oyd
had hurt his knee and Chamberlain came running out to take his place.
Instead of reporting to the referee, he spoke first to one of his
comrades, and for this violation of the rules the Blues were penalized
five yards. A moment later they lost five more through off-side play by
Warren. Ten precious yards thrown away when every one was beyond price!
And now the jubilant "Maroons" were within fifteen yards of the goal,
and their partisans were on their feet yelling like wild men.

Panting, crouching, glaring, the two teams faced each other. The
"Maroons" consulted for a moment. Should they try a kick for goal,
yielding three points if successful and tieing the score, or buck the
line for a touchdown which would put them in the lead? The first was
easier, but the latter more profitable if they could "put it over." They
might never be so near the line again, and they thought that they saw
signs of wavering among the Blues. They decided then to try for the
greater prize and buck the line.

Berriman, their halfback, bowled over Chamberlain for a gain of four
yards. Richmond tried to make a hole between Dick and Tom, but was
nailed without a gain. Once more Berriman ploughed in between Warren and
Chamberlain, which seemed to be the weakest part of the defense, but,
anticipating the move, Bert had posted himself there and, meeting the
rush halfway, dumped Berriman on his head. As he fell, the ball slipped
from his hands and Tom, quick as a cat, picked it up and twisting,
dodging, squirming, scuttled down along the southern line. Burke flung
himself at him in a flying tackle and grabbed one leg, but the runner
shook him off and, with his momentum scarcely checked flew down the
field, aided by superb interference on the part of Drake and Axtell,
who bowled over the "Maroon" tacklers like so many ninepins. He had made
thirty-five yards and was going like the wind when, in eluding the
outstretched arms of Miller, he slipped in a pool of mud and water and
went down, skating along on his nose for several yards, while the whole
"Maroon" team piled over him. But his nose guard had saved him from
injury and, when the wriggling mass was disentangled, it was found that
he still had the ball. He wiped the mud from his face and grinned
happily while his mates gathered round him and billows of cheers swept
down from the Blue stands, frantic with delight at the brilliant run.

"Splendid, old boy!" cried Bert, slapping Tom on the back. "