Wyndham’s chance didn’t come along until the period was twelve minutes old. Then desperate, but still believing in its ability to even the score, “Sim” Jackson, who had spent the third quarter on the bench, dug deeply into his small bag of tricks and, finding nothing much there, used what was left. It wasn’t much of a trick, either, but it served. The Fighting Scrub tore itself literally in half and the two halves hugged the side-lines. The ball went with the left portion of the team. Wolcott moved this way and that, momentarily at a loss how to meet the extraordinary formation. That wide-open space in the middle of the field held a strong attraction for the visitor, and, although it finally divided its defense just as Wyndham had divided its attack, it was evident that the opening was much on its mind. The handful of Wolcott adherents and players on the side-line howled derision. Then “Wink” passed the ball at an angle to Heard, a back across the field started with the ball and ran toward his own goal, and Wolcott became loudly vocal with warnings and advice and swarmed in the direction of the ball. Heard stepped back and back, facing the middle of the field. Then, when further delay meant danger, he swung half about and threw the ball to his left. Jeff Adams, who had skirted around close to the side-line and was now well away, put up a pair of long arms and a pair of large, eager hands and plucked the ball out of the air. After that, very soon after, he set out for Wolcott’s goal as though he had important business somewhere in its vicinity! But, although Jeff had a fair start, he wasn’t swift enough to cover fifty-odd yards before the enemy overtook him. He did consume thirty-three or possibly thirty-four, however, and when a fleet-footed, brown-legged enemy banged him vindictively to earth he was on Wolcott’s twenty-one! That bang was temporarily too much for Jeff and time was called while he was induced to put some air back into his lungs. Then, with the few Wyndham rooters that were present dancing about and waving sweaters and howling ecstatically, the Fighting Scrub returned to its struggle. It was fighting now not only against Wolcott but against time, for the final whistle wasn’t far off. Every one knows that you can’t use a trick play like that “split team” twice in succession and get away with it. Sim Jackson knew it. So he tried it again!