ntly clear.

The Don resigns the ball to the captain and falls in behind. Every man
is wet, panting, disfigured, but eager for the fight. Again the scrim
forms, only to fall upon the ball.

"Dead ball," announces the referee, and both teams begin to manoeuvre
for advantage of position. A few inches is a serious thing.

Again the ball is placed and the men throw themselves upon it, Shock as
usual at the bottom of the heap with the ball under him.

Old Black runs up through the crowd and whispers in Campbell's ear,
"Put Balfour and Martin in the scrim. They are fresher." He has noticed
that the scrim line on both sides is growing stale, and can do no more
than grimly hold on. At once Campbell sees the wisdom of this
suggestion. The Don, though not so heavy as Shock, is quite as strong,
and is quicker than the big centre, who is beginning to show the effect
of the tremendous series of scrimmages he has just passed through.
Martin, though neither so strong nor so heavy, is like an eel.

Quietly Campbell thrusts the halves into the first line on the right,
whispering to Shock, "Let Balfour have it, and back him up."

As The Don gets the ball Campbell throws himself behind him with the
yell, "'Varsity! now!" At the same instant The Don drops the ball, and
with the weight of the whole team behind him begins to bore through the
enemy.

For a few moments both teams hang in the balance, neither giving an
inch, when old Black, yelling and waving wildly, attracts the attention
of Bate.

"Go in!" he cries. "Go in!" and Bate, coming up with a rush, throws
himself behind the scrim.

His weight turns the scale. Slowly at first, but gaining momentum with
every inch, the mass yields, sways, and begins to move. The McGill men,
shoving, hacking, scragging, fighting fiercely, finally dropping on
their knees, strive to check that relentless advance. It is in vain.
Their hour has come.

With hoarse cries, regardless of kicks and blows, trampling on
prostrate foes, and followed by a mob of spectators tumultuously
cheering, the 'Varsity wedge cleaves its way, till on the other side
The Don appears with the ball hugged to his breast and Huntingdon
hanging to his throat. A final rush and the ball is down. "The ball is
down!" cries the referee, and almost immediately time is called.

The great match is over. By four points 'Varsity holds the championship
of the Dominion.

"The greatest match ever played on this ground," cries old Bl