In sped Fayette to take his place. But Fortune had dealt hardly with the Blue. She had lost her best back and she had lost the ball on that play. Broadwood got through for six yards on a fake kick, gained two more around Norton’s end and made her distance through Jensen. But on the next play she was thrown back, and, as the ball was still perilously close to her goal-line, Captain Bishop dropped back and got off a wonderful punt. Down went the Broadwood ends, with Dan and Norton blocking them off. Dan disposed of his man, Scott, right tackle, but Furniss got away from Norton and by the time Simms was under the ball Furniss was ready for Simms. Bishop, meanwhile, had followed his kick very closely, and when the ball descended into Simms’s arms Furniss tackled savagely. The pigskin bounded away. Dan and Bishop both made for it, but Bishop was nearer. The Broadwood captain took it on the bound, squirmed past Dan, and streaked for the goal-line, thirty yards away. It was a close race, and had the distance been forty yards instead of thirty Dan would have brought down his quarry. But as it was Bishop plunged over the last white mark just before Dan’s arms wrapped themselves about him, and the score was tied! It was Broadwood’s moment and she made the most of it. She had no band to help her, but she didn’t need it! And while the wild cheers were still thundering out, the Yardley players drew up in line under the crossbar, Simms with tears streaming down his tired face, and Bishop himself directed the canting of the ball held by Saunders. A strange stillness settled over the field. If Bishop kicked the goal――and it was not a difficult one――it would probably spell a Broadwood victory, for the last quarter was fully half over. There were plenty of white faces on the Yardley stand just then and more than one fellow, his clenched hands thrust into his pockets, settled back into his seat and refused to look. Very leisurely, Bishop, still fighting for breath after his run, directed Saunders. Finally he stepped back, hitched his trousers at the waist, cast a glance at the goal, and――kicked. Up went the ball, straight for the bar. One brief instant of suspense, and then――bedlam on the Broadwood side and deep gloom across the field! On the score board Broadwood’s 5 changed to a 6. “How much time?” cried Simms as the teams trotted back to their places. The timer held up one outstretched hand and two fingers of the other. “Seven minutes, Dan,” panted Simms. “There’s time to kill ’em yet.” “All right! Hard into it, fellows!” cried Dan.