As so frequently happens, Thanksgiving Day was overcast and cold, the air having a tang as of threatening snow.
"Bully football weather!" shouted the fans, as they crowded into the great park-like field at Columbia; the toss of a coin during the week having given Frank's team the privilege of playing on their home grounds.
There was even a greater crowd present than on the occasion of the game with Clifford. This struggle was to effectually decide the ownership of that coveted silver cup, and the championship of the tri-school league for the season.
Everybody who could possibly get there was present. The grandstand seemed to be a waving mass of color with the various little flags, and the gay wraps of the school girls, intensely interested in this battle of brawn and skill between their brothers.
Naturally those from Clifford gathered together for the most part; and Bellport had sent an enormous delegation to whoop things up for her sturdy team.
Indeed, those Bellport players did look like a serious proposition as they scampered back and forth across the field before the time for play had arrived. Many a timid heart among Columbia's friends felt as though the chances were very much against such a victory as had been won over Clifford.
Such enthusiasm as abounded! Cheers arose everywhere. Bands of students went about, headed by some valiant cheer captain, and made all other sounds insignificant beside their clamor, as they chanted their school yell in common, or sang the favorite songs of their classes.
"We're going to see a hot old game, anyhow!" cried Buster Billings, as he sat on the bench in the grandstand, being reckoned of little account as a football player, however much he might shine in baseball.
"What's Bellport's line-up? Seems to me nearly every face here is familiar; and I reckon their entire baseball squad has qualified for the gridiron," remarked another observer.
"Just as you say, there's not a fellow missing," sighed Buster; "but then, none of them happens to be gifted with the heft that fastened its fatal clutches on me at an early age. I'd give the world to play football, but though they've tried me several times, it's always back to the scrap heap for poor Buster boy."
"Well, they left me out this time, too; my first half in the game with Clifford wasn't a howling success. But at any rate I'm a sub, and if a few of the boys get carried off the field they may call on me," and Jack Eastwick patted his chest in anticipation of the slaughter to come.
For the concluding tussle of the High School League the contending teams presented this line-up:
COLUMBIA.
Comfort
F.B.
Allen, Captain. West.
R.H.B. L.H.B.
Wallace.
Q.B.
Shadduck. Oakes. Harper. Bird. Daly. Shay. Morris.
R.E. R.T. R.G. Center. L.G. L.T. L.E.
BELLPORT.
Clay. Coddling. Smith, Jr. Lacy. Alpers. Macy. Smith, Sr.
L.E. L.T. L.G. Center. R.G. R.T. R.E.
Snodgrass.
Q.B.
Banghardt. Bardwell.
L.H.B. R.H.B.
Lee, Captain.
F.B.
The same referee officiated who had managed the game with Clifford so well. And the coach of each team was busily engaged giving the last instructions, since the time specified for the opening kick-off was very near.
Columbia was not boisterous, but there was a look of grim determination visible on the faces of Frank Allen and his fellows that counted for much.
"It's better to shout after you're out of the woods, fellows," said the captain, as he drew his squad around him for a last word ere going upon the field.
This time Frank was lucky, and won the toss. He immediately selected the goal from which the cold November wind blew, as that gave Columbia considerable advantage to start with, though it would be evened up later when the second half brought about a change in base. Still, by then the wind might have died out, and the advantage lost.
Lee opened matters with a beautiful kick, but the oval was captured, and it came Columbia's turn.
Comfort smashed out a fine one, sending the oval far down the enemy's territory. And so fast did the other Columbia fellows chase after it, that when Bellport secured the ball through a clever catch, they found no chance to do anything more than return the kick.
After that the fight was on. Columbia sent the ball back into the territory of the enemy, and at such a bewildering angle, thanks to the wonderful spiral kick of Jack Comfort, that the player who attempted to clasp it in his arms allowed it to get away.
"Go it, you tigers!" shrieked many in the crowd, as they saw several Columbia men making furious efforts to reach the rolling oval before any of the enemy could throw themselves upon it.
But Coddling was there in time to drop on the ball, though hardly had he done so than Shadduck landed on his back, together with various others belonging to both teams.
Now Bellport had the ball, and there was great curiosity to know what success they would have in bucking the Columbia line. Report had it that never had Bellport been so strong in her line of attack; and Clifford enthusiasts had warned their neighbors of what was in store for them this day.
Bellport rushed into the fray. The artful Lacy, he who had played such a clever game as shortstop in the baseball tournament the preceding season, snapped the ball to Snodgrass, who plunged straight for the middle of the Columbia line backed up by a solid wedge that seemed capable of carrying the heavy quarter-back through.
There was a confused mass of struggling players, and a great cloud of dust, in which figures were to be seen pushing this way and that.
[Illustration: THERE WAS A CONFUSED MASS OF STRUGGLING PLAYERS.]
"He's down!" shouted hundreds as the dust passed off with the wind, and they could see the situation again.
"But he took several yards with him, and Bellport has the ball. What d'ye think of that sledgehammer way of carrying things, eh? Wait till Snodgrass and Banghardt and Bardwell get working together, and you'll see the Columbia defense crumple up like dead leaves in a fire!"
Of course it was a Bellport admirer who said this; but those who heard only laughed and waved their Columbia flags the more fiercely. They had full confidence in their boys, and knew what Frank could get out of them in an emergency.
Once more the teams were lined up, watching each other like so many wild animals, hungry and eager. Lee shouted out some signals in his sonorous voice. It sounded very like the previous set, but only those in the secret could know whether the slight difference meant a new change of action or not.
Then the ball was put in play. Like lightning it passed from Lacy's hands. Snodgrass made out to receive it, and once more plunged for the center, as if intending to break through, with several of his fellows backing him up. The deception was so complete that the vast majority of the audience really believed he carried the ball with him.
So a great whoop went up when he was dragged down by one of the Columbia tacklers.
"But look at Smith, Sr., running! He's got the ball, fellows! He's after a touchdown, and he won't be happy till he gets it! Wow! that's going some!"
"He'll never make it! There's West in the way, and Allen bearing down on him like a pirate ship under full sail! What did I tell you? That Ralph West is the best tackier in the county! They made no mistake when they booted Tony Gilpin out and made room for West. Where is the ball now, fellows?"
"Under Smith, Sr., and on Columbia's twenty-five yard line!" admitted Buster Billings, unwillingly.
"And Bellport has still another chance to carry it over! If the wind was favorable Lee could boot the pigskin across your goal, and not half try. But I guess they'd rather depend on breaking through, or getting around the ends. Keep your eyes on those boys, for they're as full of schemes as an egg is of meat."
"That sounds encouraging. I was afraid our fellows might have too easy a snap, and disappoint their friends by not half trying. Just wait yourself, Bellport. It was the same thing in baseball last summer; and yet Columbia flies the banner, all right. You may be treated to some surprises yourself, old chap," remarked Buster, condescendingly.
Again the scrimmage was on. The Columbia tigers were so fast on their feet that Clay, who got the ball this time, was unable to accomplish much before they pounced upon him and bore him heavily to the ground.
"How's that?" shouted Buster, "our fellows just eat up such easy plays. Bring out some of your fancy stunts, and do something, can't you?"
Three minutes later and the ball came to Columbia. It was time, for Bellport had, by a series of bull-like rushes, carried it over the twenty-yard line.
"Now to get back some of that lost ground. There they go! See Shadduck run, will you? He's Mercury, with wings on his feet! Look at him dodge that left guard! Say, he's going to make it yet, as sure as you live he is! Bully boy, Bones! Go it! Go it, you darling! Oh! what a heart-ache I've got! He's over the line, boys; over the line! A touchdown for us to start things!" and Buster danced in his excitement, like a rubber ball.
"No he ain't," snarled a Bellport backer, "they downed him before he got there! Notice that just three of our fellows are settin' on his back. He tried mighty hard, but they nailed him a little too soon!"
"You're mistaken. He held the ball over the line, and it counts for Columbia, as you can see if you look again," remarked Mr. Allen, who was sitting near.
"That's so," grumbled the discomfited Bellport man, "and with that wind it's goin' to be as easy as pie to boot the ball over for a goal. Shucks! what ails our fellows to-day? They never did sloppy work like that with Clifford."
"There was a reason, they say. Clifford claims that her signals were sold to Bellport. Anyhow, there's going to be nothing of that kind to-day, but clean fighting. There goes Frank to kick goal, and he'll do it, too," answered Buster.
The goal was made easily, thanks to the favoring wind. Then again the ball was put into play, and fierce ran the rivalry. Sometimes the fighting was on Columbia territory, and then again the tide of battle shifted until it was Bellport's line that was threatened.
Now and then the cheers of the enthusiasts arose and swelled over that fiercely-contested field like thunder. Back and forth they swung, both now doggedly determined. A score of plays were made that brought out cheers from the spectators, regardless of school affiliations; for they liked clean football, and could applaud clever work, even on the other side.
When the heart-rending agony was finally relieved by the referee's whistle announcing the end of the first half, that score of six by Columbia was the entire counting!
All books are sourced from Project Gutenberg