THE GIRL AND THE GAME
ple were staring at us, I suppose, though we didn't know nor care about that. Then this play was made.
They had the ball. "Twenty-nine—seventeen—forty-five," yelled their captain. Now something inside of me said that that signal meant a kick. "Here's where I block it," I said to myself, gritting my teeth; and the instant the ball was put in play—bang—I went through my man, yelling as I did so to the rest of the team, "It's a kick, fellows!"
He is a lighter guard than I, and I went at him with all my might; but, great Scott! I didn't expect him to fall back that way; but he didn't fall, he jumped back, just as I came at him, and pulled me with him, and I was the one that did the falling. I had misunderstood the signal. Instead of a kick, it was— You know what happened. It was a hole big enough to drive one of the yelling four-in-hands through! But it wasn't made by their system; it was my foolishness. At any rate, straight through the opening shot their interference in beautiful
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