CHAPTER XXX.

DARRELL CALLED TO PLAY.

Not more than twenty yards did Dick have to run after passing Emerson. As he put the ball down behind Fairport’s line he became aware for the first time that the great crowd was roaring. His eyes saw the red and black fluttering everywhere. Then he heard the organized cheering-squad burst forth with Fardale’s "Rigger-boom! zigger-boom!" ending with his name.

"Merriwell!" they shrieked. "Merriwell! Merriwell!"

Captain Nunn came tearing up and flung his arms round Dick.

"Merriwell, you’re a dandy!" he shouted, in supreme delight. "That was the greatest run I ever saw!"

"That’s what it was!" agreed Brad Buckhart. "Just threw his head back like a wild mustang, shook out his mane, and tore up the turf with his hoofs. Whoop!"

The ball was brought out. Dick was chosen to kick, while Steve held it. Dick took the wind into consideration, and kicked with care. As the ball rose, however, a sudden gust caught it and carried it to one side.

"A miss!" gasped the Fardale crowd.

"A miss!" shouted the Fairport spectators.

"It’s all over!" shouted a loud-voiced cadet.

The wind had not veered it quite enough to carry it past the part of the post that rose above the bar at one side. It barely brushed that post, but went over on the right side, and the score was tied.

Fairport was angry enough over the success of Merriwell in making such a remarkable run through a broken field.

Hal Darrell had withdrawn a little by himself, where he was watching the play. At this moment he heard a voice behind him saying:

"Don’t make a show of yourself, Darrell. Are you silly enough to think Merriwell will give you a show as a sub? Then you ought to go ’way back and sit down!"

Hal whirled as if struck. Somehow, Jabez Lynch had penetrated within the ropes and joined the substitutes near the side-line. Hal was white with anger.

"Don’t speak to me!" he panted. "You cowardly dog! You’re a disgrace to the academy! You hired those thugs to do me up, like the whelp you are!"

"It’s a lie!" returned Lynch. "That’s one of Merriwell’s stories, and my word is as good as his. Why didn’t he produce the thugs? Why didn’t he bring them forward as evidence against me? He couldn’t do it, though he made a bluff at it. If you were attacked at all, it was done by somebody who wanted to rob you; but I’m not inclined to believe you were attacked."

"Go on! Get away from here!" grated Hal. "You’re a coward, or you’d been on hand to fight me, as you agreed."

"I’ve explained why I failed to get there, and——"

"Lied! You might have been there, but you did not come. You are branded as a coward for failing. The best thing you can do, Lynch, is to leave Fardale. You haven’t a friend here, and you’ll be kicked out before the end of this term if you get your just dues."

Then Hal disdainfully turned his back on Jabez.

Lynch seemed tempted to leap on Darrell, but little Ted Smart had been watching, and he quickly said:

"That’s right, respected sir—show your nobility of character by slugging him in the back of the head! It will be a very genteel thing to do."

"Bah!" snapped Lynch, turning away.

By this time the ball was again on the spot, and Fairport was ready to kick. Emerson was vicious, and he lifted the oval with a force that sent it clean to Fardale’s ten-yard line. Nunn took the ball on the run, and carried it back fifteen yards before he was tackled by Holden.

Then began the fiercest struggle of the game thus far, for Fairport went in for blood. Dick made an attempt to go round the left end of the enemy, but Burrows was bowled over by Gilson, and the end of the line did not hold the charge of the enemy.

Burrows was in bad shape when they lifted him up, but he would not retire. In the very next scrimmage, however, he went down and out, being limp as a rag.

As Burrows was aided off the field, Frank Merriwell spoke to Hal Darrell.

"You’re wanted, Darrell," he said. "Captain Nunn is calling for you."

Hal started and flushed. He had not believed he would be given an opportunity in a real game, and he scarcely could believe it now. With his heart beating wildly, he started out upon the field.

Then he saw Doris Templeton rise on the seats, saw her wave her flag, and heard her cry:

"It’s Hal! It’s Hal! He’s going to play!"

How he thrilled! Doris was happy because he was going to play.

"I’ll do my best!" he thought.

"Darrell!" cried the cadet who was leading the cheering. "Ready for Darrell, fellows! Now—one, two, three!"

Then, at the word three, the great crowd lifted up their voices as one man and cheered for Hal Darrell.

"Look out for that man Gilson," said Steve Nunn, to Darrell. "He’s a bad egg, and he’ll put you out of the game if he can."

Hal nodded and took his place in the line as it formed. Having been made a regular substitute, he had learned the signals of the team.

It was plain that Fardale had resolved to get the ball farther away from the dangerous point, if possible, by kicking, and Fairport prepared in haste to receive the kick. When the ball was snapped Gilson flung himself on Darrell like a tiger, but Hal blocked him nicely, and the line held well for Singleton to kick.

Big Bob was fortunate in getting in a splendid punt, which Emerson caught in Fairport’s territory. Kent had escaped Wade, and was coming down like a hawk, so Emerson kicked in return.

This time the ball fell into the hands of Dick Merriwell. Dick decided to try his luck, and he booted the leather still farther into Fairport’s territory.

Emerson again captured the ball, and, fancying he had a good opening, started to run with it. But he had not observed Darrell, who had given Gilson the slip, and was close at hand. Not over five yards did Emerson make before Darrell had him, and the tackle was made in very pretty style, stretching the big half-back on the turf.

"Darrell!" shrieked the Fardale crowd. "Darrell! Darrell!"

"Good boy!" panted Steve Nunn, as he came rushing up. "That’s the kind of work!"

On the stand were two delighted girls, and certainly Doris seemed the most pleased. She clapped her hands and screamed in a perfect abandon of joy when Hal tackled Emerson.

"There, Zona—see, see! He did it—Hal did it!"

"Well, you’re too much for me!" murmured Zona. "First you don’t and then you do."

With the ball in their possession, the Fairport players began the assault on Fardale’s line. Fardale fought every inch of the ground, and Darrell showed his mettle by meeting the veteran Gilson in splendid style. His friends were delighted, as well they might be, considering the fact that he had practised so little with the team.

But Fairport hammered her way steadily along by small gains, making the distance in the required number of downs each time, until she had again passed center and was in Fardale’s territory.

Then, just as the struggle was becoming terrific, the whistle blew and time was called. The first half had ended, with the teams tied.

Darrell was complimented as the sweating fellows trotted off to the dressing-rooms for a rub-down; but what really gave him more satisfaction than anything else was to feel the hand of Frank Merriwell on his shoulder, and to hear Frank say:

"You played like a veteran, my boy! Keep it up!"

Darrell choked a little, for this was the fellow he had declared unfair and prejudiced—the fellow he had believed would refuse to give him a fair show.

"Thank you," he said huskily.

But Dick Merriwell did not give him as much as a look. In fact, since the night Dick had saved him from the ruffianly sailors, Merriwell had treated Darrell like an utter stranger. Hal had been compelled to express gratitude, but Dick declared he did not deserve it, as he had not known who it was he was helping. And the incident had appeared to create a still wider breach between the two, instead of bringing them nearer together.

Frank Merriwell talked to the players during the intermission. He told them that Fairport would be sure to make a desperate attempt to rush them from the very outset of the second half, and he gave a number of the players definite instructions. To Captain Nunn and Quarter-back Shannock he said:

"Don’t forget the ends-around play. It’s a good thing to change your style of playing in the second half, as the enemy will talk over the way you have played, and make preparations to meet your style. If you spring a surprise by new plays, you will have them guessing. They are tricky, and you’ll have to be on the guard all the time, as they are clever in making running passes."

The crowd on the raised seats were singing "Fair Fardale" when the team trotted out for the final half. The band struck up when the young gladiators appeared.

Fairport was waiting, having come out a moment before. No time was spent standing around in the cold. The time for the second half had arrived, and the teams were called onto the field by the whistle.

Now the goals were changed, and Fardale had the advantage of the wind. It was the home team’s kick-off, but now Merriwell was chosen to kick, instead of Singleton. Dick advanced steadily on the ball and lifted it handsomely, sending it full forty-five yards.

Darrell and Kent were off like greyhounds at the proper moment, and they had Marley cornered when he attempted to run back with the ball. It was Kent who brought him down, about twenty yards from the goal-line.

Fardale came down and lined-up to hold the enemy in check, if possible. But, as Frank Merriwell had expected, Fairport was out for business in this half, and her first assault was of the battering-ram sort, tearing a hole through the home team’s center and making full seven yards.

Buckhart arose covered with dirt and having blood running from his nose. The blood was washed off, and the Texan declared that he was all right.

"Just let’s see if that herd can stampede over me again," he growled. "I reckon I’ll be ready the next time they buck up against me."

"Hold ’em, boys!" urged Steve Nunn.

Ringsdale was saying:

"You know what I want, fellows. I want you right through there, now—right through. Get in lively! Rush it! rush it! Be ready! At ’em! at ’em!"

"Come on!" muttered Buckhart.

The ball was snapped and passed, and this time Cogswell was picked out, being hit by a revolving formation. Fardale’s left guard would not have been able to do much before that rush, but the backs of the team were there to assist him at the right time, and Blair did good work in ripping open the formation. Dick Merriwell went through an opening made by Blair and downed the man with the ball.

This time Fairport had not gained. The Vikings lined up swiftly, the ball went back to Ringsdale, and the captain of the visitors scooted toward Fardale’s left end. It looked like an end-run, but before reaching the end Ringsdale turned and plunged into the line with all the force he could command, being hurled forward by Emerson.

Blair was carried back, and lost Ringsdale, but again Merriwell was on hand, and downed the runner. Four yards had been made.

The next assault was on Buckhart, and, although the Texan was expecting it, two yards were made. Fairport had made her distance.

"Got to stop this business!" said Captain Nunn. "Ready, everybody! Watch out! watch out!"

"Right through! right through!" came from Ringsdale. "Keep them going! They’re easy!"

Marley was given the ball, and he sprinted toward Fardale’s right end. But Ringsdale’s trick was tried, and he turned and smashed into the line, giving Stanton a shock. Stanton could not stand before it, but Darrell escaped Gilson and brought Marley down with a gain of three yards.

There was no let up in this style of work. The ball went to Emerson, who came plunging into the center of the line, hurled forward by both Marley and Ringsdale. Despite the fact that Buckhart had been watching for this, full four yards were secured.

And thus Fairport continued the attack until the center of the field had been reached and passed.

This kind of playing was hard on the line, and Fardale began to show signs of wavering. Nunn talked to his men, and Frank Merriwell, on the sidelines, seemed to betray some anxiety.

On Fardale’s forty-yard line a fortunate thing happened, for Coleman fumbled a pass and lost the ball. Before he could drop on it, Kane was sprawling over the oval. This fumble came at a time when it seemed the Vikings were liable to break through any moment and carry everything before them.

There was a brief pause for the water-bucket to go round, and then Fardale prepared for the offensive.

"26—28—F—203—100—3," was the signal, and the tackles-back formation was made.

Blair was given the ball, and, supported by the backs, hurled himself into center. The assault was heavy, but Taylor was supported in splendid style by Fairport’s entire back-field, and barely two yards were made.

"28—29—B—73—197—100—11."

It was the same formation, but this time Stanton was given the ball, and away he went toward Fardale’s left end. The line held well, and Stanton rounded the end for full six yards before being grassed by Vance.

Fardale was getting on, and the crowd cheered.

"5—Z—42—2—130—91."

This time it was the regular formation, and Singleton was sent for a plunge into center. Big Bob charged like a thunderbolt, hitting the line with staggering force and making five yards. But, on the very next play, Cogswell plunged into Stanton too soon, and the ball went to Fairport for off-side playing.

This was bad, but Fardale seemed determined to check the successful career of the enemy, being able to hold the Vikings twice without a gain. Emerson fell back.

"A kick!" was the cry.

It looked that way, but it was simply a trick. The ball went to Ringsdale, who dashed for Fardale’s left end, Emerson coming forward on the jump at the same time. Ringsdale passed to Emerson, and the latter found an opening between Buckhart and Kane, getting through the middle of the home team’s line.

Shannock and Singleton had been fooled, and Nunn was not quick enough to stop the runner. Merriwell leaped for Emerson, but Stratton had got through, and was able to block Dick for a bit. Dick thrust him off, however, and started after the runner.

Again it was a thrilling race, and again it seemed that Merriwell would not be able to prevent the full-back of the enemy from making a touch-down. Emerson, in spite of his size, was a swift runner. However, Dick was swifter, and he summoned every bit of energy at his command. Over the chalk-marks sped pursued and pursuer. Dick gained, drew near, hurled himself forward.

Down came Emerson full fifteen yards from Fardale’s line. This time Dick had been successful in spoiling Emerson’s run for a touch-down.

But Fairport was full of confidence, and lined up in a hurry to rush the ball along. Now Fardale took a brace and held like a granite wall. After two trials without a gain, Emerson fell back.

"A try for a field-goal!" exclaimed the witnesses.

The next moment the ball was snapped and passed to Emerson, who dropped it and kicked.

"It’s over!"

Over it was, and Fairport had added five points more to her score.

Then the visitors were given a chance to cheer lustily.

From the time of the next kick-off the witnesses saw such whirlwind football as never before had they witnessed at Fardale. It was rough work, for Fardale fought furiously, her plunging being sharp and heavy.

For Fairport three substitutes were put in, Vance retiring for Mullen, Powers for Dyer, and Taylor, with a twisted knee, giving place to Cobb.

But, in spite of everything, a fumble enabled a Viking to get the ball and carry it to Fardale’s twenty-yard line, where another field-kick was tried. This time the wind spoiled the kick, a gust taking the ball just outside the posts, and the score remained the same—11 to 6 in favor of the visitors.

It was necessary now for Fardale to do some desperate work to win. When the ball had been carried to Fairport’s thirty-five-yard line and held there, Dick asked leave to try a kick from the field.

"It will tie," he said; "and that may save us from defeat."

Captain Nunn consented, and young Merriwell made a handsome kick before the chargers broke through and downed him.

Over the bar went the ball, and the score was tied.

"That’s all to-day," said a witness. "Nothing more will happen. There is not two minutes to play."

"Well," said another, "Fairport is the first team this season to hold Fardale down to a tie."

The Vikings kicked off, and the ball came into the hands of Dick Merriwell, who took it on a sharp run. Marley missed Dick by an inch, and away flew Fardale’s left half-back, turning to the right. Singleton was behind, Shannock did not get started soon enough, and it seemed that Mullen would nab Dick.

Then, from somewhere, up bobbed Hal Darrell in a most surprising manner, and he put his shoulder into Mullen, bowling the tackler over.

It did not seem that the shock stopped Darrell in the least. On he dashed with Merriwell, turning when Dick turned, seeming to think Dick’s thoughts, and ever he was in the way of the tacklers who sought to reach the runner.

The work of Darrell caused the watchers to gasp, for never had a single Fardale interferer helped a runner in such magnificent style. He was as good as three men during that run.

Over the middle of the field sped Dick, still with Hal at hand. Dyer tried for him, but again Darrell did the trick, and Dick was able to keep on. Coleman came from another direction, but Hal got across and spoiled Coleman’s chance.

"For the love of goodness!" cried a Fairport witness, "will somebody pull that interferer down! It’s the only way to stop the runner!"

"See! see!" panted Doris Templeton, clinging convulsively to Zona. "Dick Merriwell—Dick and Hal! See how Hal is helping him!"

"They’re playing together like a machine," said Zona. "It’s just perfectly splendid! Nothing can stop them!"

All Fardale was standing—all Fardale was shrieking! To the dull November sky rose a medley of sounds that seemed to indicate a thousand maniacs turned loose.

Toward the Fairport goal sped the lad with the ball. Ringsdale came at him. Ringsdale sprang for a tackle. Darrell was on hand to balk the play, and Ringsdale rolled on the ground empty-handed.

Emerson was in the way, and now Emerson meant to do or die. This time Darrell was too far on the opposite side of Merriwell. But Dick swung toward Hal and Hal swung toward him. Then Emerson leaped and brought down—Darrell!

Dick Merriwell ran on and crossed the line.

The time was up as the ball lay dead on the ground back of Fairport’s goal, but the touch-down entitled Fardale to a try for goal, and the ball was brought out.

Emerson kicked, and the goal was made, the final score being:

Fardale, 17; Fairport, 11.

The delighted cadets rolled onto the field in a great wave, and once more lifted Dick Merriwell aloft, uttering cheer after cheer.

But he motioned them to silence, and the cheering died.

"Fellows!" cried Dick, in a clear voice, "I’d never been able to make that touch-down in the world but for Darrell’s interference. He’s the one who should be up here in my place. Put me down! Take him up!"

"Darrell!" roared the crowd. "Up with them both!"

And then Hal Darrell was lifted to their shoulders by the side of Dick Merriwell.

THE END.

No. 78 of the MERRIWELL SERIES, entitled "Dick Merriwell’s Promise," by Burt L. Standish, is a thriller from beginning to end, and has some surprising incidents that will astonish and delight the reader. No boy should miss reading this.

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He has looked into the question of the morality of the paper-covered book, for instance, and feels that he is perfectly safe in handing one of our novels to any one, because he has our assurance that nothing except clean, wholesome literature finds its way into our lines.

Therefore, the STREET & SMITH NOVEL dealer is a careful and wise tradesman, and it is fair to assume selects the other articles he has for sale with the same degree of intelligence as he does his paper-covered books.

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Transcriber’s Note

Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original. The following issues should be noted, along with the resolutions.

47.17 When the moment for play arrived[,] Added. 50.21 got Newton roun[g/d] the legs Replaced. 53.19 who smash[e]d it hard Inserted. 62.28 would come from the other side[.] Added. 66.4 [“]Somebody ought to kick me!” Added. 69.16 They’re g[o]ing to kick! Inserted. 69.28 Rogers was past Mer[r]iwell Inserted. 99.6 "Ain’t it fun[!]" Added. 99.14 struck Uric[k] on the forehead Removed. 136.28 some sneaking rattler had [soaked] his fangs ? Obscured. 150.17 he called Ted[d]y Smart to his side Inserted. 164.25 a charge of t[r]eachery Inserted. 183.28 Do you understand that?[’/”] Replaced. 209.28 unpleasant for you, you know, but [ ] Illegible. 220.3 This effort[,] failing to get a gain, Removed. 221.27 somehow wiggled Warn[e.] Restored. 241.14 he tried all his b[l]andishments Inserted. 272.5 You saw how he acted, Doris, and——[”] Added. 281.18 when [ther] right chap _sic_ 283.5 I hope [ther] feller _sic_ 289.25 “Put them out of [’/”] Replaced. 302.28 just as he was being dragged down[,] Added. 308.6 be[i]ng limp as a rag. Inserted. 317.14 Powers for Dyer, and Tayl[e/o]r Replaced.

End of Project Gutenberg's Dick Merriwell's Glory, by Burt L. Standish