Mills's face lighted up, and he stretched forth an eager hand.
"Good for you, Burr! Let's see it. Hold on, though; sit down here first and give me those sticks. There we are. Now fire ahead."
"If you don't mind, I'd like to tell you all about it first, before I show you the diagram," said Sydney, his eyes dancing.
"All right; let's hear it," replied the head coach smiling.
"Well," began Sydney, "it's been a puzzler. After I'd seen the second playing tackle-back I about gave up hopes of ever finding a--an antidote."
"'Antidote's' good," commented Mills laughingly.
"I tried all sorts of notions," continued Sydney, "and spoiled whole reams of paper drawing diagrams. But it was all nonsense. I had the right idea, though, all the time; I realized that if that tandem was going to be stopped it would have to be stopped before it hit our line."
Mills nodded.
"I had the idea, as I say, but I couldn't apply it. And that's the way things stood last night when I went to bed. I had sat up until after eleven and had used up all the paper I had, and so when I got into bed I saw diagrams all over the place and had an awful time to get to sleep. But at last I did. And then I dreamed.
"And in the dream I was playing football. That's the first time I ever played it, and I guess it'll be the last. I was all done up in sweaters and things until I couldn't do much more than move my arms and head. It seemed that we were in 9 Grace Hall, only there was grass instead of floor, and it was all marked out like a gridiron. And everybody was there, I guess; the President and the Dean, and you and Mr. Jones, and Mr. Preston and--and my mother. It was awfully funny about my mother. She kept sewing more sweaters on to me all the time, because, as she said, the more I had on the less likely I was to get hurt. And Devoe was there, and he was saying that it wasn't fair; that the football rules distinctly said that players should wear only one sweater. But nobody paid any attention to him. And after a bit, when I was so covered with sweaters that I was round, like a big ball, the Dean whistled and we got into line--that is," said Sydney doubtfully, "it was sort of like a line. There was the President and Neil Fletcher and I on one side, and all the others, at least thirty of them, on the other. It didn't seem quite fair, but I didn't like to object for fear they'd say I was afraid."
"Well, you did have the nightmare," said Mills. "Then what?"
"The other side got into a bunch, and I knew they were playing tackle-back, although of course they weren't really; they just all stood together. And I didn't see any ball, either. Then some one yelled 'Smash 'em up!' and they started for us. At that Neil--at least I think it was Neil--and Prexy--I mean the President--took hold of me, lifted me up like a bag of potatoes, and hurled me right at the other crowd. I went flying through the air, turning round and round and round, till I thought I'd never stop. Then there was an awful bump, I yelled 'Down!' at the top of my lungs--and woke up. I was on the floor."
Mills laughed, and Sydney took breath.
"At first I didn't know what had happened. Then I remembered the dream, and all on a sudden, like a flash of lightning, it occurred to me that that was the way to stop tackle-back!"
"That? What?" asked Mills, looking puzzled.
"Why, the bag of potatoes act," laughed Sydney. "I jumped up, lighted the gas, got pencil and paper and went back to bed and worked it out. And here it is."
He drew a carefully folded slip of paper from his pocket and handed it across to Mills. The diagram, just as the head coach received it, is reproduced here.
Mills studied it for a minute in silence; once he grunted; once he looked wonderingly up at Sydney. In the end he laid it beside him on the desk.
"I think you've got it, Burr," he said quietly, "I think you've got it, my boy. If this works out the way it should, your nightmare will be the luckiest thing that's happened at Erskine for several years. Draw your chair up here--I beg your pardon; I forgot. I'll do the moving myself." He placed his own chair beside Sydney's and handed the diagram to him. "Now just go over this, will you; tell me just what your idea is."
Sydney, still excited over the night's happenings, drew a ready pencil from his pocket, and began rather breathlessly:
"I've placed the Robinson players in the positions that our second team occupies for the tackle-tandem. Full-back, left tackle, and right half, one behind the other, back of their guard-tackle hole. Now, as the ball goes into play their tandem starts. Quarter passes the ball to tackle, or maybe right half, and they plunge through our line. That's what they would do if we couldn't stop them, isn't it?"
"They would, indeed," answered Mills grimly. "About ten yards through our line!"
"Well, now we place our left half in our line between our guard and tackle, and put our full-back behind him, making a tandem of our own. Quarter stands almost back of guard, and the other half over here. When the ball is put in play our tandem starts at a jump and hits the opposing tandem just at the moment their quarter passes the ball to their runner. In other words, we get through on to them before they can get under way. Our quarter and right half follow up, and, unless I'm away off on my calculations, that tackle-tandem is going to stop on its own side of the line."
Sydney paused and awaited Mills's opinion. The latter was silent a moment. Then--
"Of course," he said, "you've thought of what's going to happen to that left half?"
"Yes," answered Sydney, "I have. He's going to get most horribly banged up. But he's going to stop the play."
"Yes, I think he is--if he lives," said Mills with a grim smile. "The only objection that occurs to me this moment is this: Have we the right to place any player in a position like this where the punishment is certain to be terrific, if not absolutely dangerous?"
"I've thought of that, too," answered Sydney readily. "And I don't believe we--er--you have."
"Well, then I think our play's dished at the start."
"Why, not a bit, sir. Call the players up, explain the thing to them, and tell them you want a man for that position."
"Ah, ask for volunteers, eh?"
"Yes, sir. And you'll have just as many, I'll bet, as there are men!"
Mills smiled.
"Well, it's a desperate remedy, but I believe it's the only one, and we'll see what can be done. By the way, I observe that you've taken left half for the victim?"
"Yes, sir; that's Neil Fletcher. He's the fellow for it, I think."
"But I thought he was a friend of yours," laughed Mills.
"So he is; that's why I want him to get it; he won't ask anything better. And he's got the weight and the speed. The fellow that undertakes it has got to be mighty quick, and he's got to have weight and plenty of grit. And that's Neil."
"Yes, I think so too. But I don't want him to get used up and not be able to kick, for we'll need a field-goal before the game is over, if I'm not greatly mistaken. However, we can find a man for that place, I've no doubt. For that matter, we must find two at least, for one will never last the game through."
"I suppose not. I--I wish I had a chance at it," said Sydney longingly.
"I wish you had," said Mills. "I think you'd stand all the punishment Robinson would give you. But don't feel badly that you can't play; as long as you can teach the rest of us the game you've got honor enough."
Sydney flushed with pleasure, and Mills took up the diagram again.
"Guard and tackle will have their work cut out for them," he said. "And I'm not sure that left end can't be brought into it, too. There's one good feature about Robinson's formation, and that is we can imagine where it's coming as long as it's a tandem. If we stop them they'll have to try the ends, and I don't think they'll make much there. Well, we'll give this a try to-morrow, and see how it works. By the way, Burr," he went on, "you can get about pretty well on your crutches, can't you?"
"Yes," Sydney answered.
"Good. Then what's to prevent you from coming out to the field in the afternoons and giving us a hand with this? Do you think you could afford the time?"
Sydney's eyes dropped; he didn't want Mills to see how near the tears were to his eyes.
"I can afford the time all right," he answered in a voice that, despite his efforts, was not quite steady, "if you really think I can be of any use."
Perhaps Mills guessed the other's pleasure, for he smiled gently as he answered:
"I don't think; I'm certain. You know this play better than I do; it's yours; you know how you want it to go. You come out and look after the play; we'll attend to the players. And then, if we find a weak place in it, we can all get together and remedy it. But you oughtn't to try and wheel yourself out there and back every day. You tell me what time you can be ready each afternoon and I'll see that there's a buggy waiting for you."
"Oh, no, really!" Sydney protested. "I'd rather not! I can get to the field and back easily, without getting at all tired; in fact, I need the exercise."
"Well, if you're certain of that," answered the coach. "But any time you change your mind, or the weather's bad, let me know. If you can, I'd like you to come around here again this evening. I'll have Devoe and the coaches here, and we'll talk this--this 'antidote' over again. Well, good-by."
Sydney swung himself to the door, followed by Mills, and got into his tricycle.
"About eight this evening, if you can make it, Burr," said Mills. "Good-by." He stood at the door and watched the other as he trundled slowly down the street.
"Poor chap!" he muttered. And then: "Still, I'm not so sure that he's an object of pity. If he hasn't any legs worth mentioning, the Almighty made it up to him by giving him a whole lot of brains. If he can't get about like the rest of us he's a great deal more contented, I believe, and if he can't play football he can show others how to. And," he added, as he returned to his desk, "unless I'm mistaken, he's done it to-day. Now to mail this list and then for the 'antidote'!"
That night in Mills's room the assembled coaches and captain talked over Sydney's play, discussed it from start to finish, objected, explained, argued, tore it to pieces and put it together again, and in the end indorsed it. And Sydney, silent save when called on for an explanation of some feature of his discovery, sat with his crutches beside his chair and listened to many complimentary remarks; and at ten o'clock went back to Walton and bed, only to lie awake until long after the town-clock had struck midnight, excited and happy.
Had you been at Erskine at any time during the following two weeks and had managed to get behind the fence, you would have witnessed a very busy scene. Day after day the varsity and the second fought like the bitterest enemies; day after day the little army of coaches shouted and fumed, pleaded and scolded; and day after day a youth on crutches followed the struggling, panting lines, instructing and criticizing, and happier than he had been at any time in his memory.
For the "antidote," as they had come to call it, had been tried and had vindicated its inventor's faith in it. Every afternoon the second team hammered the varsity line with the tackle-tandem, and almost every time the varsity stopped it and piled it up in confusion. The call for volunteers for the thankless position at the front of the little tandem of two had resulted just as Sydney had predicted. Every candidate for varsity honors had begged for it, and some half dozen or more had been tried. But in the end the choice had narrowed down to Neil, Paul, Gillam, and Mason, and these it was that day after day bore the brunt of the attack, emerging from each pile-up beaten, breathless, scarred, but happy and triumphant. Two weeks is short time in which to teach a new play, but Mills and the others went bravely and confidently to work, and it seemed that success was to justify the attempt; for three days before the Robinson game the varsity had at last attained perfection in the new play, and the coaches dared at last to hope for victory.
But meanwhile other things, pleasant and unpleasant, had happened, and we must return to the day which had witnessed the inception of Sydney Burr's "antidote."