CHAPTER XII

THE FIRST GAME

The three chums looked at each other. Phil felt of Sid's curiously stiffened hand.

"I don't see how it could be the liniment," he said. "I've used it right along. It's the same thing doc gave me. You must have hurt your hand worse than you thought."

"I guess I did," admitted Sid. So skilfully had Gerhart carried out his dastardly plot that even his unusual visit to the room of the trio attached no suspicion to him. The breaking of the bottle of liniment destroyed one link in the chain against him, and it would be difficult to trace anything to Gerhart now.

Dr. Marshall looked grave when he saw Sid's hand.

"That is very unusual," he said. "It must have been something you put on it. The muscles and tendons have been stiffened. There is a drug which will do that, but it is comparatively rare. It is sometimes used, in connection with other things, to keep down swelling, but never to soften a strain. Are you sure you used only the liniment I left for Clinton?"

"That's all," declared Tom.

"Let me see the bottle," said the physician, as he twirled his glasses by their cord and looked puzzled.

"We can't; it's all gone," explained Phil, and he told of the accident.

"Humph! Very strange," mused Dr. Marshall. "I'm afraid you'll not be able to use your hand for a month, Henderson. You have every indication of having used the peculiar drug I speak of, yet you say you did not, and I don't see how you could have, unless it got in the liniment by mistake. And that it did not is proved by the fact that Clinton used the same liniment without any ill effects. Only that Parsons used a rag to rub with, his hand would be out of commission, too. It is very strange. I wish there was some of the liquid left. I will see the druggist who put it up. Possibly he can explain it."

"Well, I'm glad I didn't put any on my shoulder," said Phil. "It would have been all up with me and football, then."

"It certainly would," admitted Dr. Marshall. "Let me look at your dislocation."

"When can I get into the game again?" asked Phil anxiously, after the inspection.

"Humph! Well, I think by the middle of the week. It is getting along better than I expected. Yes, if you pad it well you may go into light practice to-morrow, and play in a game the end of the week."

"Good!" cried Phil. "Then's when we tackle Fairview Institute for the first game of the season!"

The next day a notice was posted on the bulletin board in the gymnasium, stating that the 'varsity eleven would line up against the scrub that afternoon in secret practice. Then followed a list of names of those selected to play on the first team. It was as follows:

_Left-end_ TOM PARSONS _Left-tackle_ ED KERR _Left-guard_ BOB MOLLOY _Center_ SAM LOOPER _Right-guard_ PETE BACKUS _Right-tackle_ BILLY HOUSENLAGER _Right-end_ JOE JACKSON _Quarter-back_ PHIL CLINTON _Right half-back_ DAN WOODHOUSE _Left half-back_ JERRY JACKSON _Full-back_ HOLLY CROSS

"Hurrah, Tom! You're at left-end!" cried Phil, who, with his chum, was reading the bulletin.

"I'm glad of it. Are you all right for practice?"

"Sure. Come on; let's get into our togs."

On the outer fringe of football players stood Langridge and Gerhart. There was surprise on their faces at the sight of Phil getting ready to play.

"Something went wrong," whispered Langridge to his crony. "Your scheme didn't work."

"I see it didn't," admitted Gerhart with a scowl. "I wonder where the slip was?"

But when he heard of the peculiar ailment from which Sid Henderson suffered, Gerhart knew.

"I lost that chance," he said to Langridge, "but I may see another to get square with Clinton, and, when I do, I'll not fail. It's too late, maybe, for me to get in the game now, but I'll put him out of it, and don't you forget it!"

Phil was a little stiff in practice, but he soon warmed up, and the 'varsity eleven played the scrub "all over the field."

"That's what I like to see," complimented the coach. "Now, boys, play that way against Fairview on Saturday, and you'll open the season with a victory. I want you to win. Then we'll have a better chance for the championship. The schedule is different from the baseball one, you know. We don't play so many games with Boxer Hall and Fairview as we did in the spring, consequently each one counts more. Now I'm going to give you some individual instruction."

Which the coach did very thoroughly, getting at the weak spots in each man's playing, and commenting wisely on it, at the same time showing him how he ought to play his position. There was practice in passing the ball, falling on it, kicking and tackling.

"We want to do considerable work in the forward pass and the on-side kick this season," the coach went on. "I think you are doing very well. Parsons, don't forget to put all the speed you can into your runs, when getting down on kicks.

"You Jersey twins don't want to be watching each other so. I know you are fond of one another, but try to forget that you are brothers, and be more lively in the game."

Jerry and Joe Jackson joined in the laugh that followed.

"As for you, Snail Looper," continued Coach Lighton, giving the center the name he had earned from his habit of prowling about nights and moving at slow speed, "you are doing fairly well, but be a little quicker. Try to forget that you're a relative of the _Helix Mollusca_. You backs, get into plays on the jump, and take advantage of the momentum. That's the way to smash through the line. Now then, we'll try signals again. Clinton, keep a cool head. Nothing is worse than getting your signals mixed, and you fellows, if you don't understand exactly what the play is, call for the signal to be repeated. That will save costly fumbles. Now line up again."

They went through the remainder of the practice with a snap and vim that did the heart of the coach and the captain good. The scrub team was pretty well worn out when a halt was called.

"Do you think you will beat Fairview?" asked Ford Fenton of Tom a little later, when the left-end and Phil were on their way to supper, after a refreshing shower bath.

"I hope so, Ford. But you never can tell. Football is pretty much a gamble."

"Yes, I suppose so. But my uncle says----"

"Say, are you going to keep that up this term?" demanded Phil wearily. "If you are, I'm going to apply to the courts for an injunction against you and your uncle."

"Well," continued Fenton with an injured air, "he was football coach here for some time, and my uncle says----"

"There he goes again!" cried Tom. "Step on him, Phil!"

But Ford, with a reproachful look, turned aside.

"I don't see why there's such a prejudice against my uncle," he murmured to himself. But there wasn't. It was against the manner in which the nephew ceaselessly harped on what his relative said, though Ford was never allowed to tell what it was.

The Randall eleven was fairly on edge when they indulged in light practice Saturday morning, preparatory to leaving for Fairview, where the first game of the season was to take place.

"Feel fit, Tom?" asked Sid, who had to carry his left hand in a sling. Dr. Marshall had been unable to learn anything from the druggist that put up the liniment, and the cause for the queer stiffness remained undiscovered.

"As fit as a fiddle," replied the lad. "How about you, Phil?"

"I'm all to the Swiss cheese, as the poet had it. Is it about time to start?"

"Nearly. We're going in a special trolley. Does your shoulder pain you any?"

"Not a bit."

"I suppose--er--that is--er--your sister will be at the game?" ventured Tom.

"Of course. She's as daffy about it as I am. If she had been a boy she'd have played. Miss Tyler will be there, of course?" Phil questioned in turn.

"I don't know--I suppose so," answered Tom. "Oh, of course. She and your sister will probably go together."

"Yes, they're great chums. I wonder why I didn't get a letter from dad to-day? He promised to write every night. I ought to have received one. I'd like to know how my mother is."

"Well, no news is good news," quoted Tom. "Let's start. I get nervous when I have to sit around."

There was a large crowd on the grandstand at the Fairview gridiron when the Randall team arrived. The seats were rapidly filling up, and when, a little later, the visiting eleven trotted out for practice, they were received with a burst of cheers.

"What's the matter with Randall?" demanded Bean Perkins, who had been christened "Shouter" from the foghorn quality of his tones. He generally led the college cheering and singing. Back came the usual reply that nothing whatever ailed Randall.

"There's a good bunch out," observed Tom to Phil as they passed the ball back and forth. "Look at the girls! My, what a lot of them!"

"And all pretty, too," added Phil. "At least, I know one who is."

"Who?"

"Miss Tyler."

"I know another," spoke the left-end.

"Who's that?"

"Your sister. She's prettier than the photograph."

"You'd better tell her so."

"I did."

"Whew! It doesn't take you long to get down to business. But come on. They're going to line up for practice," and the two ran over to join their teammates.

What a mass of color the grandstands and bleachers presented! Mingled with the youths and men were girls and women in bright dresses, waving brighter-hued flags. There were pretty girls with long horns, tied with streamers of one college or the other. There were more pretty girls with long canes, from which flew ribbons of yellow and maroon--Randall's colors. There were grave men who wore tiny footballs on their coat lapels, a knot of ribbon denoting with which college they sided.

Massed in one stand were the cheering students of Randall, bent on making themselves heard above the songs and yells of their rivals. Nor were the girls of Fairview at all backward in giving vent to their enthusiasm. They had songs and yells of their own, and, under the leadership of Madge Tyler, were making themselves heard.

Tom, in catching a long kick, ran close to the stand where the Fairview girls were massed. Madge was down in front, getting ready to lead them in a song.

"Hello!" cried Tom to her, as he booted the pigskin back to Ed Kerr.

"Sorry I can't cheer for you this time!" called Madge brightly.

"Well, I'm sorry we will have to push the Fairview boys off the field," retorted Tom.

"Oh, are you going to do that?" asked a girl behind Madge, and Tom, who had been vainly looking for her, saw Ruth Clinton.

"Sorry, but we have to," he replied. "Aren't you ashamed to cheer against your own brother?"

"Oh, I guess Phil is able to look after himself," said Ruth. "Is his shoulder all right, Mr. Parsons?"

"Doing nicely."

Just then the referee's whistle blew to summon the players from practice.

"I'll see you after the game," called Tom, and as he glanced from Ruth to Madge, he saw the latter regarding him rather curiously from her brown eyes. With a queer feeling about the region where he imagined his heart to be, he ran across the field.

"Remember--fast, snappy play!" was the last advice from Coach Lighton. "You're going to win, boys. Don't forget that!"

From the stand where the Randall supporters were gathered came that enthusing song--the song they always sang at a big game--"_Aut vincere aut mori_"--"Either we conquer or we die!"

"Keep cool and smash through 'em," spoke Captain Cross to his players, as the referee and other officials took their places.

It was Fairview's kick-off, and a moment later the ball came sailing through the air. Holly Cross caught it, and, well protected by interference, began to rush it back. But the Fairview players, by amazing good play, managed to get through, and Holly was downed after a run back of twenty yards.

"Now, boys, all together!" called Phil, as he eagerly got into place behind big Snail Looper, who was bending over the ball. Then the quarter-back rattled off a string of signals for Jerry Jackson, the left half-back, to take the ball through the opposing left tackle and end.

Back came the ball, accurately snapped by the center. Jerry Jackson was on the alert and took it from Phil as he passed him on the run. Kindlings Woodhouse smashed in to make a hole for his brother back, who closely followed. Captain Cross, on the jump, took care of the opposing left-end, and with a crash that was heard on the grandstand, one of the Jersey twins hit the line. The game was fairly begun.