The ball went to Pearse, but Bloch for once was ready for him, and, getting by Kendall, nailed the runner prettily four yards back of the line to the triumphant paeans of the south stand.
When the teams had again lined up Foster dropped back as though to try a kick for goal, a somewhat difficult feat considering the angle.

The Robinson captain was alarmed; he was ready to believe that a team who had already sprung one surprise on him was capable of securing goals from any angle whatever; his voice arose in hoarse entreaty: "Get through and block this kick, fellows! Get through! Get through!" "_Signal_!" cried Foster.

"_44--18--23!_" The ball flew back from Stowell and Foster caught it breast-high.

The Erskine line held for a moment, then the blue-clad warriors came plunging through desperately, and had Foster attempted a kick the ball would never have gone ten feet; but Foster, who knew his limitations in the kicking line as well as any one else, had entertained no such idea.
The pigskin, fast clutched to Paul's breast, was already circling the Brown's left end.

Devoe had put his opponent out of the play, thereby revenging himself for like treatment in the first half, and Pearse, a veritable whirlwind, had bowled over the Robinson left half.