After a fight and a short, brilliant run, Dick was tackled by
Filmore's fullback.
One quivering instant—-then Wadleigh and Hudson bumped that fullback so hard that he went down, Dick wriggling safely away and bounding toward Filmore's goal.
With fire in their eyes, Gridley's center and left wing swept on.
Dick Prescott was over the goal line, bending and holding the ball down! Then, indeed, the crowd broke loose all except the few hundreds from Filmore.
Was it a touchdown? That was the question that all asked themselves. It was so close to the line that many onlookers were in doubt, and stood staring with all their eyes.
But the ball went back for the kick, and that settled all doubts.
Dave made the kick, and lost it—-but who cared?
A moment later and the whistle blew—-the second half was over—-the game finished.
Filmore had bitten the dust to the song of eleven to eight.
Dick's tiny head shake had been a piece of strategy prearranged with Wadleigh. It was a legitimate ruse, as honest as any other piece of football strategy intended to throw the enemy "off".