There was no more scoring in that half, although the North Siders were threatening High School’s goal when the whistle blew. Undismayed, the audience from across the river consumed peanuts and popcorn and enjoyed themselves noisily. Nostrand returned Gage to the line when play began again and put Burns in for Sawin at right half. Getting the pigskin on the kick-off, North Side, with one or two substitutes in her line, returned to her line-bucking tactics, evidently resolved to tire out and wear down the High School defense. Wightson was the marvel of that contest. How he could perform the work that was given to him and keep on his feet, no one understood. He was always good for a short gain and seldom failed to get clear of the first defense. Only the fine work of McCoy and Burns, the latter returned to the backfield on account of his defensive ability, saved the day time after time, for, once free, the big Welshman could never have been stopped. Pete Farrar, with his one hundred and forty-odd pounds, would have been tossed aside like a chip had he ever been called on to get between Wightson and the goal line! Now and then, but infrequently during the first three periods, Larue was called on, but for the most part it was the Welshman who took the ball and banged himself, head down, against the opposing line, much as an enraged bull might have assaulted a stone wall. High School was fortunate in being able to know beforehand pretty well where the attack was coming, since Danny Shores had but few plays and those were not difficult to guess, and so was able to put her backfield defenses where it would do the most good. But for all of that, their line was showing wear and tear before that third quarter was over. North Side did not deliberately “mix it up,” and only one penalty was meted out to her because of unnecessary roughness, but her savage and desperate attacks were bound to tell. Fudge was wearing a bloody nose, which gave him a most disreputable appearance, and several other linemen showed marks of battle when the third quarter ended. By that time the North Side supporters had become impatient and were howling for a touchdown, calling on the players individually to distinguish themselves. “Get into ’em, Billy! What you scared of?” “Eat ’em up, Pat! Show us what you know!” “Give us a touchdown now! Are you goin’ to let ’em lick yer?” “Where’s yer fight, Terry? Kill ’em, boy, kill ’em!” “Give us a score, Danny! Let’s do ’em up, now.”