“Fellows,” remarked Coach Lighton in the dressing-room during the rest, “I needn’t tell you that you’ve got to play for all you’re worth to win this game. We’re going to have trouble this half. With Looper gone, though I expect Everet will do nearly as well at center, it means a certain loss of team work. But do your best. Their line isn’t as strong as I feared, but they play much fiercer in the attack than I expected. However, I think you can rip ’em up. Get another touch-down—two if you can—and prevent them from scoring. They may try for a field goal. If they do, get through and block the kick. Now rest all you can.”
The second half started in fiercely. Randall kicked off, and succeeded in nailing the Boxer Hall man with the ball before he had run ten yards. But when the line-bucking began something seemed to be the matter with the Randall players. They were shoved back very easily, it appeared, and, with constant gains, the ball was carried toward their territory. So eager did the Randallites get at one stage that they played off-side, and were penalized ten yards. Again there was holding in the line, and ten yards more were given to Boxer Hall for this. The opponents of Randall were now within thirty yards of the goal. By a smash through center they ripped off five more. Then Pinkey Davenport dropped back for a trial for a field goal, and made it. The score was now six to five in favor of Randall.
When Randall got the ball again there was a change at once noticed. More confidence was felt, and so fiercely did her players assail the line that they carried the pigskin, in three rushes, well toward the middle of the field.
Phil gave the signal for a forward pass, and it was well executed. Then came a fake kick, and this was followed by an on-side one. Both netted good gains, and once more Randall was jubilant.
“Right through the line!” cried Phil. “Eat ’em up, fellows!”
His players responded to his call. Through tackle, guard and center, then around the end, the plays being repeated, the ball was carried. The men were tiring, but Phil would not chance a kick. They had no sure thing of a field goal now, as a little wind had sprung up. Up and up the field the spheroid, yellow no longer, but dirty and grass-stained, was carried. On the Randallites took it, until they were on the twenty-five-yard line. There was a form of madness among the college supporters now. Once more came the fierce cries for a touch-down, and once more Phil called to his teammates to respond. The signal for some sequence plays was given. It was well these had been practiced, for Phil’s voice could scarcely be heard. One after another four plays were reeled off. They were all effective, and though Boxer Hall tried to stem the rush, it was impossible. Over the line went the Randall lads, to the inspiring chorus of: “Tear ’Em Apart and Toss ’Em Aside!”
“Touch-down! Touch-down! Touch-down!” came the frantic cries, the players mingling their voices with those of the spectators on the grandstand. The goal was missed, but the score was now eleven to five in favor Randall.
Again came the line-up after the kick off. By a fumble Boxer lost the ball, and Tom Parsons fell on it. Then began another fierce attack on the Boxer eleven. But the terrific line-smashing was telling on both teams, though more so on Randall. There was less power in her attack.
Boxer held for downs, and the kick was a weak one, the ball going only a short distance. Then Boxer Hall began to rush it back, and by a trick play got it so far down the gridiron that another field goal was kicked. It began to look dubious for Randall, but there was no give-up in her playing. Securing the ball, Phil kept his players on the rush. Down the field they went, a forward pass netting a good gain and wonderfully saving the wind of the now almost exhausted team. An on-side kick was also used, and then, seeing a weak place in the adversary’s line, Phil in turn sent Kindlings, Jerry Jackson and Holly Cross at it. In vain did Boxer Hall try to stop up the gap, but their left-tackle and guard were about all in. In two minutes more Bricktop Molloy was shoved over the line for a third touch-down, and, as goal was kicked, the score was seventeen to ten.
“One more touch-down!” cried Holly Cross, but there was no time for it. Two minutes more of play and the whistle blew. Randall had won one of the fiercest games she had ever played.