When the third period began it was evident even to the lay eye that Broadmoor had changed her tactics. With the wind favoring her to some extent, she started a kicking game as soon as Murray had booted the ball from mid-field to the waiting hands of Demille. Tip Cartright kicked on second down from Broadmoor’s fifteen yards, the wind carrying the ball out of bounds on the enemy’s forty-two. Tip’s punts were not all perfect, but, aided by the quartering breeze, he managed to make many of them difficult to catch. Finally, Broadmoor having reached Murray’s eighteen yards, Haviland and Demille were called on, and after the former had lost a six-yard gain because an end had been caught off-side, Cartright faked a forward-pass and Demille, on a Statue-of-Liberty play, scuttled around the left wing and went across just inside the boundary. But Broadmoor had to be satisfied with six points, for Murray broke through savagely and blocked Tip’s try-for-point. The quarter ended after two more plays and the teams changed sides. Cartright showed wear now, and his return punts, made only when all other methods had failed, were becoming short or erratic. With Murray in possession well inside Broadmoor territory, and some six minutes of the fifteen left, disaster came. Punting from his thirty-three, he sent the pigskin almost straight into the air and the wind caught it, played with it a moment and then dropped it close to where it had started from, and Murray lined up on Broadmoor’s thirty-eight yards on first down! A gangling green-stockinged youth romped on from the side-line and took over the left half’s head-guard and office, and then things began to happen. The gangling youth turned out to be a specialist in pulling forward-passes out of the air. He could do it in more ways and from more positions than Barry, watching anxiously from the bench, had thought possible. Murray gained seven yards and then five with his help. An end run added three and then the specialist took a short heave over center and laid the ball on Broadmoor’s nine yards. From there a quarter-back run took it to the five-yard line. Murray faked a place-kick and shot the ball far across the field to the demon left half and with no one near to challenge him, he seemed to have a touchdown for the taking. But Fate took a hand. Somehow, as he ran backward, arms stretched out for the catch, he stumbled, and, although he instantly recovered, the ball only tipped his fingers and grounded. CHAPTER XII CLYDE ASKS A FAVOR Over at the Broadmoor bench Major Loring sprang to his feet, sent his gaze along the line of huddled forms, and called, “Locke!” Startled, Barry pushed his head from his blanket, like an inquiring turtle, saw, and answered. The Major led him toward the end of the bench, a hand on his arm.