But the ball went to Holmes and he passed to Brinspool, and the big full-back charged into the line like a steam engine and went through with half the Nordham team hanging about him. There was an anxious moment while the ball was hunted, but when it came to light it lay a good two feet beyond the tenth yard. Only nine yards away was the goal line. Across the trampled field the Yardley supporters were shouting incessantly. Holmes raised an imploring hand and comparative quiet fell. The Nordham captain was begging and scolding up and down his line:
“Now stop ’em, men! Don’t give ’em another foot! Throw ’em back! Into it hard and watch the ball!”
Holmes barked his signals. Kendall dashed at the guard-tackle hole on the left, Brinspool followed him, Greene darted across, took the ball at a hand-pass and, followed by Holmes, squirmed between guard and tackle on the other side for two yards. Seven yards to go!
“Kick formation! Burtis back! Now hold them, fellows!”
“Block this kick!” shouted the Nordham captain.
Holmes shouted his signals.
“Fake!” yelled the Red’s captain. “Watch it! Watch it!”
And a fake it was, the pigskin going to Plant, who had dropped back of the line. The tackle swung to the left and darted at the opposite tackle. But Nordham was there, and he went down as though he had run against a wall.
“Get up! Get up!”