still. Would
it clear the cross-bar? It seemed scarcely possible, but even as despair
seized him, for an instant the bar came between his straining eyes and
the dropping ball!

A figure with tattered purple sleeves near at hand leaped into the air,
waving his arms wildly. On the stand across the field pandemonium
broke loose.

Neil closed his eyes.

A moment later Simson found him there, sitting on the thirty-five-yard
line, one arm hanging limply over his knee, his eyes closed, and his
white face wreathed in smiles.

Erskine 10, Opponents 6, said the score-board.

CHAPTER XXIV

AFTER THE BATTLE

"You'll not get off so easily this time," said the doctor.

"No, sir," replied Neil, striving to look concerned.

He was back on the couch again, just where he had been four weeks
previous, with his shoulder swathed about in bandages just as it had
been then.

"I can't see what you were thinking about," went on the other irritably,
"to go on playing after you'd bust things up again."

"No, sir--that is, I'm sure I don't know." Neil's tone was very meek,
but the doctor nevertheless looked at him suspiciously.

"Humph! Much you care, I guess. But, just the same, my fine fellow,
it'll be Christmas before you have the use of that arm again. That'll
give you time to see what an idiot you were."

"Thank you, sir."

The doctor smiled in spite of himself and looked away.

[Illustration: Erskine vs. Robinson--The Second Half.]

"Doesn't seem to have interfered with your appetite, anyhow," he said,
glancing at the well-nigh empty tray on the chair.

"No, sir; I--I tried not to eat much, but I was terribly hungry, Doc."

"Oh, I guess you'll do." He picked up his hat; then he faced the couch
again and its occupant. "The trouble with you chaps," he said severely,
"is that as long as you've managed to get a silly old leather wind-bag
over a fool streak of lime you think it doesn't matter how much you've
broke yourselves to pieces."

"Yes, it's very thoughtless of us," murmured Neil with deep
contriteness.

"Humph!" growled the doctor. "See you in the morning."

When the door had closed Neil reached toward the tray and with much
difficulty buttered a piece of Graham bread, almost the only edible
thing left. Then he settled back against the pillows, not without
several grimaces as the injured shoulder was moved, and contentedly ate
it. He was very well satisfied. To be sure, a month of invalidism was
not a ple