For a little while the ball had been over on Army ground. Now, however, it was going steadily toward the Navy's goal line, and the interest of the spectators was intense.
The time of the game was more than half gone. Once the Navy had been forced to carry the pig skin behind its own line, gaining thus a fresh lease of life in the game. But, of course, the safety scored two against the Navy. For a while afterward it had looked as though that, would be the score for the game—-two to nothing.
"If Brayton uses Prescott just right, and doesn't call on them too often, they'll get the ball over the Navy's goal line yet," confided Lieutenant Carney to a brother officer who stood at his side.
"The Navy line-up is a great one this year," replied his comrade. "For myself I'd be satisfied to see the score end as it stands—-two to nothing."
"Without a touchdown on either side!" questioned Lieutenant Carney, with a trace of scorn in his voice. "That wouldn't be real sport, old fellow!"
"I know; but it would be at least a safe finish for the Army," responded the other.
Just then Quarterback Boyle's voice was heard giving the signal:
"Eight—-seventeen—-four!"
Lieutenant Carney gave his friend's arm a slight nudge.
By way of Greg the ball came to Dick, who, already in fleet motion, was none the less ready for the pass.