CHAPTER VII.

FARDALE’S TURN.

The witnesses of Dick Merriwell’s play gasped for breath. It seemed that he had leaped fully as high as a man’s head.

What mattered it if he was downed the moment he touched earth again? What mattered anything? He had stopped Rivermouth’s attempt to make a goal from the field. But for him the effort might have succeeded, for it had been wholly unexpected. He was deserving of all credit.

This fact caused Zeb Fletcher to chew his tongue, and swear inwardly. Zeb was not the only one.

Dick’s bitterest enemy in the school had come along to witness this game, again hoping something might happen to show Merriwell up as weak and incapable.

Jabez Lynch actually groaned aloud, but his groan was drowned by the burst of cheering from the Fardale crowd.

Probably Hurting, the Rivermouth full-back, was the angriest fellow on that field.

"Did you ever see anything like that?" he snarled to Dolby, as the two teams lined up, with the ball in Fardale’s possession.

"Hardly ever," admitted Dolby. "Who is the fellow?"

"Ask me!"

"Don’t you know?"

"No."

Dolby was not the only person asking the question. Scores were seeking to know the name of Dick Merriwell. When they learned it there was a stir.

So this was Frank Merriwell’s brother? Well, it was pretty plain that he had some of Frank Merriwell’s ginger.

"Dick Merriwell! Dick Merriwell!" was the name quickly passing from mouth to mouth.

Both Lynch and Fletcher heard these comments, and they turned green with jealous anger.

"The fellow’s luck!" said Lynch to himself.

"This will drive me to drink!" muttered Fletcher.

Professor Zenas Gunn was watching this game for a purpose. While he believed in athletics, he had given very little attention to football, and had never watched an entire game. The outcry against football raised by Professor Gooch had caused Professor Gunn to decide to witness a complete game that he might decide to his own satisfaction in regard to the brutality of the playing.

Zenas Gunn found himself shouting with the others when Dick Merriwell made that grand leap into the air, but he quickly checked the outburst.

"Be still!" he muttered, putting his hand quickly over his mouth. "You’re acting like a boy, sir! Besides, that is Merriwell, the fellow who is under suspicion. But I can’t bring myself to believe that boy is guilty!"

The Fardale team lined up quickly for the attack, Captain Nunn finding time to give Dick a pat on the back and say:

"Great, old man—great! You’re a wonder!"

From the side-lines Frank Merriwell looked on. He stood like a statue when his brother made the play that prevented Hurting from kicking a field goal, his face not seeming to change expression in the least; but had any one looked deep into his eyes he must have seen there was a glow of satisfaction and pride.

Now Fardale began a series of mass-plays that resulted in gains that took the ball fairly to the center of the field. By that time Rivermouth was prepared for this style of playing, and the gains stopped. Fardale was held for three downs and kicked.

Hurting made a fair catch and bored his heel into the ground on the spot, which gave him a free kick in return.

Then the great kicker of the Rivermouth team booted the leather almost to Fardale’s goal-line, where Singleton got it.

Big Bob resolved to try at a kick in return, but he must have been nervous, for he sent the ball out of bounds at Fardale’s forty-five-yard line. Rogers fell on it and brought it out for a scrimmage. There the teams lined up again, Fardale having lost the ball and some ground through this exchange of kicks.

Now Rivermouth suddenly began a new style of playing, forming tandem fashion and spearing into Fardale’s line, picking out Stanton for repeated attacks. The first effort resulted in a gain of full ten yards before Fardale could break up the play and check the advance.

"That’s the style!" said Captain Rogers, of the home team. "Now we have them going, boys! They are easy!"

Again and again the tandem play was tried, and Stanton was battered and bruised and bleeding when the ball was held for three downs within twelve yards of Fardale’s goal.

The Fardale crowd was cheering, but it seemed that the home team was too heavy to be resisted. Still, if full four yards were not made on the next play the ball would go to the visitors.

"They’re going to make another try to kick a goal!" exclaimed a Fardale spectator.

It seemed that he was right.

Rivermouth apparently prepared to resist Fardale’s rush, while Hurting fell back as if to kick. There was a hush. Rogers was heard repeating the numbers.

A sudden move, and the ball was snapped back. Mercer turned like a flash and passed it to Newton, instead of to Hurting.

Newton went leaping across toward Fardale’s right end, and around him massed the interferers. This mass struck Stanton again, just when the attack was not expected.

Around the man with the ball the attacking wedge revolved, and Fardale seemed unable to tear it to pieces in time to stop the steady advance.

Just when, at the last moment, it seemed that Fardale had held the enemy, Newton was shot out of the formation and rammed over Fardale’s line for a touch-down.

Then the Rivermouth crowd roared and roared, and went wild with satisfaction. The ball had been carried over at the corner of the field, and Rivermouth decided to punt out, as it would be difficult to make a goal if it were brought out. Fardale lined up at the distance, and Rogers kicked the ball out.

Dick Merriwell had been stationed where it was thought he might be able to spoil this effort; but Hurting caught the ball fairly, which gave Rivermouth a chance to kick for a goal.

"He didn’t do it that time, did he?" muttered Fletcher, grinning in spite of himself.

Rivermouth prepared carefully for the effort to kick a goal. Captain Rogers decided to hold the ball, and he stretched himself on the ground with his left side toward the goal-posts.

The cheering and excitement had stopped. Everybody seemed watching and waiting with breathless interest for the result. Hurting was resolved not to fail.

With deliberateness he booted the oval, sending it rotating through the air.

A great shout rose from the crowd, for the ball was taken by a flaw of wind and carried to one side of the posts.

But Rivermouth had scored.

"It’s no use," said Jabez Lynch, in pretended regret. "They are too strong for us."

"Back up! back up!" chirped Teddy Smart, who happened to hear the observation. "You please me very much with your remark. I like the way you talk! It’s too bad you were not retained on the team! You would give the boys lots of courage with that kind of talk!"

"Don’t get sassy, plebe!" grated Lynch, scowling. "You’re too free with your tongue!"

"Really and truly?" smiled Teddy. "Then I’ll bite it right off this very minute."

The applauding crowd continued to cheer as the ball was brought to the center of the field. The first half was drawing to a close, and it scarcely seemed possible that Fardale had time to do any work of consequence, even if she were strong enough, which now seemed doubtful.

Some sportily inclined chaps began to offer even money that Fardale would not score during the game.

"Here’s a chance for somebody to make a small fortune," said Smart. "If I had money, I wouldn’t take that kind of an offer—oh, no!"

But the betting part of the crowd found no takers.

Singleton kicked off to Rivermouth’s twenty-yard line. Hurting again demonstrated his superior ability at this kind of work by driving the ball back to Fardale’s forty-yard line.

Then something happened that gave Rivermouth a shock.

Merriwell caught the ball, heeled the ground, and smashed it into the territory of the home team. It was a grand punt of fifty yards, and Hurting was compelled to take the ball on the run, which resulted in a fumble.

Kent and Burrows had followed down under the ball with great speed, and the latter blocked Hurting, while Kent dropped on the oval.

By this piece of work Fardale got the ball on Rivermouth’s fifteen-yard line, and the visiting crowd went wild with joy.

"I’m afraid it won’t do us any good," said Jabez Lynch.

"I see you are afraid!" exclaimed Teddy Smart. "You are shaking with terror!"

Jabez scowled and remained silent.

The teams lined up. Off at one side, just as Captain Nunn began to give the signal, Dick Merriwell carelessly knelt upon one knee and started to tie the lacing of his shoe. It seemed a foolish piece of business, for, to all appearances, he was utterly unprepared to take part in the scrimmage to follow.

"Now, look at that fellow Merriwell!" said Jabez Lynch, loudly enough to call attention of those about him. "That shows just how much he knows about this game! He’s had luck, but he’s green as unripe cucumbers. He isn’t ready to——"

Jabez stopped short, with a gasp of astonishment. He had not been the only one who regarded Dick Merriwell as unprepared. The Rivermouth crowd had fancied Dick would not be in the coming clash.

What was the astonishment of everybody but the Fardale players to see Shannock deftly whirl and send the ball flying through the air toward Merriwell!

It was a long pass to the side, and looked like a very bad break. But up from his crouching position shot Dick in time to receive the pass handsomely, and like a wild colt he dashed forward, having the oval hugged to his heart.

Rivermouth was taken off her guard. She had fancied the attack would come from the other side. Before she could recover, aided by very successful interference, Dick Merriwell went round the right end and planted the ball back of the goal-line.

Then Fardale woke up. It was a touch-down! How they did cheer!

And Teddy Smart yelled in the ear of Jabez Lynch:

"Isn’t it too bad that fellow Merriwell is so green! I’m ashamed of him, aren’t you? I think he ought to be fired right off the team for doing anything like that, don’t you?"

Jabez walked away without speaking.