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Dave Darrin's Fourth Year at Annapolis, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 14. The Navy Goat Grins |
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_ CHAPTER XIV. THE NAVY GOAT GRINS All at once the Navy band chopped out a few swift measures of triumphant melody. The entire Brigade of Midshipmen cheered under its cheermaster. Thousands of blue and gold Navy banners fluttered through the stands. That safety had counted two on the score for the Navy. Given breathing time, the Army now brought the ball out toward midfield, and once more the savage work began. The Navy had gained ten yards, when the time-keeper signaled the end of the first period. As the players trotted off the Navy was exultant, the Army depressed. Captain Douglass was scowling. "You fellows will have to brace!" he snapped. "Are you going to let the little middies run over us?" "I shall have no bad feeling, suh, if you think it well to put a fresh man in my place, suh," replied Cadet Anstey. "Hang it, I don't want a man in your place!" retorted Douglass angrily. "I want you, and every other man, Anstey, to do each better work than was done in that period. Hang it, fellows, the middies are making sport of us." Among the Navy players there was not so much talk. All were deeply contented with events so far. "I've no remarks to make, fellows," Captain Wolgast remarked. "You are all playing real football." "At any rate Darry and his grinning twin are," chuckled Jetson. "My, but you can see the hair rise on the Army right flank when Darry and Danny leap at them!" In the second period, which started off amid wild yelling from the onlookers, the Army fought hard and fiercely, holding back the Navy somewhat. During the period two of the cadets were so badly hurt that the surgeons ordered them from the field. Two fresh subs. came into the eleven, and after that the Army seemed endowed with a run of better luck. The second period closed with no change in the score, though at the time of the timekeeper's interference the Navy had the ball within eleven yards of the Army goal line. "We've got the Navy stopped, now, I think," murmured Douglass to his West Point men. "All we've got to do now is to keep 'em stopped." "If they don't break our necks, or make us stop from heart failure, suh," replied Cadet Anstey, with a grimace. "We've got the Army tired enough. We must go after them in the third period," announced Captain Wolgast. But this did not happen until the third time that the Navy got the pigskin. Then Darrin and Dalzell, warned, began to run the ball down the field. Here a new feint was tried. When the Navy started in motion every Army man was sure that Wolgast was going to try to put through a center charge. It was but a ruse, however. Darrin had the pigskin, and Dalzell was boosting him through. The entire Navy line charged with the purpose of one man. There came the impact, and then the Army line went down. Darrin was charging, Dalzell and Jetson running over all who got in the way. The halfback on that side of the field was dodged. Dalzell and Jetson bore down on the victim at the same instant, and Dave, running to the side like a flash, had the ball over the line. Wolgast himself made the kick to follow, and the score was now eight to nothing. The applause that followed was enough to turn wiser heads. When play was resumed the Army was fighting mad. It was now victory or death for the soldier boys. The West Point men were guilty of no fouls. They played squarely and like gentlemen, but they cared nothing for snapping muscles and sinews. Before the mad work the Navy was borne back. Just before the close of the third period, the Navy was forced to make a safety on its own account. "But Wolgast was satisfied, and the Navy coaches more than pleased. "There's a fourth period coming," Wolgast told himself. "But for Darry and his splendid interference the Army would get our scalp yet. Darry looks to be all right, and I believe he is. He'll hold out for the fourth." Eight to two, and the game three quarters finished. The Army cheermaster did his duty, but did it half dejectedly, the cadets following with rolling volumes of noise intended to mask sinking hearts. When it came the Navy's turn to yell, the midshipmen risked the safety of their windpipes. The Naval Academy Band was playing with unwonted joy. "Fellows, nothing on earth will save us but a touchdown and a kick," called Douglass desperately, when he got his West Point men aside. "That will tie the score. It's our best chance to-day." "Unless, suh," gravely observed Anstey, "We can follow that by driving the midshipmen into a safety." "And we could do even that, if we had Prescott and Holmesy here," thought Douglass, with sinking heart to himself. He was careful not to repeat that sentiment audibly. "Holmesy ought to be here to-day, and working," growled one of the Army subs. "He's a sneak, just to desert on Mr. Prescott's account." "None of that!" called Doug sharply. The Army head coach came along, talking quietly but forcefully to the all but discouraged cadets. Then he addressed himself to Douglass, explaining what he thought were next to the weakest points in the Navy line. "You ought to be able to save the score yet, Mr. Douglass," wound up coach. "I wish some one else had the job!" sighed Doug to himself. "Fellows, the main game that is left," explained Wolgast to the midshipmen, "is to keep West Point from scoring. As to our own points, we have enough now---though more will be welcome." Play began in the fourth period. At first it was nip and tuck, neck and neck. But the Army braced and put the pigskin within sixteen yards of the Navy's goal line. Then the men from Annapolis seemed suddenly to wake up. Darrin, who had had little to do in the last few plays, was now sent to the front again. Steadily, even brilliantly, he, Dalzell and Jetson figured in the limelight plays. Yard after yard was gained, while the Army eleven shivered. At last it came to the inevitable. The Army was forced to use another safety. Stinging under the sense of defeat, the cadet players put that temporary chance to such good advantage that they gradually got the pigskin over into Naval territory. But there the midshipmen held it until the timekeeper interposed. The fourth period and the game were over. West Point had gone down in a memorable, stinging defeat. The Navy had triumphed, ten to two. What a crash came from the Naval Academy Band! Yet the Military Academy Band, catching the spirit and the tune, joined in, and both bands blared forth, the musicians making themselves heard faintly through all the tempest of huzzas. Dave Darrin smiled faintly as he hurried away from the field. All his personal interest in football had vanished. He had played his last game of football and was glad that the Navy had won; that was about all. Yet he was not listless---far from it. On the contrary Dave fairly ran to dressing quarters, hustled under a shower and then began to towel and dress. For out in the audience, well he knew, had sat Belle Meade and her mother. "Darry, you're a wonder!" cried Wolgast. "Every time to-day we called upon you you were ready with the push." But Dave, rushing through his dressing, barely heard this and other praise that was showered on him. "I'll get along before assembly time, Davy," whispered Dan Dalzell. "Come along now," Dave called back. "Oh, no! I know that you and Belle want some time to yourselves," murmured Dalzell wisely. "I'll get along at the proper time." Dave didn't delay to argue. He stepped briskly outside, then into the field, his eyes roving over the thousands of spectators who still lingered. At last a waving little white morsel of a handkerchief rewarded Darrin's search. "Oh, you did just splendidly to-day," was Belle's enthusiastic greeting, as Dave stepped up to the young lady and her mother. "I've heard lots of men say that it was all Darrin's victory." "Yes; you're the hero of Franklin Field, this year," smiled Mrs. Meade. "Laura Bentley and her mother didn't come over?" Dave inquired presently. "No; of course not----after the way that the cadets used Dick Prescott," returned Belle. "Wasn't it shameful of the cadets to treat a man like Dick in that fashion?" "I have my opinion, of course," Dave replied moodily, "but it's hardly for a midshipman to criticise the cadets for their own administration of internal discipline in their own corps. The absence of Prescott and Holmes probably cost the Army the game to-day." "Not a bit of it!" Belle disputed warmly. "Dave, don't belittle your own superb work in that fashion! The Army would have lost to-day if the West Point eleven had been made up exclusively of Prescotts and Holmeses!" As Belle spoke thus warmly her gaze wandered, resting, though not by intent, on the face of a young Army officer passing at that moment. "If the remark was made to me, miss," smiled the Army officer, "I wish to say that I wholly agree with you. The Navy's playing was the most wonderful that I ever saw." Dave, in the meantime, had saluted, then stood at attention until the Army officer had passed. "There!" cried Belle triumphantly. "You have it from the other side, now---from the enemy." "Hardly from the enemy," replied Dave, laughing. "Between the United States Army and the United States Navy there can never be a matter of enmity. Annually, in football, the Army and Navy teams are opponents---rivals, perhaps---but never enemies." Mrs. Meade had strolled away for a few yards, the better to leave the young people by themselves. "Dave," announced Belle almost sternly, "you've simply got to say something savage about the action of the West Point men in sending Dick Prescott to Coventry." "The West Point men didn't do it," rejoined Dave. "It was all done by the members of the first class alone." "Well, then, you must say something very disagreeable about the first class at the Military Academy." "But why?" persisted Dave Darrin. He was disgusted enough over the action of the first class cadets, but, being in the service himself, he felt it indelicate in him to criticise the action of the cadets of the United States Military Academy. "Why?" repeated Belle. "Why, simply because Laura Bentley will insist on asking me when I get home what you had to say about Dick's case. If I can't tell Laura that you said something pretty nearly awful, then Laura will be terribly hurt." "Shall I swear?" asked Dave innocently. Belle opened her eyes wide in amazement. "No, you won't swear," Belle retorted. "Profanity isn't the accomplishment of a gentleman. But you must say something about Dick's case which will show her that all of Dick's friends are standing by the poor fellow." "But, Belle, you know it isn't considered very manly for a fellow in one branch of the service to say anything against fellows in the other branch." "Not even---for Laura's sake?" "Oh, well," proposed Midshipman Darrin, squirming about between the horns of the dilemma, "you just think of whatever will please Laura most to hear from me." "Yes-----?" pressed Miss Meade. "Then tell it to her and say that I said it." "But how can I say that you said it if you didn't say it?" demanded Belle, pouting prettily. "Easiest thing in the world, Belle. I authorize you, fully, to say whatever you like about Dick, as coming from me. If I authorize you to say it, then you won't be fibbing, will you?" Belle had to think that over. It was a bit of a puzzle, as must be admitted. "Now, let's talk about ourselves," Darrin pressed her. "I see Danny boy coming, with that two-yard grin of his, and we won't have much further chance to talk about ourselves." The two young people, therefore, busied themselves with personal talk. Dan drifted along, but merely raised his cap to Belle, then stationed himself by Mrs. Meade's side. It was not until Dave signaled quietly that Dalzell came over to take Belle's proffered hand and chat for a moment. The talk was all too short for all concerned. A call of the bugle signaled the midshipmen to leave friends and hasten back for assembly. It was not until the train had started away from Philadelphia that Dave and Dan were all but mobbed by way of congratulation. Wolgast, Jetson, Farley, Page and others also came in for their share of good words. "And to think, Darry, that you can never play on the Navy eleven again!" groaned a second classman. "You'll have some one else in my place," laughed Dave. "The Navy never before had a football player like you, and we'll never have one again," insisted the same man. "Dalzell's kind come once in about every five years, but your kind, Darry, never come back---in the Navy!" _ |
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