And then, suddenly enough, the ball worked loose and a Rainhurst man, bearing down upon it, had gathered it into his arms and was away. Smythe was out of position and he had a clear field. Coles sped diagonally across the field and with a gallant effort almost reached him, but the Rainhurst man had too great a pace and escaped by inches. As he ran he looked urgently for his partner. Not only his own centre but the whole of the Rainhurst line were with him. He glanced along it delightedly, saw it moving with him at top speed, and then he looked ahead. There was only one man to pass—a tired man, discoloured with the stain of battle. One man against a line. He ran in a little, ready for a swerve, prepared to pass. The one man watched him as he came with glassy eyes. The moment came. Rouse moved to make his tackle. As he did so the Rainhurst man flung the ball towards the centre, and in that moment he realised his mistake. In those precious seconds that Rouse had had in which to make his quick decision he had realised that, with a complete line running with him, the man with the ball would not attempt to get through on his own. It was an isolated case in which he would be justified in not tackling that man. Once he, the last line of defence, was down and out of action, the Rainhurst line were through and a try was a virtual certainty. He had bent to a dummy tackle, then straightening instantly he sprang into the air and intercepted the pass. Next second he was away with it on his chest. In that moment the little world around the field went wild. The whole of the Rainhurst line had passed him and were looking back dazedly over their shoulder. Before him the field of play opened out, and he saw that the way was clear. Until he had summoned his utmost speed he looked neither to right nor left, but when at last he was running as only a man extended to the last degree can run he glanced around for aid, and it was there. Terence was sprinting beside him like one possessed, and his voice rang wildly across the open: “With you! With you!” It was enough. Rouse turned again to his front and called out one extra yard of inhuman pace. He knew now that he was not alone. The day was saved. A man in grey and green sprang across his path, and Rouse handed him off and sent him staggering aside. Then he could see that, just as when the Rainhurst line had come upon him, so now he had come upon his rival back, and he saw him preparing for his tackle. He moved his hands and began to circle them ready to give his pass. Just beyond Terence he caught a quick glimpse of Smythe flying down the touch-line in an effort to draw alongside. The deafening cheers of young men leaning over the ropes and beating the air with caps were urging him on. Then the moment had come. He swerved in slightly, made ready, and flung the ball straight and true into Terence’s hands. A baby could not have dropped it.