play--everybody!" cried Collingwood
appealingly; he went about slapping his men on the back. "Now
then--twelve, thirty-seven, eighteen."
There was a surge forward, a quivering, toppling mass that finally fell
indecisively. No one knew whether the ball had been pushed across or
not. No one wanted to get up for fear it might be pushed one way or the
other in the shifting.
Barclay and Randolph, who was umpire, began summarily dragging the
players from the pile, hauling at an arm or a leg; at last Dennison was
revealed at the bottom hugging the ball--and it was just across the line.
Then all the St. Timothy's players capered about for joy, and the
spectators shouted as triumphantly as if it had been the St. John's
game; the Harvard team ranged themselves quietly under the goal.
Dennison kicked the goal, and the score was tied.
For the next ten minutes neither team succeeded in making much progress.
St. Timothy's were playing more aggressively than in the first half;
twice Kenyon, the Harvard halfback, started to skirt round Lawrence's
end, but both times Baldersnaith, the St. Timothy's tackle, broke
through and dragged him down. Baldersnaith, Dennison, Morrill, and
Collingwood were especially distinguishing themselves for the School.
At last, after one of the scrimmages, Dennison got up, hobbled a moment,
and then sat down again. Collingwood hurried over to him anxiously.
"Wrenched my ankle," said Dennison. "I guess I'll be all right in a
moment."
Waring, the Fifth Former, who acted as water-carrier, ran out on the
field with his pail and sponge. Mr. Barclay examined the ankle, then
turned to Collingwood.
"I think he could go on playing," he said. "But if I were you I'd take
him out now and save him for the St. John's game. You don't want to risk
his being laid up for that."
Dennison protested, but Collingwood agreed with Mr. Barclay. He turned
and called, "Westby"; and as Westby ran out, Dennison picked himself up
and limped to the side-line.
It was Harvard's ball in the middle of the field. Though it was only the
first down, Ballard dropped back to kick.
"Now then, Wes, hang on to it," Collingwood cried as he and Westby
turned and ran to their places in the back field.
Westby had a faint hope that the kick might go to Collingwood; he didn't
feel quite ready yet to catch the ball; he wanted to be given a chance
to steady down first. But he knew that was exactly what the Harvard
quarterback inten
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