te, the ball was blocked
and McBride fell on it behind the goal line, scoring a touchdown for
Yale, and making the score 6 to 5 in favor of Princeton.

Believe me, the Yale spirit was running high. The men were playing like
demons. Here was a team that was considered a defeated team before the
game. Here were eleven men who had risen to the occasion and who were
slowly, but surely, getting the best of the argument.

Gloom hung heavy over the Princeton stand. Defeat seemed inevitable. Of
eleven players who started in the game on the Princeton side, eight had
been incapacitated by injuries of one kind or another. Doc Hillebrand,
the ever-reliable, All-American tackle, had been compelled to leave the
game with a broken collar-bone just before McBride made his touchdown.

I remember well the play in which he was injured and I have
resurrected a photograph that was snapped of the game at the moment that
he was lying on the ground, knocked out.

[Illustration: HILLEBRAND'S LAST CHARGE]

Bummie Booth, who had stood the strain of the contest wonderfully well,
and had played a grand game against Hale, gave way to Horace Bannard,
brother of Bill Bannard, the famous Princeton halfback of '98.

It was no wonder that Princeton was downcast when McBride scored the
touchdown and the goal was about to be kicked.

Just then I saw a man in football togs come out from the side lines
wearing a blue visor cap. He was to kick for the goal. It was an unusual
spectacle on a football field. I rushed up to the referee, Ed
Wrightington of Harvard, and called his attention to the man with the
cap. I asked if that man was in the game.

"Why," he replied with a broad smile, "you ought to know him. He is the
man you have been playing against all along, Gordon Brown. He only ran
into the side lines to get a cap to shade his eyes."

I am frank to say that it was one on me, but the chagrin wore off when
Brown missed the goal, which would have tied the final score, and robbed
Princeton of the ultimate victory.

The tide of battle turned toward Yale. Al Sharpe kicked a goal from the
field, from the forty-five yard line. It was a wonderful achievement.
It is true that circumstances later substituted Arthur Poe for him as
the hero of the game, but those who witnessed Sharpe's performance will
never forget it. The laurels that he won by it were snatched from him by
Poe only in the last half-minute of play. The score was changed by
Sharpe's goal fr