“Goal!” was the cry.
In truth, Hopkins had made a goal in astonishingly quick time, and there was cause for the Baltimore students on the bleachers to cheer with delight.
“Oh, wasn’t that terrible!” breathed Elsie Bellwood. “Why did they let them do it?”
“Because they couldn’t help it, I think,” answered Inza, as she watched the players of the two teams changing sides.
“I’m afraid these Hopkins men are going to win with ease,” said the girl with golden hair.
“I’m not afraid of it,” retorted Inza. “One goal will not win this game.”
“But, you know, Fred Fillmore has told us right along that no picked-up team in the country could defeat Hopkins.”
“Which he believes,” nodded Inza. “But you mustn’t think Frank is foolish enough to bring a weak team here to meet the champions of the United States. Don’t worry, Elsie. You’ll see something different before the game is finished.”
In spite of Inza’s confidence, it was not long before the situation began to assume a graver aspect, for, although Vernell again got the ball, which was carried down to Hopkins’ goal, Brisbane barely stopping a score, the Baltimore players got in and carried the sphere up the field, kept it in the vicinity of the Merries’ net for fully three minutes and finally drove it in.
The Hopkins cheer sounded louder and more exultant than ever.