It took all the permitted time to bring Johnny back to normalcy, during which a steady uproar arose from the Broadmoor side of the field. Along the side-line over there Ike Boardman was sprinting up and down. But presently Ike resumed his blanket, for Johnny wasn’t at all dead. Third down now and still almost five to go; and Hoskins, pushed back to her twenty-five-yard line, desperately resolved to take no more fooling! Once again Johnny’s hoarse voice called, “Locke back!” and Barry took up his position close to the thirty-five. Hoskins, puzzled, doubting, watched sharply. The ball went to Barry and he swung his leg. But not until he had made a lateral pass to Larry Smythe. Barry didn’t see much of the ensuing events, for he was on his back for several instants. When he found his feet again, Larry was just rolling across the goal-line in the farther corner of the field. A Hoskins player rolled with him, while several more seemed extremely disturbed because they had arrived just too late to take part in the frolic! Pandemonium broke loose and Broadmoor cheers filled the air. Eleven gray-jerseyed youths cavorted about the trampled turf, one of them indulging in a series of startling handsprings,――it was Leary, who was talented that way,――and a referee with carefully expressionless countenance deposited the ball in front of the goal on the three-yard line. Perhaps Johnny should have chosen to add the point by a drop-kick or placement; or even by a forward-pass; but Johnny felt pretty cocky just then, pretty confident, and he handed the ball to Ira Haviland and Ira took a plunge at the Hoskins line. When the dust of battle had somewhat settled it became apparent that Ira had fallen just two inches short of his goal! The big full-back acted then as if he had foully murdered his aged grandmother, or indulged in some equally reprehensible crime, and would not be comforted. All the way back up the field he kept muttering: “Two inches! Two inches!” And sometimes: “Wouldn’t that make you sick?” The fact that the score-board displayed a big 6 opposite the word Broadmoor, while the corresponding space below was still empty, brought him no joy now. “Two inches!” Hoskins kicked off, Ellingham caught the weak attempt, and a whistle blew. The half was over. Walking across the turf to the gymnasium, Barry was a prey to conflicting emotions. Broadmoor had scored, and for that he was glad indeed. But, although he had played a full five minutes and had five times stood in kicking position, only a measly yard or so was to his credit! He was a punter, and they hadn’t let him touch a foot to the ball! There was something wrong there. Joy was heavily tinctured with regret! CHAPTER XXV ZO PLAYS