“Nervous.  Hasn’t steadied down yet,” exclaimed a reporter behind Henry Seeley.  “But he can’t afford to give Princeton any more chances like that.  Her ends are faster than chain lightning.”

The father groaned and wiped the sweat from his eyes.  If the team were afraid of this untried full-back, such a beginning would not give them confidence.  Then the two lines locked and heaved in the first scrimmage, and a stocky Yale half-back was pulled down in his tracks.  Again the headlong Princeton defence held firm and the Yale captain gasped, “Second down and three yards to gain.”  The Yale interferers sped to circle one end of the line, but they were spilled this way and that and the runner went down a yard short of the needed distance.

The Yale full-back dropped back to punt.  Far and true the ball soared into the Princeton field, and the lithe Freshman had somewhat redeemed himself.  But now, for their own part, the sons of Old Nassau found themselves unable to make decisive gains against the Yale defence.  Greek met Greek in these early clashes, and both teams were forced to punt again and again.  Trick-plays were spoiled by alert end-rushers for the blue or the orange and black, fiercely launched assaults at centre were torn asunder, and the longer the contest raged up and down the field the more clearly it was perceived that these ancient rivals were rarely well matched in point of strength and strategy.

The Yale coaches were dismayed at this turn of events.  They had hoped to see the ball carried toward the Princeton goal by means of shrewdly devised teamwork, instead of which the burden of the game was shifted to one man, the weakest link in the chain, the Freshman at full-back.  He was punting with splendid distance, getting the ball away when it seemed as if he must be overwhelmed by the hurtling Tigers.  Once or twice, however, a hesitant nervousness almost wrought quick disaster, and the Yale partisans watched him with tormenting apprehension.

The first half of the game was fought into the last few minutes of play and neither eleven had been able to score.  Then luck and skill combined to force the struggle far down into Yale territory.  Only ten yards more of trampled turf to gain and Princeton would cross the last white line.  The indomitable spirit which had placed upon the escutcheon of Yale football the figure of a bulldog rampant, rallied to meet this crisis, and the hard-pressed line held staunch and won possession of the ball on downs.  Back to the very shadow of his own goal-posts the Yale full-back ran to punt the ball out of the danger zone.  It shot fairly into his grasp from a faultless pass, but his fingers juggled the slippery leather as if it were bewitched.  For a frantic, awful instant he fumbled with the ball and wildly dived after it as it caromed off to one side, bounded crazily, and rolled beyond his reach.