The Boys of Columbia High on the Gridiron : or, the Struggle for the Silver Cup

Excerpt

CHAPTER I

OUT FOR PRACTICE

"Oh, what a splendid kick!"

The yellow pigskin football went whizzing through the air, turning over and over in its erratic flight.

"Wow! Look at old Sorreltop run, will you?"

"He's bound to get under it, too. That's going some, fellows! Oh, shucks!"

"Ha! ha! a fumble and a muff, after all! That's too bad, after such a great gallop. Now Clack's got the ball, and a clear field ahead for a run! Go it, you wild broncho! Say, look there, will you, Tony; Ralph West thinks he can tackle that flying tornado!"

"Will he? Maybe, maybe not, fellows!" called out the ever-skeptical Jack Eastwick, as he watched the rapidly nearing figures. Jack was on the regular team, but not playing that afternoon.

"There, he's done it! Wasn't that tackle a screamer, though? That man West belongs with the regulars. He's too good for the scrub team. Mark my words, when we go up against Clifford he'll be doing duty with Columbia's eleven!"

"Bah!" sneered Tony Gilpin. "He's still only a greeny; never saw a football till he came here last year. Bones Shadduck taught him all he knows about the game. Take him away from his teacher, and the little boy would be hopelessly foundered, and you know it, too, Herman Hooker."

Herman was Columbia's "cheer captain." His sonorous voice aroused more enthusiasm among the struggling athletes when the prospects seemed dark and forbidding, than all other elements combined. As soon as it boomed out over a hotly-contested field, every Columbia fellow seemed to take on fresh confidence, and in many instances that meant a new determination to win the victory.

Herman looked at the last speaker, and smiled broadly. It was well known among the students of Columbia High School that Tony Gilpin still entertained great hopes of holding his place on the regular team; but his play was not up to the standard of the preceding year, and dark hints had gone abroad that in all probability he would be dropped, for "a dark horse."

As this latter must of necessity be taken from the scrub team, it can be easily understood why Tony showed so much concern over the playing of the newcomer, Ralph West.

"Why ain't you practicing with your team this P. M., instead of loafing around here watching the scrub eleven do things." remarked Charlie Scott, one of the group. "It can't be possible that a seasoned veteran of two years' experience can pick up points from a come-on?"

"I strained my leg a bit yesterday, and the coach advised me to give it a rest for a day. When I tackle I'm apt to go at a man without regard to consequences; and sometimes the jar is fierce," explained Tony, sneeringly.

"Well, if you can beat that work of Ralph West, you're going some, now; take it from me, son," commented Herman, with fatherly interest, and simply a desire to see the best man on the regular team when the auspicious day dawned that lined Columbia's eleven up against the warriors of Clifford.

Tony made no verbal reply, but his brow grew dark, as he once again shot a look of hatred toward the player who had made that brilliant flying tackle....