No one ever knew just what happened. Two minutes of play were left. There was a weak spot somewhere in the Marston line; a trick play; a wildly struggling mass. Then a red-clad form, the Webster quarter-back, pursued in vain by the best men on the Marston team, shot across the field, and fell exhausted, with the ball in his arms, just over the Marston line!
An attempt to kick goal failed; time was called; the first half was done; the score stood five to nothing in favor of Webster High!
The Webster yelling was terrific, as the tangle of human beings began to resolve itself into individuals, and clear the field, but among the Marstons arose a great buzz of anxious questioning. Where was Bobs? What had become of their captain?
Louise was trying to keep Jacquette in her place until they could get some news. “But I can’t sit here and wait!” Jacquette refused, excitedly. “I must find somebody and do something!”
“Well, I’m going with you, then,” Louise gave up at last. “Keep our places, girls,” she called to the rest of the Sigma Pi crowd, as she followed Jacquette.
“Now, what can you do?” she demanded, as she overtook her. “A girl can’t go to training quarters.”
“I don’t know! Can’t I send a message to Bobs, some way?”
“There goes Bud Banister! He’s manager of the team,” cried Louise. “Bud! Bud! Tell us what’s the matter!”
“Matter enough!” the tall, lanky fellow flung back angrily, as he ran past. “Bobs went off down-town on the two o’clock train and sent us word to go on with the game without him!”
“I told you, Louise!” Jacquette gasped. “Bud, wait!” she called.