Carstairs was called on to get past left tackle, but he was caught back of the line for a yard’s loss. Then Jones noticed something. With the advent of the new fullback the Blue was drawing her line closer and the fullback and the two halves were playing up behind it. Jones did some quick thinking then. The ball was almost on the ten-yard line, it was second down and there was eleven to gain. And less than a minute and a half of playing time remained. He might hammer his way through as before for a touchdown, he might try a field goal, he might attempt a forward pass. Any of these would be looked for by the enemy. Of the three the forward pass promised to succeed best since the Blue was playing her backfield up close to the line. But there was one play that had not been used during the game. It had been devised for use around the middle of the field, but Jones, scanning its possibilities, couldn’t see why it should not do as well here under the shadow of the goal. At least it had the merit of unexpectedness, and the enemy’s present formation on defense promised success. At all events, he decided, he would try the line once more. So, calling for Third Formation, which put both tackles at the left of the line and placed the left halfback at the end of the rush line on the right, the end falling in and back, he sent Carstairs plunging at right tackle. The play netted three yards. The timekeeper was slowly walking nearer, watch in hand and eyes on the dial. Then:
“Same formation!” called Jones. “37—39—164—28!” A puzzled glance from Captain Corson rewarded him, and Belding cried “Signals!” in a panicky voice. Jones whispered to him, shot a reassuring look at Corson and repeated:
“37—39—164—28! 37—39—164——”
Carstairs dropped back a good twelve yards behind center, Jones stepped back mid-way between him and the line and the ball shot to Carstairs. As it settled into his hands he poised it as though to throw it forward and to the left. The St. Matthew’s line had concentrated on its right, and now it struggled to break through, while the backfield started around to intercept the pass. The Blue’s left end plunged straight across, dodging the opposing end, and made for the fullback. Just as he leaped forward, however, Carstairs sidestepped, passed the ball at a quick toss to Jones, who had run back to take it, and threw himself in front of the Blue’s end. They went down together. Jones, the ball tucked under his arm, wheeled across the field for a dozen yards, and then, pausing suddenly, raised the ball and sent it hurtling further out to where, some fifteen feet from the side line, Harry awaited it. Too late the St. Matthew’s players saw the trick. Yards separated their nearest player from [Harry] as the latter, [catching the well-aimed pass coolly, romped unmolested over the line] in three strides and, dodging a blue-legged enemy, placed it fairly between the posts!
[“Harry ... catching the well-aimed pass coolly, romped unmolested over the line.”]
Two minutes later, after Corson had attempted the goal and failed and after the scoreboard had changed its figures to 15 to 10, and after the final whistle had shrilled, a delirious mob took possession of Barnstead Field. Brown flags snapped and waved, caps flew into air and rained earthward and hundreds of hoarse throats cheered and shouted. And Harry, swaying rather dizzily about on the shoulders of two enthusiastic admirers, following the confused line that wound its way around the gridiron, caught sight of a grinning face in the throng beside him and waved a hand.
Perry Vose’s grin broadened.
“Who gave you the black eye, kid?” he called.