The Prospector: A Tale of the Crow's Nest Pass. Ralph Connor

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ bleeding at the mouth, but otherwise sound, the crowd of 'Varsity admirers go into a riot of rapture, throwing up caps, hugging each other in ecstatic war dances, while the team walk quietly about recovering their wind, and resisting the efforts of their friends to elevate them.

      "Quit it!" growls Campbell. "Get off the field! Get back, you hoodlums!"

      Meantime Huntingdon is protesting to the referee.

      "I claim that ball was fairly held, back there. Balfour was brought to a dead stand."

      "How do you know, Huntingdon?" returns Campbell. "Your head was down in the scrim."

      "I could see his legs. I know his boots."

      It is true that The Don has a peculiar toe on his boots.

      "Oh," jeers Campbell scornfully, "that's all rot, you know, Huntingdon."

      "Look here, Campbell, listen to what I say. I want you to remember I am speaking the truth."

      Huntingdon's quiet tone has its effect.

      "I would never think of challenging your word," replies Campbell, "but I think it is quite impossible that you could absolutely know that The Don came to a dead stand."

      "I repeat, I can pick out Balfour's boots from a whole crowd, and I know he was brought to a stand. I am prepared to swear that. Can any man swear to the contrary?"

      "Why, certainly," cries Campbell, "half a dozen men can. There's Shock, who was right behind him."

      But Shock thus appealed to, hesitates. He has an unfortunate conscience.

      "I can't say for sure," he says, looking piteously, at his captain.

      "Weren't you moving all the time, Shock?"

      "Well, I was shoving all the time."

      "But hold on," says Huntingdon. "Will you say that Balfour was never brought to a stand? Will you swear that?"

      "Well, I cannot say for sure," replies Shock in great distress. "It was not very long, anyway."

      Yells of triumphant laughter break from the McGill crowd.

      The referee is in great difficulty. He has a reputation for courage and fairness. He hesitates a moment or two, and then, while the crowd wait breathless for his decision, says, "You can all see that it is almost impossible to be certain, but on the whole I shall give it a 'hold.'"

      It was a bitter moment to the 'Varsity men, but Campbell is a true sport.

      "Shut up, men," he says in answer to the loud protests of his team. "Get behind the ball."

      Every second is precious now, and the line is only three feet away.

      Again the field is cleared. The teams, springing to their places in the scrimmage, began to shove furiously before the ball is in play.

      "Get up, men!" says the referee. "You must get up. Let me get this ball in. Get up, McGill! Get off your knees!" for the McGill men are on their goal line in an attitude of devotion.

      Again and again the scrimmage is formed, only be broken by the eagerness of the combatants. At length the referee succeeds in placing the ball. Instantly Shock is upon it, and begins to crawl toward the line with half a dozen men on his back, gripping him by nose, ears, face, throat, wherever a hand can find a vulnerable spot.

      "Hold there!" calls the referee. "'Varsity ball."

      "Get off the man! Get off!" cry the 'Varsity men, pulling the McGill fellows by legs and heads, till at length Shock rises from the bottom of the heap, grimy, bloody, but smiling, grimly holding to the ball. He has made six inches. The line is two feet and a half away.

      It is again 'Varsity's ball, however, and that means a great deal, for with Campbell lies the choice of the moment for attack.

      Placing Shock on the wing, and summoning his halves and quarters, Campbell prepares for a supreme effort. It is obviously the place for the screw.

      The McGill men are down, crouching on hands and feet, some on their knees.

      Campbell refuses to play and appeals to the referee in a tone of righteous indignation, "What sort of game is this? Look at those fellows!"

      "Get up McGill! Get up, or I'll penalise you," says the referee. Everyone knows he will keep his word. There is a movement on the part of McGill to rise. Campbell seizes the opportunity, lowers his head, and with a yell drops the ball in front of Shock. In the whirl of the screw the ball slips out to Brown, who tips it to The Don, but before he can take a single step half a dozen men are upon him and he is shoved back a couple of feet.

      "Man, man," ejaculates the old lady, "will you not be careful!"

      "I say!" exclaims old Black to a McGill enthusiast whom he had fought in the famous championship battle four years ago. "This is something like."

      "Great ball," replies his friend. "We'll hold them yet. I've often seen a ball forced back from two feet off the line."

      It is still the 'Varsity ball. The crowds are howling like maniacs, while the policeman and field censors are vainly trying to keep the field decently clear.

      The Don resigns the ball to the captain and falls in behind. Every man is wet, panting, disfigured, but eager for the fight. Again the scrim forms, only to fall upon the ball.

      "Dead ball," announces the referee, and both teams begin to manoeuvre for advantage of position. A few inches is a serious thing.

      Again the ball is placed and the men throw themselves upon it, Shock as usual at the bottom of the heap with the ball under him.

      Old Black runs up through the crowd and whispers in Campbell's ear, "Put Balfour and Martin in the scrim. They are fresher." He has noticed that the scrim line on both sides is growing stale, and can do no more than grimly hold on. At once Campbell sees the wisdom of this suggestion. The Don, though not so heavy as Shock, is quite as strong, and is quicker than the big centre, who is beginning to show the effect of the tremendous series of scrimmages he has just passed through. Martin, though neither so strong nor so heavy, is like an eel.

      Quietly Campbell thrusts the halves into the first line on the right, whispering to Shock, "Let Balfour have it, and back him up."

      As The Don gets the ball Campbell throws himself behind him with the yell, "'Varsity! now!" At the same instant The Don drops the ball, and with the weight of the whole team behind him begins to bore through the enemy.

      For a few moments both teams hang in the balance, neither giving an inch, when old Black, yelling and waving wildly, attracts the attention of Bate.

      "Go in!" he cries. "Go in!" and Bate, coming up with a rush, throws himself behind the scrim.

      His weight turns the scale. Slowly at first, but gaining momentum with every inch, the mass yields, sways, and begins to move. The McGill men, shoving, hacking, scragging, fighting fiercely, finally dropping on their knees, strive to check that relentless advance. It is in vain. Their hour has come.

      With СКАЧАТЬ