CHAPTER IX

Hitting the Line

Sandy Podder uttered an exclamation of disgust that was heartily echoed by Bill. Here, Bill was on the point of hearing something that would enable him to put Garry Grayson on his guard, and all his plans were spoiled by this untimely interruption.

He stole silently from the shadow of the garage and went off whistling down the street as though he had just at that moment turned the corner.

It would be unfortunate if Sandy were to suspect himself overheard just then. It might put him on his guard and make the discovery of his plot more difficult.

Bill Sherwood was worried. He felt that Sandy would stop at nothing to get even with the boy he hated and longed to see humbled.

"I won't say anything to Garry about it till after the Pawling game, anyway," he decided, as he absently bought and paid for the monkey wrench. He slipped the purchase into his pocket and forgot about his change until the grinning hardware man called him back for it.

"I haven't anything definite anyway, and it might upset Garry a little and put him off his form," ran on the boy's thoughts when he was once more in the street. "Time enough later on when we've got the game safely bagged. Gee!" with a scowl, "it's a wonder the fellows don't get together and run that Sandy Podder and Lent Stewart out of town!"

The next two days passed without any outbreak on the part of Sandy and his cronies, and Bill began to hope that Sandy's plot, like so many of that fellow's plans, had proved to be unworkable when it came up for further consideration.

The day of the Pawling game was favored with beautiful football weather. The sun was shining, but there was a decided chill in the air that was welcome to the young athletes, who would soon be drenched in perspiration as they fought for the glory of their respective schools.

"Rumors have been coming from time to time that the Pawling team has been going great guns in practice, so I hope it is with no expectation of a cinch that your Lenox team is going over to Pawling," remarked Garry's father to him the night before the first league game was to be played.

"Not on your life, Dad! We'll have a fight on our hands."

A large delegation of their rooters journeyed over to the Pawling grounds with the team on the day of the game. Garry's feeling that a hard contest awaited them was not diminished by the way Pawling showed up in practice.

A deafening roar arose from the stands as the teams came out for the game. Most of its volume was due, of course, to the Pawling supporters, who outnumbered the Lenox rooters three to one. But Lenox showed up strongly in the shouting nevertheless, and its cheer leaders performed all sorts of acrobatic feats before the stands as they rallied their cohorts to further efforts.

"Pawling! Pawling! Send them home bawling," yelled the home partisans.

"Lenox! Lenox! Len, Len, Len!" came back in thunderous defiance. "You licked them last year! Now lick them again!"

Pawling won the toss and elected to kick off. Brewster sent the ball whirling down the field for thirty yards. Rooster ran it back for ten before he was downed, and the ball was Lenox's on its own forty-yard line.

Walker snapped back the ball to Garry, who passed it to Rooster, and the latter plunged through a hole between left end and tackle for four yards. Tom Allison took the ball on the next try and gained one more. Nick Danter ploughed through for a gain of three and on the next attempt pulled off four more, Lenox making its yardage on downs with something to spare and still retaining possession of the ball.

"Gee, that line's as full of holes as a piece of Swiss cheese," panted Nick to Garry.

"Don't kid yourself," warned Garry. "They may take a brace at any minute."

Garry himself went through guard and tackle for four yards. Tom Allison had the next try, but was thrown back for a loss of two. Rooster Long made three between left tackle and end. With five to go on the fourth down, Garry shot a pass to Nick, who skirted the end for six yards before he was tackled and thrown.

Again Lenox had made its distance, and the enemy's goal had become perceptibly closer. But now Pawling had begun to find itself and put up a stiffer resistance. On the next four downs Lenox gained but six yards, and the ball passed into the possession of Pawling.

Here the whole aspect of the game changed in a moment. After two downs that gained but three yards, Tucker, the fullback of the Pawling team, drove the ball whirling through the air for a magnificent punt of over sixty yards that sent it rolling over the Lenox goal line. It was put in play on Lenox's twenty-yard line and in the visitors' possession.

This was bad enough, but as misfortunes never come singly, Lenox was penalized for clipping and had to go back to its one-yard line, though still retaining the ball.

It was entirely too close for comfort from the Lenox viewpoint, and Rooster promptly punted out of danger to the thirty-yard line where the ball was gathered in by Beebe. Pawling failed to make its distance against the desperate resistance of Lenox, and the ball passed to the latter, which twice made its yardage on downs, bringing the ball to the middle of the field. Then Garry completed two passes to Nick, who carried the ball to the Pawling twenty-yard line. Then there was an exchange of punts that left the ball in practically the same position. A pass to Rooster was uncompleted, and the period ended with the ball in Pawling's possession on its own thirteen-yard line.

Neither side had scored, although at various times the goal of each had been in danger. But the advantage remained with Lenox, as the ball was close to the enemy's line and for most of the quarter had been in the Pawling territory.

"Too bad that we didn't have two minutes longer," panted Nick, as the warriors of the respective teams were trying to get their breath in the brief minute between periods.

"Righto," assented Garry. "But I think we have their number, Nick. They've got a good team, but we have a better one. We're just as good on the defense and better on the offense, and this next quarter is going to prove it."

When the period opened, Dorr, of Pawling, kicked out of danger and Rooster ran the ball back to the forty-five yard line. On the next play Garry made a brilliant run through a broken field, with splendid interference by Nick and Tom, and landed the ball on the Pawling twenty-seven yard line. Rooster gained five yards through center, and then Nick tried for a field goal. He missed, and Tucker ran the ball back to his own fifteen-yard line.

Twice Pawling tried to gain through the line, but failed. Then a long punt by Dorr carried the ball to the Lenox thirty-five yard line. Rooster returned the punt, and the ball was Pawling's on its own five-yard line. Tucker then kicked out of danger, and Nick grabbed the ball on Pawling's thirty-yard line.

Knapp tried for a field goal, but the ball went short. Pawling failed to gain through the line in two attempts. Tucker fumbled on the next play but recovered the ball, and then Pawling punted out.

After this a beautiful forward pass, Garry to Knapp, gained twenty yards through left tackle. Then the stands were electrified when Garry put a cannon shot over to Nick and the latter went over the Pawling line for the first touchdown of the game. Rooster missed the kick, and the score was 6 to 0 in favor of the visitors.

It was Lenox's chance to yell, and they split the air with their tumultuous cheers.

"Lenox! Lenox! Len, Len, Len! You've licked them once, You'll lick them again. Lenox! Lenox! Len, Len, Len!"

Lenox kicked off, and then a fine forward pass, Jackson to Dorr, brought the ball to the Lenox thirty-five-yard line. The same combination put over another pass, gaining five yards around right end. Encouraged by this, Pawling resorted again to the aerial game, but two more attempts were uncompleted. On a fake pass Tucker was thrown for a loss, and Lenox took the ball on Pawling's thirty-five-yard line.

Lenox was penalized five yards for offside, but then Rooster made it first down on the Lenox thirty-eight-yard line. Nick failed to gain through center. He punted for fifty-seven yards, and it was Pawling's ball on their own twenty-yard line. Tucker made two attempts to make end runs on fake passes, but his gains were trifling. Then Pawling kicked out of danger and Lenox tried for a placement kick. It was blocked by Dorr, and the period ended with the ball in midfield and the score still 6 to 0 in favor of Lenox.

It had been a ding-dong quarter, and through most of it the spectators in the stands had been on their feet, yelling their heads off, as first the one and then the other of the teams had the advantage. But the Lenox partisans had the edge in howling, for their team had drawn first blood, and those six hard-earned points looked as big as a mountain.

The weary warriors of both sides welcomed the fifteen minutes' rest with sighs of relief. They had played at top speed, and the strain on nerve and muscle had been tremendous.

Mr. Phillips was beaming as he looked over his boys, sprawled on the floor of the clubhouse, grimy, battered, bruised, but happy in having gained the lead.

"You've done well, boys," he commended them. "But remember, the game is only half over, and anything is liable to happen in football. Those six points look pretty big to you, but don't forget that a single touchdown by the other side will wipe out your lead and leave the game where it started. And if the try for goal succeeds after the touchdown, they'll be ahead of you. Get after them right from the start of the next quarter. Plough into them. Rip 'em up. You've got the stuff, and you can do it if you will."

"We'll do it, sir," promised Garry.

"They'll think a cyclone struck them," put in Rooster.

"All right, if you insist on the cyclone," and Mr. Phillips smiled. "But a fairly stiff gale will do the trick. Go to it now and give them some championship stuff, the same kind that won the flag for Lenox last year."

Lenox kicked off, Knapp sending a long one down the field that Tucker ran back for eight yards before he was downed. The ball was Pawling's on its thirty-yard line. Two line plunges failed to gain for Pawling. Then Tucker punted and the ball was Lenox's on its thirty-three yard line.

A plunge through center netted two yards. Another by Nick through guard and left tackle was good for three more. Rooster, however, was thrown back for a loss of three, and on the next down Scarsdale punted and Dorr ran it back to Pawling's thirty-six-yard line.

The Pawling backs got into their stride now and developed an attack that for a time seemed irresistible. Berry hit the line for six, and in the next try made it six more. Tucker took it through for two and then on a superb pass, Jackson to Dorr, the latter whizzed around right end and dodged through almost the entire Lenox team for a touchdown. Berry kicked the goal and the score was Pawling 7, Lenox 6.

In the twinkling of an eye the situation had been reversed, and the lead of Lenox had gone glimmering. Bedlam reigned in the Pawling section of the stands.

"Pawling! Pawling! Send 'em home bawling."

"You've got them rattled!"

"Make it a massacre!"

"Who said they were champions?"

The Lenox rooters hurled back a stout defiance, but it was almost lost in the uproar that came from the partisans of the home team.

"Looks as though the cyclone got mixed and hit the wrong fellows," muttered Rooster.

"Never mind," replied Garry cheerily. "We're due for the next break. We've just begun to fight. Snap into it."

The rest of the quarter was a seesaw with no material advantage for either team. Lenox had braced, and their line was like a stone wall. Finding attempts here were fruitless, Pawling resorted to aerial attacks, but most of these were uncompleted. At the very end of the period a punt by Garry sent the ball far into enemy territory and Tucker ran it back to the Pawling thirty-yard line.

Only one quarter remained to play, and Garry spent the minute between periods in bracing up his team.

"Here's the dope, fellows," he said. "It's a cinch now that Pawling will play for time. All they've got to do is to hold us down and the game is theirs. But it's always a weakness to take the defensive. It's the fellow on offense who wins, the fellow with a punch, the fellow who doesn't know when he's beaten. That's us. We're going in like wildcats. We're going to tear the hide off of them. Are you with me?"

"You bet we are!" went up a roar, inspired by the indomitable spirit of their leader.

As the period opened with the ball in Pawling's possession on its own thirty-yard line, the home team tried two line plunges without effect. Tucker punted to Lenox's twenty-five-yard line. Nick shot through center for six yards, and on the next play, Rooster punted, the ball being partly blocked and going to Pawling on its forty-three-yard line.

Pawling gained three yards on two downs, but fumbled on the next play, and it was Lenox's ball on their thirty-yard line, Lenox being penalized ten yards for offside play.

Back and forth went the ball, each side trying desperately to get possession of it, but neither being able to make any consistent gains once they had it. The time was going fast and every tick of the referee's watch was worth something to Pawling, who had only to retain its present lead to win.

"But we've got to win!" Garry kept muttering to himself. "We've just got to win!"

Lenox got the ball on their own forty-three-yard line, with five minutes left to play.

Garry stiffened.

Walker snapped the hall back to him. Garry tucked it under his arm and tore through Cooper and Wagner, the Pawling right end and tackle, for sixteen yards.

And then began one of the fiercest exhibitions of line plunging that had ever been seen on the grounds of the High School League.

Through the line Garry went again for seven. Another plunge netted him eight with almost the whole Pawling team piled up on him.

Garry was playing like one possessed. His blood was up. He was fighting like a tiger. And the Lenox stands were shaking now with the roars of the excited rooters.

Once more Garry took the ball, and, with his linesmen giving him superb help, went through for six more.

The Pawling boys were clearly rattled.

"Lenox! Lenox! Len, Len, Len! We licked them once, We'll lick them again! Lenox! Lenox! Len, Len, Len!"

The chant came to Garry like a bugle call and cleared his swimming brain. Lenox was calling to him. Lenox was depending on him.

Again Garry took the ball and hit the line like a thunderbolt. It bent, buckled and broke, and the fighting Lenox quarterback went through for eleven.

He was sore, bruised, and dizzy. One eye was nearly closed by the roughing he had got in his repeated plunges. But through the other eye he could see the Pawling goal now only nine yards away.

Could he make it? He _must_ make it! And he must make it quickly, for the time was getting terribly short.

"Back me up, fellows!" he panted to his linesmen. "For the love of Pete, back me up!"

Into the line he plunged once more with a fury that would not be denied. On and on he bored, panting, gasping, twisting, dodging, and went over the Pawling line for a touchdown!