Opposed to them was a team fully their equal in age, weight and experience. The Claflin forwards were a bit taller and rangier, and their centre, unlike Thursby, was below rather than above average size. Behind their line, the four players were, with the exception of Grady, full-back, small and light. But they were known to be fast and heady and Claflin didn't make the mistake of underestimating their ability. The left half, Cox, was a broken-field runner of renown as well as Claflin's best goal-kicker. Perhaps it would have been difficult that fall to have picked two teams to oppose each other that were more evenly matched than those representing the Maroon-and-Grey and the Blue.

For the first few minutes of play each eleven seemed to be feeling out its opponent. Two exchanges of punts gained ground for neither side. Brimfield got her backfield working then on her twenty yards and St. Clair and Tim tried each side of the blue line and in two downs gained a scant six yards. Rollins punted out at Claflin's forty-seven. The Blue got past Hall for two and slid off Holt for three more. The next rush failed and Claflin punted to Carmine on the fifteen. The Blue's ends were down on Carmine and he was stopped for a five-yard gain. Rollins tried a forward pass to Edwards, but threw short and the ball grounded. Tim Otis ran the left end for four and, on a delayed pass, Rollins heaved himself through centre for the distance, and Brimfield cheered loudly when the linesmen pulled up stakes and trailed the chain ten yards nearer the centre of the field.

A second forward pass was caught by Holt, but he was brought down for a scant three-yard gain. Once more Rollins attempted the centre of the blue line, but this time he was stopped short. On third down Rollins punted and Claflin caught on her forty and ran the ball back to the middle of the field. Claflin then found Crewe for four yards and completed her distance on a straight plunge between Gilbert and Thayer. It was the Blue's turn to cheer then and she performed valiantly. Claflin tried Edwards's end, but made nothing of it, poked Cox past Crewe for a couple of yards, made three around Holt and then punted. St. Clair misjudged the distance and the ball went over his head and there was a scamper to the goal line. Carmine finally fell on the ball for a touchback and the excitement in the stands subsided. Brimfield smashed Otis at the Blue's centre and reached the twenty-five-yard line. St. Clair made three on a skin-tackle play at the right and Rollins got the distance on a plunge after a fake-kick. Brimfield again made first down on the forty-two yards and her supporters howled gleefully. A moment later they had new cause for rejoicing when Rollins pegged the ball across the field to Edwards and the Maroon-and-Grey's captain scampered and dodged along the side of the field for thirteen yards before he was tackled. Time was called for a Claflin back and Brimfield drew off for a consultation, the result of which was seen in the next play.

Carmine called Gilbert to the right side of centre, the backs spread themselves in wide formation ten yards behind the line and Steve Edwards, as the first signal began, ran back, straightened out as the ball was snapped, raced along behind his forwards and swept around his right end. Claflin's right end and half-back plunged outside of Thayer, were met by St. Clair and Rollins, and Carmine, having taken the ball on a long pass from Thursby, raced past them and then swung quickly in and found an almost clear field ahead.

Two white lines passed under his twinkling feet and then, near the twenty, he was challenged by a Claflin back. Carmine eluded him, crossed a third line, found himself confronted by the Blue's quarter, attempted to slip by on the outside, was tackled and borne struggling across the side line and deposited forcibly on the ground.

When the ball was stepped in by the referee it was set down some four inches inside the fifteen-yard line. In the stands and along the side of the field Brimfield was cheering triumphantly, imploringly, and waving her banners. The linesmen scampered in obedience to the referee's waving arm.

"First down!" shouted the official. "All right, Brimfield? Ready, Claflin?" The whistle piped again.

Rollins was stopped squarely on a try at right guard and Otis made a scant three past the left tackle. Under the shadow of her goal-posts, Claflin was digging her cleats in the turf and fighting hard. Rollins went back. "Get through, Claflin! Block this kick!" cried the Blue's quarter-back. "Get through! Get through!" Back went the ball from Thursby, a trifle high but straight enough, Rollins poised it, swung his leg, and then, tucking the pigskin under his arm, sprang away to the left. Shouts of alarm, cries of warning, the hurried rush of feet and rasping of canvas! Bodies crashed together and went down. Rollins, at the ten yards now, side-stepped and got past a blue-legged defender, turned in and went banging straight into the mÊlÉe. Arms clutched at him. He was stopped momentarily. Then he wrested free, plunged on for another yard and went to earth.

"Second down!" cried the referee when he had bored through the pile of squirming bodies and found the ball. He glanced along the five-yard line, set the pigskin to earth again, and "About two feet to go!" he added. Brimfield was shouting incessantly now, standing and waving. "Touchdown! Touchdown! Touchdown!" Across the field Claflin sent back a dogged chant: "Hold 'em, Claflin! Hold 'em, Claflin! Hold 'em, Claflin!"

But surely Claflin couldn't do that! It seemed too much to ask or expect. Otis made it first down off left tackle, placing the ball on the three yards. Before the next play could be started the period ended and the teams flocked to the water pails and then tramped down to the other end of the field. The cheering never paused, even if the playing did. Childers, red-faced and perspiring, kept the Brimfield section busy every instant. "Once more, now! A long cheer with nine 'Brimfields'! That's good! Keep it up! We're going to score, fellows! Let's have it again! All into it!"

Only three yards to go and four downs to do it! Claflin lined up desperately, her forwards digging their toes barely inside their last line, her backfield men skirmishing anxiously about behind it. "Push 'em back, Claflin! You can do it! Don't give 'em an inch! Stop 'em right here, fellows! Low, low, get low, you fellows! Charge into 'em and smother this play!" The Claflin quarter, pale of face, thumped crouching backs and watched the foe intently.

"Put it over now!" shrilled Carmine. "Here we go! Get down there, Hall! Signals!"

Rollins leaped forward, took the ball from Carmine and smashed straight ahead. There was a moment of doubt. His plunging body stopped, went on, stopped, was borne back.

"Second down! Two and a half to go!"

Again the signals, the line shifted, Claflin changed to meet the shift. St. Clair slewed across and slammed past the Claflin left tackle. But the secondary defence had him in the next instant and he was thrust, fighting, back and still back. But he had gained. "A yard and a half!" proclaimed the referee.

"You've got to do it, Brimfield!" shouted Edwards intensely. "Don't let them get the jump on you like that! Get into it, Crewe! Watch that man, Gilbert! Come on now! Put it over!"

"Signals!" shrieked Carmine. "Make it go this time! Over with it!"

Back went Rollins, hands outstretched. "Fake!" shouted Claflin. "Watch the ball! Watch the ball!"

Rollins's arms fell, empty, as St. Clair grabbed the pigskin and swept wide to the right. "In! In!" cried Carmine. St. Clair turned and shot toward the broken line. His interference did its part, but the Claflin left end had fooled Holt and it was that blue-legged youth who got St. Clair and thumped him to the sod. An anxious, breathless moment followed. Brimfield called for time and St. Clair, on his back, kicked and squirmed while they pumped the air back into his lungs. The referee, kneeling over the ball, squinted along the line. Then:

"Fourth down and about two to go!" he announced.

St. Clair had lost a half-yard! Claflin cheered weakly. Steve Edwards and Carmine consulted.

"We'd better kick it over," said Carmine. "They're getting the jump on us every time, Steve." Carmine's voice was husky and he had to gasp his words out. Steve, panting like an engine, shook his head.

"We need the touchdown," he said. "We'll put it over. Try 11. Tim can make it."

St. Clair walked back to his place. The whistle sounded again. "Come on, Brimfield!" gasped Carmine. "This is your last chance! If you don't do it this time you'll never do it! Play like you meant it! Stop your fooling and show 'em football! Every man into this and make it go! Hall over! Signals!" Hall pushed his way to the left of the line. Claflin shuffled to meet the change. "Signals! 83—38—11—106!"

"Signals!" cried St. Clair. Carmine turned on him, snarling. "Use your bean! Change signals! Hall over! 61—16—11—37! 61—16—11——"

Back shot the ball to the quarter. Off sped St. Clair around his end, followed by Rollins. Carmine crouched, back to the line, while he counted five. Then Tim Otis shot forward, took the delayed pass, jammed the ball against his stomach and went in past Thursby on the right.

Tim struck the line as if shot out of a gun. There was no hole there, but Tim made one. If the secondary defence, overanxious, had not been fooled by that fake attack at their end Tim would never have gained a foot. But as it was Claflin was caught napping in the centre of her line. Tim banged against a brawny guard, Carmine, following him through, added impetus, the Claflin line buckled inward! Shouts and grunts, stifled groans of despair from the yielding blue line! Then Brimfield closed in behind Tim and he was borne off his feet and on and over to fall at last in a chaos of struggling bodies well across the goal line!

The ball went over to the right of the goal and Carmine decided on a punt-out. Unfortunately, Thayer juggled the catch and so Brimfield lost her try-at-goal. But six points looked pretty big just then and continued to look big all the rest of the half and during the succeeding intermission. Brimfield's supporters were confident and happy. They sang and cheered and laughed, and the sun, sinking behind the wooded ridge, cast long golden beams on the flaunting maroon banners.

And then the teams came trotting back once more and cheers thundered forth from opposing stands. Howard had taken St. Clair's place, it was seen, and Claflin had replaced her right guard. But otherwise the teams were unchanged. Brimfield kicked off and Claflin brought her supporters to their feet by running the ball back all the way to the forty-five-yard line. That was Cox, the fleet-footed and elusive, and the Blue's left half got a mighty cheer from his friends and generous applause from the enemy. After that Claflin tried a forward pass and gained another down, and then, from near the middle of the field, marched down to Brimfield's thirty-three before she was stopped. The Maroon-and-Grey got the ball on downs by an inch or two only.

Brimfield tried the Claflin ends out pretty thoroughly and with Otis and Howard carrying, took back most of Claflin's gain. But a forward pass finally went to a Claflin end instead of Holt and the tables were suddenly turned. It was the Blue's ball on Brimfield's forty-six then, and Claflin opened her bag of tricks. Just how Cox got through the centre of the Brimfield line no one ever explained satisfactorily, but get through he did, and after he was through he romped past Otis and Rollins and raced straight for the goal. Carmine and Howard closed in on him and it was Carmine who brought him down at last on the twelve yards.

How Claflin shouted and triumphed then! The Blue came surging down the field to line up against the astounded enemy, determination written large on every countenance. A plunge at Gilbert gained a yard and was followed by a three-yard gain off Holt. Then Claflin fumbled and recovered for a two-yard loss and, with eight to go on fourth down, decided that a goal from field was the best try. And, although Brimfield tried hard to get through to the nimble-footed Cox, and did smear the Blue's line pretty fairly, the ball went well and true across the bar, and the 0 on the score-board was changed to a 3!