Dan Carter and the Cub Honor Part 33

As the Cubs fully expected, the Purple Five center was inches taller than Brad. He out jumped his opponent, and easily tapped the ball to Pat in the first second of play.

Red though, was on his toes. He guarded Pat so closely that he could not pa.s.s or shoot for the basket. The referee tossed the ball between them.

Red out jumped his opponent, and sent the ball bouncing toward Chub.

The boy missed it, but recovered. He hesitated, uncertain what to do.

"Shoot it to Dan!" shouted Chips from the sidelines.

Chub heard and hurled the ball. The shot was wild, but Dan made a leap into the air and caught it. The crowd roared with delight.

"Shoot! Shoot!" screamed the Den 2 rooters.

The ball went smoothly from Dan's hands. It made a high loop and with scarcely a sound, dropped through the north basket.

The Cubs had scored two points in the first three minutes of play!

Thrilled by their success, the Cubs tried harder than ever for victory.

However, the Purple Five were not to be caught napping a second time. Pat and his teammates began to play less cautiously, always watching for a chance to shatter the defense of the Cubs.

The Den 2 plays were working perfectly until the ball reached Chub.

Repeatedly, Brad or Midge fed him the ball, only to have him m.u.f.f the shot. Whenever possible, they pa.s.sed to Dan, but both Purple Five guards concentrated on him.

"They watch me like a hawk," Dan complained as the two teams rested at the end of the first quarter. "If I could just get a free shot at that basket once in a while!"

The score stood 2 to 6 in favor of the Purple Five. The Cubs truly were worried. Unless they dug in fast, they'd lose the game.

Chub touched Dan on the arm. "Why don't you put Fred in instead of me?"

he asked. "I-I try, but I can't seem to find the basket."

Dan slapped him on the back. "You're doing fine," he said. "Quit worrying and just think about the game."

"I wanted to do well tonight 'specially," Chub said. "There's someone here watching me-"

Dan had forgotten entirely about Chub's father. Now he saw the other boy turn and glance directly at a man who stood at the end of the gymnasium with a group of spectators who had arrived too late to obtain seats.

So Mr. Weldon had kept his promise! Dan felt a great load drop from his shoulders. What a surprise Pat would get, when the game finally ended!

Dan saw Chub wave to his father, and noted the happy light in the boy's eyes.

"He knows the truth," Dan instantly decided. "Someone has told him.

That's why he's trying so hard tonight. He wants to make good for his father."

Just then Mr. Hatfield came across the floor to speak to Dan. Drawing him aside, he asked his opinion about keeping Chub in the game.

"Fred doesn't particularly want to play," the Cub leader said. "Chub has missed a good many chances to score though. If you take him out-"

"No, try him awhile longer," Dan replied quickly. "Chub is playing better tonight than he ever did before. Let him stay in. After all, winning isn't everything."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Dan," Mr. Hatfield answered. "This has been a good clean game so far, and that's what counts. Excellent sportsmans.h.i.+p on both sides."

The game went on, and for a while the Cubs played with renewed energy.

Chub managed a basket and the fans cheered madly.

But the next minute, Pat captured the ball. Before Red could stop him, he dribbled down the floor, cut in under the basket and scored.

Dan was annoyed at himself. He was playing well but the Purple Five guards wouldn't give him a chance. Time and again they deserted Chub entirely to concentrate their attention on him.

Even so, he twice broke through and made spectacular shots. At the end of the half the score stood 8 to 6, with the Purple Five leading by only one basket.

"We may take 'em yet," Dan said grimly as he rested with his teammates.

"Bear down, fellows."

Baskets were held to a minimum in the third quarter. The players all were tiring. Mr. Hatfield took Chub out of the game for awhile, subst.i.tuting Fred. When the Purple Five ran up two baskets in quick succession, he called him to the bench and let Chub go in again.

The Cubs truly were discouraged. With the score at 12 to 6 it seemed to them they were sunk.

"Come on, Cubs!" the rooters pleaded. "The old fight."

Dan gritted his teeth and tried harder than ever. He leaped for a high one, and fastening upon the ball, ran full tilt into a Purple Five guard.

He pivoted, faked a pa.s.s to Chub, and dropped the ball through the basket.

After that, playing as if inspired, he scored again. Once he tangled briefly with a Purple Five guard, and the referee called a personal foul on both players. The Purple Five player missed the free throw, while the Cubs again scored.

With less than a minute to play, the tally now was: 12 to 11 in favor of the Purple Five.

"One basket would do it," Dan thought desperately. "If we don't snag it, we'll lose by a single point."

How much time was left? A minute at best. Perhaps only seconds. a.s.sured of victory, Pat and his teammates were playing a delaying game. Without trying to make another basket, they merely sought to prevent a Cub from getting his hands on the ball.

It seemed to the frantic Cubs that they couldn't shatter the tight defense. Pat dribbled the ball lazily, pa.s.sing it to a player in the middle of the floor.

"Get in there! Break it up!" Chips and Fred yelled from the sidelines.

"Thirty seconds to play!"

Thirty seconds! Holy Mackerel, the game was the same as over! Dan breathed heavily. He was winded, and sick with the fear of defeat.

Only one basket was needed-only one.

Then Dan saw his chance. Still employing "keep it away" tactics, Pat lazily pa.s.sed the ball to the forward who guarded Chub. The player missed the catch and the ball rolled free.

Like a flash, Dan darted in and seized it.

"Stop him!" Pat yelled.

Both guards were on Dan in an instant. They boxed him in, making it impossible for him to have an un.o.bstructed shot for the basket.

Dan knew that he never could score. True, he could make a wild shot, but it never would find its mark.