swept forward.
It was a privilege to be in such a game, to feel the common frenzy,
the awakened glance of battle that showed down the line. Dink, side by
side with Tough McCarty, thrilled with the same thrill, plunging ahead
with the same motion, fighting the same fight; no longer alone and
desperate, but nerved with the consciousness of a partner whose
gameness matched his own.

For thirty yards they carried the ball down the field, before the
stronger Andover team, thrown off its feet by the unexpected frenzy,
could rally and stand them off. Then an exchange of punts once more
drove them back to their twenty-five-yard line.

A second time the Andover advance set out from the fifty-yard line and
slowly fought its way to surrender the ball in the shadow of the
goalposts.

Stover played on in a daze, remembering nothing of the confused shock
of bodies that had gone before, wondering how much longer he could
hold out--to last out the game as the captain had told him. He was
groggy, from time to time he felt the sponge's cold touch on his face
or heard the voice of Tough McCarty in his ear.

"Good old Dink, die game!"

How he loved McCarty fighting there by his side, whispering to him:

"You and I, Dink! What if he is an old elephant, we'll put him out the
play."

Still, flesh and blood could not last forever. The half must be nearly
up.

"Two minutes more time."

"What was that?" he said groggily to Flash Condit.

"Two minutes more. Hold 'em now!"

It was Andover's ball. He glanced around. They were down near the
twenty-five-yard line somewhere. He looked at McCarty, whose frantic
head showed against the sky.

"Break it up, Tough," he said, and struggled toward him.

A cry went up, the play was halted.

"He's groggy," he heard voices say, and then came the welcome splash
of the sponge.

Slowly his vision cleared to the anxious faces around him.

"Can you last?" said the captain.

"I'm all right," he said gruffly.

"Things cleared up now?"

"Fine!"

McCarty put his arm about him and walked with him.

"Oh, Dink, you will last, won't you?"

"You bet I will, Tough!"

"It's the last stand, old boy!"

"The last."

"Only two minutes more we've got to hold 'em! The last ditch, Dink."

"I'll last."

He looked up and saw the school crouching along the line--tense drawn
faces. For the first time he realized they were there, calling on him
to stand steadfast.

He went back, meeting the rush t