was given to Pearse; but
Robinson's new left tackle was a good man, and yard by yard Erskine was
borne back toward her goal. The south stand blossomed anew with brown
silk and bunting.

On her thirty yards Erskine was penalized for off-side and the ball was
almost under her goal. The first fierce plunge of the tandem broke the
Purple line in twain and the backs went through for three yards. Mason
was hurt and the whistle shrilled. A cheer arose from the north stand
and a youth running into the field from the side-line heard it with
fast-beating heart.

"_Erskine! Erskine! Erskine! Rah-rah-rah, rah-rah-rah, rah-rah-rah!
Fletcher! Fletcher! Fletcher!_"

Mason was taken off, protesting feebly, and on the next plunge of the
tackle-tandem Neil, with Pearse behind him, brought hope back to Erskine
hearts, for the "antidote" worked to perfection again. All the pent-up
strength and enthusiasm of Neil's body and heart were turned loose, and
he played, as he had known he could if given the opportunity, as he had
never played before, either at Erskine or Hillton. The spirit of battle
held him; he was perfectly happy, and every knock and bruise brought him
joy rather than pain. His chance had come to prove to both the coaches
and the fellows that their first estimate of him was the correct one.

Robinson made her distance and gained the twenty-yard line by a trick
play outside of left tackle; but that was all she did on that occasion,
for in the next three downs she failed to advance the ball a single
inch, and it went to Erskine. Neil dropped back and the pigskin settled
into his ready hands. When it next touched earth it was in Robinson's
possession on her own fifty yards. That punt brought a burst of applause
from the north seats. Robinson tried tackle-tandem again and Neil and
Pearse stopped it short. Again, and again there was no advance; but when
Neil picked himself out of the pile-up he made the discovery that
something was radically wrong with his right arm and shoulder. He sat
down on the trampled turf to think it over and closed his eyes. He heard
the whistle and Reardon's voice above him:

"Hurt?"

Neil looked up and shook his head. His gaze fell on Simson headed toward
him followed by the water-carrier. He staggered to his feet, Reardon's
arm about him.

"Keep 'Baldy' away," he muttered. "I'm all right; but don't let him get
to me."

Reardon looked at his white face for a second in doubt. Simson was
almost up