"We've got to do it! Pull together now!" called d.i.c.k. This meant that three plays, previously decided on were to come without further word from the quarter-back.

The plays were right half-back through right tackle, left tackle through right tackle and left half-back through right tackle, thus directing three smashing attacks in quick succession against the same place in the Blue Hill line.

The first attempt did not gain much, but when Frank Rutley came at the unfortunate Jean Trainor, who had just sustained one tremendous smash, there was a clean ten yards reeled off. Then, without a word being uttered, John Stiver jumped for the same breach on the next line up, and fifteen yards were gained.

Kentfield's supporters nearly went wild, for her boys were now within striking distance of the enemy's goal. But there was an enraged crowd of opponents to be reckoned with, for the Blue Hill cadets were half frenzied with the trick that had been played on them, and d.i.c.k knew he could not hope to work it again.

He called for an end run, and it seemed as if it would result in a good gain, but George Hall was downed before he had gone far. Then came a smash at the Blue Hill centre, and to the dismay of d.i.c.k, Paul Drew fumbled the ball. In an instant one of the Blue Hill players fell on it, and quickly booted it out of danger.

There was a groan, and d.i.c.k felt his heart sink. All their brilliant work in the sequence had gone for naught. The Blue Hill crowd went wild with delight.

"Line up!" called d.i.c.k grimly, and once more he began his line-smashing tactics. But there was no gain, and a kick was called for. Similarly the opponents of Kentfield could not advance the ball, and they punted.

Then after some see-sawing work, time was called for the ending of the first half, with the ball on Blue Hill's forty-yard line. Neither side had scored.

"Well, what do you think of 'em?" asked Mr. Martin of d.i.c.k.

"Hard as nails," was the reply.

"I fancy they have the same opinion of you," said Mr. Spencer. "But I think you can get one touchdown the next half. They are tiring. Do you think you can risk another sequence play?"

"I believe so. I'll try it on the other side next time."

"I would, but wait until you're nearer their goal."

The rest period seemed all too short for the tired players, but they came out on the gridiron again leaping, laughing and shouting, though some showed the marks of the conflict.

There were shrill cries from many girls and women in the grandstands and d.i.c.k, giving a quick glance up saw Nellie Fordice, Mabel Hanford and some of their friends.

The second half began with a rush that meant business. Each side tried the line-smashing, but found it as before, and there was much kicking.

Blue Hill finally had the ball, and there was a moment's consultation before the signal was given. Then came a terrific smashing play at Paul Drew. d.i.c.k saw one of the Blue Hill players deliberately strike Paul in the stomach with his elbow. Poor Drew went down in a heap, and over him climbed the man with the ball, making a six yard gain before he could be stopped.

"A foul!" cried d.i.c.k, and reported to the umpire what he had witnessed.

But that official had seen nothing, or at least said he had not.

"Watch 'em!" warned d.i.c.k to his players, while Paul had some wind pumped back into him.

"Can you play?" asked Mr. Martin.

"Yes--of course!" was the half-fierce reply.

Once more came a smashing attack at the unfortunate left guard. His opponents had discovered his weakness. Though he was not struck, the attack was so merciless that he could do nothing, and he had to be carried off the field, his weak condition being partly responsible, for his stomach still troubled him.

"Get in the game, Natron," called d.i.c.k, to the subst.i.tute guard, and then the Blue Hill attack was directed on the other side of the Kentfield line. But there Innis Beeby was ready for them, and he tackled his man with such fierceness that time had to be taken out to restore his half-scattered senses.

"They won't try any more slugging here," said the right guard grimly.

But Blue Hill was evidently "out for blood," and the slugging went on.

The umpire saw it once, and ordered the offender out of the game.

All this while, however, the ball had been steadily advanced toward the Kentfield goal, and after Tom Coleton had been knocked out, giving Porter a chance to get back on his old position of left end, the advance was even faster.

Then, in one black and disheartening moment, came the fatal play. It was around Porter's end, in spite of the desperate effort Hal Foster made to tackle the man, the ball was touched down, and the goal kicked.

There were tears in the eyes of more than one Kentfield player, and d.i.c.k felt his heart sinking. But he grimly called on his men to respond, and for a time they had the ball in their enemy's territory.

Another of d.i.c.k's men was knocked out, and two of the Blue Hill players had to retire. The time was getting short, and d.i.c.k once more decided to use the sequence work, for with so many new cadets on the other side, he figured that they would not be prepared for them.

The plays were rattled through, and this time with such relentlessness that in a short time the ball was within ten yards of the Blue Hill goal.

"Touchdown! Touchdown!" came the imploring call from the Kentfield grandstands.

"Touchdown it shall be!" thought d.i.c.k fiercely. He sent Innis Beeby smashing through centre for three yards, and then, hoping Dutton could make the remaining distance, pa.s.sed the ball to him.

Right into the line smashed the big right half-back, but someone tackled him with a fierceness that sent him unconscious to the ground, the ball rolled from his arms, and a moment later a Blue Hill man had it, and was racing down the field with all the speed left in him.

There was not a player to stop him, for all of d.i.c.k's team had been drawn close in, hoping for the touchdown, and before they were aware of what was happening the man with the ball was on the forty-yard line.

"Catch him! We've got to catch him!" yelled d.i.c.k. "It's another touchdown if we don't!"

After him sprinted every man on the Kentfield team, save Dutton who was still stretched on the ground, and then, straggling after their opponents, came the Blue Hills in scattered formation.

It was a foregone conclusion, for the Kentfield players were so wearied with their recent line-smashing attack that they could hardly run, and with tears in their eyes they saw the ball again touched down back of their goal posts. They had been so near to scoring, only to see their hopes dashed from them, and on what was nearly a fumble.

The goal was kicked and the score stood twelve to nothing against our friends. Dutton was revived, but was unable to resume play, and a subst.i.tute went in. There were only a few moments of the game left.

Desperately d.i.c.k called on his men for those last few minutes, and they did play to fierce advantage. There was some kicking, and when the Kentfields had the ball they rushed it down the field so fast that they were soon within striking distance of their opponents' goal.

Then fate, in the shape of the time whistle blew, and the contest was ended. Blue Hill had won.

CHAPTER XXIII

SORE HEARTS

"d.i.c.k, I'm so sorry."

It was Paul Drew who spoke, and he limped around the room where his chum sat staring gloomily out of the window into a mist of rain. The weather was in keeping with the hearts of the cadets of Kentfield academy.

"It was tough, wasn't it, d.i.c.k?"

"It was--very. I suppose I counted too much on winning that game. Others didn't seem so much to matter. But Blue Hill----"

"I know, d.i.c.k," and Paul spoke softly. "But they didn't play fair."