The first half ended without any further scoring, and the contestants threw their sweaters over their shoulders and retired to their benches for a rest, while their supporters talked the game over.
"I don't see Grant Mackerly," remarked a boy, looking over all the wearers of football costumes. "What in the world has become of him?"
"Well, he might as well stay away," declared the ever-ready Ike. "He's not needed in this game, anyhow. Alan Heathcote is doing the work of two like him. Now look how he stopped that half-back of the Ripley's! Wasn't that fine? Just like clock-work!"
"No question about that," admitted Archer. "I thought for sure that fellow was headed for a touch-down, but Heathcote brought him to grass as neat as a whistle. He certainly is a plucky player."
The sentiment among all the boys was practically to the same effect.
Meanwhile the conversation among the members of the team was of a decidedly earnest character. None of them shared the confidence of their schoolfellows in regard to winning by a large score, for they knew that the boys of the striped stockings had played a skillful and a bold game--a game that was persistent and wearing, and which might turn the tables the other way in the next half. So they took counsel together as they collected about their captain.
"Play a defensive game next half," directed the latter. "Don't try to roll up points, but let them do the struggling. We're ahead, and we must keep ahead. And, by all means, keep your eyes on those half-backs. I tell you that captain of theirs--Young, I think his name is--is a splendid player. He's full of tricks, and he hasn't showed us them yet, and I look for a surprise in the next half."
"I tell you," said Shriver, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead, "that fellow opposite me is giving me all I care to attend to. I'm pretty nearly done up trying to get past him."
"You're not going to peg out, are you?" he questioned. "I told you, Shriver, that you didn't pay enough attention to your training and kept too late hours. Now you see the result of it."
"I'll stand up against them," declared Shriver, "if I have to be carried off the field in a wheelbarrow. Never worry for me, Cole."