No one seemed satisfied with the day’s performance. The First resented the enemy’s gains through their line and the Second declared stoutly that if they had been taught a decent defense against forward-passes the First would never have scored. Arnold told Toby later that Coach Lyle had read the riot act afterwards. “I didn’t know he could be so rude,” said Arnold sadly.

“Why didn’t you get in to-day?” Toby asked from the window-seat where, propped on many cushions, he looked pale and interesting.

“Lyle wanted to give you fellows a show.”

“Well, Bates didn’t do a whole lot,” said Toby. “You’re pretty punk, Arn, but you’ve got it over him. Gee, if I hadn’t made that rotten fumble on the fifty yards that time we might have held you fellows to a measly six points!”

“Yes, not! Son, that fumble of yours didn’t affect the game a mite. It was forward-passing that beat you chaps. Your ends were no good at all. Even your friend Mr. Tubb was fast asleep.”

“I know. We’ve got no sort of a defense for forward-passes. I called the turn on that second one, but Farquhar was away out of position and Tubb let Roover get right by him. You wait another week, though! We’re getting your measure, Arn! What about to-morrow? Are you going to play?”

“Ask Mr. Lyle. I suppose I’ll get a show sometime, though. I sure want to. They say Brown and Young’s are regular bearcats! What time is it getting to be? I’m as hungry as the dickens. Let’s go!”

The Second Team had no practice Saturday, which, for some of its members, was fortunate, since the First had managed to deal very harshly with them during the brief period of yesterday’s game. Toby, although he had nothing to show in the way of scars, was tired and lame when he crawled out of bed in the morning, and not until he had shivered under a shower-bath, groaningly rubbed himself pink and done two minutes of setting-up exercises in front of an open window which admitted the frostly tingle of the October morning did the usual feeling of well-being return. After that he was able to reach chapel without protests from lame muscles and, later, do full justice to a breakfast of cereal, eggs, toast, stewed fruit, and milk.

Fortunately, on Saturday mornings recitations were few, for, save during a brief midwinter period when outdoor sports were at a standstill, preoccupation was always noticeable on the part of the student body on that day of the week. Such a condition of mind was especially evident this forenoon, due, probably, to the fact that Yardley’s opponent in the afternoon had been heralded as a strong team with a proclivity for “roughing it.” Yardley, as much as any school and perhaps more than many, held for clean playing, but there was enough of the “Old Adam” there to make a bit of scrapping interesting. Its attitude was well explained by a remark made by Will Curran, the First Team quarter, in front of Oxford between recitations.

“If they’re mean players we’ll lick them,” said Curran. “I never saw a team yet who could play dirty ball and win as long as the other fellow played clean. But my guess is that they won’t play dirty. That sort of stuff doesn’t go here, and I think they know it. If they don’t know it they’ll mighty soon find it out! They’ll play clean if we have to slug ’em to make ’em!”

Which statement, although made in all sincerity and with a perfectly sober countenance, met with a ripple of laughter from his hearers. “That’s the idea, Will!” approved Frank Lamson. “We’ll have peace if we have to fight for it!”

Brown and Young’s School was a new institution and a large one. You saw its half-page advertisements in the magazines every month. Although a city school, it emphasized athletics and had a field that any university might have been proud of, with a stadium that was an architectural triumph. There were those who opined that Brown and Young’s graduates were likely to be better grounded in football, baseball and track athletics than in scholarly studies, but possibly such persons were disgruntled by a Brown and Young’s defeat. For Brown and Young’s took athletics seriously and pursued victory on diamond, gridiron or rink most strenuously. And, it must be acknowledged, Brown and Young’s had won many laurels. Yardley had met her last spring in baseball, but this was the first gridiron contest between the two. On the diamonds Brown and Young’s had proved noisy, argumentative and a trifle rough in the pinches, and had accepted a 3 to 2 defeat not very graciously, but she had not been guilty of unfair tactics. Perhaps, as Tom Fanning said, she liked to be thought a bit “tough” in the hope that her adversaries would either be afraid or try to beat her at toughness and get caught doing it. In any event, Yardley received a strict warning from Coach Lyle before the game.

“Any fellow who tries dirty work will come out,” he declared. “If the officials don’t put him off, I will. Just remember that. If Brown and Young’s don’t play clean it’s up to the officials. We’ve heard that these fellows are a ‘tough bunch,’ a win-at-any-cost team, but you can’t believe everything you hear. So don’t go into the game looking for trouble. Maybe it isn’t there. If they should try the rough-stuff, your captain will call the officials’ attention to it. Just you keep your hands and your temper down and your heads up. Play as hard as you know how, fellows, but play fair.”

It was an ideal football day, crisp and sunny, with almost no wind. Frost had left the field a bit soft but not sufficiently so to affect any one’s game. Greenburg turned out a good audience, which, added to the Yardley rooters and a half-hundred Brown and Young’s followers, nearly filled the stands by three o’clock. Toby had Sid Creel and Grover Beech for companions, and, reaching the field early, they got first row seats directly behind the Yardley bench. Brown and Young’s came on first, a capable-looking squad of thirty or so, accompanied by a regular retinue of noncombatants; a head coach and an assistant coach, a couple of managers, a trainer, an assistant trainer and two rubbers.

“Guess the Principal must be ill,” said Beech dryly. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

“Maybe he’s one of the cheer leaders,” suggested Sid. “Those are sure some gaudy togs of theirs!”

Sid had reference to the enemy’s orange sweaters and orange-and-black-ringed stockings.

“Princeton colors,” said Beech. “Doubtless showing a predilection for that university on the part of our noble opponent.”

“How do you get that way?” inquired Sid slangily. “Brown and Young’s fellows don’t go to Princeton.”

“Don’t they?” asked Toby innocently. “Where do they go?”

“Into professional baseball,” answered Sid in triumph.

Beech grinned approval of the bon mot, but said that he didn’t believe there was room in professional baseball for them all. Sid didn’t argue the matter, for Yardley trotted around the corner of the stand just then and the cheer leaders were bellowing for “A regular Yardley cheer, fellows, for the Team!”

After that, with four elevens warming up on the gridiron, there was too much to watch for conversation to flourish. Instead, the talk ran something like this: “Noyes is driving the scrubs.”—“Simpson’s back at center, Cap.”—“Gee, that was some punt! Wonder if they can do that in the game!”—“Oh, you Ted Halliday!”—“Look at the size of that guy, will you? Must be their center.”—“Right guard. He’d make two of Casement!”—“Those chaps have got a heap of pep, haven’t they?”—“How’re you betting, Cap?”—“Watch that yellow-leg kicking goals down there, fellows! He hasn’t missed one yet!”—“Hello, Andy! Who’s going to win?”—“Who’s the little chap in the gray sweater?”—“Cornish, of Trinity. He’s umpiring. He’s good, too.”—“Those fellows can cheer, can’t they? Rotten name for a school, though; Brown and Young’s. Sounds like they were advertising a department store!”—“Must be most time to start. Three minutes of? There goes Fanning now. Is that the referee with him?”—“Good-looking guy, that Brown and Young’s captain.”—“Fan lost the toss! Sure he did! What? Oh, that’s different! Still, I don’t see——”—“Every one up! Bust yourself, Toby! Rah! Rah! Rah!——”

Then, when the rival cheers had floated off across the river and the gold-and-russet marshes beyond, the stands became momentarily silent and the referee’s voice sounded clearly: “All ready, Brown and Young?—Ready, Yardley?” Then the whistle piped and a tall yellow-sleeved tackle swung a striped leg and sent the new ball hurtling down the field.

It was a long, high kick, and well-placed, and when Snowden had gathered it into his arms and doubled himself over it the enemy was almost on him. A scant eight yards he made, by dint of much twisting and feinting, and then he was pulled down. Yardley made one stab at the opponent’s left and gained two. Then the ball went back to Snowden and was hurled well up the field to the left. Roover was quite alone when it reached him, and he trailed off a dozen yards before he was forced outside. The play had caught the enemy napping, and it had suddenly moved the game from Yardley to Brown and Young’s territory, for when the ball was paced in and grounded it lay just short of the enemy’s forty yards. The Blue’s cohorts cheered and shouted and waved, while, from across the field, came a snappy, undismayed cheer from the Orange-and-Black.

Another slight gain outside left tackle, and again the pigskin shot back to Snowden. This time the big full-back started off toward his right as if he meant to turn the end, but, challenged, he threw a lateral to Arnold Deering, and Arnold, behind good interference, raced to the adversary’s twenty-eight before he was set on savagely and tumbled head over heels. Fortunately he held tight to the ball. The Yardley stand was in an uproar of triumph and delight. Dismay showed in the ranks of the enemy. Toby saw the Brown and Young’s quarter, a spindly, nervous-mannered youth, look back apprehensively at the goal-posts as he retreated up the field yelling strident encouragement to his fellows. Toby felt a certain sympathy with that quarter-back, enemy or no enemy. Toby had experienced similar apprehension.

Brown and Young’s looked pitifully weak during the next few minutes. Her opponent’s success had upset her calculations and the suddenness of events had left her gasping and rattled. From the twenty-eight yards Roover carried the ball in two plunges through the Orange’s left to a position opposite the goal and twenty-one yards away from it. Then kicking formation was called and Fanning dropped out of the line, his place being taken by Roover. Brown and Young’s shouted warnings against a fake, but the cry of “Block that kick!” mingled with them. Captain Fanning stretched his hands forth, Curran piped his signals, the ball left Simpson——

Confusion reigned! Cries filled the air! Yardley swept forward! But where was the ball? Fanning’s right leg swung against nothing. Deering was running off to the left, chased by an orange-sleeved end and Brown and Young’s forwards were piling through. But no one, it seemed, had the ball! And then, out of the ruck of confusion, shot a flash of blue that, seen dimly between the heaving forms of friend and foe, resolved into the likeness of Curran! Straight ahead leaped the quarter-back, straight at the center of the goal. For five yards he slipped unchallenged through the very storm center of the battle. Then the ruse was discovered and the Orange hurled her defenses upon him. But friend as well as enemy was about him now, and not until the ten-yard line was underfoot was he tackled. Then, fighting hard, he dragged on for three more strides, faltered, was borne back and went down under an avalanche of enemy forms.

“The old delayed pass!” cried Grover Beech almost tearfully in his joy. “And they fell for it!”

Eight yards to go! Desperately, while the tumult still reigned, Brown and Young’s lined up under the shadow of her goal. That she could stop the enemy now was too much to hope, nor did she, though she battled fiercely. Deering was launched ahead for two yards and Roover made two more. The shouting had almost ceased from the stands and the Brown and Young’s quarter could be heard imploring the team to “Hold ’em fellows! Throw ’em back! Get low! Get low! Hold ’em!” And with his voice came a medley of others and, sharp, stabbing, through them all, the musketry of Curran’s signals. Then a sudden heaving of both tense lines, a concentration of the whole Yardley back-field on the enemy center, a slow yielding there and, finally, a break, with Snowden, the ball hugged to his stomach, arching over and through on a sea of squirming figures!

Well over the last line lay the pigskin, a foot to spare! And as Yardley trotted back, swinging headguards, cavorting a little, and Brown and Young’s lined up sullenly beneath the cross-bar, Sid Creel laid his head in Toby’s lap, kicked Beech lovingly on the shins and murmured rapturously: “From our twenty yards to their goal in nine plays! Eighty yards in eight minutes! O Brown, where is thy victory! O Young, where is thy sting!”

Fanning kicked an easy goal and again Brown and Young’s sent the ball from the tee. There was a breathless moment while Arnold Deering juggled the catch and then a clever advance of nearly twenty yards through half the enemy team. Two attempts at the line netted but three, and Yardley made her first punt. And for the first time since the game began Brown and Young’s had the ball in her possession. But disruption was still evident, and the whistle sounding the end of the first period came as a welcome of relief to the visitors.

When play was resumed the Orange showed her possibilities, for, although Yardley stopped her midway between center line and goal and, having adopted defensive tactics for the time, kicked again on second down, Brown and Young’s came back with ever increasing determination.

The Orange used a clever and often disconcerting combination of straight, old-style line-bucking and wide end-running with a remarkably efficient protection for the man with the ball. She had a bewildering number of back-field combinations, apparently chiefly designed to confuse the opponent. The fact that line-attacks and end-runs were sent off from the same close-up formation of the backs made it hard for Yardley to guess which was coming. In fact, the Brown and Young’s system of plays was well calculated to keep the enemy on the anxious seat, and just so long as her line continued fairly impregnable she was bound to make gains. So far she had attempted no forward-passing, and her kicking game was still an unknown quantity. Her plan appeared to be to hold the ball as long as she could, making the opponent wrest it from her in the scrimmage.

As the second quarter progressed her attacks became fiercer and her resistance more stubborn. Her men played well together, and, although a few stood out above the rest in ability, individual effort was subordinated to teamwork. It was teamwork that made possible her running game, for every man had a duty and performed it, and not once in that period was Yardley able to reach the man with the ball until he had at least crossed the scrimmage line, and more often he had a substantial gain to his credit before the Blue’s secondary defense stopped him. It was principally the fact that, once inside the thirty yards, Brown and Young’s abandoned end-running for line-plugging that Yardley’s goal remained intact in that first half. Twice Yardley took the ball away from her inside the twenty-yard line and punted out of danger, and twice the Orange hammered or scuttled her way back again, the whistle halting a march that seemed destined to bring a touchdown.

“That seven points doesn’t look as safe as it did awhile back,” said Grover Beech as the rival squads trailed off to the gymnasium. “Considering the way those lads played in the last quarter, I’d say we were mighty lucky to get it!”

“You’re dead right,” agreed Sid Creel. “They’ve got it all over us on team-play. They move like a regular machine. Those end-runs of theirs are the slickest things I’ve seen in an age, and if we don’t find some way of stopping them we’ll get licked as sure as shooting!”

“There’s just one way to stop them,” said Toby. “That’s to play our ends further out and bring a back into the line.”

“Then they’d cut inside the end,” said Sid. “That’s old-stuff, sonny. Pull the opposing end out and then shoot the plays inside him.”

“But with a half-back there——”

“The trouble is,” said Beech, “you can’t guess when they’re coming. Half a dozen times I doped it out that they were going to smash the line and they just fooled me. There’s nothing to give you a hint. I could see Tom Fanning getting goggle-eyed trying to size up what was coming. Usually there’s something to give the snap away: a back drops a foot or two further back or to one side, or he faces a bit the way the play’s going without meaning to, or you get a hint from the signal. But these chaps are foxy.”

“I don’t believe they’ve got anything on us as far as their line goes,” said Sid.

“The only thing they’ve got on us is smoother playing,” declared Beech. “They’re playing end-of-season football and we’re playing what we’ve learned and no more.”

“Well, how do they get that way?” growled Sid.

“They go at it harder, I guess. They tell me that that coach of theirs gets ten thousand a year.”

“Ten thousand dollars!” ejaculated Toby.

“No, eggs,” replied Sid sarcastically. “Well, why not? If he can teach a team to play like that by midseason he’s worth it.”

“Maybe,” agreed Beech. “If you’re running that kind of a school. But the best college football coach doesn’t get any more, and——”

“They say Brown and Young’s has an enrollment this fall of nearly seven hundred, and it’s only three or four years old,” said Sid. “So I guess they can afford to pay a real salary to the coach. And I guess it pays them to afford it. Wonder, though, how much the Principal gets!”

“Oh, the Principal isn’t important,” observed Toby. “I dare say he just gets his room and meals and stationery, the poor fish! He ought to take a tumble to himself and study football. I had a sort of an idea I might be a railroad president or own a bank, or something modest like that, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to be a football coach. It pays better and the hours are shorter.”

“But think of the responsibility,” chuckled Beech. “Wealth isn’t everything, Tucker.”

“Say, do these yellow-legs play Broadwood?” demanded Sid.

“No, I don’t believe so. They never have,” replied Beech.

“Too bad. I wish they would. We’d get a dandy line on Broadwood.”

“And Broadwood would get a dandy line on us. Don’t see that it would help much. Well, here they come again. No, it’s our fellows. Get onto your job, Fless!”

The cheer leader gave a startled look over his shoulder, grabbed his big blue megaphone and jumped to his feet. “Come on, Yardley! Every one up! Regular cheer, with nine ‘Yardleys!’ One! Two!——”

The only change in the Blue’s line-up at the beginning of the third period was at left end, where Meadows had displaced Sandford. The Orange team returned intact. Yardley brought renewed joy to her supporters in the first few minutes by two long gains, one by means of a forward-pass and one by means of a seventeen-yard run by Deering, that took her well into Brown and Young’s territory. But after that the Orange refused to give and the ball changed hands on her twenty-seven yards. That Coach Lyle had tried hard to solve the enemy’s running game was evident on the occasion of the latter’s first attempt to gain around Yardley’s left. Instead of trying to get through the enemy’s excellent interference at once, Yardley adopted waiting tactics. So long as the man with the ball kept on toward the side-line the Blue was content to let him alone, and the surprising and even amusing spectacle of fully half of each team streaking in parallel courses across the field resulted. By these tactics Yardley gained an advantage. Whereas before she had plunged blindly at the Orange’s interference, often not knowing where the ball was, she now had time to size up the situation and bend every energy toward the runner. Brown and Young’s play brought the whole back-field out laterally, the runner carrying the ball, either a half or the full-back, well guarded by three interferers, to whom, once having diverted the opponent’s charge toward the center, was added an end and tackle who formed what was virtually a rear guard. To be successful, however, the play demanded that the opposing defense be drawn through soon after it had started, the interference engaging it and the man with the ball shooting free at the last moment and turning in. So as long as the opponent did not challenge, the Orange formation continued on in a lateral direction until, for a moment, it seemed that it would simply continue across the side-line and into the stand! Eventually, however, the runner saw the futility of further waiting and took the law into his own hands in a desperate effort to save the play. But as he had to drop back to let his interference pass before he could turn in he was very promptly nailed and the Orange netted a six-yard loss. But of course it didn’t work out so well for Yardley the next time, for the Orange changed her tactics and shot the runner in at the first opportunity. Nevertheless, the play lost most of its effectiveness and, toward the end of the contest, was entirely ignored.

In that third period the honors were fairly even, with each team gaining two first downs and neither penetrating nearer to her opponent’s goal than the twenty-seven-yard line. Brown and Young’s punters showed themselves fully equal to either Roover or Snowden and the rival lines exhibited a similar strength against attack. Perhaps the Orange’s superiority, if she showed any, was in her aggressiveness, although it brought no returns so far as scoring was concerned. Each team in the period might have attempted a field-goal but chose to stand or fall on rushing. The seven points scored to the credit of Yardley had regained something of their original value when time was called for the quarter, although Brown and Young’s rooters were still hopeful and, across the field, there were many anxious hearts.

Of the sort of playing with which the visitors had been accused, none had been seen. To be sure, the Orange players played hard and fierce, and when they tackled the runner always stayed where he was put, but nothing mean nor underhand had appeared. They did a lot of talking across the line, and some of their remarks were not in the best taste, but many of Yardley’s opponents were what the fellows called “gabby” and the Blue was used to verbal attack.

Play started in the final period with the pigskin in Yardley’s possession on her opponent’s forty-four yards. Candee had taken Simpson’s place at center and Twining had substituted Rose at left guard. On the opposing team two changes in the line and one in the back-field had been made. Deering plugged through the Orange left for a short gain and Roover got outside tackle for two yards. Curran threw to Meadows, who missed the pass, and Roover punted. An Orange back cut through the Yardley field for nearly twenty yards after catching and the ball was on Brown and Young’s forty-one. It was then that the visitors opened their bag of tricks.