It was the third down and five
yards were lacking. Back went the ball for a kick, and a moment later
it was Yates's on her thirty-five yards, and again the teams were lining
up. It was now the turn of the east stand to cheer, and mightily the
shout rolled across the field.
Through came the Yates full, the ball safely stowed in the crook of his
elbow, the whole force of the backs shoving him on. Three yards was his.
Another line-up. Again the Yates full-back was given the ball, and again
he gained. And it was the first down on Yates's forty-five-yard line.
Then began a rout in which Harwell retreated and Yates pursued until the
leather had crossed the middle of the field. The gains were made
anywhere, everywhere, it seemed. Allardyce yielded time and again, and
Selkirk beside him, lacking the other's support, was thrust aside almost
at will. The Yates shouters were wild with joy, and the cheers of
Harwell were drowned beneath the greater outbursts from the supporters
of the blue.
Harwell appeared to be outclassed, so far as her rush line was
concerned. Past the fifty-yard line went the ball, and between it and
the next white streak, Harwell at last made a desperate stand, and
secured the ball. At the first play it was sent speeding away from
Blair's toe to the Yates mid-field, a long, clean, high kick, that led
the forwards down under it in time to throw the waiting back ere he had
taken a step, and that brought shouts of almost tearful delight from the
Harwell sympathizers.
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