all they could do to hold their own. At last, however, the
first team had got the ball down within ten feet of their opponents'
line, and the ball had been passed to Tom Eldridge for one determined
attempt to "get it over."

The scrubs braced savagely, but Tom came plunging in like a locomotive.
There was a wild mix-up as his adversaries piled up on him, and when the
mass was untangled, Tom lay on the ground with a badly sprained ankle.
He tried to rise, but sank back with a groan.

They lifted him up, and he stood on one foot, with his arms on their
shoulders. Professor Raymond, who had the oversight of athletic sports,
came hurrying up and examined the injury. All were immensely relieved
when they learned that there were no bones broken, but became grave
again when the professor said that the sprain was a bad one and would
probably lay Tom up for a couple of weeks.

"Just before the Lake Forest game, too!" exclaimed Ned Wayland. "I tell
you, it's tough."

"We're goners now!" moaned Slim Haley.

"Not by a jugful," put in Tom, between whom and Fred the rivalry had
been of the most generous kind. "I never saw the day when I could play
better football than Fred Rushton. He'll play the position to the
queen's taste."

"Nonsense," said Fred. "You can put it all over me, Tom. I'm awfully
sorry you got hurt."

Professor Raymond insisted that Tom should be carried at once to the
school, where he could have his injured ankle attended to properly. The
boys cheered the lad as he was taken away, and then Granger turned to
Fred.

"You take his place, Fred," he said, "and show these fellows from
Missouri what you can do."

And Fred showed them. He was a little nervous at first as he felt all
eyes following him, but, in the excitement of the game, this wore off,
and he played like a fiend. He was here, there and everywhere, dodging,
twisting, running like a deer, bucking the line with a force that would
not be denied. Twice he carried the ball over the line for a touchdown,
and before his onslaughts the scrubs crumpled up like paper. It was some
of the finest playing that Rally Hall had ever seen, and when the game
was ended, he was greeted with a tempest of cheers. He had "made good"
beyond a doubt.

"Fred, you played like a wild man!" said Melvin, as they were walking
back to the Hall after the game. "You're all to the mustard. Keep it up
and we'll lick Lake Forest out of their boots!"

CHAPTER XIX

THE MAN W