"

Back went the ball, but not to McClure. The quarter had it and was
stepping back out of the path of the plunging players. Then his arm shot
out and off went the ball, arching to the left, over the end of the
battling, swaying lines, straight and far and true to where a lithe
figure stood with upraised hand near the Blue's ten-yard line. Too late
Claflin saw her error. Steve ran a step forward, felt the pigskin
settle into his outstretched hands, whirled on his heel and sped toward
the goal-line. The Claflin right end was almost on him as he crossed the
five-yard mark, but when desperate arms settled about Steve's legs and
brought him crashing to earth he was well over that last white line and
the day was won! Frantic blue-stockinged youths dropped mercilessly down
upon him and drove the breath from his body, in his ears was a wild and
terrific clamour of frenzied joy and faintly a whistle shrilled. Steve,
his nose buried in the soft sod, clutched the ball tightly beneath him
and smiled in the darkness.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE CHUMS READ A TELEGRAM

The tumult was over, although from the Row came at times a wild shout of
exultation from some enthusiastic youth. In 12 Billings, Steve and Tom
were dressing for the banquet. There was no feverish hurry in their
movements. Tom sat for minutes at a time with a shirt draped across his
knees and smiled fatuously through swollen lips. There was plenty of
time. The banquet was not to be until seven, and it was now still but a
little past six. When they spoke they spoke slowly, lazily, as though
nothing much mattered, as though Fate had given them everything they
wanted and nothing was left to be desired. Steve, dreamily slipping a
belt through the loops of his best trousers, said:

"Tom, when I look at you I'm ashamed of myself. There you are with a
face like a war map and one leg all bunged up, and here am I without a
scratch. I've got a bum wrist, but it doesn't show." And Steve scowled
at the offending member.

Tom grinned. "You can have my mouth if you want it," he said. After a
minute he spoke again. "I was glad about Benson," he said.

Steve nodded. "So was I."

Tom laughed. "Yes, you looked it!"

"Well, I didn't know why Robey was taking me out, of course. It seemed
after I'd made that touchdown that he'd ought to let me play the game
out. Benson was rather--rather pathetic when he hobbled on. I'm glad
he's got his letter, though."

"Yes, and there's on