re you go!" razzed Bert, shaking a blackened fist in Mack's face,
"Spilling the bucket again!"

"Shut up, Bert!" snapped Frank. "Signals!"

"Signals!" Bert repeated.

Mack stiffened. Bert was calling the trick play once more on which he
had made the poor toss to Frank. This time the play must be good.
Here they were on Pomeroy's fifteen yard line and fourth down with five
yards to go.

"If I bungle _this_ one...!" Mack thought, and bit his lips.

Berths toss to him was wide but Mack reached out one hand and pulled
the ball to him as he ran. He shot the ball on a quick lateral toss to
Frank and fairly sobbed his relief when he saw that the toss couldn't
have been better. Frank faded, holding the pigskin ready to pass, as
Mack now turned his attention to helping block Pomeroy men who were
trying to get through at him. In this he was successful, going down
under two Pomeroy linesmen as Frank shot a pass low and to the
right--over the end zone. There--racing into the end zone, was right
end Eddie Miller. He touched the ball with his finger tips, juggled
and caught it, being almost immediately buried beneath an avalanche of
tacklers.

"Yea!" roared the Grinnell stands. "A touchdown!"

Pomeroy, a greatly sobered team, lined up in front of its own goal
posts. The team charged viciously and Frank, with Bert upending the
ball, again missed the place-kick for extra point.

Score: Pomeroy, 14; Grinnell, 12.

"Well, we might as well lose by two points as one," philosophized a
Grinnell supporter. "Nice comeback we staged ... but too late to do us
much good. Only four minutes left to play."

Grim-faced Grinnell warriors eyed each other. Could they possibly
regain possession of the ball and drive down the field for a third
touchdown and snatch a victory from almost certain defeat? The odds
were overwhelmingly against them. It had been a most spectacular and
pulsating game from the standpoint of spectator and player alike. Both
teams were now near exhaustion from their offensive and defensive
efforts.

"Brother Carl will certainly know his team's been in a ball game,"
thought Mack, feeling somewhat relieved that he had at last performed
creditably after several wretched blunders. Inwardly, however, there
lurked a condemning conscience which impressed upon him that no
performance save one which might lead to a Grinnell victory could ever
suffice. This feeling took precedence over a flash of satisfaction