aggering forward.

Peters was yanking him to his feet, a wild-eyed Peters mouthing strange
exultant words. "They can't do it! No, never! Not if they were to try
all night! We put 'em back again, Gilbert! We'll do it again! Come on,
you blue-legged babies! Try it again! You'll never do it!"

Don, dazed, swaying giddily, groped back to his place. Thayer was
muttering, too, now. Don wondered if they were all crazy. He was quite
certain that he was, for otherwise things wouldn't revolve around him in
such funny long sweeps. Then his mind was suddenly clear again. The
Claflin quarter was hurling his signals out hurriedly, despairingly,
fighting against time. Don didn't listen to those signals for he knew
where the attack would come. And he was right, for once more the blue
right guard and tackle sprang at him to bear him back. And then the
runner smashed into sight, wild-faced for an instant before he put his
head down and charged in. But Don didn't yield. Peters, roaring loudly,
was fighting across him, and, front and rear, reinforcements hurled
themselves into the melee. Don closed his eyes, every muscle in his body
straining forward. A roar of voices came to him only dimly. Ages passed.

* * * * *

He wondered if Danny Moore had nothing better to do than eternally swab
his face with that beastly old sponge! Why didn't he pick on some other
fellow? Don felt quite aggrieved and tried to say so, but couldn't seem
to make any sound. Then he realised that he had forgotten to open his
lips. When he did he got a lot of cold water in his mouth and that made
him quite peevish. He tried to raise his right hand, changed his mind
about it and raised his left instead. With that he pushed weakly at the
offending sponge.

"Take it away," he muttered. "I'm--drowned."

"Can you walk or will we carry you?" asked Danny in businesslike tones.

"Walk," said Don indignantly. "Let me up." Recollection returned. "Did
they make it?" he gasped.

"They did not. Lie still a bit."

"Yes, but----" Don's voice grew faint and he closed his eyes again. The
sponge gave a final pat and disappeared. "What--what down was that?"
asked Don anxiously.

"Third."

"Then--then they've got another! Help me up, Danny, will you? We've got
to stop them, you know. I don't believe they--can do it, do you? We put
them back twice, you know."

"Sure you did," said the trainer soothingly. "Here you are, Tim. Take
his feet. And y