Then the teams lined up, the Boxford quarter signaled to his full back for a line plunge, and in less time than it takes to write it, the great hulk of a six-foot boy went tearing through the Deal line. Deal received a shock as great as it was unexpected. They had foreseen no such smashing attack, and before they could rally to the defense, they had been forced for down after down over the smooth brown field until the play was well in their own territory....
We do not mean to describe the game in detail, for is it not written in the chronicles of the boys of Deal? Wendell rallied his team just in time to prevent Boxford from scoring in the first half, when the ball had been worried to within twenty yards of his goal. Then followed an exchange of punts, which, as Edward Clavering, Deal’s full back, could kick farther than his opponent, gave Deal a slight advantage. When they got the ball at last in the middle of the field, they made a few gains by end runs. They were swifter, more ingenious, better kickers than the Boxford boys, but the team from over the hills had the advantage in weight and strength.
During the intermission between the halves Stenton did his best to hearten his boys, but it was a poor best, for he felt pretty certain that they were bound to be scored against heavily in the next half. They could not stand the smashing of the line—already Clayton and one or two others had been taken out.
The second half saw a repetition of the tactics of the first. Boxford persistently hit the line, and within five minutes of the play had scored the inevitable touchdown. The enthusiasm of their supporters was only a trifle dampened when they failed to kick the goal. After that Deal worried them a good deal with trick plays, and once after gaining a considerable distance by an exceptionally long punt and a fumble, they seemed within striking distance of the goal. Clavering tried for a field goal, but to the sharp distress of his supporters the ball went wide of the mark. Boxford took the ball on their twenty-five yard line, and renewed their demoralizing attack. Despite the Deal boys’ desperate efforts, the ball was forced back into their territory, straight down the field by smashing center plays toward their goal. Poor Kit had been carried off, bruised and lame, but not seriously hurt; the veteran Clavering had succumbed, and Deal was left to finish the game with a team that was half composed of substitutes. It was a question now, it seemed, of simply keeping down the score.
Boxford fumbled, and again they escaped danger for the moment. But soon the ball had been worried again dangerously near their goal. Twenty-five, twenty, fifteen yards—Tony measured the distance with grim despair. Suddenly, as the Boxford quarter snapped back the ball, something unexpected happened. Signals got twisted,—at any rate, there was a fumble and a scrimmage, and twenty boys were scrambling in a heap, when the attention of the spectators was arrested by the shrill cry of the Boxford quarter, for Tony Deering, with the ball tucked under his arm, had emerged from the mass of players, and was speeding like a frightened deer down the field toward the Boxford goal.
The quarter made a desperate effort to intercept him, but Tony dodged as quickly as lightning flashes, and raced on with a clear field. The two teams, recovered, were rushing after him.... One could have heard a whisper from one side of the field to the other so tense was the excitement. The silence was absolute save for the pattering of the swift feet upon the turf.... Then the cheers broke forth, for Tony had planted the ball midway behind the goal posts. For five minutes there was pandemonium on the side lines, restrained for a moment, only to break forth afresh as Clavering kicked the goal. The game was won, for almost immediately after the kick-off, the whistle blew, and the referee called “Time.”
TONY DODGED ... AND RACED ON WITH A CLEAR FIELD