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There was an exchange of punts that ended when Bellport held the pigskin on her forty-yard line and the signal came for a play around Columbia's left end. "Watch out now, fellows!" warned Frank Allen. "Don't let 'em get through, or past you." "Eighteen twenty-seven sixty all together fourteen!" chanted Snodgrass, and back the ball was snapped to him.
They yelled at the top of their voices as they charged, plunging into the advancing trio after a forty-yard gallop. "'Not later than Friday' back you go!" shouted Armitage, and laughed aloud at the enemy's rout. One of the horses it seemed from its rider's yells to be Chauvenet's turned and bolted, and the others followed back the way they had come.
A square of the grand stand blossomed suddenly with blue, and St. Eustace's supporters, already hoarse with cheering and singing, once more broke into triumphant applause. The score-board announced fifteen minutes to play, and the ball went to the blue-clad warriors on Hillton's forty-yard line. Hillton and St.
It was on the latter's forty-yard line now, but it had been there before, and had not advanced much farther. That last attack, though, had had power behind it. "Look out!" warned Frank. "They may do us!" The play looked to be another rush on the part of Bellport, and with fierce and eager eyes her opponents watched for the slightest advantage.
Strong almost to sturdiness, yet agile and accurate in movement, he had "covered all sorts of territory around 'short, and could hit the ball on the nose when it counted," and to him went the unprecedented glory of a forty-yard run for a touch-down and goal in a High School vs. Varsity Freshmen game. His were muscles which seemed to have been molded by a sculptor's hand. His face was manly.
At her forty-yard line Harwell stayed again for a while the onslaught of the enemy, and tried thrice to make ground through the Yates line. Then back to the hands of Wilkes went the oval and again the heart-breaking rout began. Harwell made her last desperate rally on her twenty-five yards.
Then Fate interposed and Carmine fumbled, a Chambers forward falling on the ball. "That's the trouble with Carmine," grumbled Clint. "He fumbles too plaguey much." Brimfield was over-anxious and Roberts was caught off-side. Chambers worked a double-pass and made six around Roberts' end. Two attacks on Tyler gave the visitor the other four and made it first down on Brimfield's forty-yard line.
The ball was directly in front of goal. "Sturgis is a dub if he doesn't try it now," said the big fellow on Pemberton's left. "But he couldn't do it from the forty-yard line, could he?" asked Pemberton. "Search me; but from what he's done so far to-day I guess he could kick a goal from the other end of the field. Nothing doing, though; they're trying right guard again. There goes Crocker."
It was all stimulating and interesting, and Will Phelps was so keenly alive to all that was occurring, that for the time even his disappointment in not being able to accompany the team was forgotten. A groan followed the reading of the next dispatch. "Alden's ball on a fumble. Steadily forcing Winthrop line back by superior weight. Ball on Winthrop's forty-yard line."
But the joy of Princeton was tempered by the knowledge that this, her dearest enemy, was not beaten until the last play had been signalled. And somehow the Yale machine of muscle, brains, and power began to find itself when the afternoon shadows were slanting athwart the arena. With the ball on Princeton's forty-yard line the chosen sons of Eli began a heroic advance down the field.
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