The opposing team, however, displayed no admiration, only consternation and anger at the dexterity of their rivals. The captain glanced anxiously at the coach, who was frowning, but she received no encouragement. The whistle blew again; the game continued in much the same manner, with Marjorie’s team scoring six more points to the other’s none. Then, ever so cautiously, when the referee’s back was turned, the center winked at her side-center and forwards, and began to play rough, using her body to guard, waving her arms, pushing and elbowing her opponent until she obtained possession of the ball. The side-center took the hint, employing her greater weight against Dot, shoving her rudely aside in their mad scramble for the ball after the toss-up. To the amazement of Marjorie’s team this conduct went by unnoticed; whether the referee did not see it, or whether he did not consider it wrong, they could not tell, but he called no foul. Marjorie’s team stopped scoring; the ball somehow travelled down to the opponent’s basket, and the forwards, imitating their centers, began to fight for their goals. They scored point after point; Marjorie’s players were powerless to use their passing; even if they did secure the ball, and apparently held it fast in their hands, their opponents knocked it out, and tossed it, or even kicked it in the opposite direction. Marjorie stood it as long as she could; finally she called time-out.
“I am sorry to seem to protest,” she said apologetically, turning to the referee, “but really we are not playing girls’ rules at all. You have not called a single foul!”
The man colored.
“I have to admit that I don’t know much about girls’ rules,” he replied. “I’m not refereeing from choice, you know. Nobody would be more thankful than I to see Miss Ainsworth appear.”
“Well,” explained Marjorie, relenting a little at his humility, “it is a foul to charge or attack a player with the ball, and two hands on it give possession. Our team won’t play this kind of game.”
“I’ll be as careful as I can,” the other agreed. “But you know—fellows’ rules—and fellows’ games——”
“Yes, I understand,” smiled Marjorie. “But do your best!”
She walked across to her own little group, who were taking advantage of the time-out to talk with each other in animated and angry tones about their opponents.
“Let’s get in and fight!” cried Queenie. “Do them like they’re doin’ us! Kick ’em and trip ’em——”
Marjorie shook her head sadly.