And Brill scored nothing.

More than this, the playing was so rough that two of the Brill eleven and one from Roxley had to retire from the field.

Of course the visitors went wild with joy, and shouted themselves hoarse.  They waved their colors, swung their rattles, and tooted their horns for fully five minutes, while the silence among the Brill contingent was so thick it could be “cut with a knife,” as Sam afterward expressed it.

“It’s all over,” murmured Stanley with a glum look on his face.  “Their eleven this year are too heavy for us.”

“We can’t meet them in mass play, that’s certain,” was Dick’s comment.  “If we are going to gain anything at all it must be by open work.”

“Tom Rover can take Felton’s place,” came the order from the head of the team, and Tom at once threw off the blanket he had been using and got into practice with another new man and some others.

Dick felt sore, physically and mentally.  He had been roughly used by two of the Roxley players, and had made a fumble at a critical moment.  And all during that heartrending first half Dora had not noticed him at all!

The coach did some plain talking to the players while in the dressing-room, and told them of where he thought Roxley might be weak—­at the left end.

“Don’t mass unless you absolutely have to,” were his words of caution.  “They have the weight, but I don’t think they have the wind.  Keep them on the jump.  I think that is your only chance.”

When the whistle blew for the second half the Brill eleven came out on the gridiron with a “do or die” look on their faces.

“Now pile it into ’em!” cried the coach.  “Don’t give ’em time to think about it!”

Whether it was this caution, or the very desperateness of the case, it would be hard to say, but true it is that Brill went at their opponents “hammer and tongs” from the very start.  They avoided all wedge work and confined themselves as much as possible to open playing.  More than this, they used a little trick Dick had once played when on the eleven at Putnam Hall.  The ball was passed from right to left, then to center, and then to left again, and then carried around the end for a gain of twenty-five yards.  Then it was picked up again, turned back and to the left once more, and forced around the end for twenty yards more.

“That’s the way to do it!” yelled several of the Brill supporters.

“Over with it, while you’ve got the chance!”

The ball was forced back by sheer weight of Roxley, but only for five yards.  Then the Brill quarter-back got it, sent it over to Toms and in a twinkling Tom “nursed” it to where he wanted it and kicked a goal from the field.

“Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!”

“That’s the way to do it!”

“Now, then, for another!”

“By the great Julius Caesar!” cried Sam.  “Isn’t that fine?”

“Oh, it was grand!” exclaimed Nellie, and she waved her banner directly at Tom, and he waved his hand in return.  Just then Nellie felt as if she could go and hug him.