The familiar whistle blew again and play was resumed. Tate now defended the north goal, with a little wind at their backs. Trask, standing on his own twenty-yard line, booted a beautiful spiral fifty yards down the field. But half of the value of the long kick was nullified, for Tobey ran the punt back twenty-five yards. Then the Union State march started anew. The Tate linemen were tired. Crew and Waterman, the guards, who had been standing a terrific amount of leg-twisting and other illegalities from their brutal opponents and were outweighed by them fifteen pounds to a man, staggered around almost groggy. Only the double duty stood by big Mershon, the Tate center, an iron man, kept the center of the Tate line from becoming a sieve.
Union State battered their way to Tate's twenty-yard line, but were held for two downs. Then the vistor's quarterback, sensing that the half was nearly over, called upon Swanson again. This time the star drop kicker made good, sending a beautiful effort straight between the goal posts. Concentrated hysteria attacked the Union State stands. Tate was silent. The figure "3" went up opposite the visitors' column on the automatic scoreboard. Before the teams could line up again, the whistle blew to denote the end of the first half.
