“Ah, no!” he grumbled to himself once, as he lay sprawled upon the turf during “time out.” “‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves that we are underlings.’ I’ll blame no other one than myself. I’m not so good. But this once I must win. I must! I must!”
But could he? On the defense his team acquitted itself well. During the first half not a touchdown was made on either side.
Then, at the very beginning of the second half catastrophe befell them. Midway kicked off. Northern carried the ball to Midway’s forty-yard line. A forward pass was completed, a second following in quick succession. One mad plunge, and Northern went over for a touchdown. Their fans went mad. The kick for an extra point was successful. The score stood Northern 7. Midway 0.
Gloom, deep and ominous, settled down upon the room out there on far away Passage Island. Gloom, but not for all. From the corner came in a loud whisper:
“Tony. We are going broke play by play. Just like he said, play by play.” This was followed by a hoarse chuckle that made Johnny’s blood boil. If Drew Lane heard it he did not show it by so much as the flicker of an eyelash.
“Does he believe that the Red Rover can still go through to victory?” Johnny asked himself.
Then, as if what appeared almost sure defeat were not enough, at the middle of the third quarter one more terrible thing happened.
To Drew and Johnny it appeared all the more terrible since, receiving it on the radio, they could but half understand what was going on. “Now play will be resumed,” the announcer droned. “The men are taking their positions. Northern has the ball on their own forty-five yard line.
“The crowd is on its toes. Seventy thousand people. Bright blankets, fluttering flags. Plenty of color out here. Plenty of noise.
“Marvelous day. Clear as glass. Not a cloud. Snappy. Just the kind of day that makes them fight.