Give ’em one more dose of Jones.
“Hersey, George and Walter Hersey,
You are sure to do your share;
Poor old Yale will get no mercy,
You must soak her now for fair.”
The sound of that song floated across the field, and, it seemed, if possible, to make the Providence players more terrible than ever. Still they were held without a gain for a down. But what might happen in another minute! It was the critical point of the game.
Again Brown bucked.
There was a fumble! Then came a furious mix-up. And then——
Out of the midst of the tangle shot a man with the ball, carrying it toward Brown’s goal. After him came nine panting foes, with two of the Brown men left to recover more slowly. Now the excitement was something tremendous. Realizing that a Yale man had secured the ball on a fumble and was racing for another touch-down, the sons of Old Eli stood up, climbed on each other and thundered their admiration and applause. In the midst of all this uproar nearly fifty students, who were together in a bunch, could be heard shrieking:
“Merriwell! Merriwell! ’rah! ’rah! ’rah!”