by Kendall, nailed the runner prettily four yards back of the
line to the triumphant paeans of the south stand.

When the teams had again lined up Foster dropped back as though to try a
kick for goal, a somewhat difficult feat considering the angle. The
Robinson captain was alarmed; he was ready to believe that a team who
had already sprung one surprise on him was capable of securing goals
from any angle whatever; his voice arose in hoarse entreaty:

"Get through and block this kick, fellows! Get through! Get through!"

"_Signal_!" cried Foster. "_44--18--23!_"

The ball flew back from Stowell and Foster caught it breast-high. The
Erskine line held for a moment, then the blue-clad warriors came
plunging through desperately, and had Foster attempted a kick the ball
would never have gone ten feet; but Foster, who knew his limitations in
the kicking line as well as any one else, had entertained no such idea.
The pigskin, fast clutched to Paul's breast, was already circling the
Brown's left end. Devoe had put his opponent out of the play, thereby
revenging himself for like treatment in the first half, and Pearse, a
veritable whirlwind, had bowled over the Robinson left half. There is,
perhaps, no prettier play than a fake kick, when it succeeds, and the
friends of Erskine recognized the fact and showed their appreciation in
a way that threatened to shake the stand from its foundations.

Paul and Pearse were circling well out in the middle of the field toward
the Robinson goal, now some thirty yards distant measured by white
lines, but far more than that by the course they were taking. Behind
them streamed a handful of desperate runners; before them, rapidly
getting between them and the goal, sped White, the Robinson captain and
quarter. To the spectators a touch-down looked certain, for it was one
man against two; the pursuit was not dangerous. But to Paul it seemed at
each plunge a more forlorn attempt. So far he had borne more than his
share of the punishment sustained by the tackle-tandem defense; he had
worked hard on offense since the present half began, and now, wearied
and aching in every bone and muscle, he found himself scarce able to
keep pace with his interference.

He would have yielded the ball to Pearse had he been able to tell the
other to take it; but his breath was too far gone for speech. So he
plunged onward, each step slower than that before, his eyes fixed on the
farthest white streak. From three s