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Dick Prescott's Third Year at West Point, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 15. Heroes And A Sneak |
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_ CHAPTER XV. HEROES AND A SNEAK Turnback Haynes watched the game closely, darkly. He wanted to note and to remember every play near the Army's left end today. Should the Navy win the day's battle, then Cadets Haynes felt sure he could make a large number of men in the second class at the Military Academy believe that Prescott had allowed his ancient friendship to stand in the way of an Army victory. "Great Caesar, I might even succeed in getting to be president of the class yet!" muttered the turnback. "There they go again!" A second or two later the wild cheering began again. For the Army was charging with the ball, well down in Navy territory, and Prescott, with the pigskin safely tucked, was using his most wily tactics to get by Dave Darrin. And Dick succeeded, too, though only for eight yards, when Dave had the satisfaction of helping to pull his old-time chum down to the ground in the interests of the Navy. For a little while the ball had been over on Army ground. Now, however, it was going steadily toward the Navy's goal line, and the interest of the spectators was intense. The time of the game was more than half gone. Once the Navy had been forced to carry the pig skin behind its own line, gaining thus a fresh lease of life in the game. But, of course, the safety scored two against the Navy. For a while afterward it had looked as though that, would be the score for the game---two to nothing. "If Brayton uses Prescott just right, and doesn't call on them too often, they'll get the ball over the Navy's goal line yet," confided Lieutenant Carney to a brother officer who stood at his side. "The Navy line-up is a great one this year," replied his comrade. "For myself I'd be satisfied to see the score end as it stands---two to nothing." "Without a touchdown on either side!" questioned Lieutenant Carney, with a trace of scorn in his voice. "That wouldn't be real sport, old fellow!" "I know; but it would be at least a safe finish for the Army," responded the other. Just then Quarterback Boyle's voice was heard giving the signal: "Eight---seventeen---four!" Lieutenant Carney gave his friend's arm a slight nudge. By way of Greg the ball came to Dick, who, already in fleet motion, was none the less ready for the pass. With the ball under his arm, Prescott started. Almost in an instant Dave and Dan piled upon him, ere Greg could get in for effective interference. Two more downs and the Navy had the ball. Now Darrin, with Dalzell's close elbow-touch throughout, started a series of brilliant plays. To be sure, Dave didn't make all the runs, but he made the larger part of them. Turnback Haynes's eyes began to snap. Dave Darrin was playing with fire in his eyes. Prescott was fighting back, doggedly, sullenly it almost seemed, but Darrin was putting on his best streak of the day. Ere the Navy was obliged to give up the ball once more it had crossed the line, and was twelve yards down in Army territory. Nor did the Army succeed in getting the ball back over the center line. Once more the Navy took the ball and began to work wonders with it. Within fifteen yards of the Army goal line the middies carried the ball, by easy stages. Dan Dalzell, for an instant, caught Greg's glance and sent him a look of comical warning. Holmes stiffened, though he returned the look in all personal friendliness. "Don't let Dave do it---whatever he'll be up to next," begged Greg, in an appealing whisper. "Dick, I'll stay beside you---to the death!" It was another right-end pass for the Navy, backed by a solid charge. Worse, in the impact that followed Dave succeeded, somehow, in outwitting even Prescott's stern vigilance. Dick Prescott gave vent to a gasp. He felt his heart thumping as he wheeled, dashing after Dave. But Darrin was in his element now, neither to be stopped, nor overtaken. Dodging with marvellous agility and craft three Army men who sought to bar his way, Dave went pantingly over the Army goal line---scoring a touchdown! What a fearful tumult ascended from the seats of the Navy's sympathizers over on the stands! The Navy had proved itself, by scoring the only touchdown. Lieutenant Carney groaned inwardly. Two to five now---and the Army coach saw no more hope of scoring for this day. Flushed, happy, the midshipmen ran back to form their line for the try for goal. That kick missed fire. No matter! Five to two for the Navy, anyhow! At the signal the Army and Navy lined up to fight out what was left of time to play the game. Naval Academy band and the whole navel crowd were having the jubilation all their own way. The midshipmen, having proved slight superiority over the Army, could doubtless prevent more scoring in this game. In fact, the Navy captain had just passed this wood to the members of his team: "Score, of course, if we can. But, above all, keep the Army from scoring!" It was the Navy's turn to make the kick-off. This gave the Army at least the chance of starting the running with the ball. Prescott and Holmes had shown as yet no signs of cave in. Every player on the Navy team looked to see this swift, tricky army pair make the first effort of the new series. He carried it ten yards, too, ere he was obliged to go to the ground with the pigskin under him. The next play was made at the center of the Army line. What was the matter? wondered many of the Army watchers. Was Brayton becoming dissatisfied with his left wing? "Humph!" rejoined Haynes sourly. But the third time that the ball was put in play it went swiftly to Prescott. Instead of trying to make his way around the end, Dick suddenly sped some what to the right. Darrin had gone in the opposite direction, yet, thoroughly familiar with his old chum's tricky ways of play, Dave had his eyes wide open. So he wheeled, rushing at Prescott. But he bumped, instead, with Greg, a fraction of a second before Dalzell could reach the spot and take a hand. Then the whole Army line charged down on the endangered spot. Dick was through, and the Navy men were having all they do. In a twinkling Prescott had sped, on, now was he caught and downed until he had the ball within twelve yards of the Navy's goal line. Right off the Army cheer-master was on the job. The corps yell was raised with Prescott's name and Holmes's. Brayton looked flushed and happy. He hoped yet to show these over-confident middies something. Again the line-up was made for the snapback. The midshipmen players were now justifiably nervous, though they gave no sign of the fact. Again the signal was given. Holmes received the ball and started. The whole Army line veered to the left. The Navy moved to mass in support of Darrin and Dalzell. Yet, just as the Navy men thought they could stop Greg, it turned out that Prescott carried the pigskin. Nor did Cadet Prescott lose any time at all in trying to buck the line. Ere the attention of the Navy had been drawn away from Holmes, Prescott was off on a slanting line around the Navy's right end. Even Dave Darrin was properly fooled this time. Dick had only to shake off a halfback and the fullback and he was over the goal line, holding down the ball. Never before had Franklin Field heard a greater din than now arose. The Army Band was now playing furiously, yet the musicians barely heard themselves. The black, gold and gray pennants of the Army were waving frantically over half the field. The noise of cheering must have been heard a mile away. From the cadets themselves came some Army yell for which the cheer-master had signaled, but no one heard what it was. The noise continued until the line-up had been effected for the kick for goal. Brayton, flushed with delight, chose to make the kick himself. The pigskin soared, describing a beautiful curve. Between the goal posts it went, dropping back of the line. Gloom had fallen over the middies, who realized that but three minutes time was left. Swiftly as could be, the line-up was made for the kick-off. It was the Army's turn to start the ball, the Navy's to come back with it, if possible, into Army territory. The Navy soon succeeded in getting the pigskin a trifle over the middle line. But the time was too short in which to do anything decisive. The Army was strictly on the defensive, taking no chances. Time was called. The Army had won, eight to five! When it was all over the middies cheered the victors as lustily as anyone, though sore hearts beat under the blue uniforms of Annapolis. West Points cadets, on the other hand, were wild with joy. Again and again they sent up the rousing corps yell for Prescott and Holmes, with Brayton's name added. Turnback Haynes, finding no one to listen to him now, in anything he might have to say against Prescott, turned to stare at the heaving lines of gray. To himself, Haynes muttered curiously: "Humph!" That one word did not, however, do justice to Haynes's frame of mind. He was wild with jealousy and hatred, but dared not show it. That fellow Prescott will have his head fearfully swelled and be more unbearable than ever! growled Haynes to himself. Confound him, he has no business at all in the Army! Why should he be? Then, after a pause, a cunning look crept slowly into the eyes of the turnback, as he throbbed under his breath: If I can have anything to do with it, he wont be much longer in the Army! For just a moment, ere the teams left the field, the old Gridley chums had a chance to rush over to each other. "I was afraid of you, Dick," Dave confessed. "Not more than I was of you, Dave, laughed Prescott." "Did you find the Army such easy stuff to use as a doormat, Dan?" queried Greg dryly. "Oh, it--it--it was the fault of the new rules," retorted Midshipman Dalzell, making a wry face. "You know, Greg, you never could play much football. But the new rules favor the muff style of playing." Only a few more words could the quartette exchange. There was time, however, for a few minutes of talk before the West Pointers were obliged to leave for their train. Greg, sighed Dick, if we only had Dave and Dan playing on the same team with us, such a game would be great! "Oh, well," murmured Greg, "whether Annapolis or West Point lugged off the actual score, the service won, anyway. For the Army and Navy are inseparable units of the service." It was a very orderly and dignified lot of cadets who filed aboard the cadet section of the train to leave for home. Once the train was well on its way out of Philadelphia, however, the pent-up enthusiasm of the happy sons of the Army broke loose, nor did the tactical officers with them make any effort to restrain the merry enthusiasm. Some of the cadets went from car to car, in search of more excitement. Dick Prescott soon became so tired of hero-worship that he slipped along through the rear car a few feet at a time until, at last, unobserved, he managed to make his way out on to the rear platform. Unobserved, that is, by all save one. Turnback Haynes, who had been watching Dick with a sort of wild fascination, noted Dick's latest move. The train, which had been traveling at high speed, now slowed down to some twenty-five miles an hour in order to pass over a river. While the attention of all the rest was turned toward the front end of the car, Haynes, with lowered eyes and half-slinking manner, made his way toward the rear of the car. Peering through the glass in the door, the turnback could make out Cadet Prescott standing outside. Dick's back was toward the door. A diabolical light flashed in Haynes's eyes for a moment. He shook from head to foot, but, by a strong effort of will, he stayed his quivering. One stealthy look over his shoulder Haynes took, then suddenly opened the door, stepping outside. Cadet Prescott half turned. There was no time to do more, when he felt himself seized in a strong clutch. There was hardly any struggle. It all seemed to be over in a second or so. Cadet Prescott plunged headlong through the darkness of the night into the dark river below! _ |
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