"13—93—Y—168—13—33," was the signal.
Merriwell knew what was required of him, but he seemed utterly unprepared. Apparently, something was the matter with his leg, for he limped about off at one side, and not one of the visiting players fancied he would attempt to do anything.
But the ball went to Dick on the pass, and he seemed to take it on the run, tuck it under his arm, and go shooting round the end. It was done swiftly, and Dick was past Gould and Quimby before they could tackle him. Then he flew over the field toward Viewland’s goal.
Only for one thing, Dick must have made a touch-down in that attempt. Young had been holding far back, to take any sudden kick, and he was between the runner and the goal.
Dick did his best to pass the Viewland full-back, but Young closed in on him surely. Dick came very near escaping, but Young got him by one leg and brought him down. With Young clinging like a leech, Dick managed to roll over and over till he had secured still more distance.
The Fardale crowd rose and shrieked like fiends. At last the time had come for the home team to get into the game in desperate earnest, or defeat was certain.
There was scarcely any delay. Fardale lined up, and the signal was given for a tackle-back formation. Hovey went into the center and made a handsome gain. The same formation drove Blair forward with the ball for more than six yards.
And now, with the ball twenty-five yards from Viewland’s line, there began to seem a possible chance of a field-goal.
Fardale’s next effort secured no gain, but then Nunn took the ball through for six yards. The team seemed full of fire, and the witnesses were wildly excited.
But Viewland stiffened and held fast for two downs. Would Fardale try a drop-kick?