“Now,” said the Coach, “we’ll see what Davis can do against a bunch that’s ready for him.”
Doane’s team lined up for scrimmage, against the most open defense that had ever been seen on that field.
“Lord!” said Dana on the bench.
“They could drive a truck through that hole in our middle.”
“But they have no truck,” replied Wallace.
Doane’s quarterback called three numbers. Back came the ball, not to Davis, but to the quarter himself. Straight through the big gap in the center of the line he sped. But a Blue and White guard managed to throw him off his balance, and his gain was only four yards.
“They’re trying to draw us in,” said the Coach. “Fine chance!”
Again the teams lined up, and again Davis took his station on the spot whence passes and kicks are sent away. His ends, the basketball players, were far out. His halfbacks stood where they could block an aggressive lineman and give their star a chance to do whatever was in his mind. But the play was a duplicate of the first. This time, however, the quarter tripped himself before he’d gone a yard.
“I should think that’d be enough bluffing,” said Harris.
“You can bet your pile it’ll be Davis this time,” said the Coach.
Barrows, from his position far down the field, yelled a warning to his fellows:
“Watch him this time! Watch a pass!”
Doane’s formation was slightly different on this, the third lineup. Davis stayed back, and the ends remained far out, but Byron moved over behind Moxey, the other halfback, in a sort of tandem. And as the signals were called, Davis shifted a little toward the side the two halfbacks were on.
“He’ll throw to that other side,” said the Coach.
He had hardly finished speaking when the ball was passed—passed to Byron. Through the open gate between the Blue and White’s right tackle and guard drove the tandem. Down the field they romped, Moxey brushing aside the only member of Coach Belden’s secondary line who was not too much surprised to move.
Barrows made a desperate effort to nail the man with the ball, but Moxey floored him. Byron was across the line for a touchdown, and the game was hardly a minute old.
“Yea, Byron! Yea, Byron!” yelled the Doane stands.
And “Yea, Davis!” as Doane’s captain added a point with a perfect kick.
Dana hurried to his chief’s side.
“Better close in a little,” he advised. “They’ll go through our line for fifty touchdowns if we play that defense.”
“No,” said the Coach. ‘What they want us to do is close in and give Davis a chance. That score surprised them as much as it did us. They were trying to scare us into tightening up, and they just happened to score in the attempt. My center can stop that plunger from going too far, and I don’t care, if he gains only two or three yards at a clip. They’ll never keep that game up when they’ve got a man like Davis to work the other, especially when he’s captain and this is his last appearance. I’m going to stand pat for a while, at least.”
Once more the Blue and White kicked off, and once more Doane started out with their quarter-through-center play. But the Blue and White center, big Wickham, knew enough by this time to dive in when he saw where the play was headed; and in two tries Doane’s gain was less than three yards.
“Now I guess they’ll open up,” said the Coach.
But with everybody expecting a direct pass to Davis, the ball was snapped again to the quarter and shot sideways by that young man to the waiting Byron. Straight ahead he plunged, for nine yards and a first down.
“That’s enough,” said the Coach. “That little game will stop right here.”
He beckoned to Ainslee, a sub.
“Go in for Hayes,” he said. “Tell those fellows to close up. Tell them to stay closed up till they actually see the ball in Davis’ hands. When they do, they can spread out fast and stop him. They’ll have to keep their eyes open and step lively.”
The quarterback had gone through for another yard or so before Ainslee delivered his message. Then, when they saw the Blue and White defense tighten up, the Doane backs held a council of war while one of their guards played dead.
“With us bunched like that,” said Harris, “Davis will throw it a mile.”
“I can’t help it,” said the Coach. “I’ve got to take the chance.”
The consultation was over. Doane’s quarterback began shouting his numbers. Doane’s ends ran far out, and the Blue and White ends went with them. Moxey and Byron again lined up tandem, behind a tackle.
“My holes are plugged now,” said the Coach. “They can’t gain with that. They won’t try. It’ll be Davis this time, sure.”
But it wasn’t. The quarter took the pass and started to the left as if to sweep the Blue and White right end. Then, as a tackle was about to grasp him, he shot a lateral pass to Byron, who had dug for the sideline as the ball was snapped. The Doane left end smothered his adversary. Moxey dashed down the field unchallenged and put a defensive halfback out of it. Byron, running alone and so close to the boundary that the Doane substitutes could almost have reached out and touched him, had only Barrows between him and another score.
“Chase him out! Chase him out!” shrieked the Coach and his aids in chorus.
But Byron, safe from rear pursuit, had left the sideline and wass heading straight for the posts. And Barrows, not yet over the shock of the last touchdown, allowed himself to be dodged as cleanly as ever man was.
Davis kicked another easy goal while the stands shook with cheers for old Doane.
“Licked fourteen to nothing,” said the Coach. “Licked before we’ve even had a feel of the ball.”
“We’re not licked yet,” said Harris.
“Don’t kid yourself,” said the Coach. “You
