The referee, time-keeper and scorer chosen from the senior class took their places. The whistle blew and the teams lined up. There was a round of loud applause from the fans of both teams. The players presented a fine appearance. The earnest, "do or die" expression on every face made the spectators feel that the coming game would be well worth seeing.
The rival captains faced each other, ready to jump for the ball the instant it left the referee's hands. There was a moment of expectant silence; then the referee put the ball in play, the whistle blew and the game began. Both captains sprang for the ball, but alas for the sophomores, Julia Crosby caught it and threw it to the junior right forward. It looked for a minute as though the juniors would score without effort, but Nora O'Malley, who was left guard, succeeded so effectually in annoying her opponent that when the bewildered goal-thrower did succeed in throwing the ball, it fell wide of the basket. It had barely touched the floor before there was a rush for it, and the fun waxed fast and furious.
During the first five minutes neither side scored; then the tide turned in favor of the juniors and they netted the ball.
Grace Harlowe set her teeth, resolving to play harder than ever. The juniors should not score again if she could help it. Nora had the ball and was dribbling it for dear life. Grace signaled her team, who responded instantly; but, to their consternation, the juniors seemed to understand the signal as fully as did their own team, and quickly blocking their play, scored again.
There was a howl of delight from the junior fans in the gallery. The sudden triumph of the enemy seemed to daze the sophomores. They looked at their captain in amazement, then sprang once more to their work. But the trend the game was taking had affected them, and in their desperate efforts to score they made mistakes. Miriam Nesbit ran with the ball and a foul was called, which resulted in the juniors scoring a point.
Nora O'Malley, in her excitement, caught the forward she was guarding by the arm, and again a foul was called; this time, however, the juniors made nothing from it. But the precious time was flying and only four minutes of the first half remained. Again Grace signaled for another secret play, and again the juniors rose to the occasion and thwarted her.
It was maddening.
The score stood 7 to 0 in favor of the juniors. Miriam Nesbit had the ball now, and was trying to throw it. She stood near the junior basket. Eluding her guard, who was dancing about in front of her, she made a wild throw. Whether by accident or design it was hard to tell, but the ball landed squarely in the junior basket. A whoop went up from the gallery. The whistle blew and the first half was over. The score stood 9 to 0 in favor of the enemy. The last two points had been presented to the juniors.
Up in the gallery discussion ran rife. The admirers of the juniors were loud in their praise of the superior ability of the team. The junior class, who were sitting in a body at one end of the gallery, grew especially noisy, and were laughing derisively at the downfall of the sophomores.
Miss Thompson was puzzled.