ywhere in the opposing line, and only
the handicap of a high wind and the brilliant work of three or four
individuals kept them from scoring in the first quarter.

That such a calamity could be long prevented seemed impossible to Dale.
He greeted the intermission with a sigh of thankfulness. Brief as it
was, it was a respite. Sherman's bitter, stinging onslaught on the team
passed almost unheeded by the anxious tackle. He was thinking of the
three remaining quarters with a foreboding that made him oblivious to
all else.

To be sure, when play was resumed, the fellows seemed to show a slightly
better spirit. It was as if the first dim realization of their errors
was being forced upon them. But they had been split apart so long that
they seemed to have forgotten how to work together in that close-knit,
united manner which alone could make any head against these particular
opponents. Time and time again they were driven back to the very
shadow of their goal-posts, where, stung by shame or the lashing
tongue of their captain, they rallied long enough to hurl back the
attack a little, only to lapse again when the pressing, vital need
was past.

Then, toward the very end of that second quarter, when Tompkins was
just beginning to hope again, the thing he had dreaded came suddenly
and unexpectedly. Some one blundered, whether Slater, or Torrance,
or Ted MacIlvaine, the boy did not know. With a last swift rush the
blue-clad interference charged at the right wing, through it, over it,
and, hurling aside all opposition, swept resistlessly over the last
six yards for a touchdown. They missed the goal by a hair, but that did
not lessen the sense of shock and sharp dismay which quivered through
the line of their opponents.

Dale Tompkins took his place after the long intermission, a dull, bitter,
impotent anger consuming him. He was furious with the fellows who by
their incredible stupidity were practically throwing away the game.
He even hated himself for seeming to accomplish so little; but most of
all he raged at the blond chap next to him. Some of the others were at
least trying to get together, though their lack of practice made the
effort almost negligible. But Ranny Phelps remained as coldly aloof,
as markedly determined to withhold support and play his game alone as he
had been in the beginning.

It made a hole in the line which could not escape the attention of the
opposing quarter-back. Already he had sent his format