rlwind.
Livingstone kicked off, and the outhouse scrum was on the ball in a
minute. For a second the House pack was swept off its feet, and during
that second Fitzgerald had dribbled to within ten yards of the line.
Foster made a splendid effort to stay the rush, and flung himself on the
very feet of the opposing forwards. But the check was only momentary;
the forwards rolled on, and it was only on the very line that Lovelace
rushed across, and falling on the ball, held it to him, till the House
forwards had time to come round. But the rules lay down that a player,
as soon as he has fallen on the ball, must get off it at once. Lovelace
realised that if he did so, a try would be inevitable. He hung on like
grim death, praying that the referee would not see. Before half the
House forwards had formed round, the whistle blew.

"Free kick to the School. You musn't lie on the ball like that,
Lovelace." The referee was not blind.

Anxiously the House lined up and waited for the kick. Livingstone had
converted nearly every goal on the Colts' games the term before. It was
a trying moment. He seemed to take hours placing the ball correctly.
There was an absolute hush as he ran up; then a great sigh, half of
relief, half of disappointment, burst from the touch-line. The ball rose
hardly six feet from the ground, and sailed harmlessly towards the
School House line. And then Turner made a mistake that he cursed himself
for ever afterwards. All that was necessary to do was to let the ball
bounce, and then touch down. But as the ball sailed towards him, Turner
was suddenly possessed with the longing to do something brilliant. He
was last man on the list, and had only been put into the side at the
last moment, owing to another forward stopping out. It was not
unnatural. He caught the ball.

"You blasted fool," yelled out Richards, "for God's sake find touch."

Turner lost his head. He gave a mild punt down field, and before the
House had realised what was happening, Wilkinson had caught the ball,
and dashed over the line between the posts. This time Livingstone made
no mistake. 8-3.

For the next five minutes the House side was entirely demoralised.
Nothing went right. The forwards did not keep together. Gordon cursed
foully, and only made matters worse. Lovelace's kicks only found touch a
few feet down the line. Richards rushed up and down fuming, and upset
everyone. It was due only to a miracle and some fine work by Foster that