“Hold ’em, Brimfield!  Hold ’em!  Hold ’em!  Hold ’em!” chanted the grand-stand.  Clint was scowling ferociously and gripping his hands hard between his knees.  Amy was patting his feet on the boards.  Chase was studying the situation intently, outwardly quite unaffected by the crisis.  “Someone,” he observed, “is making a mistake there.  They’ll never get six yards by plugging the line.  Why don’t they make Brimfield open out?”

But evidently Chambers thought she could conquer by massing her attack, for once more she hurled her backs at the centre, and once more the Maroon-and-Grey yielded.  But the gain was less than two yards and only one down remained.

“Fourth down and about four to go!” cried the referee.

Chambers changed her plans then, strung her backs out along her line and shifted to the left.

“Here comes a trick,” muttered Clint.

“I doubt it,” responded Chase.  “It looks like it, and it’s meant to, but I guess when it comes it’ll be a straight line-buck with that careless-looking full-back carrying the ball.  I hope Innes sizes it up the way I do, for—­”

“Watch this!” Innes shouted.  “Watch the ball!  Look out for a forward!  Come in here, Kendall!  Throw ’em back, fellows!”

The Chambers quarter shouted his signals, the ball went to him, the two half-backs shot away to the left, the full-back plunged ahead, took the ball and struck hard, head down, at the left of centre.  But Brimfield had not been fooled.  Blaisdell wavered, but the secondary defence piled up behind him.  The full-back stopped, struggled ahead, stopped again and then came staggering back, half the Brimfield team about him.  The whistle piped, and—­

“Brimfield’s ball!” cried the referee.  “First down right here!” He waved the linemen toward the Chambers goal and the grand-stand burst into a peal of triumph.  Amy clapped Clint on the knee—­fortunately it was not the injured one!—­and cried:  “Some team, Clint!  Say, they play almost as well as the second, eh?”

And Clint, laughing delightedly, acknowledged that they did—­almost!

Harris, well behind his own goal line, punted to safety, a long and high corkscrew that brought another roar of delight from the home team supporters and settled into the arms of a Chambers back near the forty-yard line.  Two tries at the left wing and the whistle shrilled the end of the third period and the teams changed goals.

“Bet you it’ll be a stand-off,” said Amy.

“Don’t want to take your money,” replied Chase, with a smile.

“Who will score, then?”

“Brimfield for certain, Chambers perhaps.  If Chambers scores it’ll be from the field.  She’s killed herself.”