While the start, after the ball was in play, seemed directed toward
the right wing of Gridley, the ball was actually jumped to little
Fenton, at the left end, and Fenton, backed solidly by a superb
interference, got off and away with the ball. In a twinkling
he had it down behind Fordham's goal line.
Then the ball went back for the kick. The band played a few spirited
measures while the wearied Gridley boosters suddenly rose and
whooped themselves black in the face.
The kick, too, was won.
"Oh, well." growled Barnes, "we have two points to the good yet,
and only four minutes and a half left for the game. Don't get
rough, fellows, unless you have to."
As the Gridley boys sprang to a fresh line-up their eyes were
glowing.
"Remember, fellows, the time is short, but battles have been won
in two minutes!"
This was the inspiring message flashed out by Captain Dick Prescott.
With all the zeal of race horses the Gridley High School boys
flung themselves into their work.
After a minute and a half of play, Gridley had done so much that,
just before the next snapback Barnes let his sulky eyes flash
about him in a way that was understood.
Fordham must rush in, now, and hold the enemy back, no matter
at what cost of roughness---if the roughness could be done slyly
enough.
Then it came, a fierce, frenzied charge. The ball was down again
in an instant, and Hazelton, a Gridley man, lay on the field,
unable to rise.
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