There was a rumbling rush of feet on the hard turf. Under the ball stood Richmond, on Yale’s twenty-five yard line. He caught it fairly, but barely had he done so when he was slapped to the ground, and two tons of Harvard beef piled upon him. The game was fairly on, and all present, players and spectators, felt that it was to be the greatest game in history to date.
Harvard, with all the experience of the past year and the record of wonderful work thus far this season, was confident that she would give Yale the worst trouncing she had ever received. On the other hand, Yale was desperate and determined to win back her lost laurels. It was amazing how those men had been cheered and encouraged by Frank Merriwell. He had put stiffening into the back-bones of all of them, and he had made them feel that the game belonged to them by decrees of fate if they were willing to work for it.
There was an untangling, and then the human tigers stood there glaring into each other’s eyes.
Yale’s first play was to give the ball to Badger for a plunge against Harvard’s right wing. The stocky Western man made a gallant attempt, but the gain was slight, for the Harvard end closed in about him and swamped him. Ready, quivering, alert, the Harvard men were on their mettle at the outset, and it was plain that Yale was up against a hard proposition.
Birch decided to try a kick from close behind the line, but one of the rushers was called out, as if he was to run with the ball. He kicked, but it seemed that his toe hardly touched the pigskin when those Harvard wildcats were upon him. A big Harvard athlete partly blocked the ball, and Jack Ready, who was well in the play, succeeded in recovering it for Yale at the Harvard fifty-yard line. Neither Badger’s plunge nor the attempted kick had proved a success, and the Harvard rooters were whooping their joy.
But Yale was undaunted, and again a kick was tried from behind the line. Again the man was beaten down, but this time the Harvard gladiators were too late, and the ball sailed through the air, came to earth, and rolled out of bounds at Harvard’s fifteen-yard line. But Harvard got possession of the leather, and there she lined up for her first assault on the Yale line.
Across the field rolled a great chorus of voices singing a song to inspire the defenders of the crimson. There was scarcely a moment of delay, and then a Harvard man was sent against Yale’s left wing, which was regarded as weak. But Jack Ready was there, and he distinguished himself by bringing the man with the ball to the ground without a foot of gain.
It was beginning to look brighter for Yale.
“Frank Merriwell did it!” screamed Diamond in the ear of Bruce Browning. “He put the needed courage into the men. We’re going to win this game!”
Browning nodded. His confidence had been restored and he was feeling better.