Hugh cut chapel the next morning, but there was French at ten and Greek at eleven and mathematics at one, and so it wasn’t possible to remain in retirement. Bert consoled him with the assurance that except for a badly discolored eye he would pass muster anywhere as an ardent pacifist. Hugh couldn’t quite credit that, but he had no course but to attend classes. His appearance created interest and aroused curiosity among his classmates, while Mr. Teschner observed him speculatively but asked no questions. Plenty of questions were asked, however, and Hugh’s ingenuity was sorely taxed in accounting for his contusions without involving Longley. By the afternoon, though, the facts were pretty widely known, probably due to the communicativeness of Peet, and Hugh was no longer required to invent.
He and Longley had their first face-to-face encounter in the field house before practice. If either experienced sensations of embarrassment they failed to show it. Longley nodded to Hugh and Hugh nodded back, and that was all there was to it except that each took surreptitious views of the other’s countenance and, possibly, derived a certain satisfaction from what he saw. To be sure, Bert had slightly exaggerated the damage to Longley, but his nose was noticeably enlarged and there was a generous-sized place on the left cheek where the skin was missing. Peet, perhaps conscious of having talked too much, admired Hugh from a discreet distance that day.
Although the first was due for a stiff contest on the morrow, Mr. Bonner had no pity on them today and they were put through a long siege of elementary work and two fifteen-minute periods with the second during which, with the head coach driving them mercilessly, they managed to score three touchdowns and would have held their opponents safe had not Neil Ayer fortunately dropped a goal from the first team’s eighteen yards after a well-managed forward pass that caught their enemies napping. After practice Coach Crowley announced that there would be no work for the second the next day and that all who wished to accompany the first team to Leeds to see the game with Hollywood would be taken along free of charge, since the morrow’s contest was the only one played away from home that season. Needless to say, the second team to a fellow declared their intention of profiting by the generosity of the Athletic Association. However, when the train left the next forenoon the entire roster was not present. A few were so unfortunate as to have morning recitations which, for reasons that we will not inquire into too closely, they dared not cut. Still, most of them did make the trip, Hugh among them, and were well repaid by witnessing a close and hotly contested game.
Hollywood School was a pretty big institution, with a registration of close to four hundred students, and that the visitors held the home team to one touchdown and scored a like number of points spoke well for them. Oddly enough, both the Hollywood left half-back and the Grafton full-back failed at an easy goal and the final score was 6 to 6, a result more satisfactory to Grafton than to Hollywood. All things considered, Grafton had a right to and did consider the tie a virtual victory, while the home team and its friends probably looked on it as closely akin to a defeat. At all events, Grafton went home well contented and a bit vociferous, the only fly in the ointment represented by the fact that Mount Morris had overwhelmingly defeated the St. James Academy team from which Grafton had barely won two weeks before. Still, as Nick declared to Bert and Hugh on the way back to the Junction, St. James had presented a make-shift eleven because of injuries the Saturday previous and Mount Morris had probably had a much easier task than Grafton had experienced. But Nick had to acknowledge that 26 to 3 was a heap different from 12 to 10, by which score Grafton had taken the measure of St. James.
Mount Morris had been having an unusually successful season. She had met one more team than Grafton and had so far not only escaped defeat but had won each contest decisively. On the other hand, the Scarlet-and-Gray had been once beaten and once tied; and there was a strong probability of its being defeated again next Saturday when it played Lawrence Textile School. Mount Morris had a big, heavy team, although its back-field had shown itself capable of speed, and was playing this fall almost the same line-up as last; a couple of new linesmen and a new quarter were the only changes in the eleven. But today’s showing against Hollywood was distinctly encouraging to Graftonians, and there were plenty of fellows among players and supporters who refused even to consider the possibility of a win for the green-and-white cohorts of Mount Morris. Captain Ted Trafford was one of them, but Ted had the convenient faculty of being able to believe what he wanted to, and his views had not very much weight with his friends.
Bert was disappointed on Monday when Coach Bonner and Trainer Richards refused to allow him to go back to work. Bert declared emphatically that his rib was perfectly all right and that if he felt any better he’d scream, but Davy wouldn’t sanction his return to work and without that sanction Coach Bonner would have none of him. Bert watched practice that day from the bench and scowled ferociously on friend and foe alike. Many of the first-string players were excused and in the scrimmage the first team was made up largely of substitutes. Derry was in Dresser’s position at left end, Parker played left tackle instead of Franklin, Hanrihan was in Ted Trafford’s place, Milford substituted for Tray at right end, and the back-field, with the exception of Nick, who played through the first period, was composed entirely of second-string fellows. In the second period more changes were made, so that when Hugh, playing right half on the scrub team, leaped into fame in the middle of the last period of the game, he doubtless had the wholesale substitution to thank for his performance.
First and second battled through fifteen minutes without a score, both elevens booting the ball frequently in the hope that the strong wind blowing across the field would result in a fumble. There were fumbles, for that matter, but neither side profited much from them, and after a five-minute rest they went back to work with the contest still to be won or lost. The wind was noticeably less and first team took advantage of the fact to try out her forward passing game. Substitutes are somewhat like those persons who rush in where angels fear to tread, and Gus Weston, who had taken Nick’s place at quarter-back, had all the rashness of his kind. One pass went nicely to Derry and that youth managed to outwit Forbes very neatly and reeled off twenty-seven yards and put the pigskin on the second’s nineteen before he was brought down by Spalding, after Hugh had made an ineffectual effort to reach him. But where Weston made his mistake was in trying the same play a minute later when a line attack would have probably secured him ground, and at all events been far safer against a team smarting from the degradation of that twenty-seven-yard gain. But Weston called for the same play on first down and the ball went back to Leddy, at full, and Leddy heaved to a supposedly waiting Derry. Forbes, though, was not fooled this time and Derry had no chance of getting into position for the catch. Someone else had, however, and the someone else was the second team’s right half-back, who, sensing the play from the moment the ball was snapped, had sprinted across the field as soon as Leddy had caught, avoided the engaged ends and, raising an eager hand aloft in signal to Leddy, had joyfully watched the approach of the arching ball. Whether the full-back had been fooled by Hugh’s signal or whether he had trusted to Derry to get free from his antagonist in time to make the catch is a matter of conjecture. At all events, Leddy made an excellent throw and Hugh made a correspondingly good catch, and the fat was in the fire.
What ensued occupied so little time that to the watchers, at least, it seemed all over almost as soon as it had begun. Hugh had a practically clear field for the first twenty yards and he made the most of it. Then the pursuit moved to cut him off from behind and the race began in earnest.
Hugh had captured the ball near his own fifteen yards, for the pass had been more vertical than forward, and he was approaching the middle of the field, running like a rabbit, as Bert told him afterwards, before he was really challenged. Then it was Jack Zanetti who threw down the gauntlet. Zanetti was a swift runner, with a commendable Track Team record for the two-twenty, and had he and Hugh started even the latter would never have had a chance of victory. But Zanetti was well behind when the danger had been discovered and by the time he was close to Hugh’s flying heels he had already run a punishing race. Behind Zanetti streamed others; Gus Weston, Milford and Hanser possible contenders, Leddy hopelessly out of it, and then a mingling of friends and foes. Forbes, seeing the way the play was turning out, had left Derry to his own devices and was making an earnest effort to catch up with his team-mate and act as interference, but the handicap of distance was too great and although Forbes did actually manage to be in at the death he never got close enough to render any aid.
Nick had told Hugh that when one was making a long run with the ball one didn’t do much thinking. But Hugh couldn’t agree with him, for it seemed to him that he thought of about everything in the world! Only, and this was a peculiar thing to his mind, he couldn’t remember any of his thoughts afterwards! Near the first team’s forty-five yards Zanetti made a heroic effort to reach the quarry. Calling on every last ounce of strength, he sprinted and lunged forward with groping hands. Perhaps Hugh guessed his danger, for he swerved at the right instant and Zanetti’s arms, although they nearly reached what they sought and even threw Hugh out of his stride, closed on empty air and he rolled over twice and lay quite quiet until the rest of the pursuit had labored past.
Milford found his second wind and gave Hugh a very pretty tussle all the rest of the way, but the latter crossed the goal line with dragging feet a good three yards ahead, touched the ball to earth and then carefully snuggled it beneath him and ducked his head as the exhausted Milford dropped down on him.
It was a spectacular performance, as all such long runs are, but it is doubtful if Hugh deserved all the praise he received. Granted that he had displayed football acumen in diagnosing the play and getting into it as he had, the subsequent task had required little ability beyond that of running as hard as he knew how. He had not been forced to worm his way through a scattered defence or dodge a hungry quarter-back on his way to the goal. He had merely made the most of a fortunate opportunity. Probably if he had been playing against the full strength of the first team he would never have been able to catch the pass, or, having caught it, to get away with it. Much of this he explained subsequently to Bert and Nick and Pop and others, for he refused to view himself as a hero, but they all scoffed and reminded him that he had made the longest run of the season on Lothrop Field. Just now, having been released from the oppressive attentions of Milford, he was being ecstatically thumped and beaten by his mates of the second team as, ball under arm, he walked it out for the try at goal. Coach Crowley even expressed mild commendation, and in Hugh’s belief every chap on the team took an enthusiastic whack at his tired shoulders except Longley; and Longley grinned at him in a most friendly and approving manner.
Ayer insisted that Hugh should hold the ball for him, and Hugh was very glad that he had watched that operation often enough and carefully enough to be able to perform it. Ayer had mercy on his breathlessness and gave him plenty of time before he said “Right!” and stepped forward. Then Hugh carefully withdrew his fingers from under the end, heard the thud of leather on leather and, prone on the turf—and very willing to remain so, if the truth were known!—watched the pigskin rise, turning lazily over end on end, up and away and—yes, over the cross-bar!
Second team celebrated the advent of that seventh point by again lavishing blows on his back and playfully maltreating Neil Ayer. Then they scattered to take the kick-off and Peet tugged at Hugh’s elbow, looking very, very admiring and very, very apologetic, and said: “You’re off, Ordway. I’m sorry. Give me your head-guard, will you? Say, that was a peach of a run!”
Hugh yielded his guard and place, acknowledging Peet’s compliment with a nod, and walked off a trifle incensed with Mr. Crowley. Of course he hadn’t done enough to have the fellows make such a fuss, he thought, but he had scored a touchdown and it did seem that the coach might reward him by letting him play the time out. Mr. Crowley, however, only waved to him in the direction of the field house and Hugh got his sweater and weariedly trotted off, turning deaf ears to the approving remarks of those on the benches. If he had done anything, he asked himself impatiently, why didn’t they let him keep on playing?
But he hadn’t missed much, as he soon realized, for he was still tugging at his sticky togs when the released players burst in at the doors. The second team fellows were jubilant indeed. They had for once beaten the first in a straight practice game! Hugh was speedily discovered and made the recipient of further boisterous honors, and even Longley, grinning like a catfish, got in a slap on a bare shoulder this time and told him he was “the pride of the noble Scrubs!” Hugh made his escape finally and took refuge in the shower bath.
That day Hugh came into what might be termed official possession of his nickname. One may pass uneventfully through four years of school life and be known as plain Jack Jones, but once let him achieve a modicum of fame and he is suddenly “Buster” Jones or something equally euphonious. So it was with Hugh Oswald Brodwick. By supper time the school was discussing, explaining and praising the eighty-five yard run of “Hobo” Ordway.