The ball had been carried over at the southwest corner of the field, and Sterndale punted it out with a beautiful kick, Renwood catching it directly in front of the goal-posts.
Then came the try for a goal. Having made the touchdown, Renwood was permitted to hold the ball. He stretched himself on the ground, with his right side toward the goal-posts, while the boys lined out even with his body, but slightly behind the dirt-stained pigskin. Dolph held the ball with his left hand undermost, his elbow resting on the ground and his hand lifted a trifle. The fingers of his right hand steadied the ball on its upper side, and then, with the utmost care, as if handling something intensely delicate and breakable, he lowered his hand to the ground, flattening it out, guarding against letting the ball touch the ground, which would have given Highland liberty to charge.
Sterndale sighted along the seam of the ball, which was uppermost. He drew back his right arm and advanced his left, his fists clenched. A second later, he went leaping at it, his heavy toe caught it fair and handsomely, and the anxious hush that had fallen on the field was broken by a roar when the oval sailed, twisting and whirling over the cross-bar and between the goal-posts, which made the score six to nothing in favor of the home team.
The crowd felt like rushing onto the field and hugging the boys, and it was difficult for two men wearing badges to hold it back. As both sides returned to the centre of the field, Don looked round for his father and found the doctor watching him with an expression of great satisfaction and pride, while Zadia Renwood waved her flag and laughed in his direction.
But the game was not over; not even the first half was over, and there was to be a most surprising turn about in a very few moments. The Highland boys were not “quitters,” and every man wore a ferocious look when they lined up with the ball at the centre of the field. The captain had been saying something to some of the men, and the visitors were ready to give the over-confident home team a hustle during the remainder of the first period.
When everything was ready, Walker kicked off, and again those twenty-two men were leaping at each other’s throats like famished wolves. The fortunes of war varied till, by a splendid round-the-end run, Garrison took the oval well into Rockspur’s territory, being brought to the earth by Sterndale himself. Then Walker booted the pigskin straight into Renwood’s clutch; but Dolph fumbled, and Dow, Highland’s left end, fell on the ball like a carload of steel rails. Again it seemed to Scott that Renwood was playing into the hands of the enemy.
However, though this advantage had been gained, though the crimson bleachers were shrieking like mad, though they tried their best men against Rockspur’s line, the boys from the hills could not get another foot. Three times they were held and beaten off, and the ball went to the home team on downs, which brought a roar of satisfaction from the blue-and-white and caused the crimson to groan.
“Get into ’em! get into ’em!” grated Sterndale, just loud enough for his men to hear. “We must do it!”
Five seconds later, the ball was sent to Scott, who, with teeth set, neck-cords strained, eyes bulging, went across and round Highland’s right end for a gain of seventeen yards. There he was forced out of bounds, and the ball was brought in and put down for a scrimmage, out of which another advance was made, which gave the Rockspur spectators still greater opportunity to breathe freely.
“It’s no use!” squealed Uncle Ike, waving his crooked cane. “They jest can’t do it! Our boys won’t hev it!”