“GIRLS ARE QUEER”
“Now, fellows, we can win, or at least tie the score yet,” remarked Captain Cross, as his players were sent back to the middle of the field for another kick-off. “Smash through ’em! Phil, try our forward pass and on-side kick.”
“There are only five minutes more of play,” said Tom, who heard that from the timekeeper.
“Never mind, we can do it. Tie the score, anyhow!”
But it was not to be. Smash through the line though her players did, for there seemed no stopping them, successful as the forward pass was, and with the gain netted by an on-side kick, Randall could do no better than to carry the ball to the Fairview ten-yard line.
There might have been a try for a field goal, but Phil decided there was no chance for it, whereas bucking the line was almost a sure thing. His men were doing magnificent work, for they had carried the ball continuously from the middle of the field without loss. Two minutes more of play would have given them a touch-down, but the fatal whistle blew, and with a groan the Randall players knew their last hope was gone.
There came the usual cheers and college yells for the vanquished from the victors, and the return of the compliment. Then the downcast Randall lads filed slowly across the gridiron. They were sad at heart, and Coach Lighton noticed it.
“Fellows, you did magnificent work!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “You really did!”
“All except winning,” said Tom gloomily.
“I think we played rotten!” burst out Phil, who seemed to take it much to heart.