he very fiber
of his being, he dived forward to meet the onward rush. Still with
that new, stimulating sense of support where none had been before, his
outstretched hands gripped like tentacles around sturdy legs. There was
a heaving, churning motion; then the compact mass of players toppled
over, and he knew that they had succeeded.

Nor was it a solitary advantage. Unobserved by Tompkins, the whole line
had been slowly stiffening. Slowly, gradually, the other holes had
been closed up and the advance checked. When the kick put the ball in
their possession, a new spirit animated Troop Five. Scattered no longer,
but welded by stern necessity into a single unit, they forgot their
handicap, forgot that the minutes of the final quarter were speeding
in mad flight, forgot everything but the vital need of breaking through
that line of blue and carrying the fight toward those distant goal-posts
that loomed so far away.

Forming up swiftly, they swept forward for a gain of eight yards.
Before the opposition recovered from their surprise, they had passed
the fifty-yard line.

Here the blues rallied, and for a space the two lines surged back and
forth in the middle of the field. It was a period of small gains and
frequent punts, when neither side held the ball long, nor the advantage.
Thrilled by their success, exhilarated by that strange new sense of
comradeship with the boy beside him, Dale fought fiercely, heedless
of the shock of bodies, of pain, of weariness, of blinding sweat, or
hard-won breath. His only worry was a growing fear that they would not
have time to score, and this had only just begun to dominate him when the
unexpected happened.

They were battling on the enemy's forty-yard line. It was Troop One's
ball, and they had tried to force a gain through center. Shoulder to
shoulder, Ranny and Dale plunged forward to meet the rush. The advance
checked, Tompkins gained his feet swiftly and thrilled to see the
precious ball rolling free not a dozen feet away.

With a gasp he lunged for it and scooped it up without slackening speed.
At almost the same instant Ranny Phelps shot out of the scrimmage as if
propelled from a catapult, and a moment later the two were thudding down
the field, a stream of players trailing in their wake.

Dale caught his breath with the stinging realization that their chance
had come--their only chance! There were but two men between them and the
coveted goal, the full-back, and nearer, an