Frank Merriwell's Return to Yale Part 60

"He is going into the game."

"Then it can't be that he thinks as much of you as you supposed."

"He does not. This has settled that point."

"I'm afraid Harvard will not win, Inza. Jack says Frank Merriwell has been Harvard's hoodoo in everything. He was sure Harvard would obtain this game if Merriwell did not play. You said he did not mean to play, but I wanted you to ask him not to do so."

"I did ask him, something I should not have done had we not been such friends, Paula, although I was curious to know how much influence I had over him. Oh, I think he is the meanest fellow! I shall hate him now!"

Inza's eyes were flas.h.i.+ng and her face flushed. She was intensely angry, and she showed it.

Paula Benjamin was startled.

"Oh, you musn't be too hard on him!" she said. "You know how much Jack loves Harvard, and how crazy he is for Harvard to beat Yale in this game. I was almost as crazy myself, and that is why I wanted you to ask Mr. Merriwell not to play."

"I shall never trust him again," whispered Inza, hoa.r.s.ely--"never! He has broken his promise to me."

"It is certain he loves Yale as dearly as Jack loves Harvard. He may think it is his duty to break his word for the sake of Yale."

"I don't care! I don't care! I do hope Harvard will beat!"

With breathless interest the two girls watched the game. They were nerved to a point of intense excitement. They saw Harvard stand like a stone wall against Yale's repeated a.s.saults. It was a battle of gladiators.

Then came Harvard's tiger-like a.s.sault upon Yale's center, and Jack Benjamin went through with the ball. The great crowd of spectators rose as one person, seething with excitement, as Benjamin flew toward Yale's line.

"Hurrah!" cried the sister of the little fellow. "That is Jack--my brother Jack! He'll make a touchdown! They can't catch him--they can't stop him!"

"Wait a bit!" palpitated Inza Burrage, who was clinging convulsively to Paula's arm. "Look--look there! Frank is after him! See them run! Frank is gaining!"

"He can't catch Jack--my brother Jack! I know he can't do it! Jack has the start! Hurrah! Hurrah!"

"He will catch him! He's gaining! See--see him again! He is getting nearer--nearer! Now--now----Oh-o-o-oh!"

Frank Merriwell had flung himself at the Harvard man and pulled him down. Then the other players piled upon them.

"I knew it!" cried Inza, with a hysterical laugh. "I knew he could not get away from Frank!"

"Oh, the brute!" sobbed Paula--"the brute to throw my brother like that!

Jack was right! Frank Merriwell will keep Harvard from winning! I hate him!"

"Yes," fluttered Inza, "he will do it if it is in his power. Oh, he is a wonderful player! But he thinks more of his old college than he does of me! I'll never speak to him again!"

Paula sat down and cried, while Inza did her best to comfort her friend.

Soon the game was on again, as fierce as ever. Yale fought desperately, driving Harvard back a little, but it seemed that Harvard had the superior team. All the fighting was on Yale's territory. At last, as the first half drew to a close, Harvard's left half-back went around Yale's end, and the most masterly interference prevented Yale from stopping him. He crossed the line and made a touchdown. Then Harvard's full-back had time enough to kick a goal, and the first half ended with Harvard triumphant.

"Har-vard! Har-vard! Harvard! Rah-rah-rah! Rah-rah-rah! Rah-rah-rah!

Harvard!"

It was a sense of wild rejoicing. Crimson fluttered all over the great throng.

Where was the blue?

"Yale isn't in the game for a minute," said some who were supposed to be experts. "The Yale fellows found they were b.u.t.ting against a stone wall every time they tried a rush. This is Harvard's year."

Ralph Harlow was beaming with triumph.

"It's going to be an easy thing for our money, Harris," he chuckled.

"Yale can't do anything with Harvard to-day."

"That's the way it looks," admitted Harris; "but the game is not over."

"The game will run the same way till, it is over. Yale's rushers could do nothing with Harvard's line. Frank Merriwell is the only man who has distinguished himself for Yale, and he could do nothing but delay the inevitable for a short time."

"That was the only real good opportunity Merriwell has had," said Sport.

"He showed what he could do then. You remember his run through Princeton's line last year?"

"That's all right. Yale can't break an opening to let him through Harvard's line this year."

"I hope not, but I shan't feel sure of it till the game is over."

The Harvard crowd cheered and sang songs till they were hoa.r.s.e. They hugged each other, tooted horns and indulged in wild antics to give vent to the exuberance of their feelings.

The sons of Old Eli who had come up from New Haven to see the game were dolefully silent. They had seen Yale fling herself upon Harvard time after time and rebound as a ball rebounds from a solid wall, and their hearts were weak within them.

Paula Benjamin was almost crazy with joy. She laughed and cried by turns.

"Oh, the dear fellows!" she exclaimed. "I could hug every one of them!"

Inza Burrage said nothing, but upon her face there was a look of unspeakable disappointment and dismay. In her heart she was crying:

"Will Yale let them beat? Will Frank be beaten? If he is, I am sure I'll never speak to him again!"

Soon the men formed for the beginning of the second half. Harvard went into the game on the jump, and Yale was forced to resort to defense play. It seemed that there was no stopping the crimson in its onward march to victory. Foot by foot and inch by inch Yale was beaten back till the ball was on the twenty-yard line.

Then Halliday revived hope in a measure by taking it back to the center of the field, where he was downed with such violence that he was picked up quite unconscious, and another man had to be put in his place, while he was carried from the field, limp and covered with dirt and glory.

It seemed that Halliday's desperate do-or-die break gave Yale courage and hope. For some time she held Harvard at the center of the field, not allowing a gain of a foot. Then Old Eli got the ball and rushed it into Harvard's territory.

What a glorious fight it was! Now every Yale man in the crowd was on his feet cheering like mad. Those cheers seemed to make fiends of the defenders of the blue. They played, every man of 'em, as if they were in battle and ready to sacrifice their lives without a moment of hesitation. They were irresistible. Harvard's stone wall was broken at last. Merriwell was in the thick of it. Four times he advanced the ball.

Others took turns, and, at last, the ball was on Harvard's twenty-five-yard line.

Then there was a hush, for it suddenly became plain that Merriwell would try to kick a goal from the field. It was a desperate expedient. Yale feared to lose the ball and have it carried back to the center in a minute. Such a loss would be fatal, and Forrest knew it Frank had been given the signal to kick.

"He can't do it!" cried scores.

Then they thought of the beautiful kick he had made at the very beginning of the game and were silent.

Frank advanced to the proper position, exactly the right blade of gra.s.s.