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Dave Darrin's Fourth Year at Annapolis, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 3. Bad News From West Point |
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_ CHAPTER III. BAD NEWS FROM WEST POINT Bump! The ball, hit squarely by the toe of Wolgast's football shoe, soared upward from the twenty-five-yard line. It described an arc, flying neatly over and between the goal-posts at one end of the athletic field. "That's the third one for you, Wolly," murmured Jetson. "You're going to be a star kicker!" "Shall I try out the rest of the squad, sir?" asked Wolgast, turning to Lieutenant-Commander Parker, this year's new coach. "Try out a dozen or so of the men," nodded coach, which meant, in effect: "Try out men who are most likely to remain on the Navy team." "Jetson!" called Wolgast. Jet tried, but it took his third effort to make a successful kick. "You see, Wolly, who is not to be trusted to make the kick in a game," remarked Jetson with a rueful smile. "It shows me who may need practice more than some of the others---that's all," answered Wolgast kindly. With that the ball went to Dave. The first kick he missed. "I can do better than that, if you'll give me the chance," observed Darrin quietly. At a nod from Coach Parker, Dave was allowed five more trials, in each one of which he made a fair kick. "Mr. Darrin is all right. He won't need to practice that very often, Mr. Wolgast," called coach. Then Dan had his try. He made one out of three. "No matter, Danny Grin," cried Page solacingly, "we love you for other things that you can do better on the field." Farley made two out of three. Page, though a rattling good man over on the right flank, missed all three kicks. "I'm a dub at kicking," he growled, retiring in much disgust with himself. Other midshipmen had their try, with varying results. "Rustlers, forward!" shouted Lieutenant-Commander Parker. Eleven young fellows who had been waiting with more or less patience now threw aside their blankets or robes and came running across the field, their eyes dancing with keen delight. "Mr. Wolgast, let the Rustlers start the ball---and take it away from 'em in snappy fashion!" admonished coach. The game started. In the second team at Annapolis there were some unusually good players---half a dozen, at least, who were destined to win a good deal of praise as subs. that year. Tr-r-r-r-ill! sounded the whistle, and the ball was in motion. Yet, try as he did, the captain of the Rustlers made a side kick, driving the ball not far out of Dave Darrin's way. It was coming, now, in Dan's path, but Dalzell muttered in a barely audible undertone: "You, Davy!" So Darrin, playing left end on the Navy team, darted in and caught the ball. He did not even glance sideways to learn where Dan was. He knew that Dalzell would be either at his back or right elbow as occasion demanded. "Take it away from Darry!" called Pierson, captain of the Rustlers. "Block him!" The scores of spectators lining the sides of the field were watching with keenest interest. It was rumored that Dave and Dan had some new trick play hidden up their sleeves. Yet, with two men squarely in the path of Darrin it seemed incredible that he could get by, for the Rustlers had bunched their interference skillfully at this point. "Darry will have to stop!" yelled a score of voices at once, as Dave bounded at his waiting opponents. "Yah, yah, yah!" "Wow!" "Whoop!" The spectators had been treated to a sight that they never forgot. Just as Dave reached those who blocked him he seemed to falter. It was Dan Dalzell who bumped in and received the opposition alone. Dan went down under it, all glory to him! But Dave, in drawing back as he had done, had stepped aside like lightning, and now he had gone so far that he had no opposing end to dodge. Instead, he darted straight ahead, leaving all of the forward line of the Rustlers behind. But there was the back field to meet! As Dave shot forward, Jetson, too, smashed over the line, blocking the halfback who got in his way. Straight over the line charged Dave Darrin, and laid the ball down. Now the athletic field resounded with excited yells. Annapolis had seen "a new one," and it caught the popular fancy like lightning. Back the pigskin was carried, and placed for the kick. "You take it, Darry," called Wolgast. "You've earned it!" "Take it yourself, Wolly," replied Dave Darrin. "This is your strong point." So Wolgast kicked and scored. The Rustlers at first looked dismayed over it all, but in another instant a cheer had broken loose from them. It was the business of the Rustlers to harry the Navy team all they could---to beat the Navy, if possible, for the Rustlers received their name from the fact that they were expected to make the team members rustle to keep their places. Just the same the Rustlers were delighted to find themselves beaten by a trick so simple and splendid that it fairly took their breath away. For it was the Navy team, not the Rustlers, who met the enemy from the colleges and from West Point. Rustlers and team men alike prayed for the triumph of the Navy in every game that was fought out. "You never told me that you had that trick, Darry," muttered Wolgast, in the rest that followed this swift, brilliant play. "I wanted to show it to you before telling you about it" laughed Dave. "Why?" "Because I didn't know whether it were any good." "Any good? Why, Darry, if you can get up one or two more like that you'll be the greatest gridiron tactician that the Navy has ever had!" "I didn't get up that one," Dave confessed modestly. "You didn't, Mr. Darrin?" interposed Coach Parker. "Who did?" "Mr. Jetson, sir." "I helped a bit," admitted Jetson, turning red as he found himself the center of admiring gazes. "Dalzell and Darrin helped work it out, too." "Have you any more like that one, Mr. Darrin?" questioned Coach Parker. "I think we have a few, sir," Dave smiled steadily. "Are you ready to exhibit them, Mr. Darrin?" "We'll show 'em all, if you order it, sir," Darrin answered respectfully. "But we'll undoubtedly spring two or three of 'em, anyway, in this afternoon's practice." "I'll be patient, then," nodded coach. "But I want a brief talk with you after practice, Mr. Darrin." "Very good, sir." "I just want you to sketch out the new plays to me in private, that I may consider them," explained the lieutenant-commander. "Yes, sir. But I am not really the originator of any of the new plays. Mr. Dalzell and Mr. Jetson have had as much to do with all of the new ones as I have, sir." "And this is Darrin's last year! The Navy will never have his like again," groaned one fourth classman to another. "Ready to resume play!" called coach. "Navy to start the ball." The play was on again, in earnest, but this time it fell to the right flank of, the Navy team to stop the onward rush of the Rustlers as they charged down with the ball after the Navy's kick-off. In fact, not during the team practice did Dave or Dan get a chance to show another of their new tricks. "Just our luck!" grunted many of the spectators. Meanwhile Dave, Dan and Jet got out of their togs, and through with their shower baths as quickly as they could, for Lieutenant-Commander Parker was on hand, awaiting them impatiently. Until close to supper call did the coach hold converse with these three men of the Navy's left flank. Then the lieutenant-commander went to Midshipman Wolgast, who was waiting. "Mr. Wolgast, I see the Army's banner trailed low in the dust this year," laughed coach. "These young gentlemen have been explaining to me some new plays that will cause wailing and gnashing of teeth at West Point." "I'm afraid, sir, that you forget one thing," smiled Darrin. "What is that, sir?" demanded coach. "Why, sir, the Army has Prescott and Holmes, beyond a doubt, for they played last year." "I saw Prescott and Holmes last year," nodded Mr. Parker. "But they didn't have a thing to compare with what you've just been explaining to me." "May I remark, sir, that that was last year?" suggested Dave. "Then you think that Prescott and Holmes may have developed some new plays." "I'd be amazed, sir, if they hadn't done so. And I've tried to have the Navy always bear in mind, sir, that Dalzell and myself learned everything we know of football under Dick Prescott, who, for his weight, I believe to be the best football player in the United States!" "You're not going to get cold feet, are you, Mr. Darrin?" laughed Lieutenant-Commander Parker. "No, sir; but, on the other hand, I don't want to underestimate the enemy." "You don't seem likely to commit that fault, Mr. Darrin. For my part," went on coach, "I'm going to feel rather satisfied that Prescott and Holmes, of the Army, won't be able to get up anything that will equal or block the new plays you've been describing to me." Dave and Dan were more than usually excited as they lingered in their room, awaiting the call to supper formation. Farley and Page, all ready to respond to the call, were also in the room. "I hope old Dick and Greg haven't got anything new that will stop us!" glowed Dan Dalzell. "It's just barely possible, of course," assented Darrin, "that they haven't." "If they haven't," chuckled Farley gleefully, "then we scuttle the Army this year." "Wouldn't it be truly great," laughed Page, "to see the great Prescott go down in the dust of defeat. Ha, ha! I can picture, right now, the look of amazement on his Army face!" "We mustn't laugh too soon," Dave warned his hearers. "Don't you want to see the redoubtable Prescott shoved into the middle of next year?" challenged Midshipman Page. "Oh, yes; of course. Yet that's not because he's Prescott, for good old Dick is one of the most precious friends I have in the world," Dave answered earnestly. "I want to see Prescott beaten this year, and I want to have a hand in doing it---simply for the greater glory of the Navy!" "Well," grunted Page, "that's good enough for me." "We'll trail Soldier Prescott in the dust!" was a gleeful boast that circulated much through the Naval Academy during the few succeeding days. Even Dave became infected with it, for he was a loyal Navy man to the very core. He began to think much of every trick of play that could possibly help to retire Dick Prescott to the background---all for the fame of the Navy and not for the hurt of his friend. Dave even dreamed of it at night. As for Dalzell, he caught the infection, proclaiming: "We're out, this year, just to beat old Prescott and Holmes!" Yet readers of the High School Boys' Series, who know the deep friendship that had existed, and always would, between Prescott and Holmes on the one side, and Darrin and Dalzell, on the other, do not need to be told that this frenzied feeling had in it nothing personal. "If you two go on," laughed Midshipman Farley, one evening after release, "you'll both end up with hating your old-time chums." "Don't you believe it!" retorted Dave Darrin almost sharply. "This is just a matter between the two service academies. What we want is to show the country that the Navy can put up an eleven that can walk all around the Army on Franklin Field." "A lot the country cares about what we do!" laughed Page. "True," admitted Dare. "A good many people do seem to forget that there are any such American institutions as the Military and the Naval Academies. Yet there are thousands of Americans who are patriotic enough to be keenly interested in all that we do." "This is going to be a bad year for Army friends," chuckled Farley. "And for the feelings of Cadets Prescott and Holmes," added Page with a grimace. As the practice went on the spirits of the Navy folks went up to fever heat. It was plain that, this year, the Navy eleven was to make history in the world of sports. "Poor old Dick!" sighed Darrin one day, as the members of the squad were togging to go on to the field. "Why?" Dan demanded. "Because, in spite of myself, I find that I am making a personal matter of the whole business. Dan, I'm obliged to be candid with myself. It has come to the point that it is Prescott and Holmes that I want to beat!" "Same case here," Dan admitted readily. "They gave us a trouncing last year, and we're bound to pass it back to 'em." "I believe I'd really lose all interest in the game, if Dick and Greg didn't play on the Army this year." "I think I'd feel the same way about it," agreed Dan. "But never fear---they will play." Two days later Dan finished his bath and dressing, after football practice, to find that Dave had already left ahead of him. Dan followed to their quarters in Bancroft Hall, to find Dave pacing the floor, the picture of despair. "Dan!" cried Darrin sharply. "This letter is from Dick. He doesn't play this year!" "Don't tell me anything funny, like that, when I've got a cracked lip," remonstrated Midshipman Dalzell. "Dick doesn't play, I tell you---which means that Greg won't, either. A lot of boobs at the Military Academy have sent Dick to Coventry for something that he didn't do. Dan, I don't care a hang about playing this year---we can't beat Prescott and Holmes, for they won't be there!" _ |
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