Frantically the Breage men piled on the heap, but of no avail, for there crept at that moment from the mound a great hulking form with the ball. He was on his feet the next instant and speeding away toward town, cheered on by the dogs and light brigade and spectators. The Breage captain, with an oath of rage, hurling to right and left, like feathers, his own and the school men that impeded him, leaped upon the brawny runner's shoulders and sought to bring him to earth; but though hampered, the Helston runner strode on. Now, like the phalanx of an army, the school men spread out, and with blocking tactics, withheld those that would follow. On went the runner, unimpeded, save by the human burden on his shoulders, the Breage captain, who in vain sought to drag him down. The ascent to old St. Michael's was reached at last, and up went the runner, striding on. It was harder progress now, but the open church door was near. Another few yards and the game was won. He is there at last. The runner's arm shoots out. The Breage captain strives in vain to catch and deter the aim, but the ball is gone, flung with unerring hand straight through the open tower door. The victory was won. Helston school had wiped out the score against Breage. What cheers and what bravos resounded on all sides! The bells of old St. Michael's pealed out in concert with the acclamations of the people. The Breage crew were humiliated, especially the captain, but on every other countenance there was the gladness of victory won. A feast was held in the school that night on a part of the prize money. Jordan was master of ceremonies. Around him clustered the warriors of the day, their garments, wet and soiled, now changed to clean and dry. With his arm extended for silence, he exclaimed: "Who saved the day and brought in the ball with the Breage captain on his back? Who saved the game?" "Dick Thomas!" was the roaring answer. "Here's a huzza for Old Ironsides!" shouted another. The cheer was given and the toast followed, and then they sang, "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow." "A speech, Dick," shouted some one. Dick arose and there was more cheering. "Well, I don't know whether old Dick Dullhead can make a speech." Here there were protests of "No Dullhead any more, but Old Ironsides." "Well, I want to drink a toast and I want you all to drink the same. Here's to the fellow that made Dick Dullhead a name and fellow of the past, and made me Dick Ironsides instead. Here's to the one that trained all of us so faithfully and well that each one of us had the swiftness, strength, and endurance to win the game. Here's to the fellow that so trained me that I was able to carry both ball and Breage captain to the goal. Here's to our valiant captain, Ande Trembath." There was a storm of cheers as they responded; but where was Ande?