Straight to mid-field she went, Broadmoor fighting hard but unsuccessfully to stay the rush. Hoskins swept across the half-way line with a twelve-yard forward-pass, sent an end around the enemy’s left for six more, and finally made it first down on the Broadmoor’s thirty-seven. The minutes were ticking away fast, but not fast enough for the watching friends of the home team. Up on the top row of the wind-swept east stand, Zo Fessenden shook with cold and excitement. Many of his erstwhile companions had deserted him for the more sheltered ground below, and now he was able to lay his instrument beside him and, his hands in his pockets, stamp and shiver and shake unencumbered. His teeth chattered whenever he parted them to cheer or groan. Just now groans were more frequent than cheers, for the east stand had grown ominously silent. There was something so inexorable in the way in which the enemy tore off her gains that even the optimistic grew faint-hearted. Broadmoor was fighting gallantly, savagely, yielding ground grudgingly enough, but Broadmoor appeared to have lost some of her coherence; some of her spirit, too; and while the west stand kept up an unceasing riot of sound, the efforts of the Broadmoor cheerleaders met with but a sorry response. Once it was necessary to measure with the chain to determine whether or not Hoskins had gained her distance, but Fate was good to her and the referee waved her on. Every one realized that Hoskins would not try for a field-goal short of a fourth down, for a field-goal would only tie the score and Hoskins ached for a victory. And so when she presently went through the motions of staging a try from placement, none of the enemy team was fooled and the wide run around the end that eventuated was stopped for a yard loss. This time Broadmoor had something to cheer for, and she made the most of the opportunity. Yet, before she had ceased, Hoskins had punched through Ellingham for three more. Goof, weary and battered, was called out and Hal Stearns went in. Sinclair, too, was taken out, but despite the fresher warriors Hoskins crept on to the sixteen. It was as though the defenders sensed defeat then. In spite of Captain Buck’s entreaties, in spite of Ike Boardman’s threats, in spite of themselves, discouragement weakened the efforts of every player. They didn’t mean to weaken, didn’t want to, didn’t know that they did, but the fact that they had lost faith in themselves was evident. It was evident even to Zo, shivering up there in the chill gloom of early twilight. Zo saw and realized and hated the knowledge. He shouted encouragement at the height of his shrill young voice, not caring that he shouted almost alone. He saw the invader draw closer and closer to that distant last white line, and so, finally, driven to it by some inner impulse, with trembling fingers he opened the case beside him, lifted out his violin, and, standing, drew the bow across the strings.