The Mark of the Knife
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Teeny-bits went round to the rear and tried the kitchen windows till he found that one was unlocked. Cautiously he let himself in; he did not intend to waken father and mother Holbrook unless there was evidence that something had happened. The kitchen was warm, and the cat, which always slept in a chair beside the woodbox, jumped down softly to the floor and came over to rub her body against his leg. Teeny-bits reached down and stroked the cat's soft coat; somehow, the contented purring of the creature convinced him that nothing was wrong in the house. He unlaced his shoes and tiptoed upstairs; in the hall he paused to listen; the quietness of the house was broken only by a faint but regular breathing; it came from the bedroom where old Daniel Holbrook slept. So all was right, after all.
With a great feeling of relief, Teeny-bits groped his way along the hall to the rear and opened the door to his own room. Suddenly he felt very tired and it seemed to him that he could not get into bed quickly enough. He pulled off his clothes, raised one of the windows, and in a moment had settled down upon the comfortable mattress and had pulled the covers up to his chin. He said to himself that he would sleep a little while and early in the morning hurry up to the school. A pleasant feeling of relaxation stole over him, his thoughts merged into drowsy half-dreams and almost immediately he sank into a slumber deeper than any he had experienced for many days.
He slept on and on; morning light came softly in at the curtained windows; in the front of the house his father and mother rose and went downstairs, and after a time old Daniel Holbrook went leisurely to his duties at the station. Still Teeny-bits slept his deep sleep and only the cat knew that he was in the house.
Just after twelve o'clock Daniel Holbrook came home to dinner; he stopped in the back yard for an armful of wood and entering the kitchen, dropped it in the box beside the stove. The rumble penetrated to the rooms above, and Teeny-bits sat up abruptly in bed, wide awake in a flash. This was the day of the big game; it was morning; he must hurry up to the school; he began hunting in the closet for fresh clothes and pulling them on in desperate haste. He was two thirds dressed when his door was pushed slowly open and father and mother Holbrook peered cautiously in; the look that he surprised on their faces was so ludicrous that he laughed.
"Land sakes alive, Teeny-bits!" cried Ma Holbrook. "What a tremulo you gave me. How'd you get here? Your pa and I heard you movin' around and I thought sure it was burglars!"
Teeny-bits sat on the edge of the bed and laughed and laughed, – it seemed so good to see them both alive and well; and old Daniel Holbrook, holding the dangerous-looking stick of wood that he carried up from the kitchen to use in dealing with burglars, slapped his thigh and laughed harder than Teeny-bits.
"Don't tell me you've been here all night!" he said at last.
"I came in through the kitchen window after you were asleep and I didn't want to disturb you," said Teeny-bits. "I was looking for a good sleep before the big game."
"I guess you got it all right," said Daniel Holbrook.
"What time is it?" asked Teeny-bits.
The station agent hauled out his big silver watch, looked at it critically and announced: "Twenty-nine minutes past twelve."
"Past twelve!" repeated Teeny-bits. "It can't be."
Daniel Holbrook swung round the face of the watch and proved the correctness of his statement. "Kinder late for a boy to be gettin' up," he remarked with a chuckle.
Teeny-bits had made an instant resolve that this kindly couple who were father and mother to him should not be burdened with his troubles. He jumped to his feet and cried:
"The game starts in an hour and a half; I've got to hustle up there."
"Not until you've eaten," said Ma Holbrook, firmly. "Dinner's ready this minute."
Teeny-bits did a bit of swift mental calculation; the team was already at lunch; he could not reach the gymnasium in time to be with them; it would be better to eat here and join the squad at the field.
"I don't want much," he said. "Just a little and then I'll have to go."
"I'll hitch up Jed," said Daniel Holbrook, "and we'll all ride up together; your ma and I were intendin' to start pretty soon, anyway."
Thus it happened that Teeny-bits Holbrook rode up to the game behind the sorrel horse and arrived at the locker building fifteen minutes before the contest was scheduled to begin. While the sound of the preliminary cheering and singing rang in his ears he pulled on his football togs in frantic haste, dashed out of the building and ran along behind the stands until he came to the opening that led underneath to the field itself. He appeared at the players' shelter just as Coach Murray was about to shout out the order for Neil to bring the team in off the field.
Mr. Murray's features wore an expression that was sterner than any that had been seen on his face that fall. The Ridgley team had been experiencing a species of stage fright. It seemed that Neil Durant was the only one of the back-field who could hold the ball. Campbell and Stillson and Dean had fumbled again and again, and Campbell was the worst of the three. When the coach saw Teeny-bits he closed his mouth with a click and looked the left-half back through and through with eyes that blazed; he laid rough hands on the newcomer's shoulders and said in a voice that rasped:
"Do you want to play in this game?"
As Teeny-bits had come running from the locker building and heard the volume of cheering, the fear had grown larger and larger that he was too late – that the game had started, that he had lost his chance. He felt an overwhelming eagerness and he meant every word of his answer to Coach Murray's question.
"I think I'll die if you don't let me," he said, and his face wore such a look of earnestness and appeal that the coach's grim expression relaxed a little.
"Don't stop to explain why you 're late – I hope you have a good excuse – but run out there and tell Campbell to come in."
CHAPTER IX
THE GREAT GAME
Teeny-bits raced out on the field as if he had been shot from a cannon. The greeting that the team gave him was very different from the one that they had accorded him that day a few weeks before, when he had run out to take his place as a regular after the injury to White.
"Here's Teeny-bits!" some one yelled.
A chorus of shouts greeted the half-back, and Neil Durant came running to meet him halfway.
"I ought to murder you right now," said the captain, "but I'm so glad to see you I'll wait till after the game. Gee, I'm glad you've come."
By this time half a dozen of the team were slapping Teeny-bits on the back and he had slipped into his position behind the line. Campbell had needed no word to inform him that he was relieved of his duties at left-half; he had given Teeny-bits one startled glance and had headed for the side line. Dean called out the signals while the team ran through a series of plays. "Come on now; we're all here; let's go," cried Neil, and the team responded with a snap. The Ridgley cheering section had noticed the advent of Teeny-bits and a buzz of conversation went around, for his absence during the warming-up had been the subject of increasing comment.
Down at the other end of the field the Jefferson team was running through signals and trying punts and drop kicks. Simultaneously the teams ceased their practice and gathered at the two benches at opposite sides of the field. Neil Durant, Norris and the referee then met in mid-field and flipped a coin for choice of goals. There was little advantage, for almost no wind was stirring, but Norris, who won the toss, quickly chose the south goal and a moment later the two teams ran out and took their places. Ridgley was to kick off to Jefferson.
Neil Durant helped Ned Stillson set the ball on the mound of earth and Ned drew back a few yards. A hush had settled over stands and field; down in the shadow of the south goal posts stood Norris, bending slightly forward, eager to get the ball in his arms; in front of him were his team-mates spread out to cover their half of the field. Just beyond the center was the line of Ridgley players. Suddenly these eleven players moved, the referee's whistle cut the hush, the ball went sailing down the field and shouts arose from every quarter of the stands. The moment had at last arrived; the big game was on.
Teeny-bits felt keen and fit; his long sleep had completely refreshed him. As he raced down the field one thought was in his mind: to get into the play and tackle whatever Jefferson man caught the ball. Ned Stillson had made a clever kick-off; the leather oval flew to the right of Norris and settled into the arms of one of his team-mates, who had dashed forward only ten yards when Neil Durant met him with a clean, hard tackle and brought him solidly to earth. Even such a small incident as that evoked a howl of delight from the Ridgley stands, for such was the reputation of Jefferson that there were those who fearfully expected to see the wearer of the purple dash through the whole Ridgley team and score a touchdown at the first effort. The cheer leader ordered the short Ridgley yell for the team and the stand responded with a hoarse roar. There was scarcely a son of Ridgley gazing down on the field but whose teeth were gritted together, whose breath was coming fast, and whose voice as he shouted encouragement to the team was like the voice of a man hurling defiance to a mortal enemy.
As the two teams lined up for the first scrimmage, Teeny-bits got his first close view of Norris. The famed full-back of the purple was of about Neil Durant's height, of an impressively powerful build, but not so heavy as to appear sluggish. He looked the Ridgley team over with steady, appraising eyes; his face was keen and determined, – the very look of him indicated that he was on the field for business.
The Jefferson quarter was snapping out the signals; his voice cut the medley of shouts that echoed back and forth across the field like the shrill voice of a dog barking in a tempest. Suddenly the ball moved and the first scrimmage was on. The Jefferson right half-back had the ball and the play was aimed at center; big Tom Curwood, however, was equal to the occasion; he stopped the play before the purple-clad son of Jefferson had covered a yard beyond the Ridgley line.
A second wild howl of delight went up from the Ridgley stands; those two small incidents, the quick downing of the runner after the kick-off and the stiff stand of the Ridgley line on this first play from regular formation, had brought a sudden feeling of confidence. Down there on that white-lined field the wearers of the red had begun to show that they could hold their own. But the next play – an end run by the left-half, who made seven yards and advanced the purple within two yards of first down – brought a thunderous roar from the other side of the field.
The Jefferson captain now stepped back into kicking position. The ball was snapped as if for a punt, but Norris, instead of kicking, started around the Ridgley right end. Neil Durant went over swiftly, but one of the Jefferson backs formed perfect interference and the big wearer of the purple, evading the Ridgley end and the captain went through into an open space, – and almost before the Jefferson stands had begun to shout encouragement to him had covered twenty yards.
It was Teeny-bits running diagonally across the field who finally made the tackle. To the Ridgley left-half a strange feeling had come as he saw Norris break away; it had seemed to him, for a brief instant, that anything he could do would be of no use whatever. In the next moment he found himself almost upon Norris and before he had time to think he had made a tackle that turned the despairing groans of the Ridgley supporters into a yell of relief. The great Jefferson full-back had been stopped dead by the smallest man on the field. Norris got to his feet and looked at Teeny-bits with the same expression of interest that had appeared on the faces of the Ridgley regulars weeks before when Teeny-bits had made his first appearance with the scrub.
"Some tackle!" he exclaimed, and grinned, as much as to say: "Well, well, that's pretty good for a little fellow."
In the scheme of plays as outlined before the game by Coach Murray, Ridgley when on the defensive was always to keep an eye open for Norris. Neil Durant had been told off to watch the Jefferson captain; it was his duty to shift his position always in accordance with any shift that Norris made. Of course the Ridgley ends – and every member of the team for that matter – had been drilled to be "in" on every play; upon Neil, however, had been placed the responsibility of seeing that the purple leader did not escape into an open field. But if Ridgley was watching Norris, Jefferson was watching Durant, and Neil found himself, as the game went on, more and more the target of Jefferson players who were quick to realize that Durant had been given the responsibility for stopping their captain. When Norris carried the ball, Neil, coming in swiftly to intercept him, time and again found his way blocked by a Jefferson player who flung himself across his path.
After the twenty-yard run by the Jefferson captain there was a succession of line plunges which gained first down for the purple; then came another end run by Norris which brought the ball beyond the middle of the field. Here the Ridgley team made a stand that the newspaper reporters later described as a "stone-wall defense"; after three tries Jefferson had succeeded in advancing the ball only five yards. Whipple, of the purple team, then sent a long spiral punt down the field; the leather oval flew over the head of Dean, rolled across the goal line and was brought out twenty yards to be put in play by the Ridgley team.
For the first time Ridgley had an opportunity to carry the ball, and the cheer leader, who had been gyrating frantically in front of the stands where the red color was waving, called for a cheer with three "Teams" on the end.
Dean gave the signal for Ned Stillson to carry the ball. Ned responded by dashing into a hole that big Tom Curwood made for him at center and, to the unmeasured delight of every son of Ridgley, advanced seven yards before he was brought to earth. On the next play Neil Durant slid around right end for a first down and it was now the turn of the red to wave aloft its colors. The Ridgley quarter-back then gave the signal 7, 16, 11, which indicated a double-pass play. The ball came back to Stillson who, after starting toward the right end, passed to Neil Durant who was going at a terrific pace in the opposite direction. Teeny-bits' duty was to form interference for his captain and he suddenly found himself "Indianizing" the captain of the Jefferson team. It was perfect interference and although Teeny-bits felt somewhat as if he had come in contact with a charging locomotive he experienced a thrill of utter joy as he felt the big Jefferson captain come down upon him and saw Neil Durant break through. The Ridgley captain used his straight arm on one Jefferson player, dodged another, and crossed line after line with two wearers of the purple fiercely pressing him. No Ridgley player was within reach to form interference, however, and after one of the Jefferson men had made a desperate attempt to tackle and had rolled on the ground, the other coming up swiftly brought Neil down on the thirty-yard line.
Every one on the west side of the field was standing up, and here and there hats – not always those which belonged on young heads – were being thrown into the air. More than one gray-haired man was yelling like a red Indian on the war path. A feeling of confidence that the victory would rest with Ridgley swept from one end of the stands to the other. Friends and strangers were making happy remarks to each other to the effect that this would be a glorious day for the school on the hill.
The triumphant feeling was short-lived, however, for on the next play the Jefferson left end came in swiftly and downed Ned Stillson, who was carrying the ball, for a loss of three yards.
A forward pass, Dean to Durant, gained five yards, but the next play met with a stiff defense and Neil Durant determined that the time had come to attempt a drop kick. He fell back a few yards, looked for a smooth spot upon which to drop the ball and a second later delivered the kick. The Jefferson ends had come in so fast, however, that Neil was forced to send the ball away hurriedly, and the leather flew wide of the goal posts.
While the ball was being brought out to the twenty-yard line, Norris gathered his players around him for a few seconds. What he said apparently had an immediate effect, for when the play continued, Jefferson seemed to be filled with a new spirit. From the twenty-yard line the eleven invaders advanced down the middle of the field, mostly by line rushes. At that point they tried a forward pass, and the ball, when it came to a stop, rested on the Ridgley thirty-five-yard line.
Teeny-bits was breathing hard; he had thrown himself into each play with every ounce of strength and determination at his command and more than once had helped retard the advance of the purple. Neil Durant, too, had been strong in defense, but the Jefferson team could not be denied. From the thirty-five-yard line the purple started a play which brought gloom to the Ridgley stands. Norris ran with the ball round right end, somehow succeeded in evading the Ridgley primary defense, dodged both Durant and Teeny-bits and before the horrified eyes of the members of Ridgley School dashed madly down the field, over the goal line and round until he had placed the ball squarely behind the goal posts. On the black scoreboard a white figure 6 appeared after the name of the visiting school and a few moments later it was replaced by a 7.
Jefferson kicked off to Ridgley and the game was on more fiercely than ever, for Neil Durant's team meant to lose no time in winning back the superiority which had seemed to be theirs in the opening moments of the quarter, and the Jefferson players, for their part, meant to amplify their advantage until it assumed the proportions of the triumph, upon the attainment of which they had set their hearts.
All other games – their long succession of victories – were forgotten; the result they achieved against their ancient rival would overshadow everything else.
Ridgley was forced to kick after gaining one first down, by means of a forward pass, and the ball, once more possessed by Jefferson, was soon making an advance which influenced some one with a raucous voice in the purple stands to yell out in a lull of the cheering:
"It's all over, boys. Bring the undertaker!"
It did appear that Ridgley was in for a sorry time. Norris was living up to his reputation and seemed, in spite of the valiant efforts of every Ridgley player, to have luck always on his side. Once Stillson and Durant collided as they were about to tackle the Jefferson captain and the result was a twenty-yard gain which placed the ball again within the shadow of the Ridgley goal posts. Straight line plunges in which all of the Jefferson backs shared brought the ball to the Ridgley five-yard line for first down. Here the team that represented the school on the hill made a stand for three downs, but on the fourth attempt Norris, unexpectedly trying the end when a line plunge was anticipated, gained across the Ridgley goal line and brought the score to 13.
"Make it a lucky number," Teeny-bits heard the Jefferson captain say to Whipple who was preparing to kick the goal.
The Jefferson player followed the instructions of his captain to the letter, – and the man at the Scoreboard put up the number 14.
Certain weak spirits in the Ridgley stands now looked at each other with faces which showed plainly that hope had fled from them, that they now knew that the Jefferson menace which had been built up week after week by rumor and also by fact, as represented in scores, was real, – that the purple team was invincible, that Ridgley had met the irresistible force and could not by any alchemy of spirit turn defeat into victory.
Old football players, veterans of school and college struggles, looked down admiringly on the finely-polished team-work of the Jefferson eleven and said to themselves that this was good football judged by any standard.
A few minutes after the kick-off following the second score of the Jefferson team, the quarter came to an end and the teams exchanged goals. In the short rest period Neil Durant gathered his players about him and said a few things that every member of the eleven long remembered.
"Is there any one here," he asked, "who hasn't more fight in him than he has shown yet?"
No answer.
"We've just begun this game and we haven't had our chance to show them what we can do when we carry the ball. We're going to hold them first and then we're going to show them something they've never learned."
They were commonplace words, but they came from the bottom of Neil Durant's heart and were delivered in such a manner that every member of the team gained fresh confidence and put back out of the realm of his thoughts the growing fear of defeat.
The ball was in Jefferson's possession at the middle of the field. On the very next play the purple left-half fumbled, and Neil Durant swooped down on the bouncing ball like a hawk on a sparrow.
The error seemed to "rattle" the Jefferson team. Dean called for an end run by Neil Durant and the captain responded by dashing forward for a fifteen-yard gain. Stillson then added five, and Teeny-bits, who was called upon to carry the ball for the first time, wriggled and dodged through the Jefferson team to the fifteen-yard line before he was stopped. In an attempt to surprise the enemy, Dean called upon Teeny-bits again, but this time the half-back was stopped almost before he was under way. Stillson, who carried the ball next, did better and reached the ten-yard line. Neil Durant then made a line plunge through an opening that the reliable Tom Curwood created and planted the oval five yards from the goal line for a first down. Jefferson made a strong stand, but in four tries the Ridgley team advanced the ball until it rested a few inches over that last white line, the crossing of which spelled a score.
The old-timers in the stands now settled into comfortable positions and said to each other: "This is a game!"
Neil Durant's trusty toe sent the ball between the uprights and the game stood 14 to 7. Through the rest of the second quarter the red team and the purple team combated each other on equal terms. Neither seemed able to break the defense of the other and when the whistle sounded for the close of the first half they were fighting on equal terms in the center of the field.
While the stands were singing their songs and exchanging cheers between the halves the two teams rested in the locker building and listened to what their respective coaches had to say.
Coach Murray made his remarks short and to the point. He was entirely satisfied with the way the team had been playing; he knew that they could win. He warned them to watch Norris on every play and at the same time to beware of the Jefferson half-backs, who had proved their ability to carry the ball. He once more repeated one of the first things that belonged to his football creed: to watch the ball all of the time and to be ready, as Neil had been in the case of the Jefferson fumble, to take advantage of any "break." He also remarked on Dean's good judgment in running the team and said that he was glad the quarter-back had not attempted the trick play which the team had practiced during the last three weeks.
"The time will arrive for that in this second half," he said. "Be ready when it comes."
So deeply was Teeny-bits absorbed in the game that he had failed to notice that Campbell was not with the team until Curwood called attention to the fact that the substitute half-back was not in the locker building.
"I guess he's sore," some one remarked. "He thought he was going to play until Teeny-bits showed up."
All those events that had taken place during the past week seemed to Teeny-bits more like dreams than realities; the one thing that filled his mind now was the game and the conviction that Ridgley, in spite of the score against her, could and would win. He had thrilled to Neil Durant's and Coach Murray's words and could hardly wait for the second half to begin.