“It will be worth while,” insisted Tom.
“Well, we’ll see,” promised Dan, and then play was resumed. Once more there was a gain through Sam, and partly because of a fear that his team would be scored upon, and partly in exasperation, Dan signalled for Frank to jump in.
There was a joyful look on the face of the big Californian as he took his place in the line, and the Snail rather ruefully retired.
“I guess I need more practice, or—something,” he admitted.
“Principally ‘something,’” agreed one or two of the scrub players.
Randall did not exactly need new life, for she practically had the fight won, but the advent of Simpson was good. He was a powerful player, knew the game and its tactics to perfection, and tore open great holes in the other line, through which the Randall backs plunged for substantial gains.
It looked to be easy sailing from now on, and when several more points had been scored for Randall, Captain Woodhouse gave orders for easier playing, as he wanted to save his men. It nearly cost them something, however, for Joe Jackson made a fumble, and the ball went to Newkirk. Then, wild to score, those players tore things loose, and shoved back the Randallites until it looked as if their goal line would be crossed.
There were many anxious hearts when the ball was on the twenty-yard mark, and when a trial for a field goal was made by Newkirk, there were prayers that it would fail. It did, and then the leather was quickly booted far enough away to preclude the possibility of further danger. Before Newkirk could rush it back five yards, the final whistle blew, and the first game of the season was over, with a score of thirty-two to nothing, in favor of Randall.