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"I guess it isn't in him to thank anybody," was Ben's comment. "Nat is one of the kind who thinks only of himself."
"He will have a hard time of it, getting his boat," said Dave, and so it proved. It took half a day to get the craft from among the rocks, and then it was found that she leaked so badly she had to be sent to a boat-builder for repairs.
That Sat.u.r.day was the day scheduled for the football game with Lemington. As Nat could not take the eleven to that town in his motor-boat, as promised, the school carryall was pressed into service.
This made some of the other students, who had arranged to go in the carryall, find other means of conveyance, and there was considerable grumbling.
"Poole said he would take 'em in the motor-boat," growled one student.
"He ought to have seen to it that his boat was repaired on time."
The Old Guard football eleven all had bicycles or motor-cycles, and they went to the Lemington Athletic Grounds in a body on their wheels. All carried the school colors, and many also had horns and rattles.
"We'll show 'em that we can root for Oak Hall even if we are not on the eleven!" declared Dave.
Job Haskers took but little interest in athletics, declaring he thought too much time was wasted over field sports, but Andrew Dale was keenly alive to what was going on. He knew all about the trouble in the football organization, and he watched the departure of Dave and his chums with interest.
"Aren't you going, Mr. Dale?" asked Dave.
"Oh, yes, I am going in the carriage with Doctor Clay. Do you think we shall win, Porter?"
"We'll win if rooting can do it!" cried Dave.
"Then you intend to 'root,' as you call it?"
"Yes, sir--we are going to root for all we are worth."
"I am glad to know it," answered Andrew Dale; and then he turned away to attend to some school duties. Later on, when he and the doctor were on the way to the game, he mentioned the trouble in the football club, and told how Dave and his chums had been left out in the cold, and how Dave and the others were now going to cheer for and encourage the school eleven.
"Fine! Grand!" murmured the master of the school, his eye lighting up with pleasure. "That is the proper school spirit! It does Porter, Morr, and the others great credit."
"Exactly what I think, Doctor," answered the first a.s.sistant. "Many players would have remained away altogether, or gone to the game to throw cold water on the efforts of those on the gridiron. It shows a manliness that cannot be excelled."
"Yes! yes!" murmured Doctor Clay. "A fine lot of boys, truly! A fine lot! It seems a pity they were forced off the team."
"Perhaps they'll be back--before the football season is over," answered Andrew Dale, gravely.
"What do you mean, Dale?"
"Perhaps the football eleven will need them and be glad to get them back."
CHAPTER XVI
A STRUGGLE ON THE GRIDIRON
When Dave and his chums reached the athletic grounds they found the grandstand and the bleachers about half filled with people. The Lemington contingent had a good number of rooters, and they were already filling the air with their cries of encouragement. The boys looked around, but saw nothing of Vera Rockwell or Mary Feversham.
"Maybe they didn't think it worth while to come," suggested the senator's son.
"No Rockville fellows here, either," said Phil. "They play an eleven from Elmwood this afternoon."
The Lemington players were already on the field, and it was seen that they were rather light in weight, only the full-back being of good size.
"Our eleven has the advantage in weight," said Roger. "But I rather fancy those fellows are swift."
"Yes, and they may be tricky," added Ben.
As soon as Dave and his chums were seated, Dave gave the signal, and the Oak Hall cheer was given. Then followed another cheer for the school eleven, with a tooting of horns and a clacking of wooden rattles.
"Mercy! but those Oak Hall students can make a noise!" exclaimed one girl, sitting close by.
"That is what they call 'rooting'!" answered her friend. "Isn't it lovely!"
"Perfectly delicious! They ought to win, if they shout like that!"
Guy Frapley heard the racket, and walked over to the spot from whence it proceeded. He was astonished beyond measure to see Dave leading off, yelling at the top of his lungs, and waving a rattle in one hand and the school colors in the other.
"What do you think of that?" he asked, of Nat Poole.
"Oh, Porter and his crowd want to make out they don't feel stung over being out of it," grumbled Nat.
"But they are rooting harder than anybody."
"They'll be glad to see us lose."
"We are not going to lose."
"I didn't say we were," answered Nat, and walked away. Somehow, it made him angry to see Dave and his chums cheering, and in such an earnest manner. He would have been better satisfied had Dave acted grouchy or stayed away from the game.
The game was to be of two halves, of thirty minutes each, with ten minutes intermission. Oak Hall won the toss-up, and as there was no wind and no choice of goals, they kept the ball, and Lemington took the south end of the gridiron.
"Now, then, here is where Oak Hall wins!" cried Dave, loudly. "Do your level best, fellows!"
"Shove her over the line, first thing!" added Roger.
"Oak Hall! Oak Hall!" yelled Phil. "Now then, all together in the game!"
Under the inspiration of the cheering, Oak Hall made a fine kick-off, and by some spirited work carried the pigskin well down into the Lemington territory. But then the ball was lost by Nat Poole, and the opposing eleven brought it back to the center of the gridiron, and then rushed it up to the thirty-yard line of the school.
"That's the way to do it!" yelled a Lemington supporter. "You've got 'em going!"
"Send it back!" yelled Dave. "All together, for Oak Hall!" And this cry was taken up by a hundred throats.
Guy Frapley got the ball, a minute later, and made a really fine run around the Lemington left end. This brought the pigskin again to center, and there it remained for nearly five minutes, the downs on both sides availing little or nothing. A scrimmage followed, in which one Lemington player was injured, and he accused one of the Oak Hall fellows, a new player named Bemis, of foul play. This protest was sustained, and Bemis was retired and another new player named Cardell was subst.i.tuted.
"Five minutes more!" was the cry, and again both elevens went at it.