CHAPTER XXIX.

HOW THE GAME BEGAN.

The game with Fairport was about to begin. Fardale had won the toss and taken the southern goal to defend. A fluctuating wind was blowing from the northeast, and the day was raw and cold.

The line-up of the teams was as follows:

FARDALE. POSITIONS. FAIRPORT. Burrows Right end Wade Stanton Right tackle Vance Kane Right guard Stratton Buckhart Center Taylor Cogswell Left guard Powers Blair Left tackle Holden Kent Left end Gilson Shannock Quarter-back Coleman Nunn Right half-back Marley Merriwell Left half-back Ringsdale Singleton Full-back Emerson

Cogswell, the captain of the scrub, was to be given a trial in the place of Gordan, who had not been entirely satisfactory as left guard in the last game, while Kane had replaced Douglass, being quicker than the former right guard. Kane was not new in the line, having been substituted for Douglass on a previous occasion; but these changes led some of the knowing ones to shake their heads and prophesy trouble.

Fairport turned out a stocky-looking set of fellows, most of them having light hair, which led their admiring friends to allude to them as "the Vikings." It was generally admitted that Fairport might give the home team the hottest game of the season, and Fairport was confident it could make a break in the wonderfully victorious career of the cadets.

The Fardale band was out and made things lively before the game. The band could play well for youngsters, and blue noses and stiff fingers did not seem to make any difference to-day.

Wrapped in furs and overcoats, the crowd shivered and watched from the stand, while another gathering lined up at one side of the field, beyond the ropes, to witness the game.

"Where is Hal?" asked Zona Desmond, who, of course, was on hand with Doris Templeton. "I thought they were going to give him a chance to play to-day. They’ve taken another fellow instead. Now, I don’t think that’s just fair, do you, Doris?"

"I don’t know," answered Doris. "Perhaps they think the other fellow better than Hal."

"I believe it’s just as Hal said—I believe they don’t mean to give him a chance."

"I don’t believe anything of the sort."

"Why, you said——"

"Never mind what I said, Zona; I am sure he’ll get a fair show. There—there he is with the substitutes."

"Sure enough; but not half the substitutes ever get a chance to play. It’s easy enough to keep a man a substitute and never let him get onto the field in a game. You said yourself——"

"Something I did not mean, perhaps."

"But you’re so queer, Doris!"

"Am I?"

"You are changeable. I don’t wonder that Hal doesn’t know what to think of you. Do you fancy you treat him just right?"

"I don’t know; I haven’t thought much about it."

"I have, and I’m sure you have not treated him right. You know he has a reason to expect a great deal from you."

"I do not know. I have never given him such a reason. I think he expects too much."

"Well, you are enough to worry any fellow and keep him guessing," laughed Zona.

"The game is about to begin," said Doris, eager to turn the subject. "Fairport kicks off."

The ball had been placed in the center of the field, and the two teams were spread out. Emerson was ready, and the whistle sounded. A moment later the full-back of the Vikings advanced and kicked. As the ball rose a strong wind took it and carried it far to one side, with the result that it was out of bounds when it was caught by a Fardale man. This made it necessary for another trial, and the oval was brought back to center.

Emerson did better next time, driving the ball to Fardale’s fifteen-yard line, where Nunn caught it. Steve did not try a kick, but ran at once, dodging a tackler, having another blocked off by Stanton, and reaching the thirty-five-yard line before being downed.

Fardale rose with a roar as Steve made this run. Fairport answered with another roar when the captain was downed.

The line-up was sharp and quick, and Fardale opened its assault by bucking Fairport’s center. Taylor was a big fellow, and, assisted by the backs, he stood like a house until the ball was downed without a gain.

"Fairport!" roared the visiting spectators. "Fairport! Fairport!"

"4—11—Y—93—44—4," called Shannock, as the lines formed, and every Fardale player knew an end-run was to be tried.

The ball was snapped quickly, and passed to Merriwell, who took it deftly, without the least sign of fumbling, and was off. Shannock and Nunn fell in as interferers, while the line did its best to withstand Fairport’s charge.

Shannock came out round the end a bit in advance of Merriwell, and Ringsdale, who was on hand, promptly tripped him in Dick’s path. Dick jumped as Shannock went down, but Holden had broken away from Stanton’s attempt to block him and was on hand, so that Merriwell was dragged to the ground with a gain of only two yards.

But now the umpire promptly came forward and gave Fardale ten yards on Ringsdale’s tripping of Shannock, which advanced the ball to the forty-five-yard line. Then Fardale roared again, thus expressing its satisfaction over the punishment meted out by the umpire to the offenders.

As may be imagined, Fairport was not at all pleased. Ringsdale had played the tripping trick thus far during the season without being punished for it before, and the visitors felt hurt and wronged because a just penalty had been imposed in this case. They started in to wrangle over it, but were choked off at once, and the game progressed.

Things were going Fardale’s way, and it looked brighter when five yards were made through Fairport’s right wing. Then, with the ball five yards from the center of the field, Fardale grew too eager, both Kane and Blair getting off-side on the next play.

The ball went to Fairport, which gave the visiting witnesses of the game another opportunity to cheer.

"That’s bad, fellows," said Steve Nunn, shaking his head. "We had them going. You must look out for that. We can’t afford to lose this game through breaks of that sort."

But it quickly began to seem as if there was danger of having this first break count against them heavily, for Fairport made full ten yards on the first plunge through the right wing of the home team. This was so encouraging to the Vikings that they repeated the play, only to find this time that the right wing stood firm, and the ball was stopped without a gain.

Then Fairport tried a trick play. Apparently Marley was sent to circle the left end, but he passed to Ringsdale, who darted in the opposite direction. Dick Merriwell took it for a double-pass, and laid for Ringsdale.

The left half-back of the enemy, however, made a clever pass to Emerson, although keeping right on. When Ringsdale came round the end Dick Merriwell discovered he did not have the ball.

As no runner followed Ringsdale, Dick whirled to look for the ball, discovering that Emerson had taken it through a big opening in the center and was dashing down a clear field, Singleton and Shannock having rushed to stop Marley.

Dick was disgusted, for once before during the season had the same trick been worked on Fardale, and the members of the team had talked it over till they felt certain that they were fully prepared for a repetition of it. Both Cogswell and Buckhart had been fooled by the clever passing of the enemy, and that explained why they had made the opening at center.

Dick was off after Emerson like a flash, but the full-back of the opposing team had obtained a big start. However, the watching crowd was electrified by seeing Dick Merriwell fairly flying in pursuit of the runner and swiftly closing the gap.

Two girls on the seats rose and screamed in excitement.

"He’ll catch him!" cried Zona. "I know he will!"

"He’ll catch him!" echoed Doris, waving her flag. "Oh, how he can run!"

Dick strained every nerve, for he saw the case was desperate. Emerson was a swift runner, and he drew nearer and nearer to the Fardale line.

The spectators were shrieking as Dick Merriwell shot forward through the air and tackled Emerson, dragging him to the ground. Then it seemed that half the players on the field, who had been trailing out after the runners, came and slammed themselves down on the two.

When the piled-up mass of humanity had untangled it was found that Emerson, although thrown inside the line, had managed to reach out with the ball and was holding it on the ground six inches beyond the line.

"A touch-down!" shouted the Fairport crowd in joy.

Dick Merriwell’s splendid run had not availed to stop this score.

Emerson was pretty well used up, but he revived when they told him he had made a touch-down.

The ball was brought out, and Wade was called back from the line to try for the goal. Wade waited till the wind lulled, and then, seizing a favorable occasion, drove the yellow egg twisting over the bar, while the Fairport crowd yelled with joy.

There was a brief breathing-spell, during which the water-bucket went round and the players took a drink and sopped a little over their faces, for they were perspiring, in spite of the cold wind.

Now it was Fardale’s turn to kick, and Big Bob booted the ball up against the strong gust of wind, driving it barely thirty yards from the center. Kent ran under the ball, and was on hand to down the fellow who caught it; but a fair catch was made, and Fairport retorted with a return kick that sent the ball almost twenty yards into Fardale’s territory.

With the uncertain wind against her, Fardale decided against kicking, and Captain Nunn, who had the ball, sprinted with it. Gilson did his best to pull Nunn down, but was blocked off by Shannock. Holden, however, was on hand, and he tackled Steve at the fifty-yard line.

Now, Steve had been awake to all that was going on, and he knew who was behind him. He saw he could not avoid being tackled. As he felt Holden touch him, just as he was being dragged down, the Fardale captain twisted about and passed the ball over his shoulder to Dick Merriwell.

Dick took the ball cleverly, and was off like a flash. Taylor made a grab for him, but he crouched and escaped by a sidelong movement. Ten yards he ran, and found Powers coming down on him. It seemed then that he gave up, and Powers flung himself forward for the tackle.

At that instant Dick made a sudden spring and shot out of the reach of Fairport’s right guard. On he went, twisting and turning. It was a run through a broken field, and no more exciting play may be witnessed on any gridiron.

Dick seemed cool enough, and it was plain his eyes did not fail to note every danger. His strategy was wonderful, and the Fardale witnesses roared and roared as he avoided tackler after tackler.

Stratton tried to get at the runner, but Brad Buckhart had fallen in for interference, and he balked Stratton’s attempt.

"Whoop!" he gasped. "Go it, Dick. Wild mustangs can’t catch you now, pard!"

But Emerson was laying for the runner, as young Merriwell saw. Having no interference, Dick knew he must depend on his own skill.

Could he deceive the triumphant full-back who had lately made a touch-down? He had been unable to stop Emerson from scoring, and a fierce desire not to be balked himself by the fellow seized upon him.

Emerson was crouching, ready to tackle him, no matter which way he turned. Dick did not hear the roaring of the spectators. He heard nothing then, for every particle of energy within him was concentrated on the task he hoped to accomplish.

As he approached Emerson, Dick bore to right. Yet in his manner the runner suggested that he meant to dodge the other way, and Emerson was prepared for the movement.

True enough, of a sudden, Dick seemed to make a dart to go past on the other hand. Emerson whirled to meet him.

Then, like a flash, and in a most amazing manner, the runner changed his course again, darting swiftly to the right.

Emerson was not steady on his feet when he turned and sprang to tackle Dick, but he knew no moment was to be lost if he would stop the runner. His uncertainty caused him to make a false spring, and he saw Dick go clear of his grasp.

Then, with the Fardale witnesses shrieking like a lot of wild Indians, Dick Merriwell continued down the field, having no tackler before him, and shot over the line for a touch-down.