Each team was weaker on defence than on offence, but Mountfort had the better of her adversary here as in all other departments of the game. Toward the end of the first half Miller tried an open game and got off one forward pass that netted twenty yards and an on-side kick that was recovered on the latter’s fifteen yard-line. The audience, comprised almost entirely of Riverport sympathizers, demanded a touchdown and the team tried its best to oblige. But two downs only brought eight yards and the third lost the ball, Mountfort solving the play—a straight plunge at center, before it was well under way.
Mountfort punted to the center of the field and her fast ends brought down their man without trouble. A minute later time was called and the first half ended with Mountfort in the lead, 2 points to 0. Riverport, however, was not dismayed. She meant to go in in the last period and win the game. And every one in the local camp expected her to. Mountfort hadn’t showed anything but the straightest kind of straight football and if Riverport could hold her as she had done in the first half—barring the moment when that kick had been spoiled—there was no good reason, or so it seemed, why Riverport should not at least score something better than a miserable 2. But you never can tell what will happen in a second half.
It was Riverport’s kick-off and Law sent a beauty down the field. A Mountfort back took it and started across toward the side-line. Riverport swung toward him. The back passed to another back and the latter streaked up the opposite side of the field with the ball cosily snuggled under his arm. It was an old trick, but it caught Riverport napping. The runner had almost a clear field before the ruse was discovered. Reid, right tackle, made a dive for him and missed, and only Miller stood between him and a touchdown. Behind him raced friend and foe alike, but he had little to fear from the rear. Miller made a desperate effort to edge him toward the side-line, failed and made a leap at him. The runner dodged, whirled, shook off Miller’s grasp and romped between the uprights for a touch-down. The Mountfort captain kicked an easy goal and the score stood 8 to 0.
After that Mountfort took chances and opened up a bag of tricks that utterly confused and overwhelmed her adversary. There were forward passes galore; short ones, long ones, expected ones, unexpected ones; forward passes from close formation, forward passes from kick formation; forward passes at the most unlikely times. And they worked time and again, worked because Riverport had not been taught a proper defence against them, because she was bewildered and confused and because, saddest thing of all, she was tired and played out almost to a man. Hopkins replaced man after man, and Grove took Miller’s place and tried heroically to bring order out of chaos. But the Mountfort quarter gave Riverport no time to recover herself. He worked his team faster and faster until in the last five minutes of play such speed had never been seen in the second half of a contest on Riverport Field. And Riverport, out-played and out-generalled, weary, sore and dazed, went down in defeat to the final overwhelming score of 25 to 0!
[“IT WAS A SILENT AND VERY DISGUSTED THRONG OF SPECTATORS.”]
[It was a silent and very disgusted throng of spectators] that straggled back up the slope to the school. They were much too surprised as yet to talk. The talk came later, in dining-hall at supper-time, in the rooms afterwards. The consensus of opinion was that the Riverport School Football Team was “pretty punk.” Not a lovely phrase that, but it was very generally used and seemed to satisfy the requirements of the occasion. Of course there were all sorts of theories advanced to account for the day’s Waterloo, and fellows who didn’t know a touch-back from a nose-guard explained the whole trouble beautifully. In 32 Holden there was little discussion for the reason that Rob wouldn’t discuss, while Malcolm, as he had never played football, modestly refrained from offering opinions. All Rob would say, and he said it in an exasperatingly mysterious manner, was:
“Wait! The hour is at hand!”