"Wait," replied Phil. His bronze face was strangely white as he tore the envelope and hastily read the few words on the paper within. He seemed to sway, but, with a catch of his breath, he recovered his composure. He read the message again. A mist seemed to come before his eyes. He murmured to himself: "I mustn't tell them--until after the game--I--I must play the game out. But--but can I?" He clenched his hands, and his jaw became more square with the force of his teeth closing tightly together. "Any answer?" asked the lad. "No!" said Phil in a low voice, and he crushed the telegram in his hand, and thrust the rustling paper inside his jacket. The lad turned to go, anxious to get a place where he could view the game. None of Phil's companions seemed to have noticed that he had received a message. He looked around at his chums. "I--I've got to play the game," he murmured. The next instant the whistle blew. "Line up!" came the cry, and Snail Looper, holding the new yellow ball, placed it on a little mound of earth ready for the kick-off. CHAPTER XXXIV THE GAME With a mighty swing of his foot Snail Looper sent the ball well into Boxer territory. Lamson, their right half-back, caught it in his arms, and, with a good defense, began to rush back with it. Over the chalk-marks he came, but Tom Parsons was rushing toward him, and dodging through the intervening players he made a vicious tackle, bringing Lamson to the ground with a thud on Boxer's thirty-eight-yard line. There was a quick line-up, and Stoddard, the full-back, made a good try to encircle Joe Jackson at right end. But the Jersey twin and his mates piled up on the mass of Boxer players with such good effect that hardly three yards were gained; and at this showing of the defense of Randall a punt was decided on. Pinstock, Boxer's left half-back, made a magnificent drive, and Holly Cross had to skip nimbly back to catch it. But once he had the pigskin in his grasp he eluded the Boxer ends, and was well toward the center of the field before he was downed. "Our ball!" cried Tom gleefully, and then there came the chance for Randall to show what she could do. "Signal!" cried Phil, and his companions wondered at the odd note that had crept into his voice. It was not of the confident style of orders that the quarter-back was wont to give. But, as the string of numbers and letters came rattling out, Phil, in a measure, recovered control of himself. He gave the word for Kindlings to take the ball at Boxer's left-end, and smash! into the line went the brawny right half-back. He gained ten yards so quickly that Boxer Hall was fairly stunned, and when Holly Cross ripped out eight yards additional the crowd of Randall supporters were in a mad frenzy of delirious joy. "Swat 'em! Swat 'em! We have got 'em!" howled Bean Perkins, and forth from hundreds of throats came booming that song.