Kemble tried the end and made a yard and Sproule had no better luck off tackle. Kemble went back and hurled across the center to Stoddard for eight yards and a first down. With Kemble back again, the ball went to Thayer, and Johnny got six on a sweep around right end before he was smothered. Sproule and then Kemble hit right guard and made it first down again. The ball was on Wolcott's thirty-one yards and there was just under a minute of playing time left.
Captain Lothrop went out, cheered to the echo, and Smythe took his place. Ellison went in for Carlson and Treader for Sproule. Wyndham was still cheering valiantly, hopefully. Treader, squandering all the pent-up energy and longing of the afternoon in one brief instant, dashed himself fiercely at the enemy's right and squirmed and fought through to the twenty-six. Wyndham roared in triumph and automobile horns sounded raucously.
"Touchdown! Touchdown!" chanted Wyndham, while Wolcott implored her warriors to "Hold 'em! Hold 'em! Hold 'em!" Then Tom again went back and the visiting cheerers changed their slogan. "Kick that goal! Kick that goal!" was the cry now. Out on the field the effect was only of so much sound, confused, meaningless, and Houston had to shout high to be heard.
"30, 87, 27!"
Archer swung away from the line and ran back toward his own goal. Tom held his long arms out.
