ks."

"Indeed I do!" murmured Tom, clenching his fists, and almost deciding
to challenge Sam. But he knew a row would do no good, and would only
hurt his case; so he kept silent.

"Line up!" came the call, and with the last of the preliminaries the
practice balls were called in, and the new, yellow one placed on a
little mound of earth in the center of the field.

There was that ever-inspiring thrill as the spheroid was booted high
into the air. Tom had the luck to grab it and then, with fairly good
interference, he dashed down the field.

"Stick to him, boys! Stick to him!" yelled the captain as he raced
onward. But some of the Holwell school players broke through, and Tom
was thrown heavily.

"Now, boys, tear 'em up!" entreated Morse, as the first scrimmage was
to come. Sam began on a signal that would have sent Tom through guard
and tackle, but Morse, hearing it, quickly stepped to the quarterback,
whispering:

"Not yet! Tom's too winded. Give him a chance to get his breath. Try
a forward pass."

Sam scowled, but he had to obey. It had been his intention to play Tom
fiercely until, out of weariness, our hero would have been [missing
words] or would have played so raggedly that he would be sent to the
side lines. But Sam's plan was frustrated.

The forward pass was not much of a success, and a fake kick was called
for. This netted a slight gain and then Morse again whispered to Sam.

"Let Tom take the ball through now."

The signal was given, and, with head well down, Tom hit the opposing
line on the run. It held better than he had expected it would, and he
was dizzy with the shock, but he had made a good gain, and there came a
yell of delight from the supporters of Elmwood Hall.

Then the game sea-sawed back and forth, with matters a little in favor
of Tom's team.

"Get a touchdown! Get a touchdown!" pleaded the captain.

"By Jove I will!" thought Tom, grimly. "If I only get half a chance."

He got it a moment later. A fake kick was called for, but there was a
fumble, and Tom grabbed up the ball on the bounce. Tucking it under
his arm, he ran for a hole he spied in the other line. Hands reached
out for him, but he eluded them, and the fullback of Holwell, having
been drawn in fatally close, was not able to stop our hero, who was
running well.

"Touchdown! Touchdown!" screamed the crowd, as Tom sprinted over mark
after mark.

"I'll do it!" he cried fiercely.

Now the other play