Inwardly he was railing against the fate that had
deprived Hillton of both the players who, had they been in the team,
could have saved the crimson from defeat. Wesley Blair joined him, and
with scarce a word they watched St. Eustace revert to her previous
tactics, and tear great gaping holes in the Hillton line, holes often
large enough to admit of a coach and four, and more than large enough to
allow Allen or Jansen to go tearing, galloping through, with the ball
safe clutched, for three, five? or even a dozen yards!
No line can long stand such treatment, and, while the
one-hundred-and-fifty-pound Greer still held out, Barnard, the big
right-guard, was already showing signs of distress. St. Eustace's next
play was a small wedge on tackle, and although Barnard threw himself
with all his remaining strength into the breach he was tossed aside like
a bag of feathers and through went the right and left half-backs,
followed by full with the ball, and pushed onward by left-end and
quarter. When down was called the ball was eight yards nearer Hillton's
goal, and Barnard lay still on the ground.
Whipple held up his hand. Thistelweight--a youth of some one hundred and
forty pounds--struggled agitatedly with his sweater and bounded into the
field, and Barnard, white and weak, was helped limping off. For awhile
St. Eustace fought shy of right-guard, and then again the weight of all
the backs was suddenly massed at that point, and, though a yard
resulted, the crimson wearers found cause for joy, and a ringing cheer
swept over the field.
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