icked the ball was
near the northern side, too far away to interfere, and Lamar, the
runner, covering the ground like a deer, hugged the southern line.

"There were only two men in his way, and they made the mistake of
keeping too close together, so that, as Lamar neared them, he made a
superb dodge and slipped by both of them at once. Now he had a clear
field before him, but with forty yards yet to go.

"How he ran! He had lost some time in the dodging and twisting, and now
the whole Blue eleven were thundering at his heels. He could hear their
panting as they sought to close in on him. The nearest one was not more
than five feet away. He let out a link and fairly flew. The white lines
of the field fell away behind him. One more tremendous effort by pursuer
and pursued, and just as eager hands reached out to grasp him, he
flashed over the goal line for a touchdown. Suddenly, brilliantly,
inconceivably, the 'Greys' had won the game.

"Were we sore? We felt like draping the college buildings with crepe. To
have had victory right within our reach and then to have had it snatched
away in that fashion! Poor old Peters was fairly sick over it. I suppose
to this day he has never forgiven himself for that sportsmanlike
instinct.

"But nobody blamed him. The crowd took their medicine. Strictly
speaking, I suppose it was foolish. As was said of the charge of the
Light Brigade that 'it was magnificent but it was not war,' so, no
doubt, many thought of Peters' move that although generous it was not
football. Still the finest things in human life are often the 'foolish'
things. At any rate, it enriched the history of the game with one of the
most dashing and spectacular plays ever made.

"Those pesky 'Greys'," he mused. "They were always doing things like
that. They had a fellow once that was always starting the fireworks. Poe
was his name--a relative, by the way, of Edgar Allan Poe. I remember
once, when with just one minute left to play and the ball thirty yards
from our goal line, he dropped back for a kick and sent the ball sailing
over the line for the goal that won the game. You've heard no doubt the
song that the gloating 'Greys' made to immortalize a run down the field
that he made on another famous occasion:

& never mortale Manne shall knowe
How ye Thynge came about--
But from yt close-pressed Masse of Menne
Ye Feet Balle poppeth oute.

& Poe hath rushed withi