it certainly seemed
as though "the stars in their courses" were fighting for the "Greys."

A moment's breathing space, and the fourth quarter opened up. With a
strength born of desperation the teams went at each other hammer and
tongs. The "Greys" were heartened by the good fortune that had declared
so steadily for them and they played like wild men. A brilliant run
around left end netted them twenty yards, and a forward pass gained ten
more. Inspired by their success they "forced" their luck until they were
on the Blues fifteen yard line with the ball in their possession. But
here the Blues braced savagely.

The crowds were standing now and crazy with excitement. The "Grey"
followers shrieked to their favorites to "put it over," while from the
Blue stands their football song came booming from twenty thousand
throats:

"Steady, boys, steady.
You're fighting for your father,
You're fighting for your mother,
You're fighting for your sister,
You're fighting for your brother,
You're fighting for the Blue.
Hit them up, rip them up, tear their line in two.
Steady, boys, steady."

Panting, pale, determined, the team heard, and their muscles stiffened.
Livingston plunged in but was thrown back on his head. Dudley tried and
failed to gain an inch. The line was impregnable, and Ensley dropped
back for a kick. But like lightning, Bert was on him so suddenly that
the ball shot up and back over Ensley's head. Without checking his
speed, Bert scooped it up on the bound and was off down the field.

Such running! It was flying. Its like had never been seen on a football
field. On he went, like a bullet. Down that living lane of forty
thousand people, he tore along, his eyes blazing, his head held high, a
roar like thunder in his ears, while beneath him the white lines slipped
away like a swiftly flowing river. On and on he went, nearer and nearer
to the goal.

Behind him came the "Greys" like a pack of maddened wolves. But the
Blues were coming too. Savagely they hurled themselves on the enemy,
grasping, holding, tackling and brought them to the ground. Then from
the tangle of legs and arms emerged Tom and Dick, and running like the
wind put down the field to the help of their flying comrade.

Victory! Before him was the goal, but twenty yards away. Behind him
pounded his pursuers, who had made up ground while he was dodging. He
co