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This was the High School yell, followed, instantly, by the taunting query: "Is there any game you do play, Cobber?" But there came no answer from the depths of the gloomy Cobber fans. That closed the football season in a blaze of glory. Gridley H.S. had closed the year without a defeat. The day after Thanksgiving football is deader than marbles.
A heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and he turned to see Mother Corey. "That's the way a panic is, cobber," the man said. "There's a run, then everything is ruined. I tried to get you when I first heard the rumor, but you were gone. And when this starts, a man has to get there first." He patted his side, where a bulge showed. "And I just made it, too."
So much awe, in fact, did Cobber Second inspire among the high school teams that Gridley was the only outfit to be found that dared take up the proposition of a Thanksgiving Day game with the college men. "Gridley can't win!" the pessimists predicted. Even the heartiest well-wishers of Gridley H.S. felt, mournfully, that too big a contract had been undertaken.
"You look worse than I do, cobber. Worse than even that granddaughter of mine. She was looking for you!" "Sheila?" Gordon jerked the word out. "Yeah. She left a note for you. I put it up in your room." Mother Corey chuckled. "Why don't you two get married and make your fighting legal?" "Thanks for the coffee," Gordon threw back at him. He was already mounting the stairs.
One Cobber man wheeled and would have grabbed the little right end, but there was where Frank Thompson played for all there was in him. He pitched forward, falling headlong, and Smith, of Cobber, fell over him. It was a sprint, now! For an instant the field close to Stearns was clear of opposition. Wild cheering broke loose. Dick Prescott fairly danced for joy. Ah!
With both teams marching onto the field the call was for courtesy. Gridley H.S. and Cobber rose in their seats. The other spectators, mostly, also stood up. Cobber Second came marching around in review before Gridley H.S. seats, and received a rattling volley of good, staunch old American cheers. Gridley H.S. eleven took the other side of the field.
The spectators had given up hope, all save those who sat in the Cobber seats. This was to be the first defeat of the season, and the whipping was to come from worthy foemen. Yet are home folks ever satisfied to see their own youngsters beaten? Defeat was now conceded, however. Even Coach Morton, though his face did not betray him, had given up all hope.
It seemed impossible to offer effective resistance to the heavy college men now. Gridley hearts sank from sheer weight. Gridley had met more than its match! It was almost a touchdown for Cobber when Ben Badger rallied his men enough to fight the college men back some twenty-odd yards. But then the tide turned once more, and Cobber began to fight its way back to the High School goal line.
Bill, me cobber, 'e comes an' tells me 'e was in Cairo wid me. I tells 'im 'e needn't tell me that. 'Anyhow, if yer was, I says, 'wy didn't yer stop 'em brandin' me? Nice feller you are to call yerself me cobber? "'Oh, he says, 'I did me best, but you wasn't havin' any. You threatens to hit me over the 'ead if I don't go stop shovin' me opinions in w'ere they wasn't wanted.
Dick, however, kept calling for the cheers and yells. The student body did their best, but their spirits were low. Once Morton turned and frowned, but Freshman Prescott did not see him. The coach feared that this jubilant racket would get on the nerves of the Gridley battlers. "How many minutes will it take Cobber to cross our line?" murmured Dave in Dick's ear.
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