ides of the great field poured forth
the resonance of twelve thousand voices, triumphant, despairing,
appealing, inciting, the very acme of sound.

Yet Paul vows that he heard nothing save the beat of Pearse's footsteps
and the awful pounding of his own heart.

On the fifteen-yard line, just to the left of the goal, the critical
moment came. White, with clutching, outstretched hands, strove to evade
Pearse's shoulder, and did so. But the effort cost him what he gained,
for, dodging Pearse and striving to make a sudden turn toward Paul, his
foot slipped and he measured his length on the turf; and ere he had
regained his feet the pursuit passed over him. Pearse met the first
runner squarely and both went down. At the same instant Paul threw up
one hand blindly and fell across the last line.

On the north stand hats and flags sailed through the air. The south
stand was silent.

Paul lay unmoving where he had fallen. Simson was at his side in a
moment. Neil, his heart thumping with joy, watched anxiously from the
bench. Presently the group dissolved and Paul emerged between Simson and
Browning, white of face and stumbling weakly on his legs, but grinning
like a jovial satyr. Mills turned to the bench and Neil's heart jumped
into his throat; but it was Smith and not he who struggled feverishly
out of his sweater, donned a head-harness, and sped on to the field.
Neil sighed and sank back.

"Next time," said Stone sympathetically. But Neil shook his head.

"I guess there isn't going to be any 'next time,'" he said dolefully.
"Time's nearly up."

"Not a bit of it; the last ten minutes is longer than all the rest of
the game," answered Stone. "I wonder who'll try the goal."

"We've got to have it," said Neil. "Surely Devoe can kick an easy one
like that! Why, it's dead in the center!" Stone shook his head.

"I know, but Bob's got a bad way of getting nervous times like this. He
knows that if he misses we've lost the game, unless we can manage to
score again, which isn't likely; and it's dollars to doughnuts he
doesn't come anywhere near it!"

Paul staggered up to the bench, Simson carefully wrapping a blanket
about him, and the fellows made room for him a little way from where
Neil sat. He stretched his long legs out gingerly because of the aches,
sighed contentedly, and looked about him. His eyes fell on Neil.

"Hello, chum!" he said weakly. "Haven't you gone in yet?"

"Not yet," answered Neil cheerfully. "How are