more fell back for a kick. This time he got the ball off well and
the opponents went racing back up the field. Hammond's quarter gathered
it in, reeled off some ten yards and was brought down by Warren. Once
again the advance began, but now there were fewer gains through the left
of the brown line; Fernald had found his pace and he and Jack Rogers
were working together superbly. The other side was still vulnerable,
however, and soon, before the fifty-five-yard line had been passed, the
Ferry Hill supporters saw with dismay that Hammond was aiming her
attack, and not without success, at the center of her opponent's line.
Horace Burlen was weakening, and although Fernald and Gallup, on either
side, were aiding him all in their power, Hammond's tandem plunged
through his position again and again for small gains. Bacon's voice,
hoarse and strained, coaxed and commanded, but down to the forty yards
went the cherry and black, and from there to the thirty-five, and from
there, but by shorter gains now, to the thirty.

"Hold 'em! Hold 'em! Hold 'em!" was the cry from the wavers of the brown
and white banners. But it was far easier said than done. Once more
within sight of a score, Hammond was desperately determined to reach
that last white line. To the twenty-five yards she crept, and then she
was almost to the twenty. A long plunge through center and the fifteen
was close at hand. And then, while the wearied and battered defense
crawled to their feet, a whistle shrilled sharply and the half was over!
And Jack Rogers as he limped across the trampled turf to the bench
thanked his star for the timely intervention.

The players disappeared through the gate to the gymnasium, followed by
Mr. Cobb and a handful of graduates. On the other side of the gridiron
the Hammond warriors, wrapped in their red blankets, sat in a long row
and were administered to by rubbers and lectured by coaches. On the
Ferry Hill side the boys were singing the school song and interspersing
it with cheers and blasts of tin horns. Chub sought out Roy.

"Everybody says you'll go in this half," he whispered. "If you do, sock
it to 'em!"

"I won't get in unless Forrest does," answered Roy.

"Well, he's sure to, isn't he? Why, Horace is almost done up already!"

"Maybe, but ten minutes of rest brings a fellow around in great shape,
and I wouldn't be surprised if he lasted the game out."

"Last nothing! Look at the way Hammond was plowing through him! Say,