The scrub, by dint of extraordinary hard work, managed to keep the ball for a considerable time, making the necessary gains by rushes. "We must hold 'em, fellows!" pleaded Phil, and Captain Holly Cross added his request to that end, in no uncertain words. Shipman, the scrub quarter, passed the pigskin to his right half-back, and the latter hit the line hard. Phil Clinton, seeing an opening, dove in for a tackle. In some way there was a fumble, and Phil got the ball. The next instant Jerry Jackson, who was on the 'varsity, slipped and fell heavily on Phil's right shoulder. The plucky quarter-back stifled a groan that came to his lips, and then, turning over on his back, stretched out white and still on the ground. "Phil's hurt!" cried Holly Cross. "Hold on, fellows!" Tom bent over his chum. He felt of his shoulder. "It's dislocated," he said. "We'd better get the doctor for him, Holly." CHAPTER VIII LANGRIDGE AND GERHART PLOT "Some of you fellows run for Dr. Marshall!" called Mr. Lighton to the throng that gathered about the prostrate lad. "I'll go," volunteered Joe Jackson. "No, let me," said his twin brother. "It was my fault. I slipped and fell on him." "It wasn't any fellow's fault in particular," declared the captain. "It was likely to happen to any one. But suppose you twins both go, and then we'll be sure to have help. If Dr. Marshall isn't in the college, telephone to Haddonfield for one. Phil's shoulder must be snapped back into place." As the twins started off Phil opened his eyes. "Hurt much, old chap?" asked Tom, holding his chum's hand. "No--not--not much," but Phil gritted his teeth as he said it. His shoulder, with the bunch of padding on it, stood out oddly from the rest of his body. "Put some coats under him," ordered the coach. "Shall we carry you inside, Phil?" "No; don't move me. Is my arm broken?" "No; only a dislocation, I guess. You'll be all right in a few days." "Soon enough to play against Boxer Hall, I hope," said Phil with a faint smile. "Of course," declared the coach heartily. "We'll delay the game if necessary." "Here comes Dr. Marshall," called Ed Kerr, as the college physician was seen hurrying across the campus, with the Jersey twins trailing along behind. The doctor, after a brief examination, pronounced it a bad dislocation, but then and there, with the help of the captain and coach, he reduced it, though the pain, as the bone snapped into place, made Phil sick and faint. Then they helped him to his room, where he was soon visited by scores of students, for the quarter-back was a general favorite. "Now I think I will have to establish a quarantine," declared Dr. Marshall, when about fifty lads had been in to see how the patient was progressing. "I don't want you to get a fever from excitement, Clinton. If you expect to get into the game again inside of two weeks, you must keep quiet."