Judge — November 19, 1904 — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A RECOMMENDATION. Aprpuicant—** Yis, sor; Oi'm out av wur-rk. recklessness “’—— Mr. Busotes (interrupting)—"* Good! Ul engage you as my chauffeur.”* SHORT CUTS TO FOOTBALL FICTION. 'HIS is the season of football, and likewise of football fiction. In the same ratio that football on the field has steadily developed, football in text and illustration has developed also. In one particular, however, football fiction still preserves its old identity, quite irrespective of grid- iron developments, reference being made to the climax, the thrilling moment of moments in the football story. As it was in the time of long hair and the immaculate canvas suit, so it is to-day in the era of the pneumatic head-harness and the stomach-protector. The thrill is unchanged. We display two specimens of the football climax, for the introduction and conclusion to which we refer them to any of the many publications dealing in gridiron fiction, Of the pair the first is THE TOUCHDOWN CLIMAX. “Who shall picture Gouger the substitute’s feelings as he sat mo- tioniess on the side-lines, wrap- ped like a squaw in his blanket, and saw Princevard pushed steadily back — back toward their goal? Oh, if he only had a chance! Oh, if Knosegard would only get hurt! “What was that?) The doctor was running out on the gridiron, and’ after him the trainer with his bucket and sponge. Play had stopped, and both teams formed a compact circle about—Knosegard? Yes, The next moment Gou- ger’s heart gave a leap to his throat. Knosegard, an_ utter wreck, was being carried off the field, and the captain was coming to the side-lines. “*Off with that sweater, Gouger! cried he, ‘and get into the game. There's only three minutes more, so do your prettiest, old bo: «Tt was Princevard's ball, on their twenty-five-yard line. Gouger heard the signal. It was his for a dive at tackle. Oi used to be a mothorman on th’ throlley, but Oi got discharged fer eran guard, put his right knee in his opponent's face, and in a second Gouger saw his open- ing. Ina flash he was through, “The white five-yard lines fairly flew under his feet. He clawed their quarter-back suc- cessfully. His interference sat upon their half-back, and the next instant, breathless, he fell across the magic goal-line and knew no more. When the fif- teen men who were on him got off he became dimly conscious. * Was it—over ?’ he whispered. «By three inches!" said the captain, patting him ten- derly on the shin-guard, ‘It won the game, old man!’ “Then, from the Prince- vard stand, he could hear them roaring his name, ‘Gouger! Gouger ! Gouger!" THE GIRL-IN-THE-STAND CLIMAX. “For an instant Tumble- ton forgot his promise — his promise, no matter what hap- pened, not to slug. Scrapple- man, his opponent in the rush- line, had successively gouged his eye, toyed with his ear, and jolted his ribs ; and now, when they were facing each other, with a sneer on all of his face that was visible to Tumbleton, Scrapple- man had just jumped twice on his back. For an instant, we repeat, Tumbleton forgot his promise. Angry words formed on his rubber mouthpiece. The hot veins swelled beneath his head-harness. He drew back his fist to strike, and then, half-way up the stand, he saw the flushed face of—her. He saw, and he kept his word. rappleman, ere the half ended, gave him six more jolts and a right-hand hook, but there were no counters in return, Tumbleton only smiled. “That night, in a little back parlor, a pretty brunette looked up at a stalwart youth, whose face was swathed in bandages. ‘Iam proud of you,’ she said—t oh, so proud! The game was lost, but I—I am won.’ “ He tried to kiss her, but failed. A plaster covered his lips. “She laughed. I'd kiss you, sweetheart!’ she cried merril could only find your face." The ball came back. He grasped it. Bruiser, the vet- HIS PROFESSION. Bill Throttle, he was a civil engineer. comicbooks.com