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Left Guard Gilbert   By: (1870-1944)

Book cover

First Page:

LEFT GUARD GILBERT

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

LEFT END EDWARDS LEFT TACKLE THAYER

[Illustration: "Well, come on! How did it happen?" (Page 14)]

Left Guard Gilbert

BY

RALPH HENRY BARBOUR

AUTHOR OF

LEFT END EDWARDS, FULL BACK FOSTER, Etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY

E. C. CASWELL

GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS NEW YORK

COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I THE BOY FROM KANSAS 1

II IN NUMBER SIX 11

III AMY HOLDS FORTH 21

IV THE FIRST GAME 35

V DON GOES TO THE SECOND 46

VI THE SEARCH OF ADVENTURE 58

VII FIGHTING FIRE 71

VIII COACHING THE TACKLES 85

IX THE WIDTH OF A FINGER 103

X TIM EXULTS AND EXPLAINS 118

XI MR. BRADY FORGETS 128

XII THE JOKE ON MR. MOLLER 139

XIII SOUTHBY YIELDS 155

XIV WALTON WRITES A NOTE 166

XV A PROPOSITION 177

XVI DON VISITS THE DOCTOR 186

XVII DROPPED FROM THE TEAM 195

XVIII "GOOD BYE, TIMMY!" 206

XIX FRIENDS FALL OUT 216

XX AMY APPEARS FOR THE DEFENCE 231

XXI THE DOCTOR TELLS A STORY 247

XXII COACH ROBEY IS PUZZLED 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... Continue reading book >>




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