If Wimbledon was especially strong anywhere, it was in the line, where they had more beef than Lenox. The ease with which the distance had been made was a surprise to the Wimbledon rooters, who shouted hoarse demands for their line to brace. It was a surprise too to Sykes and his confederates. But it was no surprise to Garry Grayson, who chuckled in his sleeve. The signals he had called had been misinterpreted by the fellows who were in the secret on the other side. Where they had looked for an attack through the left, it had been made on the right, and vice versa. Consequently, the Wimbledon players massed where it would do no good, and left their line thin at the real point of attack. But the visitors braced savagely on the next play, and for a time held their own. Nick and Rooster pierced the line for small gains only, and Knapp was forced to punt. He boomed the ball away to Ford, the Wimbledon quarterback. He caught the ball on his ten-yard line, but succeeded in running it back only three yards before he was downed hard by Bill Sherwood. On Wimbledon's first play there was a fumble, and Chambers fell on the ball on his own three-yard line. From behind his goal line he tried to throw a forward pass to Chambers, but it was intercepted by Tom Allison, who was forced out of bounds on Wimbledon's twenty-five-yard line. Sherwood jammed his way through the line for three yards. Nick tried to bore through between right end and tackle, but was thrown for the loss of a yard. Knapp made but two on the left of the line. With fourth down and six yards to go, Garry signaled that he himself would carry the next ball. On the new system that Wimbledon was relying on, that signal stood for a forward pass. The Wimbledon backs fell back in consequence to kill the play. But Garry snatched the ball the instant it was passed back to him, tucked it under his arm, and was off like a rocket around right end. He straight-armed two tacklers and sped to the Wimbledon three-yard line before he was downed while the stands shook with the cheers of the Lenox rooters. With their goal line threatened, the visitors' line stiffened and held Knapp in his tracks on the first down. Rooster, however, made two. And then, with one mad plunge, Bill Sherwood bored through for the second touchdown of the game. Nick missed the point for goal and the score stood 13 to 0 in favor of Lenox. From the stands went up a booming chant: "Lenox! Lenox! Len, Len, Len! Put the skids under Wimbledon. Show those ginks that you weigh a ton. Lenox! Lenox! Len, Len, Len!" In the two minutes of play that remained no more scoring was done by either side, and the ball was in midfield when the period ended. "I guess we're bad, eh!" grinned Rooster to Garry, as the warriors of both sides lay sprawled on the ground for the brief rest between periods. "Their fellows seem to be badly rattled," remarked Nick, in a puzzled way. "Haven't you fellows tumbled yet?" chuckled Garry.