stretched
his arms--no one ever knew what that cost him!--and trotted around a few
steps. Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the coach say
something to Pryme, saw the disappointed look on the substitute's face
and was half sorry for him. The whistle blew again and Don was crouching
once more beside Thursby--why, no, it wasn't Thursby any longer! It was
Peters, stout, complacent Peters, wearing a strangely fierce and ugly
look on his round countenance!

"Now hold 'em, Brimfield!" chanted McPhee. "Hold 'em hard! Don't let
them have an inch!"

Far easier said than done, though! A quick throw across the end of the
line, a wild scramble and jumble of arms, a faint "_Down!_" and, at the
right end of the Brimfield line, a mound of bodies with the ball
somewhere down beneath and to all appearances across the goal line!
Anxious moments then! One by one the fallen warriors were pulled to
their feet while into the pile dove the referee. The timekeeper hovered
nearby, watch in hand. Then the referee's voice:

"Claflin's ball! First down! A foot to go!"

"Line-up! Line-up!" shrieked the Claflin quarter. "We've got time yet!
Put it over!"

"Fight, Brimfield!" shouted Steve Edwards. "There's only forty seconds!
Hold them off! Don't let them get it! Tom! Peters! Don! Get into it
now!"

"Signals! Signals!"

Then a moment of silence save for the gasping breath of the players. The
Claflin quarter shouted his signals, the ball sped back, the lines
heaved. Straight at the left guard position plunged the back. "_Stop
him!_" growled Peters. The secondary defence leaped to the rescue. Back
went the man with the ball. "_Down!_" he cried in smothered tones. The
referee pushed in and heeled the mark.

"Second down! A foot and a half to go!"

Don knew now that if he had fooled Danny Moore he had not fooled the
Claflin quarter-back. That quarter knew or guessed that he had been hurt
and was playing for him. Don gritted his teeth and ground his cleats
into the sod. Well, they'd see!

The signals again, broken into by Steve Edwards's shrill voice in wild
appeal. Steve was wellnigh beside himself now. Peters was growling like
a bear in a cage. Then again the plunge, hard and quick, the whole
Claflin backfield behind it! Don felt an intolerable pain as he pushed
and struggled. Despair seized him for an instant, for he was being borne
back. Then someone hurtled into him from behind, driving the breath from
his lungs, and he was st