“And then?” Kentucky asked in a low, quiet drawl.
“Same thing. Four times running,” was Dave’s reply. “Every time we’ll gain a little less ground. Shouldn’t wonder if you’d be thrown for a loss on the fourth. There’s a bright sophomore on that Naperville team—too bright. Plays right guard. He’ll break through and smear you. Let him!” Dave chuckled. “And then,” another long breath, “then Artie will send you through the spot where that same right guard belongs. He’ll be feeling so happy about smearing you, he won’t be watching, or if he is, he’ll expect that same play. You should get through, all the way through, kid! Make it a touchdown, boy. Make it a touchdown.” He wrung the younger boy’s hand. “There’s the horn.”
Who can say what went on inside the Kentucky boy’s mind as he crouched behind the line waiting for the snapping of the ball? As yet all was quite new and strange to him. They expected so much of him. They wanted him to beat this Naperville team. Naperville meant nothing to him. But to his team mates and all the old grads, the letter men of other years, it meant a great deal.
But here was the ball. He felt its hard smoothness in his hand, saw Dave plunge forward to send a player crashing to one side, saw the opening and went through for a gain of a yard, two, three, four, eight yards. Then a bolt of lightning appeared to hit him and he went to earth.
The instant the whistle blew, he felt Dave’s hands on his shoulder, helping him to his feet.
“Grand, Old Kentucky! Better’n I expected. Now make it a first down.”
A first down it was. The crowd on the bleachers screamed its approval. The boy could hear them shouting: “Na—per—ville! Na—per—ville! Beat ’em! Beat ’em! Smear ’em! Smash ’em! Kill ’em!” The shout, coming in slow motion at first, picked up speed until it sounded like an on-rushing train.
“Steady, boy!” Dave warned. “Don’t expect too much. Remember!”
“I—I’ll remember,” Kentucky’s breath came short and quick.
There was need to remember, for on the second down he failed to gain and on the third he was thrown for a loss of two yards. It was at this moment that the mountain boy became conscious of that Naperville guard. He was not only a smart boy, he had a mean turn to his nature. He leered as if to say, “Ha! Ha! Big joke! Smeared you, didn’t I?”