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Updated: May 26, 2025
For a full week the boys and girls of Gridley H.S. scoured the town, trying their fortune everywhere that money was supposed to lurk. The great Thanksgiving game was coming on. Gridley was to play the second team of Cobber University. This second team from Cobber had beaten every high school team it had tackled for the two preceding years.
A small Armenian general goods shop chose to over-charge, with the result that the vainly-expostulating merchant found his lean-to razed to the ground before his eyes. Mac himself suffered from a severe overdose of C.B. So did his cobber Smoky. They had had the awful misfortune to be detected at an early hour one morning making their way to their lines. It had been sheer bad luck that had done it.
"Looking for a room?" he whined. "I'm looking for Mother Corey." "Then you're looking at him, cobber. Sleep on the floor, want a bunk, squat with four, or room and duchess to yourself?" There was a period of haggling, followed by a wait as Mother Corey kicked four grumbling men out of a four-by-seven hole on the second floor.
Inside, Sheila sat woodenly on the little sofa, pretending to see none of them. Mother Corey looked from one to the other, and then back to Gordon. "Well? You must have had some reason for bringing her here, cobber." "I want her out of my hair, Mother," Gordon tried to explain. "I can lock her up carrying a gun without a permit is reason enough.
Mac deposited his load in the bivouac of a friend, and then parted for ever with his good cobber Mick, his casual companion of a Lemnos fortnight, whose way lay in the opposite direction. Mac set off for his Regiment, which was holding the front trenches of Russell's Top.
For Cobber was off-side and Trent burst through the line on a spurt that was good for thirty-three yards. Two snappy line plays followed that made the Cobber boys feel the cold sweat ooze. It would have been Gridley's first down, but a little slip penalized the home players for fifteen yards. Most of the people of Gridley back in the seats wore now standing up in their excitement.
Here came some of the belated Cobber men, supporting their fullback. There was a heavy crash. Stearns, caught in the midst of the mixup, went down, but he covered the pigskin! Then the linesman hurried up. The news was so good that it flew from mouth to mouth along the east side boards: "Forty-two yards!" Cobber's captain gasped. It had been close playing all afternoon.
The whistle's call sent them off to the fray, for there were but three minutes left of the first half. Cobber won the kick but didn't carry it far. Gridley got down as far as the enemy's twenty-yard line. Then the smaller High School boys were fairly pushed back into their own territory, losing twelve yards of their own side of the field. Trill-ll! The first half was over.
It was a fake kick, and a royally good one. The ball went to Stearns instead. Out around the right end dashed the little left, with Gridley support thumping over the ground to back him up. But Stearns was the best Gridley runner on the field today. Moreover, he had not been worked as hard as had Evans. A nimble dodge, and Stearns was past the first Cobber interference.
In the meantime the Cobber fans, as was their right, were hurling the most abusive cheers and taunts. Dick, as cheer-master, allowed this to pass until nearly the end of the intermission. At last he gave the sudden call through the megaphone: "Twenty-three!" The number sounded ominous; so did the cheer that was designated by it.
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