The St. Matthew’s game was played in a drizzle of rain on a field already slippery and sodden. St. Matthew’s sent a husky bunch of some twenty odd players, who, stripping off their blue and white sweaters, romped on to the field for their warming up. Beside them Maple Hill’s warriors looked frail and delicate. Tad, who with Pete Greenough had good-naturedly escorted the twins to the game, confided to Matty that for his part he didn’t see any use in playing the game, that it could be settled on the gymnasium scales.

“I think,” returned Matty loyally, “that our boys are very much nicer looking. Don’t you, May?”

“Ever so much,” replied her sister unhesitatingly.

“Looks don’t count though,” said Pete.

“No, if they did we’d have them licked to a finish right now. Why, Kitty alone would settle ’em. We’d just march Kitty out into the middle of the field and the enemy would fade away!”

St. Matthew’s was a new opponent on the schedule, and Maple Hill knew very little of her ability. But it wasn’t long before it became evident that the Blue-and-White would take a lot of beating. Wet grounds militated sorely against the home team, for quick starting was out of the question, and by the time the Maple Hill attack reached the line it was still going so slowly, had so little punch to it, that it usually crumpled up against the St. Matthew’s defense like a paper kite against a stone wall. On the other hand, the heavier and slower opponents managed to keep their feet well, and crashed into the Green-and-Gray for short gains. The first period ended without a score and without either team having got near enough to its opponent’s goal to attempt one. Each seemed to be trying the other out, and each stuck pretty closely to line plunging, punting only when forced to.

But in the second period Maple Hill altered her game. On attack the wide formation was used, and for a time Tyson and Gordon were fortunate in slicing off good gains. Stacey Trowbridge brought the spectators to their feet once by getting away with the ball for a wide end run that might have netted a touchdown had he been able to keep his feet, and did gain nearly thirty yards. When he was picked out of a mud puddle with the pigskin still firmly clasped to his breast the teams lined up on the St. Matthew’s twenty-eight yards. A forward pass failed to work, Gordon made four through center, Kitty, who had been put in a moment before, opening a fine wide hole for him, and with six to go Tracey tried a drop kick for goal on third down. But the ball went low, was partly blocked and recovered by the visitors. After that it was all St. Matthew’s until the middle of the field had been passed. Here the Green-and-Gray braced, and St. Matthew’s kicked. Gordon returned the punt immediately and gained ten yards on the exchange. St. Matthew’s tried a forward pass and netted twelve yards, failed on two plunges at the left of the line, made three through Pounder and from kick formation sent her fullback on an end run. This ended disastrously, however, for Peterson brought the big blue-stockinged warrior to earth for a five yard loss, and the pigskin again changed hands. From then until the end of the half the ball progressed back and forth in the middle of the field with little advantage to either side.

In the intermission Maple Hill, clad in raincoats and slickers, got together and tried a few songs and did some cheering, the rain drizzling down upon them steadily and depressingly. The twins, snuggled under a huge umbrella, were much pleased when Rodney, trailing a wet and bedraggled blanket behind him, climbed the stand to them.

“It’s a perfectly grand game!” declared Matty. “I’ve been so excited I couldn’t sit still! Isn’t Kitty lovely, Rodney?”

“Old Kitty is playing a great little game,” Rodney agreed warmly. “I heard Cotting say that he was putting it all over that big St. Matthew’s guard.”

“Are we going to win?” asked May.

“I don’t know.” Rodney shook his head. “They’re a lot heavier than we are. We can’t do much with their line. And it’s hard to make any trick plays work, the ground’s so slippery. I guess we’ll be satisfied enough to keep them from scoring.”

“Are you going to play?” Matty asked.

“Me? Oh, I don’t think so. Maybe I’ll get in for a few minutes at the last. Cotting will probably try to save the first string fellows as much as he can for next Saturday. Isn’t it a brute of a day?”

“We like it,” said Matty. “Don’t we, May?”

“We always like rain,” May agreed. “Mama says we make her think of a pair of water spaniels. Just as soon as ever it begins to rain Matty and I grab our raincoats and get out of doors. We like snow, too, don’t we, Matty?”

Matty nodded. “I wish you might have seen the snowman we made last winter, Rodney. It was twice as high as I am, and we put a pipe in his mouth and an old hat on his head and called him ‘Chawles,’ for Mr. Cooper.”

“And when we were laughing about it, Mrs. Westcott heard us from her window and called up mama on the telephone and told her that we were insulting Mr. Cooper!”

“And then,” added Matty complacently, “we changed him to a woman and called her Mrs. Westcott.”

“The boys said it looked just like her,” murmured May reminiscently.

Tad and Pete, who had gone to join the cheerers below, returned to their seats, and presently Rodney returned to the substitutes’ bench just as the teams trotted back on the field, the water spouting under their feet.

It was evident soon after the third period began that Coach Cotting had decided to play a defensive game and take as few risks of injury to his players as possible. Gordon punted as soon as the ball went into Maple Hill’s possession, and after that Stacey invariably called for a kick on second or third down. The punting game was not ill advised, either, for with a wet ball and a slippery field fumbles by the opposing backs might well be looked for. They came, too, but good luck attended St. Matthew’s that day and her fumbles were always recovered before the Maple Hill ends could get to the ball. Toward the last of the third period the Green-and-Gray partisans were treated to an anxious three minutes. Using a shift formation that was hard to meet, St. Matthew’s took the ball from her own forty-five yard line by successive rushes down to Maple Hill’s twenty-seven. There, with the stands imploring Maple Hill to, “Hold them!” and Watson begging the team to get together, a fumble by the St. Matthew’s quarter lost two yards, although the ball was recovered by a back, and another try netted but a fraction of a yard, Kitty and Pounder refusing to be budged and the entire Green-and-Gray backfield, solving the play, piling in behind them. There was a conference then by the St. Matthew’s quarter and the captain, and after one or two false starts the right tackle was sent back to try a place kick at goal. Maple Hill, however, broke through desperately and the ball bounded away from some charging defender, and, although a St. Matthew’s player fell upon it some ten yards up the field, it went to Maple Hill a moment later when Peterson intercepted a forward pass. A plunge at left tackle gained two yards, and Gordon punted and Maple Hill’s goal was once more out of danger. The period ended after the visitors had gained a first down with the ball near the middle of the field in St. Matthew’s territory.

It had been a gruelling game, and more than one of Coach Cotting’s players showed the pace. With the big game only seven days distant it would not do to overtax his best men, and so during the short intermission the Maple Hill lineup was considerably changed. Of the forwards only Pounder, Kittson, and Peterson remained when the fourth period began, while, with the exception of Gordon, an entirely new backfield was presented. St. Matthew’s went desperately to work for a score, and her heavy charges at the Green-and-Gray line soon began to tell. The right side of it was weak, and most of the gains were made there. St. Matthew’s went down to her opponent’s thirty-four yards without losing the ball. Then there was a slip up on signals, and Kitty wormed through and fell on the pigskin. In Maple Hill’s first play, a double pass behind the line, Anson, who had substituted Fuller, wrenched his knee when tackled, and when, a moment later, he tried to run up the field under Gordon’s long punt and had to subside in a pool of water, Cotting called him out and sent in Rodney. There remained only some six minutes of playing time. St. Matthew’s, who had made several changes in her line already, now put in a new backfield entire, perhaps concluding that her chance of winning had gone by and that the best to be had was a no score tie.

She started back with the ball, but much of her aggressiveness had departed, and the new backfield was slow and uncertain. In spite of that, however, she managed to keep the ball until she had gained two first downs. Then she was set back for holding and presently punted. The kick was poor, and Gordon, playing back, raced in with upraised hand and made a fair catch on the forty-four yards. The Maple Hill supporters arose and loudly demanded a touchdown and for a minute or two it looked as though their demand might be satisfied, for two gains outside of tackles brought a first down with the pigskin on the thirty-two yard line. Gordon gained three straight through center, Rodney made two on a skin tackle plunge at the left, and Gordon again took the ball, but was stopped for no gain. It was then fourth down with five to go, and after a conference Gordon fell back to kicking position. But the signals told a different story and Rodney sprinted across the field, Peterson close behind him.

“Forward pass!” cried the opposing quarter. “Look out!”

Peterson, slackening his pace, turned for the throw. Rodney met the first of the enemy and sent him staggering aside. The ball came arching across the field. But Gordon had thrown too far and Rodney saw that the flying oval would pass over Peterson’s head. He stepped back, dodging a blue stockinged enemy, heard Peterson’s warning cry as his upstretched hands failed to grasp the ball, and got it himself, head high. In front of him at the instant stretched an open path to the goal line. From the stands came frenzied cries of delight, from the enemy hoarse shouts of warning. Had Rodney started on the instant and made straight for the goal line he would have scored, and Maple Hill would have won another hard fought battle. But for just the instant that it took to turn the opponent’s confusion into action Rodney hesitated. The ball should have been Peterson’s, he realized, and by some chance it had come to him. For an infinitesimal instant of time that thought crowded back all others. Then he saw what was to be done and bounded off, throwing aside a pair of clutching arms. But the hesitation cost him success. The stretch of sod that had been empty a second before was now guarded, and eager hands reached for him. Peterson did his best, but the enemy was too many and Rodney was pulled to earth on the twelve yard line, ignominiously defeated by his own inaction, by the lack of that one factor that Terry Doyle called football instinct and Coach Cotting termed football sense.

The game ended 0 to 0 and the teams cheered each other dispiritedly, each feeling, doubtless, that by rights the contest should have been its own. Not a soul spoke to Rodney of his failure. In fact, it seemed to him that every fellow looked more kindly upon him than usual. But he knew what had happened, knew that by just a fraction of a moment he had lost the game for his team, and between the sounding of the final whistle and the reaching of the gymnasium door he came to a decision. He would resign from the team.