"Touchdown 6 points Goal from touchdown 1 point Goal from field 3 points Safety 2 points"

The connoisseurs of the game explained to the uninitiated just what a "touchdown" was, and a "goal from the field." It was harder to make clear what a "safety" meant. The general description seemed to be that it was when a player was caught with the ball behind his own goal.

The crowd kept coming in faster and faster as the hour approached. By two o'clock every bit of desirable s.p.a.ce was occupied. The field was marked off with new lines which shone clear and bright. Stanley was grouped on the right, Regal on the left, the side nearest the entrance.

Automobiles fringed the outer crowd. All was expectancy.

Inside, the two teams were straining at the leash. The coaches had difficulty holding their men quiet.

"Don't waste your strength walking about and fretting," yelled Regal's coach. "You'll need all you've got out there." But the boys could not rest. They champed like horses at the post.

The cheers from outside came sailing in. That only increased their nervousness. A few minutes before time to go out, they almost needed to be tied. Every boy was chewing gum, or biting his nails, or kicking something. Finally the coach signalled attention.

"Now boys, go at them hard. This is no tea party. Scare them from the start. It's grit that wins. No quitter, no quarter. You're off."

With a yell, they bounded out of the dressing room and on to the field.

They came out on a trot, looking steady and confident. They were greeted with "Regal, Regal! Rah, Rah, Regal," from thousands of throats. "Give them another," yelled Gaffney. "Regal, Regal! Rah, Rah, Re--gal" soared across the field.

An instant later, Stanley came out. They got their welcome, "Stanley, Rah! Stanley, Rah!... Rah! Rah! Stanley!"

The spectators were about equally divided. Both sides were on fire with enthusiasm. Those who knew the players pointed them out to those who did not. The strong and weak points of the respective teams were adverted to and discussed.

Below, on the gridiron, the players were limbering up. Some tossed the ball around, others made short sprints, while a few kicked the pig-skin, not far but accurately. The warning whistle sounded. Off came the heavy sweaters. Both sides ranged up in battle formation. The ball was propelled by a mighty kick far into Stanley's territory, and the fight was on.

The battle surged to and fro. Neither side showed any distinct superiority over the other. The ball was pushed now down to Stanley's goal, now down to Regal's. Either side, held for downs within the shadows of its own goal posts, invariably punted the ball back into hostile territory. Time and again an onward march was stopped by clever work and the ball changed hands. The game went on in this way for about ten minutes.

Suddenly from scrimmage, the ball was pa.s.sed to Mulvy's subst.i.tute for a run forward. The chance was good for a score. A little clever dodging here and there would mean a touchdown and six points for Regal. The spectators rose to their feet, they stood on tip toe, they craned their necks to see the first score. All of a sudden, when within fifteen feet of goal, the runner was tackled, toppled, and the ball rolled into Stanley's possession. A groan came from Regal as Stanley picked up the ball, and carried it down the field, whence it was gradually worked over the line for a touchdown. They failed, however, to kick goal, and the score stood 6 to 0 in favor of Stanley.

No time was lost in renewing the battle, and soon it was on as fiercely as before. The Regal's coach was storming and stamping.

"I told them not to drop Mulvy," he bawled. "This is no dude's game.

That sub has got no grit. Look at him now! He's got cold feet, he is only half playing. Here, Green, tighten up your belt. I'm going to put you in the next quarter."

The cheer leader was frantically appealing for encouragement from his yelling hordes. They gave cheer after cheer, louder and longer. The encouragement was telling. Again Regal pushed the ball up the field.

Again, a fine opening presented itself and Derby got the ball, and a good open track to the enemy goal. Deafening cheers gave him wings.

Again a hostile player crossed his path and brought him down like a bag of oats. A hiss resounded over the field. The coach could hardly wait for the quarter to be up. Gaffney ran over from his cheering place to the bench, and whispered to him.

"I know it," growled the coach, "I told the bunch after yesterday's practice. He looked good to them, but I knew he wouldn't do. We're presenting the game to Stanley. It's theirs without half trying. I'll put Green in the next quarter."

"Green is not your man either. There's just one way to save this game, and that's to get Mulvy."

"Is he here?" fairly yelled the coach.

"No, but there are lots of machines. We could run up to his place in five minutes. He could dress in the car and be here for the next half."

"It's no use, Gaff. He wouldn't come. Don't talk to me. I know boys.

After the deal he got yesterday, you couldn't get him here for a million dollars."

"I guess you're right, old man," a.s.sented Gaffney.

The first quarter was up with the ball close to Regal's line. The whistle saved further scoring. During the minute's rest it was clear that the Regal team were not dejected, but desperate. For a few seconds they simply looked at one another. The sub handicap was simply too much for them. They knew it was their own doing, and against the coach's advice.

"Here, Green, get in there now, and show the crowd that at least one fellow has grit."

The whistle sounded, the line-up was formed, and again the battle was on. They certainly played football. But they were up against a crowd who also played. The attack and defense continued as before. If Regal could not gain a point, neither could Stanley. On three or four occasions Regal might have scored, with Mulvy playing. They were afraid to risk anything with Green. They played safe. But that never wins. It may stop the enemy, but it will not bring victory. If the enemy could hold what it had, the game was lost to Regal. The coach saw this. He also saw the solution.

"O, if I only had Mulvy," he roared. He stormed and stamped and said a lot beside his prayers. Gaffney was working like a Trojan. But it was no use. The battle was see-saw. Now Regal, now Stanley. Neither could break through. Again Gaffney came up to the coach. He was exhausted from cheering and from swinging his arms.

"I say, boss, it's all over, unless we get Mulvy."

"Don't talk to me or I'll eat you," snapped the coach. "What's the use of saying Mulvy when we haven't got Mulvy, and can't get him."

"Will you put him in if I get him?"

Just then a yell went up from the Stanley side. A long run brought the ball to within a few feet of Regal's goal, and a score looked certain.

The coach was a sight. The veins in his forehead stood out. His eyes were bulging. All of a sudden, the Stanley player dropped the ball, and the Regal captain seized it. That saved that situation. The coach relaxed, but still looked like a house on fire.

Again Gaffney said, "If I get Mulvy will you put him in?"

"Ask me a foolish question, will you? Put him in! I'll shove him in, and poke him down the throats of that gang of quitters out there."

Gaffney went over to his crowd. "We've got to get Mulvy here, fellows,"

he shouted, "Unless we do, it's good night."

"Well, it's good night, then," remarked Tom Ruggeri, one of the upper cla.s.s boys. Then he added, "You don't suppose any one would jump into the game after the dose he got yesterday, do you?"

"Not any one, but some one, and I believe Mulvy is just that some one,"

retorted Gaffney.

"Well, go ahead and get him then," was the rejoinder.

"You fellows don't know that boy. You have him down as a thug. I'm going to show you you're wrong."

He found d.i.c.k with Ned and Tommy. "Hey, d.i.c.k, you're a friend of Mulvy's. We want you to help us to get him here for the second half.

Will you do it?"

"No, I will not," answered d.i.c.k. "He has been humiliated enough already. To ask him now to play with a crowd that kicked him out yesterday is an insult."

"So, you won't come with me, kid?"

"No."

Gaffney went back to his crowd. "It's all up, I guess. Let's work like blazes cheering, that may start something."

Regal had the ball, but was pushed back to its own goal. In a mix-up, a Regal player ran back of his own goal line, and was grabbed for a "safety," which added two points to Stanley's score. There was dejection among the Regal players and consternation among their supporters.

Only three minutes of play remained before the end of the first half.

The teams struggled doggedly. Regal was really playing splendidly, but the handicap of a sub player was too much. It seemed that Stanley just worked that one weak spot. That was good generalship on their part, but very trying on Regal. With but one minute more of play, Stanley got the ball and ran with it to within seven yards of Regal's goal. They lined up to push it through by sheer force. Regal made stout defense, and held the enemy wonderfully. While the goal was still in imminent danger, the whistle blew, and the first half was over. Score, Stanley 8, Regal 0.