opponents' goal and victory.

Onward, onward, inch by inch, first down, five (this was the day of
unreformed football), second, three, third, one yard to gain, while the
"Tigers" shouted "Ho-o-old 'em! Ho-o-old 'em!" in desperation. On the
ten-yard line, indicated by stakes driven in the ground at each side of
the field, the lighter eleven braced for a last stand. As the
"Jeffersons'" youthful quarter attempted to pass the ball, Silvey broke
through and knocked the pigskin from his hands towards John, who grabbed
it and ran to the other end of the field for the one and decisive
touchdown of the game.

"Time," called Silvey, striving vainly to make himself heard above the
exultant shouts. "Time, I tell you!" Captain Shultz of the "Jeffersons"
drew out a watch, borrowed from a friend for the occasion, and compared
it with the one in Bill's possession.

The game was over and the "Jeffersons" had lost.

The victors swaggered woodenly around by the ice cream soda shop and art
stores to the home street. No cutting across the tracks for them now;
this was a march of triumph! The vanquished trailed sulkily along, some
twenty feet behind, giving vent now and then to cat-calls of defiance
and disgruntled suggestions that the game would have ended differently
if this or that member had played better. At the corner, Silvey turned.

"We licked you!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "We licked you! We
licked you!"

Shultz raised his voice above the clamor of his team. "Just wait until
we catch you alone. You'll be sorry!"

John shrugged his shoulders. "We'll all stick together coming home from
school. And if they catch just one of us, why, we can maul them, too."
For Shultz's declaration meant that the guerrilla warfare was in full
swing again.

Sid's muscles stiffened and his back began to ache. Silvey owned a
discolored spot over one eye where an opponent had tried to disable him
during a tense moment of the game. John's shin was badly bruised, and
Perry Alford had wrenched his ankle. The other members had minor hurts.
Only Red Brown had, by some miracle, come through the battle unscathed.

"We won," said Silvey happily, as they stopped in front of his house.
"Come on, now, all together!"

They broke into the "Tigers'" exultant war cry, which is very much the
same as that of the football team to which you belonged as a boy:

Sis-boom-bah!
Sis-boom-bah!
"Tigers," "Tigers,"
Rah, rah, rah!

Then they