eight yards nearer Hillton's
goal, and Barnard lay still on the ground.

Whipple held up his hand. Thistelweight--a youth of some one hundred and
forty pounds--struggled agitatedly with his sweater and bounded into the
field, and Barnard, white and weak, was helped limping off. For awhile
St. Eustace fought shy of right-guard, and then again the weight of all
the backs was suddenly massed at that point, and, though a yard
resulted, the crimson wearers found cause for joy, and a ringing cheer
swept over the field. But Littlefield at left-guard was also weakening,
and the tackle beside him was in scarce better plight. And so, with
tandem on tackle, wedge, or guard back, St. Eustace plowed along toward
the Hillton goal, and a deep silence held the field save for the squad
of blue-decked cheerers on the seats.

Remsen looked at his watch. "Eighteen minutes to play," he announced
quietly. Blair nodded. He made no attempt to disguise his dejection.
Clausen heard, and suddenly turned toward the coach. He was pale, and
Remsen wondered at his excitement.

"Can't we tie them, sir?" he asked breathlessly.

"I'm afraid not. And even if we could they'd break loose." Clausen paid
no heed to the sorry joke.

"But they'll win, sir! Isn't there anything to do?" Remsen stared. Then
he smiled. "Failing an extraordinary piece of luck, my lad, we're
already beaten. Our line can't hold them; we have no one to kick, even
should we get a chance, and--"

"But if Blair was there, sir, or March?"

"It might make a difference. Hello! there they go through tackle-guard
hole again. Lord, six yards if an inch!" Blair groaned and rolled over
in despair. The whistle sounded, and as the pile of writhing youths
dissolved it was seen that Tom Warren was hurt. Out trotted the rubber.
The players sank exhausted to the ground and lay stretched upon the
sward, puffing and panting. Two minutes went by. Then Whipple called
for Clausen.

"Clausen," cried Remsen turning, "go in and--" But Clausen was not to be
seen. "Clausen!" cried a dozen voices. There was no response, and Browne
was taken on instead, and Warren, with an ankle that failed him at every
step, struggled off the field.

"What's become of Clausen?" asked Remsen. But no one could answer.

The play went on. With the ball on Hillton's twenty-yard line a fumble
gave it to the home team, and on the first down Browne gathered it in
his arms and tried to skirt St. Eustace's left end, but was th