Away bounded the pigskin. A Nordham player, foiled a moment before, was in the path of the ball. Those who saw the incident declared that the red-stockinged chap hardly had to stretch out his hands, that the ball actually bounced into his arms! In any case, having got it, he knew what to do. Off he went on a wild effort to cover the seventy-odd yards between him and Yardley’s goal. Behind him the Yardley players, aghast at the sudden turn of fortune, trailed in desperate pursuit. Fayette led the pack, and for a time it seemed that he might reach the runner before the last white streak was crossed. But twenty yards from the goal Fayette gave out and was passed by Plant who, in turn, for a moment raised Yardley hopes. But Plant was heavy, and the streak down the field told on him before he could reach the Nordham runner, and the latter staggered over the line, reeled behind a post and fell on top of the ball in the very middle of the goal, subsequently turning calmly over on his back and losing all interest in events for a minute. The tackle that had dislodged the ball from Kendall’s grasp had been a terrific one, and even the most disappointed spectator grudgingly acknowledged that to have clung to a wet pigskin after such collision with the ground would have been almost impossible. Breathless and dazed, with his left arm filled with tearing pains, Kendall climbed to his feet in time to see the Nordham runner settle into his stride. Doggedly Kendall joined the pursuit, but a dozen steps was all he could manage. Having by then reached a nice pool of water he sank down into it, clasped his left wrist with the other hand and came so near fainting that it almost turned him sick. For a moment no one noticed his collapse. Then Pete Girard went to his assistance, somewhere a whistle blew, and Andy Ryan, the water pail slopping beside him, raced on. A big wet sponge was swashed over Kendall’s face and he opened his eyes. Girard, kneeling across his thighs, was pumping his arms, and at every moment the left one hurt excruciatingly. Kendall tried his best to keep his lips tight, but in spite of him a moan got by, and Andy’s eyes flashed hither and thither and his cunning fingers began a quick search over the boy’s ribs. “Where does it get you?” demanded Andy. Kendall shook his head. Merriwell and some others had come up, and Kendall could hear their hoarse breathing. “Can you stand up?” demanded Andy suspiciously. Kendall doubted it, but he nodded. “I――I’m――all right,” he whispered. Girard and another lifted him, and again Kendall winced. Andy, watching, pounced upon him again.