But that was the last of the visitors’ success. From then on Maple Hill, peeved by the mischance that had allowed such a weak team to score upon her, literally ripped the Ludlow line to pieces and scored almost at will. Thirteen points in the third period and six in the fourth—Cotting sent in seven substitutes in that last ten minutes—piled up a grand total of forty, against which Ludlow’s two looked less objectionable. Kitty and Rodney each had a few minutes of work in the final period, but neither was in the lineup long enough to distinguish himself. After the game was finished Stacey was very glum over that safety, and refused to be comforted although Kitty and Rodney on the way back to Westcott’s ventured consolation.
“If you hadn’t grabbed the ball one of the Ludlow chaps would have got it and scored a touchdown,” said Rodney. “Better to let them have a safety than that.”
“I ought to have seen how near the line I was,” replied Stacey gloomily. “I ought never to have let him throw me over it.”
“Shucks! What’s two points, Stacey?”
“A whole lot when they shouldn’t have scored, Rod! It was a piece of bonehead work, that’s what it was.”
“Don’t think,” observed Kitty, “that I’d worry much about it; not if I’d played the way you played today. Silly, I call it!”
“Do, eh?” Stacey smiled for the first time since the occurrence. “What do you know about football anyway, Kitty?”
Kitty blinked several times before he answered. Then, “Not much, maybe. Learning though. Still, fellow doesn’t have to know a heap of football to know that it’s no use troubling over spilled milk. Doesn’t get you anything. Waste of energy. Bad for you.”