FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14   15   16   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   24   25   26  
27   28   29   30   31   32   33   34   35   36   37   38   39   40   41   42   43   44   45   46   47   48   49   50   51   >>   >|  
ZLED 260 XXIII CROSS-EXAMINATION 268 XXIV "ALL READY, BRIMFIELD?" 277 XXV TIM GOES OVER 289 XXVI LEFT GUARD GILBERT 300 ILLUSTRATIONS "WELL, COME ON! HOW DID IT HAPPEN?" (PAGE 14) _Frontispiece_ FACING PAGE FINALLY, DON WAS UNCEREMONIOUSLY YANKED UP AND THROUGH 90 "WILL YOU UNLOCK THAT DOOR?" DEMANDED DON ANGRILY 224 THE RUNNER SMASHED INTO SIGHT, WILD-FACED FOR AN INSTANT BEFORE HE PUT HIS HEAD DOWN AND CHARGED IN 306 LEFT GUARD GILBERT LEFT GUARD GILBERT CHAPTER I THE BOY FROM KANSAS "HOLD up!" Coach Robey, coatless, vestless, hatless, his old flannel trousers held up as by a miracle with the aid of a leather strap scarcely deserving the name of belt, pushed his way through the first squad players. The Brimfield Head Coach was a wiry, medium-sized man of about thirty, with a deeply-tanned face from which sharp blue eyes looked out under whitish lashes that were a shade lighter than his eyebrows and two shades lighter than his sandy hair. As the afternoon was excessively hot, even for the twenty-first day of September and in proximity to Long Island Sound, Mr. George Robey's countenance was bathed in perspiration and the faded blue silk shirt was plastered to his body. "That was left half through guard-tackle, wasn't it? Then don't put the ball in your arm, St. Clair. You ought to know better than that. On plays through the line hold it against your stomach with both hands. How long do you think you'd keep that ball in your elbow after you hit the line? Someone would knock it out in about one second! Now try it again and think what you're doing. All right, Carmine. Same play." The panting and perspiring backs crouched once more, Carmine shrilly called his signals, Thayer and Gafferty plunged against an imaginary foe as Thursby shot the ball back and St. Clair, hugging the pigskin ecstatically with wide-spread fingers, trotted through the hole, stopped, set the ball on the grass and wiped his streaming face with the torn sleeve of a maroon jersey. "All right," said the coach. "That will do for today. In on the trot, everyone!"
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14   15   16   17   18   19   20   21   22   23   24   25   26  
27   28   29   30   31   32   33   34   35   36   37   38   39   40   41   42   43   44   45   46   47   48   49   50   51   >>   >|  



Top keywords:

GILBERT

 

Carmine

 

lighter

 

tackle

 

streaming

 
maroon
 

sleeve

 

stopped

 

trotted

 

fingers


spread
 

plastered

 

Island

 

proximity

 

twenty

 

September

 

jersey

 
perspiration
 

bathed

 

George


countenance

 

Someone

 

Thayer

 

crouched

 

perspiring

 

panting

 
signals
 
called
 

stomach

 
hugging

shrilly

 

ecstatically

 

pigskin

 
Thursby
 

plunged

 

Gafferty

 

imaginary

 

UNLOCK

 
DEMANDED
 

THROUGH


FINALLY

 

UNCEREMONIOUSLY

 

YANKED

 

ANGRILY

 

INSTANT

 

BEFORE

 
SMASHED
 
RUNNER
 

FACING

 

Frontispiece