"I do not know. I have never given him such a reason. I think he expects too much."
"Well, you are enough to worry any fellow and keep him guessing," laughed Zona.
"The game is about to begin," said Doris, eager to turn the subject. "Fairport kicks off."
The ball had been placed in the center of the field, and the two teams were spread out. Emerson was ready, and the whistle sounded. A moment later the full-back of the Vikings advanced and kicked. As the ball rose a strong wind took it and carried it far to one side, with the result that it was out of bounds when it was caught by a Fardale man. This made it necessary for another trial, and the oval was brought back to center.
Emerson did better next time, driving the ball to Fardale’s fifteen-yard line, where Nunn caught it. Steve did not try a kick, but ran at once, dodging a tackler, having another blocked off by Stanton, and reaching the thirty-five-yard line before being downed.
Fardale rose with a roar as Steve made this run. Fairport answered with another roar when the captain was downed.
The line-up was sharp and quick, and Fardale opened its assault by bucking Fairport’s center. Taylor was a big fellow, and, assisted by the backs, he stood like a house until the ball was downed without a gain.
"Fairport!" roared the visiting spectators. "Fairport! Fairport!"
"4—11—Y—93—44—4," called Shannock, as the lines formed, and every Fardale player knew an end-run was to be tried.
The ball was snapped quickly, and passed to Merriwell, who took it deftly, without the least sign of fumbling, and was off. Shannock and Nunn fell in as interferers, while the line did its best to withstand Fairport’s charge.