"Another touchdown for Oak Hall!"
"Now for another goal!"
Amid a wild cheering the try for goal was made. But a keen wind had sprung up, and the goal was missed by a few inches.
"Never mind, that makes the score eleven to six in Oak Hall's favor."
Once again the ball was brought into play. There were but seven minutes of time left, and Rockville played like demons, hurling themselves again and again at their opponents. But Dave felt that enough had been accomplished, and gave the signal to be on the defensive, and thus Rockville was held back, and the most it could do was to get the ball on Oak Hall's thirty-five yard line. And then the fateful whistle sounded, and the great game came to a close.
Final score: Oak Hall 11, Rockville Academy 6.
It was a well-earned victory, and the Oak Hall eleven were warmly praised by their friends and the public in general, while many condemned the military academy for the roughness shown.
"Oh, it was too lovely for anything!" said Vera Rockwell, when Phil and Roger sauntered up, waiting for the carryall to take the eleven back to Oak Hall.
"It was indeed!" added Mary Feversham. "We compliment you, and we compliment Mr. Porter, too," she added, her eyes beaming brightly.
"A well-fought game," was Mr. Rockwell's comment; and then the boys passed on, to join their fellows.