and the long, deliberate cheer, majestic in its intensity of sound,
crashed across the space, rebounded from the opposite stand, and went
echoing upward into the clear afternoon air.

"Harwell!" muttered Joel. "_You Bet_!" Then he gathered with the others
about Dutton to listen to that leader's last instructions. And at the
same moment the east stand broke into cheers as the gallant sons of
Yates bounded on to the grass. Back and forth rolled the mighty torrents
of sound, meeting in midair, breaking and crashing back in fainter
reverberations. They were singing the college songs now, and the merits
and virtues of both colleges were being chanted defiantly to the tunes
of popular airs. Thousands of feet "tramp-tramped," keeping time against
the stands. The Yates band and the Harwell band were striving, from
opposite ends of the field, to drown each other's strains. And the blue
and crimson fluttered and waved, the sun sank lower toward the western
horizon, and the shadows crept along the ground.

"There will be just one more score," predicted the knowing ones as they
buttoned their ulsters and overcoats up at the throat and crouched along
the side lines, like so many toads. "But who will make it I'm blessed
if I know!"

Then Harwell lined up along the fifty-five-yard line, with the ball in
their possession, and the south goal behind them. And Yates scattered
down the field in front. And the linesmen placed their canes in the
turf, the referee and the umpire walked into the field, and the stands
grew silent save for the shrill voice of a little freshman on the west
stand who had fallen two bars behind in "This is Harwell's Day," and
needs must finish out while his breath lasted.

"Are you all ready?" asked the referee. There was no reply. Only here
and there a foot moved uneasily as weights were thrown forward, and
there was a general, almost imperceptible, tightening of nerves
and muscles.

And then the whistle blew.

CHAPTER XXIV.

HARWELL _VS_. YATES--A FAULT AND A REQUITAL.

The kick-off came into Blair's ready arms, the interference formed
quickly, and the full-back sped down the field. One white line passed
under foot--another; Joel felt Blair's hand laid lightly upon his
shoulder, and ran as though life itself depended upon getting that
precious ball past the third mark. But the Yates ends were upon them.
Joel gave the shoulder to one, but the second dived through Kingdon, and
the runner came to e