Thus in a flash he outlined his policy and sent the leather hurling back over the heads of the half-maddened Blue Hill lads who were chagrined at their fumbling.
"Come on!" cried the captain of the Kentfield lads. "We want to down their man in his tracks if we can."
It was almost done, and in fact the runner only managed to gain a few yards before he was fiercely thrown by Innis Beeby.
Again came that seemingly wearying, and never-ceasing attack on the line. But Dick's men were on the alert, and though another attempt was made through Paul he held firmly.
The pace was beginning to tell though, and panting breaths and palpitating hearts murmured their story. Dick resolved on more kicking if he got a chance at the ball. But it seemed that he was not to get it—at least right away. Once more up the field it was being advanced by short sharp rushes. Blue Hill seemed content to keep on with her bulldog playing, perhaps trusting that her men would last longer than would Dick's.
There was no denying the strength of the opponents of Kentfield. They were trained to the second, and the two coaches whom Dick's money had secured began to be a little direful of the result.
"Can they stand it?" asked Mr. Spencer of his colleague.
"Well, if they don't they're not what I think them to be," was the convincing answer.
The cheers and songs of the Blue Hill contingent seemed to give them added strength. They still had the ball, in spite of all the efforts of Dick and his men to hold them, to force a kick, or to get through and block the plays. Steadily and surely the leather was nearing the fatal line.
"Look out boys! Look out!" warned Dick. "Play hard."