owly Andy got up from behind the Harvard goal line. The other player
who had tackled him, but too late, himself arose. His face was white and
drawn, not from any physical pain, though the fall of himself and Andy
had not been gentle. It was from the sting of defeat.

"Well--well," he faltered, gulping hard. "You got by me, old man!"

"I--I had to," gasped Andy, for neither had his breath yet.

The other players came crowding up.

"It'll be the dickens of a job to kick a goal from there with that
wind," spoke the Yale captain. "But we'll try it."

The whistle ending the game had blown, but time was allowed for a try at
kicking the ball over the crossbar. A hush fell over the assemblage
while the ball was taken out and the player stretched out to hold it for
the kicker. The referee stood with upraised hand, to indicate when the
ball started to rise--the signal that the Harvard players might rush
from behind their goal in an attempt, seldom successful, to block the
kick.

The hand fell. There was a dull boom. The ball rose and sailed toward
the posts as the Harvard team rushed out. And then fate again favored
Yale, for a little puff of wind carried the spheroid just inside the
posts and over the bar. The goal had been kicked, adding to Yale's
points. She had won.

Once more the cheers broke forth, and Andy's team-mates surrounded him.
They slapped him on the back; they called him all sorts of
harsh-sounding but endearing names; they jostled him to and fro.

"Come on, now!" cried the Yale captain. "A cheer for Harvard! No better
players in the world! Altogether, boys!"

It was a ringing tribute.

And then the vanquished, tasting the bitterness of defeat, sent forth
their acclaim of the lads who had bested them.

Andy found himself in the midst of a mad throng, of which his own mates
formed but a small part, for the field was now overflowing with the
spectators who had rushed down from the stands.

Some one pushed a way through and grabbed Andy by the hand.

"You did it, old man! You did it!" a frantic voice exclaimed. "I give
you credit for it, Andy!"

Andy found himself confronting Chet.

"I told you we'd win," answered Andy, with a laugh.

"Yes, but you never said you were going to do it yourself," spoke Chet,
ruefully.

"Come on, fellows, up with him!" called the quarterback, and before Andy
could stop them they had lifted him to their shoulders, while behind the
students had formed themselves into a