Seaton kicked off and Joslin of Hillbury got the ball and zigzagged back to the twenty-five-yard line. Thence Hillbury worked ahead a dozen yards and punted. Jackson, who received the punt, was too eager to get away, and fumbled. In an instant the Hillbury end was upon the ball. Now the bank of blue ribbons had something to cheer for, and the vehemence and volume and splendid evenness of the mighty chant which swept across the field put hope into the hearts of the blue, and suggested to the red that the first score might after all have been a mistake. Wolcott remembered Laughlin’s remark of the night before, that a punter and two good ends, with the help of a fumbling back on the other side, could beat the best line that ever played; and felt his heart sink. Had Hillbury detected the Seaton weakness? But Laughlin showed no sign of discouragement.
“Hold ’em, fellows, hold ’em! Stop ’em right here!” And the first charge was downed in a heap as it struck the line. The ball went back to Cates, the Hillbury quarter, who dashed toward the end of the line.
“Quarter! quarter!” yelled Laughlin, bursting through at Cates’s heels. The whole Seaton line poured after Cates. But Cates had held the ball only a moment, and shot it to Joslin, who darted for the other end of the line, where one of his backs and the end and tackle were in waiting. The Seaton end fell before the assault, and Joslin, running clear, raced down the field with Brooks, the Hillbury end, before him, and only Jackson between himself and the goal-line.
What happened then happened quickly. Jackson flung himself at the critical moment straight at the man with the ball. His arms enclosed three legs, two belonging to Brooks and one to the man with the ball. He went down with the two legs tightly clasped, but the one tore away; and Joslin, free and swift as an arrow, sprinted over the white chalk-line to the Seaton goal-posts.
A few minutes later, with the score six and six, Hillbury lined up for the third kick-off. Wolcott felt relieved as he saw the ball settle into Read’s grasp, for Read was safe. The ball was down on the thirty-yard line, and the heavy Seaton machine started immediately to hammer its way down the field. A delayed pass gave ten yards, a quarter-back run another ten, but the advance was mainly by steady driving of strong men in unison against a desperate, but yielding defence. Now on one side, now on the other, with Laughlin back, or Lindsay or Hendry locked in an irresistible interference with Milliken, Wendt, and Buist, the ball drew nearer the Hillbury goal. Now a swaying mass rolled its way through the struggling line as a steam shovel eats into a sandbank; now a narrow gap would open and a single man be dashed into it, as an express train into a tunnel.