THE GREAT GAME
Teeny-bits raced out on the field as if he had been shot from a cannon.
The greeting that the team gave him was very different from the one that
they had accorded him that day a few weeks before, when he had run out
to take his place as a regular after the injury to White.
"Here's Teeny-bits!" some one yelled.
A chorus of shouts greeted the half-back, and Neil Durant came running
to meet him halfway.
"I ought to _murder_ you right now," said the captain, "but I'm so glad
to see you I'll wait till after the game. Gee, I'm _glad_ you've come."
By this time half a dozen of the team were slapping Teeny-bits on the
back and he had slipped into his position behind the line. Campbell had
needed no word to inform him that he was relieved of his duties at
left-half; he had given Teeny-bits one startled glance and had headed
for the side line. Dean called out the signals while the team ran
through a series of plays. "Come on now; we're all here; let's go,"
cried Neil, and the team responded with a snap. The Ridgley cheering
section had noticed the advent of Teeny-bits and a buzz of conversation
went around, for his absence during the warming-up had been the subject
of increasing comment.
Down at the other end of the field the Jefferson team was running
through signals and trying punts and drop kicks. Simultaneously the
teams ceased their practice and gathered at the two benches at opposite
sides of the field. Neil Durant, Norris and the referee then met in
mid-field and flipped a coin for choice of goals. There was little
advantage, for almost no wind was stirring, but Norris, who won the
toss, quickly chose the south goal and a moment later the two teams ran
out and took their places. Ridgley was to kick off to Jefferson.
Neil Durant helped Ned Stillson set the ball on the mound of earth and
Ned drew back a few yards. A hush had settled over stands and field;
down in the shadow of the south goal posts stood Norris, bending
slightly forward, eager to get the ball in his arms; in front of him
were his team-mates spread out to cover their half of the field. Just
beyond the center was the line of Ridgley players. Suddenly these eleven
players moved, the referee's whistle cut the hush, the ball went sailing
down the field and shouts arose from every quarter of the stands. The
moment had at last arrived; the big game was on.
Teeny-bits felt keen and fit; his long sleep had completely refreshed
him. As he raced down the field one thought was in his mind: to get into
the play and tackle whatever Jefferson man caught the ball. Ned Stillson
had made a clever kick-off; the leather oval flew to the right of Norris
and settled into the arms of one of his team-mates, who had dashed
forward only ten yards when Neil Durant met him with a clean, hard
tackle and brought him solidly to earth. Even such a small incident as
that evoked a howl of delight from the Ridgley stands, for such was the
reputation of Jefferson that there were those who fearfully expected to
see the wearer of the purple dash through the whole Ridgley team and
score a touchdown at the first effort. The cheer leader ordered the
short Ridgley yell for the team and the stand responded with a hoarse
roar. There was scarcely a son of Ridgley gazing down on the field but
whose teeth were gritted together, whose breath was coming fast, and
whose voice as he shouted encouragement to the team was like the voice
of a man hurling defiance to a mortal enemy.
As the two teams lined up for the first scrimmage, Teeny-bits got his
first close view of Norris. The famed full-back of the purple was of
about Neil Durant's height, of an impressively powerful build, but not
so heavy as to appear sluggish. He looked the Ridgley team over with
steady, appraising eyes; his face was keen and determined,--the very
look of him indicated that he was on the field for business.
The Jefferson quarter was snapping out the signals; his voice cut the
medley of shouts that echoed back and forth across the field like the
shrill voice of a dog barking in a tempest. Suddenly the ball moved and
the first scrimmage was on. The Jefferson right half-back had the ball
and the play was aimed at center; big Tom Curwood, however, was equal to
the occasion; he stopped the play before the purple-clad son of
Jefferson had covered a yard beyond the Ridgley line.
A second wild howl of delight went up from the Ridgley stands; those two
small incidents, the quick downing of the runner after the kick-off and
the stiff stand of the Ridgley line on this first play from regular
formation, had brought a sudden feeling of confidence. Down there on
that white-lined field the wearers of the red had begun to show that
they could hold their own. But the next play--an end run by the
left-half, who made seven yards and advanced the purple within two yards
of first down--brought a thunderous roar from the other side of the
field.
The Jefferson captain now stepped back into kicking position. The ball
was snapped as if for a punt, but Norris, instead of kicking, started
around the Ridgley right end. Neil Durant went over swiftly, but one of
the Jefferson backs formed perfect interference and the big wearer of
the purple, evading the Ridgley end and the captain went through into an
open space,--and almost before the Jefferson stands had begun to shout
encouragement to him had covered twenty yards.
It was Teeny-bits running diagonally across the field who finally made
the tackle. To the Ridgley left-half a strange feeling had come as he
saw Norris break away; it had seemed to him, for a brief instant, that
anything he could do would be of no use whatever. In the next moment he
found himself almost upon Norris and before he had time to think he had
made a tackle that turned the despairing groans of the Ridgley
supporters into a yell of relief. The great Jefferson full-back had been
stopped dead by the smallest man on the field. Norris got to his feet
and looked at Teeny-bits with the same expression of interest that had
appeared on the faces of the Ridgley regulars weeks before when
Teeny-bits had made his first appearance with the scrub.
"Some tackle!" he exclaimed, and grinned, as much as to say: "Well,
well, that's pretty good for a little fellow."
In the scheme of plays as outlined before the game by Coach Murray,
Ridgley when on the defensive was always to keep an eye open for Norris.
Neil Durant had been told off to watch the Jefferson captain; it was his
duty to shift his position always in accordance with any shift that
Norris made. Of course the Ridgley ends--and every member of the team
for that matter--had been drilled to be "in" on every play; upon Neil,
however, had been placed the responsibility of seeing that the purple
leader did not escape into an open field. But if Ridgley was watching
Norris, Jefferson was watching Durant, and Neil found himself, as the
game went on, more and more the target of Jefferson players who were
quick to realize that Durant had been given the responsibility for
stopping their captain. When Norris carried the ball, Neil, coming in
swiftly to intercept him, time and again found his way blocked by a
Jefferson player who flung himself across his path.
After the twenty-yard run by the Jefferson captain there was a
succession of line plunges which gained first down for the purple; then
came another end run by Norris which brought the ball beyond the middle
of the field. Here the Ridgley team made a stand that the newspaper
reporters later described as a "stone-wall defense"; after three tries
Jefferson had succeeded in advancing the ball only five yards. Whipple,
of the purple team, then sent a long spiral punt down the field; the
leather oval flew over the head of Dean, rolled across the goal line and
was brought out twenty yards to be put in play by the Ridgley team.
For the first time Ridgley had an opportunity to carry the ball, and the
cheer leader, who had been gyrating frantically in front of the stands
where the red color was waving, called for a cheer with three "Teams" on
the end.
Dean gave the signal for Ned Stillson to carry the ball. Ned responded
by dashing into a hole that big Tom Curwood made for him at center and,
to the unmeasured delight of every son of Ridgley, advanced seven yards
before he was brought to earth. On the next play Neil Durant slid around
right end for a first down and it was now the turn of the red to wave
aloft its colors. The Ridgley quarter-back then gave the signal 7, 16,
11, which indicated a double-pass play. The ball came back to Stillson
who, after starting toward the right end, passed to Neil Durant who was
going at a terrific pace in the opposite direction. Teeny-bits' duty was
to form interference for his captain and he suddenly found himself
"Indianizing" the captain of the Jefferson team. It was perfect
interference and although Teeny-bits felt somewhat as if he had come in
contact with a charging locomotive he experienced a thrill of utter joy
as he felt the big Jefferson captain come down upon him and saw Neil
Durant break through. The Ridgley captain used his straight arm on one
Jefferson player, dodged another, and crossed line after line with two
wearers of the purple fiercely pressing him. No Ridgley player was
within reach to form interference, however, and after one of the
Jefferson men had made a desperate attempt to tackle and had rolled on
the ground, the other coming up swiftly brought Neil down on the
thirty-yard line.
Every one on the west side of the field was standing up, and here and
there hats--not always those which belonged on young heads--were being
thrown into the air. More than one gray-haired man was yelling like a
red Indian on the war path. A feeling of confidence that the victory
would rest with Ridgley swept from one end of the stands to the other.
Friends and strangers were making happy remarks to each other to the
effect that this would be a glorious day for the school on the hill.
The triumphant feeling was short-lived, however, for on the next play
the Jefferson left end came in swiftly and downed Ned Stillson, who was
carrying the ball, for a loss of three yards.
A forward pass, Dean to Durant, gained five yards, but the next play met
with a stiff defense and Neil Durant determined that the time had come
to attempt a drop kick. He fell back a few yards, looked for a smooth
spot upon which to drop the ball and a second later delivered the kick.
The Jefferson ends had come in so fast, however, that Neil was forced to
send the ball away hurriedly, and the leather flew wide of the goal
posts.
While the ball was being brought out to the twenty-yard line, Norris
gathered his players around him for a few seconds. What he said
apparently had an immediate effect, for when the play continued,
Jefferson seemed to be filled with a new spirit. From the twenty-yard
line the eleven invaders advanced down the middle of the field, mostly
by line rushes. At that point they tried a forward pass, and the ball,
when it came to a stop, rested on the Ridgley thirty-five-yard line.
Teeny-bits was breathing hard; he had thrown himself into each play with
every ounce of strength and determination at his command and more than
once had helped retard the advance of the purple. Neil Durant, too, had
been strong in defense, but the Jefferson team could not be denied. From
the thirty-five-yard line the purple started a play which brought gloom
to the Ridgley stands. Norris ran with the ball round right end, somehow
succeeded in evading the Ridgley primary defense, dodged both Durant and
Teeny-bits and before the horrified eyes of the members of Ridgley
School dashed madly down the field, over the goal line and round until
he had placed the ball squarely behind the goal posts. On the black
scoreboard a white figure 6 appeared after the name of the visiting
school and a few moments later it was replaced by a 7.
Jefferson kicked off to Ridgley and the game was on more fiercely than
ever, for Neil Durant's team meant to lose no time in winning back the
superiority which had seemed to be theirs in the opening moments of the
quarter, and the Jefferson players, for their part, meant to amplify
their advantage until it assumed the proportions of the triumph, upon
the attainment of which they had set their hearts.
All other games--their long succession of victories--were forgotten; the
result they achieved against their ancient rival would overshadow
everything else.
Ridgley was forced to kick after gaining one first down, by means of a
forward pass, and the ball, once more possessed by Jefferson, was soon
making an advance which influenced some one with a raucous voice in the
purple stands to yell out in a lull of the cheering:
"It's all over, boys. Bring the undertaker!"
It did appear that Ridgley was in for a sorry time. Norris was living up
to his reputation and seemed, in spite of the valiant efforts of every
Ridgley player, to have luck always on his side. Once Stillson and
Durant collided as they were about to tackle the Jefferson captain and
the result was a twenty-yard gain which placed the ball again within the
shadow of the Ridgley goal posts. Straight line plunges in which all of
the Jefferson backs shared brought the ball to the Ridgley five-yard
line for first down. Here the team that represented the school on the
hill made a stand for three downs, but on the fourth attempt Norris,
unexpectedly trying the end when a line plunge was anticipated, gained
across the Ridgley goal line and brought the score to 13.
"Make it a lucky number," Teeny-bits heard the Jefferson captain say to
Whipple who was preparing to kick the goal.
The Jefferson player followed the instructions of his captain to the
letter,--and the man at the Scoreboard put up the number 14.
Certain weak spirits in the Ridgley stands now looked at each other with
faces which showed plainly that hope had fled from them, that they now
knew that the Jefferson menace which had been built up week after week
by rumor and also by fact, as represented in scores, was real,--that the
purple team was invincible, that Ridgley had met the irresistible force
and could not by any alchemy of spirit turn defeat into victory.
Old football players, veterans of school and college struggles, looked
down admiringly on the finely-polished team-work of the Jefferson eleven
and said to themselves that this was _good football_ judged by _any_
standard.
A few minutes after the kick-off following the second score of the
Jefferson team, the quarter came to an end and the teams exchanged
goals. In the short rest period Neil Durant gathered his players about
him and said a few things that every member of the eleven long
remembered.
"Is there any one here," he asked, "who hasn't _more_ fight in him than
he has shown yet?"
No answer.
"We've just _begun_ this game and we haven't had our chance to show them
what we can do when we carry the ball. We're going to _hold_ them first
and then we're going to _show_ them something they've never learned."
They were commonplace words, but they came from the bottom of Neil
Durant's heart and were delivered in such a manner that every member of
the team gained fresh confidence and put back out of the realm of his
thoughts the growing fear of defeat.
The ball was in Jefferson's possession at the middle of the field. On
the very next play the purple left-half fumbled, and Neil Durant swooped
down on the bouncing ball like a hawk on a sparrow.
The error seemed to "rattle" the Jefferson team. Dean called for an end
run by Neil Durant and the captain responded by dashing forward for a
fifteen-yard gain. Stillson then added five, and Teeny-bits, who was
called upon to carry the ball for the first time, wriggled and dodged
through the Jefferson team to the fifteen-yard line before he was
stopped. In an attempt to surprise the enemy, Dean called upon
Teeny-bits again, but this time the half-back was stopped almost before
he was under way. Stillson, who carried the ball next, did better and
reached the ten-yard line. Neil Durant then made a line plunge through
an opening that the reliable Tom Curwood created and planted the oval
five yards from the goal line for a first down. Jefferson made a strong
stand, but in four tries the Ridgley team advanced the ball until it
rested a few inches over that last white line, the crossing of which
spelled a score.
The old-timers in the stands now settled into comfortable positions and
said to each other: "This _is_ a game!"
Neil Durant's trusty toe sent the ball between the uprights and the game
stood 14 to 7. Through the rest of the second quarter the red team and
the purple team combated each other on equal terms. Neither seemed able
to break the defense of the other and when the whistle sounded for the
close of the first half they were fighting on equal terms in the center
of the field.
While the stands were singing their songs and exchanging cheers between
the halves the two teams rested in the locker building and listened to
what their respective coaches had to say.
Coach Murray made his remarks short and to the point. He was entirely
satisfied with the way the team had been playing; he knew that they
could win. He warned them to watch Norris on every play and at the same
time to beware of the Jefferson half-backs, who had proved their ability
to carry the ball. He once more repeated one of the first things that
belonged to his football creed: to watch the ball all of the time and to
be ready, as Neil had been in the case of the Jefferson fumble, to take
advantage of any "break." He also remarked on Dean's good judgment in
running the team and said that he was glad the quarter-back had not
attempted the trick play which the team had practiced during the last
three weeks.
"The time will arrive for that in this second half," he said. "Be ready
when it comes."
So deeply was Teeny-bits absorbed in the game that he had failed to
notice that Campbell was not with the team until Curwood called
attention to the fact that the substitute half-back was not in the
locker building.
"I guess he's sore," some one remarked. "He thought he was going to play
until Teeny-bits showed up."
All those events that had taken place during the past week seemed to
Teeny-bits more like dreams than realities; the one thing that filled
his mind now was the game and the conviction that Ridgley, in spite of
the score against her, could and _would_ win. He had thrilled to Neil
Durant's and Coach Murray's words and could hardly wait for the second
half to begin.
Within a few minutes they were on the field again, spread out to receive
the kick-off from Jefferson. The whistle sounded and the ball was in the
air, whirling end over end; it fell into the arms of Ned Stillson, who
ran swiftly behind the interference formed by his mates only to come to
earth with a thump as a heavy Jefferson guard broke through and made the
tackle.
On the next play Dean exhibited a bit of good judgment that worked to
the advantage of the Ridgley team: noticing that the Jefferson quarter
was dangerously close to the line he saw the chance to slip a punt over
his head. The stratagem worked; the punt that Neil Durant sent away
quickly sailed over the quarter-back's head and rolled down the field to
the Jefferson five-yard line. The quarter ran after it, made a quick
scoop, and attempted to come back but was stopped before he had taken
half a dozen steps.
Fighting hard, the Ridgley team prevented the visitors from advancing
and forced them to kick from their own goal line. Neil Durant caught the
punt at mid-field and dashed forward ten yards before he was checked.
The moment seemed ripe for a strong Ridgley advance, but Norris and his
men met the attack with a stiff resistance and threw back the first two
attempts for a loss of three yards. Dean, in glancing over the enemy's
line, then saw the opportunity for which he had been waiting; the time
had arrived to try the surprise play. He gave a signal which brought a
thrill to Teeny-bits.
In the two forward-pass formations that the Ridgley team had used
earlier in the game Neil Durant both times had been the man to receive
the ball from Dean. The members of the team now took somewhat obvious
positions and the Jefferson eleven immediately assumed that a forward
pass was being contemplated. One of the tackles even voiced his warning:
"Look out for a pass!" and Norris shifted his position slightly to keep
an eye on the Ridgley captain. Teeny-bits' duty was to dash through to
the left and to get into the open space beyond the Jefferson line.
The preliminaries of the play worked to perfection. At the snap of the
ball Neil Durant started swiftly to the right and drew after him the
major part of the Jefferson secondary defense. For the moment Teeny-bits
seemed to have been forgotten: it did not occur to the purple players
that, with the big captain running swiftly into position to take the
pass, his smaller back-field team-mate would be the one to receive the
oval.
As Dean seemed to be in the act of hurling to his captain, Teeny-bits
won through to an open space; suddenly the quarter-back shifted and shot
the ball, bullet-straight, into the hands of the half-back. Teeny-bits
was running toward the Jefferson goal almost before he felt the hard
leather touch his fingers; now or never was the instant to use every
atom of his body in the one purpose of reaching the goal posts that were
straight in front of him,--so near and yet so far away.
The whole Jefferson team realized in that fraction of a second when they
saw the ball sail into the half-back's arms that their advantage, their
prestige and their hope of glory in the annals of Jefferson football
were at stake. They were after Teeny-bits like wolves on the trail of a
rabbit, but only three of them had a chance to reach the Ridgley player.
The first of these--the quarter-back--made the fatal mistake of
underestimating Teeny-bits' speed. The half-back shifted direction
slightly and eluded the grasp of the purple player. The other two were
slightly in the rear and their only chance was to come up from behind
and overtake the runner by superior swiftness. But they were not equal
to it, and, although they tried valiantly and held their own, they did
not succeed in gaining on the carrier of the ball as he crossed one
white mark after another.
[Illustration: ONLY THREE OF THEM HAD A CHANCE TO REACH THE RIDGLEY
PLAYER.]
A roar like the pounding of a mighty sea against a craggy shore sounded
in Teeny-bits' ears, but it seemed to him distant and detached from the
thing he was doing. For the moment he was a living machine of speed with
only one thought in his mind,--to reach that last white line, to cross
it and to plant the pigskin ball behind the padded goal posts. He did
it,--and lay panting on the ground while Neil Durant came running up and
slapped him on the back and said words to him which Teeny-bits never
remembered.
The captain kicked the goal which tied the score while a continuous din
of unorganized shouting rose from the Ridgley stands. It was no moment
for organized cheering. The cheer leader himself was leaping up and
down, throwing his megaphone into the air and emitting war whoops which
were drowned and assimilated by the volume of shouts that echoed back
and forth.
The old-timers up there in the stands now began to breathe fast; this
was not merely a _good_ game of football, it was a _wonderful_ game, a
struggle in which extraordinary playing and fine spirit and brains and
courage were united to make a combat that would live long in the memory
of every person who witnessed it.
Up where the red was waving aloft, a white-haired man who did not
understand the plays of football very well suddenly found that he had
grasped the idea of this magnificent game. He was thumping the back of
some one whom he had never seen before and giving voice to such yells of
delight that the motherly-looking woman who sat beside him said to
herself that he must suddenly have gone out of his senses.
"Teeny-bits did something wonderful, then, didn't he?" she shouted in
his ear, and old Daniel Holbrook, her husband, shouted back:
"You bet your _life_ he did; it was Teeny-bits; he ran all the way over
the home plate or whatever they call it and made a score. I dunno but
he's won the game _all by himself_."
In another part of the stands Doctor Wells was sitting beside Mr.
Stevens.
"That was a magnificent run!" exclaimed the Head. "Magnificent! I
declare--well--now we're even."
"Yes, we're even!" said the English master. "And I've discovered
something."
"What?"
"Well, they say that the head of this school never gets excited, but
just now when Teeny-bits was running you nearly pushed me out of my
seat--and I _think_ I heard a yell that came from your direction."
"Did I shout?" asked the Head.
"'Shout' isn't the word," said the English master. "_Yell_ with a
capital Y describes it."
"Back in '86, I used to play half-back myself," said Doctor Wells. "Here
we are; they're at it again."
Ridgley kicked off to Jefferson and immediately was subjected to a
fierce assault that taxed the utmost powers of endurance to withstand
it. The Jefferson team was fighting harder than ever and playing with
machine-like smoothness. They carried the ball for twenty-five yards and
then punted, and downed Neil Durant in his tracks. Ridgley fought hard
to advance the ball and gained a first down, then, meeting with no
further success, punted. And so the ball see-sawed back and forth until
the piping whistle of the timekeeper announced the close of the third
quarter.
A feeling of great happiness and determination had been filling
Teeny-bits' mind during these last few minutes. At the same time a
curious impression had been making itself felt upon him,--an admiration
for this big captain of the Jefferson team who fought so hard and so
cleanly, who rallied his men after each successful assault by the
Ridgley team, and like Neil Durant, inspired them to fight harder and
harder.
There was no need for talking now. In the brief interval before the last
period of the game began, Neil Durant, looking at his team-mates, saw in
their faces determination and confidence. Nothing that he could say or
that _any one_ could say would alter their conviction that victory
_must_ rest with the red.
That last period was a phase of the game that could justly be called a
climax. It began with a steady and determined march of the Jefferson
team which, starting from the twenty-yard line, carried the ball forward
by line plunges, by forward passes, by end runs and by sheer, dogged
determination on and on until the purple eleven was within the very
shadow of the Ridgley goal posts and Jefferson seemed to have the
victory within her grasp. A terrific run by the captain planted the ball
on the Ridgley four-yard line for a first down, and there was no person
shouting for the purple who did not believe that he was about to witness
that most glorious of football events--a well-earned touchdown, after a
magnificent march the length of the field.
Big Tom Curwood was battered, the guards beside him were battered and
the tackles crouched low as if they would welcome a chance to lie down
flat on the brown earth and rest. Neil Durant spoke a word and they
stiffened, the secondary defense moved closer to the line and the whole
team in one mass met the Jefferson charge. Once, twice, and three times
the purple backs plunged into the red line and each time they carried
the ball forward a little more than a yard.
On that third try the referee dived into the mass in a manner that
suggested to the watchers that the score had been made, but when he
finally got his hands on the ball it was apparent that Jefferson still
needed a few inches. The signal came quickly and the two avalanches of
bone and muscle plunged against each other. The pile subsided and one
after another the players on the fringe drew away until the referee
could see the ball. There was a moment of tense expectancy and then the
official waved his arm in a direction that brought forth a vast yell of
joy from the Ridgley stands. Jefferson had been held; that leather oval
had failed by inches to cross the last thin smear of white.
The next event in this struggle between the red and the purple was a
kick from behind the goal line by Neil Durant,--the longest punt that
had ever been seen on the Ridgley field. It flew for sixty yards, went
over the head of the Jefferson quarter and rolled down the field end
over end. The purple player finally overtook it and attempted to recover
the lost ground, but Ned Stillson checked his career and Jefferson lined
up on her own thirty-yard line. She bravely attempted to repeat her
heartbreaking advance and gained a first down; but the Ridgley team
suddenly became an impenetrable barrier. A punt a moment later fell into
the arms of Teeny-bits, who carried it back fifteen yards to his own
forty-yard line.
As the teams lined up Neil Durant said, loud enough for the whole two
elevens to hear, "Now comes our turn," and the fight for a decision
began anew. Three substitutes came in now to bolster the Jefferson line,
and Coach Murray sent in two Ridgley players to take the place of the
left tackle and the right end, who were evidently pretty far gone.
In eight plays Ridgley advanced the ball thirty-five yards with
Teeny-bits figuring in two, Stillson in two and Neil Durant in four. The
captain then made a plunge through center and before he was stopped had
planted the ball on Jefferson's eight-yard line. Teeny-bits tried to
squirm through the purple line but was thrown back. Stillson gained two
yards and Dean, who had reserved his captain for the final efforts, then
gave the signal that called upon the full-back to carry the ball. Neil
went into the line as if he had been hurled from a catapult. He dove
into the opening that Tom Curwood, with a last burst of desperate
strength, had made, took three steps and was astride the goal line.
Norris made the tackle, but he was an instant too late; the big captain
of the Ridgley team fell across the line and hugged the leather oval
close to the brown earth while pandemonium reigned and the members of
the red team hurled their headgears into the air.
Neil limped when he got to his feet and motioned to Tom Curwood to make
the kick. Big Tom wobbled out in front of the goal posts and tried his
best to add a point for the glory of Ridgley, but his foot wavered and
the ball flew to the left of the goal posts. On the Scoreboard the
figures remained: Ridgley 20--Jefferson 14.
The kick-off, two or three plays,--and then the timekeeper blew his
piping note which brought to an end the struggle that was the true
climax of all the games that had been played by the red and the purple
since one school had stood on the hill above the town of Hamilton and
another school had stood among the elms that sheltered the sons of
Jefferson.