it was Lake Forest's ball.

"What do you think of that for luck?" growled Slim disgustedly.

"They're sure getting all the breaks," agreed Billy.

"Never mind, fellows!" sang out Melvin. "Buck up. We'll beat them yet."

But the gloom of the Rally Hall rooters became still deeper a few
minutes later, when a beautiful drop kick of Fred's that was going
straight for the goal was blown by a puff of wind just enough to graze
the post on the wrong side.

There was no more scoring in that period, and the quarter ended with
Lake Forest still in the lead.

"Now, fellows," said Melvin, as they came out to do or die in the last
quarter, "it's our last chance. Go at them and rip up their line. Go
through them like a prairie fire. We won't try drop kicking. Even if we
got a goal from the field, they'd still be ahead, and the time's too
short to make two of them. The only thing that'll do us any good is a
touchdown. We _must_ win! Hammer the heart out of them! Tear them
to pieces!"

And the boys responded nobly. They charged hard and played fast. They
plunged into the lines of their opponents like so many wild men. Every
member of the team played as though the victory depended on him alone.
Down the field they went, in one desperate raging charge that carried
all before it. Only once did they fail to make their distance, and even
then they got the ball back promptly.

But time was on the enemy's side. They fought back savagely and
contested every inch. Six, eight, ten minutes went by, while the ball
was traveling down the field, and when the teams faced each other, pale,
panting, covered with dust and sweat, on Lake Forest's ten-yard line,
only three minutes of playing time remained.

All the spectators now were on their feet, yelling wildly, and the
tumult was fearful.

"Brace, fellows, brace!" screamed Eggleston, the Lake Forest captain.
"Throw 'em back! Don't give an inch!"

Melvin selected Fred for the final plunge.

"Go to it, old scout," he said. "This is the third down. For heaven's
sake, make it."

Fred's eyes were blazing.

"Watch me," he said.

Billy made a perfect snap to Melvin, who passed the ball to Fred like a
flash. Haley and Ames made a hole between left guard and tackle, and
Fred, with lowered head, plunged in like a battering ram. The whole team
piled in after him, and when at last he was downed, he had gained six
yards of the coveted space.

Dizzy and bruised, he rose to his feet.

"We've go