In the next scrimmage Jotham Sprout was put out of the game with an injured back, and it was necessary to fill his place with Thad Boland. Boland had the brawn to stop the gap in the line, but his slowness was well known to Highland, and they tried to take advantage of it, which brought the brunt of the battle on the right wing of the home team and gave Scott all he could do.
With only five minuses of play remaining, neither side had scored in the second half, and there seemed no prospect that a further score would be made.
“It’s no use,” said some of the Rockspur spectators. “We can beat those chaps at baseball, but they are too much for us in this kind of a game.”
Highland had the ball, and was playing to hold it as long as possible. Don saw this, and he fairly ached in his desire to get hold of the leather. The ball was down for a scrimmage, and he pressed up into the line between Linton and Boland. He heard the signal and fancied he understood it. Then Davis snapped back to Fisher, and Highland’s quarter-back attempted a long pass to Powell, who had dropped slightly behind the line for the ball.
The play was balked, for right through between Hartford and Dow shot a pantherish figure, and the oval did not reach Powell’s clutch. Don Scott had intercepted the pass, and he went by Garrison like an express train overdue and trying to make up time. But the hopes of the Rockspur spectators were dashed when he was brought down by Walker on Highland’s forty-yard line. It seemed that the last chance ended right there.
“Oh, you can’t do it, you know!” sang the visitors on the bleachers.
Sterndale lost not a second. He tried to get Scott round Highland’s end, but no gain was made. Next he gave the ball to Mayfair and smashed into the enemy’s centre, getting five yards.
Once more the Highlanders became rooted. It was impossible to jar them. Already some of the visiting spectators were pressing toward the gate, regarding the game as won by their team, for but one minute of play remained. Having given up hope, not a few of the Rockspurites were leaving the grounds, unwilling to remain and witness the rejoicing of the victorious Highlanders.
“The boys did well,” they were saying, “but they were outclassed.”
Then there was a hush. Something was going to happen. What could it be?