"Wow! Wow! Wow!" yelled enthusiastic Kentfield "rooters," and from being glum they were now wild with delight and eagerness.
"Touchdown! Touchdown!" came the imperative demand.
"Hold! Hold 'em!" pleaded the Blue Hill throng.
"They ought to make it now or never," said a gray-haired man as he half rose to watch the next play. "They must shove it over if they work as they have all the way up the field."
Dick paused for a moment. He was deciding on the next play. Blue Hill was frantic and might take any unfair advantage. The Kentfield men were like hounds after a stag—it seemed that nothing could keep them back. Dick sent Ray Dutton through centre for five yards.
He came back into the line gasping, for he had been tackled hard.
"Only a little more now, fellows!" yelled the captain. "Nothing can stop us now."
"Yes, we can!" cried Haskell in desperation. "Don't let 'em through, boys!"
His half-wild players managed to stop Stiver with the ball after a three yard gain. But two more yards were needed—six feet.
Dick gave the signal for big Beeby to take the ball, and the next instant the sturdy guard had hurled himself into the gap made for him. For a second or two it seemed that he could not make it, so fiercely did Blue Hill brace. Then, slowly but surely they began giving way under the terrific pressure of the eager Kentfield cadets, and then came a wild yell from Beeby, who was half smothered under a mass of players.