The ball was placed in play. At the kick-off the ball came to Greg, who passed it to Dick. The interference formed, backed by Brayton.
"Put it around their right end!" growled Brayton, the word passing swiftly to Prescott.
Haynes was darting in, blood in his eye, backed the whole right flank of scrub.
Greg and the rest of the available interference got swiftly and squarely in the way of Haynes and the others. There was a scrimmage. Out of it, somehow—-none looking on could tell just how it was done—-Prescott emerged from the mix-up, darting swiftly to the left and around. He had made twenty-five yards with the ball Before he was nailed and downed.
Lieutenant Carney looked, as he felt, delighted. The spectators, all of them crazy for the Army's success, broke into yells of joy. Dick had done the spectacular part of the trick, but he could not have succeeded without the swift, intelligent help that Holmes had given. Playing together, they had sprung one of the clever ruses that both had perfected back in the old Gridley days.
Haynes was furious. He was panting. There was an angry flash in his eyes as both teams lined up for the snap-back.
"That fellow has come out into the field just to spite me," snarled
Haynes to himself.
At the signal, the ball was snapped back, and passed swiftly to Dick. Haynes fairly leaped into the scrimmage, as though it were deadly hand-to-hand conflict. But Dick and Greg, with the backing of their comrades on the Army eleven, bore Haynes down to earth in the mad stampede that passed over him. Fifteen yards more were gained, and scrub's half-backs were feeling sore in body.
"That man Prescott is a wonder," muttered Lieutenant Carney to a brother officer of the Army. "Or else Holmes is. It's hard to say which of the pair is doing the trick. I think both of them are."
"How on earth, Carney, did you come to overlook that pair until now?"