweater and ran out on the field. He knew this was to be one of his big tests. If he made good the coach might see fit to use him in the big game. But more than that—he must make good for Blackwell … and then there was Bob … and yes, even his mother! The scrimmage to the other players meant little more than a final strenuous seasoning … to Judd it meant a fight against unseen odds.

Barley, first team quarterback, picked out a spot about five yards behind the goal line for Judd to stand. Barley was the personification of pep. He ran along the line, slapping his players on the back and exhorting them to hold. He came back to Billings.

"All right … show your stuff! Kick that ball out of sight!"

Judd reached out his hands. He had a surge of fear. What if the line didn't hold? What if the pass was poor? But the next minute the ball was coming back to him. The line wavered and the pass was low. By the time he got in position to kick the players were almost upon him. He put every ounce of strength into the boot.

Forty yards down the field the ball went twisting and turning. It struck the ground and rolled to the second team's twenty yard line where a second team player fell on it. The first team was out of danger. Cheers came to Judd's ears from the few on the sidelines. He had come through under fire.

Coach Little approached Blackwell. "I believe we have unearthed a kicker who can take your place in an emergency," he said, exultantly. Blackwell was enthusiastic. "Believe? … Why, Mister Little, that fellow's on the way to being the best kicker Trumbull High's ever had!"

The first time that Judd was called upon to run with the ball he was tackled and thrown heavily. His wind was knocked out of him. The Coach and Blackwell looked at each other apprehensively. What effect would this have on Billings? They watched his fellow players lift him up and down while Judd gasped for air. Presently he sat up, then was shoved to his feet. His face was ghastly. Barley asked him if he was all right. Judd wasn't sure. Barley asked him if he wanted to leave the game. The other players looked on, some a bit contemptuously. Was Billings going to lay down again? Judd shook his head and stumbled back into his position.

When he was next called upon to take the ball he did not follow his interference and tried to evade his tacklers, being thrown for a five yard loss. Barley reprimanded him severely. Judd was almost paralyzed with fear. He kept saying to himself, "No, I will not quit … I will not quit."

Coach Little and Blackwell looked at each other again. Disappointment was written on their faces. Billings lacked the fighting spirit … he could not stand hard knocks … it would never do to trust him with carrying the ball. The Coach likened him to a young high school lad he had known who showed promise of becoming a great baseball player. The boy could catch every ball that he could get his hands on but he was afraid to stand up to the plate … he couldn't get out of the habit of stepping back … he was fearful of getting hit … and the result was that he lost out all around. Billings was the same way … only in football.

Judd left the field that night crestfallen. Inwardly he had wanted to play the game … to get up and play harder than ever … but for some inexplainable reason he could not make himself. It seemed that he was panic stricken. His outer feelings ran away with his inner judgment. The school needed him badly but he could not qualify.

There was a letter from Bob awaiting him when he got home. He took it to his room to read it. Bob spoke of the coming game with Canton. Then there were a few lines of kindly encouragement and advice. "I've heard from several sources about your work this fall, Judd, and it certainly has given me cause for rejoicing to learn that you have stuck with the ship regardless of what's happened. I believe it has done you lots of good. I wish I could get home to see the game with Canton but I can't figure how to manage it. We have a game Saturday and even though you play your game on Friday it would be next to impossible for me to get away. Cheer up, you're bound to get your chance one of these days. Don't forget your contract. Hang on! You've done fine so far! The football season will soon be over. And with Blackwell on the injured list there's a bare possibility you may get into the big game. Say, wouldn't that be great?"

Judd put the letter from him with a shudder. Yes, wouldn't it be great! If scrimmage was hard, what would a real game be with rivalry at high pitch and each team contesting for every inch of ground? Judd wondered how other people could feel the way they did about things. Just now it seemed to him that the opportunity to play in the big game would be about the worst calamity that could befall him. The way to live up to the contract was not to think of self but to think of the contract. It was just like thinking of the objective and going toward it without stopping to consider what might happen. The only trouble was—Judd forgot what he was going out after when the least thing jolted him. He began to think of himself again and other things faded into insignificance.