its on the stone step.

The day was made for such a game. There was no wind. The glare of the
sun was tempered by a gray mist creeping up the afternoon skies. The
air was crisp enough to prevent languor. The crowded bleachers were
inspiring; the season was rounding out in a blaze of glory for Sunrise.
The two teams were evenly matched, And the stern joy that warriors feel
In foemen worthy of their steel,
spurred each to its best efforts. It was a battle royal, with all the
turns of strategy, and quickness, and straight physical weight, and
sudden shifting of signals, fake plays, forward passes, line bucks, and
splendid interference, flying tackles, speedy end runs, and magnificent
defense of goals with lines of invincible strength and spirit.

With the kick-off the enemy's goal was endangered by a fumbled ball,
and within three minutes Trench had torn a hole in the defense, through
which the Sunrise team were sending Vic Burleigh for a touchdown. The
bleachers went wild and the grandstand was almost shipwrecked in the
noise.

"Burleigh! Burly! Burlee!" shrieked the yell-leader as Vic leaped over
the goal line and the rooters roared:

The Sunrise hope!
And that's the dope!
Never quails!
Never fails!
Burleigh! Burly! Burlee!

A difficult kick from a sharp angle sent the ball through the air one
inch wide of the goal post, and the bleachers counted five.

And then, came the forward swing again, the struggle for downs, the
gain and loss of territory, until Trench, too heavy for speed, failed
to break through the interference quickly enough to hold a swift little
quarterback, who slipped around the end of the line, and, shaking off
the tackles, swooped toward the Sunrise goal. The last defense was
thrown headlong, and the field was wide open for the run; and the
quarterback was running for the honor of his team, his school, his
undying fame in the college world. Three yards to the goal line, and
victory would be his. All Lagonda Ledge held its breath as Vic
Burleigh tore through a tangle of tackles and sprang forward with long,
space-eating bounds. He seemed to leap through ten feet of air, straight
over the quarterback's head and land four feet from the goal with the
quarterback in his grip, while a Sunrise halfback out beyond him was
lying on the lost ball.

The bleachers now went entirely mad, for from the very edge of disaster,
the tide of battle was turned into the enemy's