“Didn’t have to, my boy,” snickered Bentley. “It was a cinch for Highland from the start, and you can bet I did my prettiest to make a good record, for I knew the eyes of several fair maidens from Rockspur were upon me. I made our only touchdown.”
“You did?” cried Don, with incredulous emphasis on the pronoun.
“Sure thing,” nodded Leon. “Oh, I’m one of the heroes of the day! We didn’t get a goal off that touch, either. It was in the first half, and the wind was against Sterndale when he kicked, so we got only four points for the touch.”
“Then the other five must have been a goal kicked from the field?”
“It was. Sterndale found in the last half that he could not get the ball nearer than the fifteen-yard line to save his soul, and so, in order to make the score look somewhat more respectable, he took chances on getting a goal from the field, and made it with as pretty a drop-kick as ever you saw. But it was all chance,” Leon hastily added, “for he failed once before that and once afterward. All of Renwood’s coaching hasn’t shown him how to kick.”
“How did Highland make their points?”
“Oh, just piled ’em right up. They had a touchdown and goal in less than three minutes after play began. They made four touchdowns in the first half, but failed to get goals off two of them.”
“That was twenty of their thirty-three points. Then Rockspur must have done better in the second half?”
“She did, rather,” nodded Leon. “Why, we even had to give Highland two points by making a safety in order to hold the ball one time in the first half. That gave them twenty-two points out of the thirty-three.”
“Then, in the second half, they made only eleven points to Rockspur’s five.”