“Ready, Broadwood?” The referee’s whistle was at his lips.
“All ready, sir!”
“Ready, Yardley?”
“All—No, sir! Just a minute. There’s a man coming on!”
“It’s all right, Vinton,” Payson was whispering calmly. “I can’t explain now. Go in there for Williams and do your best. Tell Loring not to forget ‘seventeen’ when he gets a chance. And when it comes, Vinton, make it good! You can do it! Play close on defense, and—well, that’s all. Go ahead!”
Vinton leaped forward like a young colt and raced onto the field. His heart was in his mouth, but he was fearsomely happy! The stand saw, wondered and shrieked approval. The leaders called for a “short cheer for Vinton, fellows, and make it good!” It was good, but Dan didn’t hear it. The ball was in air, Broadwood was charging down beneath it and he was blocking off a Broadwood tackle. Loring was playing like a dozen men that day, and now, with the ball clasped fast, he was dodging and running back up the field. Tackler after tackler was fooled, foe after foe was left behind. Dan was running too, trying to reach his team-mate to ward off the enemy. But before he could catch up with him Loring was down, rolling over and over, half a dozen green-clad players tumbling about him.
There was a quick line-up on the Blue’s forty yards and the game went on. But Yardley had met a foeman worthy of her steel to-day and as the ball went nearer and nearer to the north goal the gains grew shorter and shorter. On a second down a “bunch” pass was tried and although Connor secured it a penalty for off-side set the offense back again. Then a third down failed of the required distance by a bare twelve inches and the pigskin went to the enemy and was booted far down the field.
Yardley had it all to do over again. But now she was plainly the aggressor; Broadwood, doubtful of her ability to score again, had settled down to a policy of defense. But a scant ten minutes of playing time remained, and if she could keep her opponent from reaching her thirty-yard-line she need have no fear as to the final result. Yardley had not fully found herself until the first half was half over, and since then she had been playing a fast, hard game, and up until the present time had been improving rather than falling off. Broadwood’s single score, while by no means a fluke, had resulted from a trick which would probably not work again, and Yardley had demonstrated to her opponent’s satisfaction that consistent gains through the blue line were impossible. So Broadwood “played it safe,” longing for the sound of the final whistle.
Back on her thirty yards Yardley was buckling down to her task, a heart-breaking task at best. Loring feared to punt now, lest Broadwood should change her tactics and keep the ball. But after the Blue had reconquered twenty yards by desperate attacks at the line, Loring saw that at last the enemy was getting slow and logy. If the few untried tricks which remained in Yardley’s repertoire were to be used at all, now was the time. Constant hammering at the line, with occasional excursions outside of tackles on the part of the enemy had lulled Broadwood into unsuspiciousness. A quarter-back kick which was regained by Connor for an advance of twelve yards, opened her eyes. Connor was hurt in the play and Dyer took his place.
Broadwood became wary again, but her line-men were slow; only her backs had real life in them any longer. Loring tried Dyer around his own end, passing the ball to him on the run, and the right half-back tore off nine yards before he was captured. Yardley was past the middle of the field now, once more in the Green’s territory. A rather complicated cross-buck play ended in a loss and Loring went back at the line, sending Kapenhysen through a ragged hole made by Colton and Hill for a good six yard gain. But after that the Broadwood line stiffened again and on the forty yards Loring tried a quarter-back run, which gained four yards, following it with a run by Capes from punting formation, the fleet-footed left half covering thirty yards across the field to gain a scant eight. But every play was a gain of some sort, and the ball was still Yardley’s.