Wyndham reached midfield on six plays, only to lose the ball when Sproule fumbled. Wolcott was then first down on her own forty-eight yards. On the first play a penalty for holding set her back to her thirty-three. A long pass over the right end went astray and a second attempt on the other side was no more successful. James punted short and the ball went out at Wyndham’s forty-seven. Breeze was taken off and Clem Henning succeeded him at right guard. Sproule got free outside tackle and took the ball to the opponent’s forty-one. Hanbury made three and then four over right tackle. Kemble was thrown for a loss on an attempt at the Wolcott left end and Hanbury punted. The ball went over and was brought back to the twenty.
Wolcott was playing for time now, satisfied, it seemed, with her one-point lead. She made it first down on her thirty-two with a short and unexpected forward toss and then, faking a second throw, tore through Henning for six. Hanbury, who made the tackle, was hurt and time was called. Presently he went off, assisted, and Johnny Thayer raced on. Wolcott struck a snag on the next play and lost two yards. A forward-pass over left guard grounded, after being juggled by half the players, and James kicked. Again the punt fell short and the ball was Wyndham’s on her forty-four yards. Raiford gave way to “Wink” Coles and Couch to Clif Bingham.
The Blue crossed the half-way mark on two plays with Johnny Thayer carrying, each play a fake cross-buck in which the halfbacks went outside tackle and the fullback drove straight through guard. Wyndham had used few split interference plays so far and Wolcott was easy prey; Johnny got four yards through right guard and seven through left. Kemble crashed at left tackle for three more and then went outside the same player for four. Thayer added two through center, and, with less than one to go on fourth down, Houston cut through left guard for the distance. Sproule again got loose around his left and reached the enemy’s twenty-six before he was forced over the line. Thayer made two and Kemble two and Houston went back to kicking position. The play was a short pass, however, and Clif, on the catching end, failed to get his fingers on it. Time was called for Captain Dave and, after Dan Farrell had worked over him, Wyndham took a two-yard penalty, Captain Dave staying in. Houston took a good pass from Carlson and got the ball away cleanly, but it fell short of the bar.
Time was growing short and the figures on the scoreboard looked to be final. James punted on first down and put the oval down near the opponent’s forty-five, his longest punt of the day. Tom Kemble misjudged and Houston got the ball on the bound and was thrown savagely on his thirty-six. Time was again called, and when play was resumed, Stoddard was back at quarter. Wolcott had seized the opportunity to bolster up her line with a new tackle and end on the left. Stoddard used a fake cross-buck again and Thayer found a wide hole at the left of center and romped through for twelve yards. On a similar play he was downed on the line. There were two minutes left.
Kemble tried the end and made a yard and Sproule had no better luck off tackle. Kemble went back and hurled across the center to Stoddard for eight yards and a first down. With Kemble back again, the ball went to Thayer, and Johnny got six on a sweep around right end before he was smothered. Sproule and then Kemble hit right guard and made it first down again. The ball was on Wolcott’s thirty-one yards and there was just under a minute of playing time left.
Captain Lothrop went out, cheered to the echo, and Smythe took his place. Ellison went in for Carlson and Treader for Sproule. Wyndham was still cheering valiantly, hopefully. Treader, squandering all the pent-up energy and longing of the afternoon in one brief instant, dashed himself fiercely at the enemy’s right and squirmed and fought through to the twenty-six. Wyndham roared in triumph and automobile horns sounded raucously.
“Touchdown! Touchdown!” chanted Wyndham, while Wolcott implored her warriors to “Hold ’em! Hold ’em! Hold ’em!” Then Tom again went back and the visiting cheerers changed their slogan. “Kick that goal! Kick that goal!” was the cry now. Out on the field the effect was only of so much sound, confused, meaningless, and Houston had to shout high to be heard.
“30, 87, 27!”
Archer swung away from the line and ran back toward his own goal. Tom held his long arms out. The timer’s watch told twenty seconds left. The signal came again: