The High School Freshmen Part 26

"Yes," nodded Coach Morton. "It would only worry our boys now, and they've got enough on their minds as it is."

Again Cobber took the offensive. At the next down a man had to be sent from the field, and a subst.i.tute sent out. But the casualty went to Cobber, not to the High School team. That fact gave the major part of the audience grim satisfaction.

"There they go, now!" muttered Dave Darrin, in disgust. "Nothing is going to stop the big fellows!"

"They're getting nearer our goal line," d.i.c.k admitted. "But a game is never won until it's finished. Cobber, as yet, hasn't even gotten the touchdown!"

A minute later Cobber _had_. To the Gridley onlookers it sent a shock of dismay. The college men certainly had scored.

"It's Cobber's beef, not science," d.i.c.k stoutly a.s.serted. "Our fellows play with more speed and real skill. _Say_---look at that!"

For Bentley, of the college eleven, had just missed the kick from field.

Five points for the visitors! The teams swiftly changed ends and lined up. The whistle's call sent them off to the fray, for there were but three minutes left of the first half.

Cobber won the kick but didn't carry it far. Gridley got down as far as the enemy's twenty-yard line. Then the smaller High School boys were fairly pushed back into their own territory, losing twelve yards of their own side of the field.

Trill-ll! The first half was over.

"Sam, can you do better? Do you want to go back on the job?"

asked Ben Badger.

"No," replied the Gridley captain. "It's been tough on us, but you've done everything that I could have done. I'm satisfied, and I believe the coach is."

"We'll ask him," proposed Badger.

Morton was hurrying toward his boys. The coach's face was impa.s.sive.

For all his looks showed he might have been congratulating himself on a winning.

"No; there's no need to change captains," decided the coach.

"It's like changing a horse in mid-stream. I don't see, Badger, that you're lost any tricks that Edgeworth could have made.

"What's our weak point?" asked Ben.

"There isn't much of a weak point, anywhere, as far as your play goes," Mr. Morton responded. "In many respects your play has been better than Cobber's. Weight is your poor point."

Nevertheless the coach made several suggestions in the time that was allowed him.

"Whenever you get a proper chance, Captain, and have the ball, open up the play as much as you can. Don't give Cobber a chance to b.u.mp you any when it can be avoided."

In the meantime the Cobber fans, as was their right, were hurling the most abusive cheers and taunts. d.i.c.k, as cheer-master, allowed this to pa.s.s until nearly the end of the intermission. At last he gave the sudden call through the megaphone:

"Twenty-three!"

The number sounded ominous; so did the cheer that was designated by it. The Gridley H.S. boys on the grand stand responded hardly more than half-heartedly:

_"Com-pan-nee served first!

That's our steady rule!

Manners the best are taught In Gridley school!

"But he who waits laughs best!

'Tis but a distance short 'Twixt laugh and weep--- Your joy'll be short!"_

"H.S. cheer!" exhorted Prescott, at once.

It came, with a more thundering volley. Yet Gridley folks stirred uneasily.

"That's what comes of putting a freshman, without judgment, on the calling job," muttered Fred Ripley sarcastically.

The whistle blew. Cobber got the ball, and kept it moving. Once there was a brief setback when Gridley got the pigskin and sought to push it back. After four yards, however, Cobber took it and moved down the field with it.

It seemed impossible to offer effective resistance to the heavy college men now.

Gridley hearts sank from sheer weight. Gridley had met more than its match!

CHAPTER XVI

THE FAKE KICK, TWO WAYS

It was almost a touchdown for Cobber when Ben Badger rallied his men enough to fight the college men back some twenty-odd yards.

But then the tide turned once more, and Cobber began to fight its way back to the High School goal line.

The spectators had given up hope, all save those who sat in the Cobber seats.

This was to be the first defeat of the season, and the whipping was to come from worthy foemen. Yet are home folks ever satisfied to see their own youngsters beaten?

Defeat was now conceded, however. Even Coach Morton, though his face did not betray him, had given up all hope.

d.i.c.k, however, kept calling for the cheers and yells. The student body did their best, but their spirits were low.

Once Morton turned and frowned, but Freshman Prescott did not see him. The coach feared that this jubilant racket would get on the nerves of the Gridley battlers.

"How many minutes will it take Cobber to cross our line?" murmured Dave in d.i.c.k's ear.

"They won't do it before next year," Prescott staunchly retorted.

Just then Cobber lost fifteen yards on penalty, and Gridley H.S.

had the ball at the moment when it was sadly needed.

"Band, four bars of 'Hot Time in the Old Town!'" yelled Prescott through the big megaphone.

The leader's baton fell like a flash. The band itself sharing in the excitement fairly ripped the air out in gallop time.

As Ben Badger heard he straightened up for a moment, shaking his long locks in the wind. A smile crossed his face. Then he bent over the ball for the pa.s.s.