ird touchdown! Score, Canton 14;
Trumbull 0. Drake's well trained toe had added the extra point after
the second touchdown also.

"So far the game looks like a one man offensive and the advantage of
weight," Coach Little told his players between halves. "Stop this
fellow Drake and you'll stop their drive. They're using him because
they have to depend upon straight football and he's the strongest man
in their backfield. The chances are that Canton will play a defensive
game from now on and you must take the offensive in order to win.
You've got everything against you today but one thing ... and that's
spirit. Any team that can put up the fight you have out there every
minute of the half need not be discouraged. Don't think about the
score. Concentrate on every play ... put everything you have in it ...
and the score will take care of itself..."

The coach sent the same lineup back into the game.

Rudolph, swathed in blankets, sat near Judd, who watched him out of the
corner of his eye. He noticed that Rudolph kept his attention centered
on every move of the game. Canton kicked off, and it was Trumbull's
ball on Trumbull's thirty yard line. Rudolph's lips moved at each
calling of the signals. Judd unconsciously got to doing the same
thing. Every time Blackwell's number was called he imagined that he
was Blackwell and followed the play through in his mind. Blackwell was
holding up ... he was good for short gains almost every time he took
the ball. But after each run he dragged himself back into position and
scraped the mud from his feet as though each sticking clod held him
back.

Rudolph nudged Judd after a play in which Blackwell's fatigue was most
evident. "You'll get your chance pretty soon ... he's about all in!"

The blood went racing to Judd's head. The entire game had been thus
far like a disconnected dream to him. It had been difficult to
actually associate himself with it.

"My ... my chance!" he faltered.

Rudolph nodded ... then clutched Judd's sleeve. "See ... Blackwell's
looking this way ... we've got to kick ... and ... he can't!"

The field seemed to blur out of Judd's vision. There was a sickening
buzzing in his head ... he looked at Rudolph with undisguised horror on
his face.

"Me ... me ... go in ... there?"

Rudolph gave him a look of scorn and threw aside his blankets. Coach
Little came up, slapping Judd on the back. "You're taking Blackwell's
place, Billings ..."