g to himself, "I can! ... I can!" cut through the muddy
turf. Barley spilled the interference and once more Judd tore into
Drake, bringing the big fellow down. But Drake had gained five yards.

Third down and three to go! Canton tried a line play. Trumbull held.
Drake fell back to kick. Judd retreated to Trumbull's thirty yard line
to play for the punt.

The pigskin came spinning through the heavy air toward him. He had run
forward about five yards to get under it. He made the catch but
slipped and fell as he started forward. As he got to his feet two
Canton tacklers hit him. When Judd got up he was conscious of a sharp
pain in his right knee. Time out was taken while he paced about,
testing his foot to the ground.

Barley, supporting him, said in a whisper: "Tough luck, old man.
You're putting up a great game. They wouldn't be in it if it wasn't
for their man Drake ... we've got just seven minutes ... I'll tell you
what I'm going to do ... I'm going to give you the ball practically
every play and we'll hand them some of the same medicine they've been
feeding us!"

"I--I don't believe I can do you much good," faltered Judd.

Barley grinned. "Where do you get that stuff? Anyone who can stop
that bird Drake can hit the line ... How's your knee ... better?"

The referee's whistle sounded. Judd became conscious of the wild
entreaties of the Trumbull crowd. They still had faith in their team
... they knew the boys would do their best ... and now was the time
when Trumbull must fight the hardest.

He nodded. On the first play Barley, at quarterback position, smacked
the ball against his stomach as he came pounding through. Judd hit the
line; it wavered; he went through; his feet scraped against the
slippery sod; bodies struck him ... hands clutched at him ... but he
kept on going as long as he could feel earth beneath him. When he
found himself back in position and got his bearings he discovered that
he had made seven yards! His team-mates were exuberant. There was a
wild motley of sounds from the sidelines.

Once more he felt the ball in the hollow of his arm, finding himself
plunging around the end with his hand against Barley. He saw a tackler
and pushed Barley into him ... then cut in, stumbling as he did so, to
avoid another muddy face which leered before him. Judd ran for ten
yards before he was dragged to the ground....

The game became just one run after another; it seemed like he was