"Put it over now!" shrilled Carmine. "Here we go! Get down there, Hall! Signals!"
Rollins leaped forward, took the ball from Carmine and smashed straight ahead. There was a moment of doubt. His plunging body stopped, went on, stopped, was borne back.
"Second down! Two and a half to go!"
Again the signals, the line shifted, Claflin changed to meet the shift. St. Clair slewed across and slammed past the Claflin left tackle. But the secondary defence had him in the next instant and he was thrust, fighting, back and still back. But he had gained. "A yard and a half!" proclaimed the referee.
"You've got to do it, Brimfield!" shouted Edwards intensely. "Don't let them get the jump on you like that! Get into it, Crewe! Watch that man, Gilbert! Come on now! Put it over!"
"Signals!" shrieked Carmine. "Make it go this time! Over with it!"
Back went Rollins, hands outstretched. "Fake!" shouted Claflin. "Watch the ball! Watch the ball!"
Rollins's arms fell, empty, as St. Clair grabbed the pigskin and swept wide to the right. "In! In!" cried Carmine. St. Clair turned and shot toward the broken line. His interference did its part, but the Claflin left end had fooled Holt and it was that blue-legged youth who got St. Clair and thumped him to the sod. An anxious, breathless moment followed. Brimfield called for time and St. Clair, on his back, kicked and squirmed while they pumped the air back into his lungs. The referee, kneeling over the ball, squinted along the line. Then:
"Fourth down and about two to go!" he announced.
St. Clair had lost a half-yard! Claflin cheered weakly. Steve Edwards and Carmine consulted.