It called for one of their most daring plays, that Prescott himself made famous the year before.
While the start, after the ball was in play, seemed directed toward the right wing of Gridley, the ball was actually jumped to little Fenton, at the left end, and Fenton, backed solidly by a superb interference, got off and away with the ball.

In a twinkling he had it down behind Fordham's goal line.
Then the ball went back for the kick.

The band played a few spirited measures while the wearied Gridley boosters suddenly rose and whooped themselves black in the face.
The kick, too, was won.
"Oh, well." growled Barnes, "we have two points to the good yet, and only four minutes and a half left for the game.

Don't get rough, fellows, unless you have to." As the Gridley boys sprang to a fresh line-up their eyes were glowing.
"Remember, fellows, the time is short, but battles have been won in two minutes!" This was the inspiring message flashed out by Captain Dick Prescott.
With all the zeal of race horses the Gridley High School boys flung themselves into their work.
After a minute and a half of play, Gridley had done so much that, just before the next snapback Barnes let his sulky eyes flash about him in a way that was understood.
Fordham must rush in, now, and hold the enemy back, no matter at what cost of roughness---if the roughness could be done slyly enough.
Then it came, a fierce, frenzied charge.

The ball was down again in an instant, and Hazelton, a Gridley man, lay on the field, unable to rise.
Physicians hurried out from the side lines.
"Broken leg," said one of them, and a stretcher was brought.
"Have we got to stand this sort of thing ?" demanded Hudson, in a hoarse whisper.