nds?"

"One's ended now," said Honor, bitterly, "and we've lost the ball,--on
our twenty yard line. We've lost the ball."

"Ah, well, my dear, I daresay you'll soon get it back!"

Honor sprang to her feet with a cry which made people turn and look at
her. "Look there! _Look!_ See what they're doing?" One of the Greenmount
players had been called out by the coach and had splashed his way to the
side-lines, to be patted wetly on the back and wrapped in a damp
blanket. That was well enough. That was the usual thing. But the
unusual, the astounding thing was that two of the Greenmount team had
slopped to the side-lines and picked up Gridley, divested now of his
purple sweater, bodily, in their arms, and carried him, dry-shod, over
the slithering mud. Honor gave a gasping moan. "I _knew_...." There was
a dead, sick silence on the bleachers. The rain sluiced down. Somewhere
in a near-by garden another giddy mocking bird sang deliriously in the
stillness. Tenderly as two nurses with a sick man, the bearers set
Gridley down. Slowly, solemnly, he stepped off the distance to the
quarter back; briskly, but with dreadful thoroughness, the men who had
carried him wiped the mud from his feet with a towel and took their
places to defend him from the wild-eyed L. A. men, poised, breathless,
menacing. There was a muttering roar from the bleachers, hoarsely
pleading, commanding--"Block-that-kick! _Block-that-kick!_
BLOCK-THAT-KICK!" The kneeling quarter back opened his muddy hands; the
muddied oval came sailing lazily into them.... There was the gentle thud
of Gridley's toe against the leather, and then--unbelievably,
unbearably, it was an accomplished fact, a finished thing. Gridley had
executed his place kick. They were scored on. It stood there on the
board, glaring white letters and figures on black:

GREENMOUNT 4 L. A. HIGH 0

At first Honor's own woe engulfed her utterly. For the first instant she
wasn't even aware of Jimsy King, standing alone, his arms folded across
his chest, staring down the field; of his men, wiping the mud out of
their eyes and looking at him, looking to him; of the stunned rooters.
But at the second breath she was awake, alive again, tense, tingling,
bursting with her message for them all, keeping herself by main force in
her place. Jimsy King never saw any one in a game; he never knew any one
in a game; people ceased to exist for him while he was on the field. But
to-day, in this difficult