Frank Merriwell's Fun; Or, Fearless and True

by Burt L. Standish

Somebody cried out the words. Then they saw Badger blocked off and baffled by Harvard interference.

Yale’s thirty-yard line was reached.

Five yards farther on the interferer who was giving his attention to Richmond stumbled a moment. Before he could recover, the active little Yale quarter-back went past him and flung himself like a wildcat at the Harvard man with the ball. The tackle was accurate and well made. The man with the ball went down, and Harvard had not scored, although a most brilliant play had been made—a play that would be talked about for weeks to come.

Then it was the turn for the Yale crowd to yell, and they nearly split their throats. There was a pile-up and an entanglement. The Harvard man was hurt. He tried to get up and stay in the game, but when he stood straight on his feet he reeled and fell into the arms of his friends. Then they carried him from the field, covered with glory, but done for, and another man took his place.

Harvard was on her mettle now. She had broken through Yale’s center, and the feat of the brave fellow just carried from the field was something to put iron into the blood of his companions.

The moment the game was on again Harvard drove hard at Yale’s center, without resorting to strategy. It seemed that this repetition of her recent move was unexpected, and it succeeded, for the ball was taken to Yale’s fifteen-yard line.

The goal was near, and Harvard was working for her life. In past years she had produced great defensive teams, but it was plain that her team could take the offensive this year. Yale was desperate. The advance must be checked right here. Hard-faced and desperate, the defenders of the blue lined up. Twice Harvard flung herself against the line, and twice she failed to gain an inch.

“Hold them, boys—hold them!” muttered Jack Diamond, as if his words could reach the ears of those dirt-covered gladiators on the gridiron.

Then a pass was tried by Harvard, and right there she fumbled. It was Jack Ready who fell on the ball, and Yale breathed once more. Now the lost ground must be recovered. Yale tried to send a man round Harvard’s right end, but no gain was made. Then Derford, Yale’s left end, was literally hurled out of a formation play for a gain of four yards, and that was some encouragement.

Right there three downs followed, and, as a last resort, a desperate one, Birch kicked. The wind helped him, and he got the ball off in splendid shape before a hand touched him. Hollender received the ball and sent it back on the instant. This was a mistake, for Harvard lost ground, having the wind against her, and the Yale crowd breathed a trifle easier. But the fight was entirely in Yale territory now, and Yale could not get the ball past center. Twice she came near succeeding, only to slip up when success seemed within her grasp.