“Hold them, boys――hold them!” muttered Jack Diamond, as if his words could reach the ears of those dirt-covered gladiators on the gridiron.
Then a pass was tried by Harvard, and right there she fumbled. It was Jack Ready who fell on the ball, and Yale breathed once more. Now the lost ground must be recovered. Yale tried to send a man round Harvard’s right end, but no gain was made. Then Derford, Yale’s left end, was literally hurled out of a formation play for a gain of four yards, and that was some encouragement.
Right there three downs followed, and, as a last resort, a desperate one, Birch kicked. The wind helped him, and he got the ball off in splendid shape before a hand touched him. Hollender received the ball and sent it back on the instant. This was a mistake, for Harvard lost ground, having the wind against her, and the Yale crowd breathed a trifle easier. But the fight was entirely in Yale territory now, and Yale could not get the ball past center. Twice she came near succeeding, only to slip up when success seemed within her grasp.
The half was drawing to a close, and neither side had scored. Harvard did not propose to lose her advantage. The captain called on his men to rally, and they answered. Having the ball in their possession, they began a series of terrific hammering at the Yale line. To the despair of the Yale rooters the defenders of the blue seemed weakening. Harvard made steady gains, and the ball was pushed to Yale’s thirty-yard line once more, where there was another fearful scrimmage, and when it was over Buck Badger was carried from the field with a wrenched knee.
“That settles it!” groaned Browning. “I’ve never liked that fellow, but he’s been our mainstay to-day. We’re in the soup!”
“I am afraid so,” said Diamond huskily. “Oh, if Frank Merriwell could take his place!”
A freshman by the name of Deland came out from the reserves and took Badger’s place. The game went on, with Harvard hammering her way forward sure as fate. Yale’s twenty-yard line was reached. Then the crimson beat out three yards, a yard, four yards, two yards, and the ball was “down” ten yards from Yale’s goal-line.
“For the love of Heaven, hold it there two minutes!” prayed Jack Diamond, looking at his watch.