“Let’s beat them, hany’ow!” cried Billy Bradley.
“It would be a shame, a measly shame!” said Ted Smart.
“By Jim!” squeaked Obediah Tubbs; “if them fellers is goin’ to play that sort of a team they want to look out! Dern my picter if I don’t sail in hot an’ heavy next half!”
“Everybody sus-sus-sus-sail in!” chattered Chip Jolliby. “We can eat ’em up!”
“Eat ’em! eat ’em!” growled Harry Dare.
So the boys went back on to the field in something of a fierce mood. Franklin had fancied the cadets would be spiritless and easy toward the end of the game, but when they found the home team snappier than ever, they were amazed.
“On your taps every moment, fellows,” said Dick. “Keep them guessing.”
Fardale did keep them guessing, but Franklin seemed to recover from her first surprise and settled down for a stubborn battle. It was hot work. With the ball down for the first time on Franklin’s forty-yard line, the cadets could not make a gain, and were forced to kick. Hickman ran back in anticipation of the kick, which he took prettily, and the Fardale rushers were blocked long enough to give him a start, which he improved.
Down the field came the captain of the visiting team. Two of his men turned in with him as interferers and blocked first one and then another of the Fardale tacklers. Hickman was covering ground handsomely and had reached the middle of the field before Darrell closed with him and dragged him down,
“Great! Great work, Hal!” panted Dick, in admiration. “I was afraid you’d miss him.”