“It’s a beautiful game,” said Inza; “and not enough is made of it in this country. The United States should not permit Canada to hold such a long lead in such a fine game.” “Fred Fillmore didn’t stop Frank that time.” “Hardly!” “I wonder why he dislikes Frank so? I know he does dislike him.” “Of course he does. He tried to lay it onto Frank when he and Tom Hackett came home intoxicated after that trip to the road house out on the Pimlico Road. I didn’t believe him; I knew he was lying. He and the other fellows tried to get Frank and Bart full, but they were fooled, and Fred has been holding a grudge ever since.” “I think he would hurt Frank, if he could.” “I have an idea that Frank can take care of himself.” Hopkins had hoped to keep the visitors from scoring, and the whole team was rather sore over the success of the Merries. Following this there was quite a period during which neither goal was in imminent danger. Hopkins took the offensive and kept it up, but each time the ball drew close to the Merries’ net some of the defenders sent it away. The home team grew more and more persistent. Woodin rushed the ball down the field repeatedly, or made beautiful passes to the vicinity of the visitors’ goal. Finally the locals closed in for a united attack, and both Hodge and Ready were kept busy. During the five minutes of play that followed in the first half Hopkins made another try to score; but Frank’s players succeeded in baffling the attack. Finally the whistle sounded. The first half ended with the score three to one in favor of the locals. CHAPTER XXVII. A HOT SECOND HALF. “I haven’t found the opening, Tom,” said Fillmore, in a low tone, as he and Hackett rested during intermission. “It will come, though.” “Shame they got that goal!” “That’s right, it was a shame. Know how it happened?” “Why, Merriwell just run right round the whole of you fellows.” “I turned my ankle just as I was jumping to check him,” lied Fillmore. “If it hadn’t been for that he’d never got past me.” “I thought it was remarkable you should let him dodge you that way.” The Harvard and Yale students were singing in chorus when the players returned to the field. They sang: “For Merry’s a jolly good fellow, Merry’s a jolly good fellow, Merry’s a jolly good fellow, Which nobody can deny.” “Wouldn’t that make you sick!” growled Fillmore. “Merriwell gave Harvard more trouble than any other ten Yale men when he was in college, yet here are those Harvard chaps joining the Yale gang in singing his praises.” The teams lined up, and once more Vernell proved his skill at centre by drawing the ball from Hackett, much to the disgust of the latter.