tt defense. Five, ten,
fifteen yards were reeled off on every play. Time was called while the
Elliott line was patched up by three substitutes. But with play
resumed, the Delmar steam roller continued unaffected on its way,
rumbling and pounding over the ground which separated it from the
Elliott goal. Six minutes of play remained as the country's leading
football eleven drew up for a first down on their stubborn opponent's
ten yard line.

"Touchdown, Delmar!" called its six thousand rooters, uttering the
first real blast of sound which had come from the stands all day.

Up in the Elliott section a white-lipped girl strained forward,
silently intreating. Her face was tear-streaked. There was something
desperately compelling about her attitude. The spectre of defeat to
her was as grim as the spectre of death. Almost unconsciously her lips
parted and she started to sing in a low, wavering voice:

"John Brown's body lies a mould'ring in the grave ..."

Spectators on either side of her looked at the girl queerly as if they
thought she had suddenly gone out of her head.

"John Brown's body lies a mould'ring in the grave,"

Now some of the people near her became conscious of a strange, tingling
sensation that seemed to cut to their very marrow as the voice, gaining
in strength so that it carried out over the stand, repeated once more:

"John Brown's body lies a mouldering in the grave,"

And, in a magnetic sort of way there arose a spontaneous response of
voices from all parts of the stand, joining in on the next line:

"His soul goes marching on!"

Down on the gridiron, their bodies weary from battle, crouched the
battered Elliott eleven. The players glanced up curiously as the first
swells of the song reached them. Then they were seen to stiffen as the
chorus, gaining volume, chanted out to them:

"Glory, glory hallelujah!
Glory, glory, glory hallelujah!
Glory, glory hallelujah!
His soul is marching on."

The Delmar line crashed forward and the man with the ball dashed around
the end. But he got little more than started when it seemed as though
the entire Elliott team had torn through and nabbed him. There was a
roar in the stands and the great crowd was on its feet, men with their
heads uncovered, while the song leaped to the lips of all and welled
into a mighty dirge as the girl--lifted to the shoulders of those
nearby--led by a waving of her arms.

"The stars of heaven are