The greater part of the quarter was very evenly contested. The ball changed hands many times, neither team being able to gain consistently.

Judd's great defensive work, he seeming to be in the heart of every play, helped wonderfully toward breaking the backbone of the Pennington offense.

In the latter part of the quarter, with the ball in Bartlett's possession on the fifty yard line, Benz negotiated a pretty twenty yard run around the left end of the line. While making a sharp turn to avoid a tackle, however, Benz sprained his right ankle. Time was taken out and the ankle bandaged up.

This was a serious blow to the team as Benz had been called into service extensively to punt Bartlett out of danger. He also had been the best ground gainer. The team was again disheartened as they changed goals prior to the playing of the last quarter.

Judd sensed the drooping spirits of his teammates and called out encouragingly: "Never mind that, pals. Let's die fightin'. We're not whipped yet!"

Pole and Potts, right end and tackle, respectively, were both badly bruised and exhausted, but game to the core. Benz was staying in the line-up though he could scarcely stand. Left tackle, Oole, playing next to Judd, had done nothing for the last five minutes, but fill the gap at his position. The rube had been doing the work of two men most of the quarter. The score still stood, Pennington, 13; Bartlett, 0.

The last quarter opened with Harriett's ball on Pennington's thirty yard line. Now that Benz was practically laid out, Neil called upon Patterson and Gary to do the bulk of the work in carrying the ball.

Bartlett made a slow but steady advance. Neil, finding that Judd opened big holes on every play, sent most of his plays through that side of the line. Benz limped along, helping what he could as interference.

The stands were quieter now. The great game was three-quarters over.

Bartlett had put up a wonderful fight against a much better team, and lost. The Penningtonites were just toying with them now, playing a defensive game.

But, what's this? The stands came to life with a jump and a howl!

Neil, quarterback, had taken the ball and dodged through a hole in the line made by Judd. He pa.s.sed by his interference and the Pennington linemen. As he did this and entered the open field, Gordon, fullback, rushed in and made a clean tackle, hitting Neil so hard that the ball was knocked completely out of his grasp. Judd, who was following up on the play, saw the ball bound away and was after it. Instead of falling upon it he scooped it up and, although tackled by two men, he dragged them the remaining five yards for a touchdown!

"Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! Rube! Rube! Rube!" boomed the Bartlett rooters.

"Bully work, Rube!" shouted Benz. "Say,--did you ever try kicking goals? My ankle's no good,--"

"Well,--I reckon I can if I have to."

Benz held the ball. Judd poised it to his liking. He seemed unconscious of the tremendous ovation the stands were giving him.

Plunk! The ball whizzed over the goal posts! Score, Pennington, 13; Bartlett, 7.

"Say!" gasped Neil, weakly. "Take me out! I'm all in!"

The heavy tackle by Gordon had shaken him up badly. Potts and Judd helped Neil to the sidelines.

"Rip 'em up gang! We'll trim 'em yet!" were his parting words.

McCabe, subst.i.tute quarter, alive with pep and joy at his chance, jumped in at Neil's place and helped revive the gathering spirits of the team, exhorting every man to do his utmost.

Judd kicked off to Pennington. McCabe, inspired by his first chance, shot off down the field like a flash, eluding the advance guard, and downing the Pennington runner single handed, on his thirty yard line.

Bartlett was now fully alive and fighting hard but Pennington was battling just as stubbornly. Pennington made her first down largely due to the work of Gordon who went through the right side of the line, three successive times, for big gains. Pole and Potts had been giving their last ounce of strength to prevent the Pennington line from breaking through, but to no avail.

A halt was called in the game and two other Bartlett subs, Thorpe and Preston, got their chances.

Now Pennington shifted her attack to the other side of the line and Judd, almost worn out, was called upon to give all the power he had to stop further gaining.

Knapp slipped away for another long run. The ball was on Bartlett's fifteen yard line and eight minutes left to play.

A fresh man was now sent in to oppose Judd, and Pennington's determined drive toward the goal resumed. Judd had eyes only for Gordon. He dropped the big fellow twice as he tore through the line. An attempted forward pa.s.s failed. Gordon charged through the line for three yards, but this was not enough. The ball went over to Bartlett on her nine yard line.

Benz limped up, and grasping Judd by the arm, shouted in his ear: "I'll switch positions with you. You drop back and punt that ball out of danger! Punt it hard!"

"But I've never punted in a real game!" protested Judd.

"Never mind that! You're the only man that can do it. Quick. Time's almost up!"

Judd needed no further urging. He took Benz's position.

"Hold that line, fellows!" he begged, as he held out his big hands for the ball.

"Get through and block that punt!" screamed Knapp.

The ball snapped back. The pa.s.s came high and Judd was forced to jump for it. He saw a form lurch before him and a pair of hands go up.

Then he kicked. His right toe caught the ball squarely and drove it high and far down the field. When it finally fell, McCabe and Thorpe were waiting for the man to receive it and downed him where he stood.

Everyone in the Bartlett stands had risen to their feet. Such playing, such a reversal in form, had never before been seen! Judd's punt had carried sixty yards! The ball was Pennington's on their thirty-one yard line and four minutes left to play!

Pennington made a desperate attempt to gain but Bartlett was growing stronger every second in her effort to recover the ball. Even Gordon's line plunges were repulsed.

Now the Pennington coach relied on strategy to keep the Bartlett eleven from threatening the Red and Blue goal line in the short time left. He sent in a subst.i.tute for the left end who advised Knapp to call for a punt. This Knapp prepared to do; Melvin, Pennington punter, dropping back to make the kick.

Benz saw the action with sinking heart. A long punt now with two minutes left to play meant sure defeat for Bartlett, and while they were within striking distance he felt a fighting chance.

"Break up that punt, fellows!" he pleaded, "You've got to get through and block that punt or the game is lost!"

The Pennington line braced for what they felt, the final effort. Judd, fairly outdoing himself, flung guard and tackle aside and fell through.

McCabe jumped over his prostrate body and leaped in front of the kicker. The ball struck him full in the face and bounded over his head to the forty yard line. Benz fell on it, joyfully.

McCabe, blinking dazedly from the blow, marshalled his battered forces for the last supreme attempt. Patterson made five yards on an end run.

McCabe had his men up on their feet and into the game immediately after the play.

There was no time to be lost!

McCabe had been especially drilled in trick plays as Coach Phillips imagined if he were used at all it would be toward the end of the game.

He now worked the first one, a double pa.s.s behind the line, Benz hurling the ball to Gary who shot around left end for fifteen yards.

The great crowd had gone mad by this time! Timekeepers began consulting their watches. Pennington stands entreated their eleven to "Hold 'em" while the Bartlett rooters shrieked, "Touchdown! Touchdown!"

With half a minute left to play McCabe relied on a great trick play to win. The crowd was making such a noise that he had to call his backs in to give them the signals. He repeated these signals twice to make sure that they were understood, despite each precious second of time.

The ball was on Pennington's twenty yard line.

The success of the play depended largely upon Judd and Benz, and a complete deception of the opposing line. Benz had been hardly more than a mere figurehead in the last quarter and Pennington would not be expecting him to carry the ball.

McCabe shifted the right side of his line over. The ball was snapped back to Benz. Judd swung out of the line and raced across as interference. Oole filled the gap left by Judd with his body, and--before the Pennington line realized the trick Benz was well on his way toward the goal. The play took nerve, a great amount of nerve, on Benz's part. He forced himself to run swiftly, bearing his weight equally on his injured ankle.

"Catch hold of my belt!" cried Judd, as he lurched ahead of him. "I'll take you through!"

Benz placed his hand on Judd's broad back and strove to keep pace with him. He stumbled dizzily across two chalk marks and was vaguely aware of shaking off some tackler from behind. A few more steps. Everything was getting black! His hand pushed heavily against the lunging Judd, for support. Then, directly in front of Benz, danced the jeering face of Gordon! He felt Judd's body slide away from him--lost sight of Gordon. There was a dark, struggling mound at his feet! He made a desperate jump and cleared it; fell forward upon his knees; crawled a few paces; then pitched over upon his face.

When Benz came to himself the great game was all history. A howling mob was upon the field dancing about a huge bonfire which dispelled the falling darkness. A few of his team-mates surrounded him.