Dave Darrin was called off for left tackle, Dan for left end. Farley and
Page held the corresponding positions on the right end of the line-up.
"Begin the game, the Rustlers to have the ball," called
Lieutenant-Commander Havens.
"And mix it up lively, Navy," called Hepson, who, both on account of his size and other qualifications, played center.
At the whistle-blast the Rustlers kicked it off—a beautiful, long, arching curve. The ball came to quarter-back, who passed it to Dave Darrin.
Then the fun began.
The Navy line hit the Rustlers hard and tried to bump through. Dan Dalzell devoted every ounce of his strength and every turn of his energy to boosting Darrin through—and Dave himself was not idle. There was an instant of sullen, hard resistance. Then, somehow, Dave was shot through the opposing line. Like a deer he sped, Dan hanging to his flanks. It was up to the Rustlers' halfback now, and that bulky young midshipman leaped to the fray, cleverly barring the way.
At least, the Rustlers' halfback thought he had Darrin blocked. It is never wise to take too much for granted.
As the halfback planted himself for the grapple, Dave suddenly dropped through that opponent's grip and went to the ground.
As though he had been shot through, Dave Darrin went under and past, on one side, between the halfback's legs. He was up again, with Dan at his back. Fullback came at them, but Dan bumped that player aside. Dave dashed on across the line, scoring a touchdown.
Never had the gridiron been the scene of greater excitement than in that rousing moment.