Mr. Payson sent in Sayer for Norton and Plant for Mitchell, and the game went on. Broadwood resumed the defensive now. Yardley got the ball as far as the Green’s thirty-eight yards only to lose it on downs, and Broadwood promptly booted the leather far up the field again. Simms got away for a twenty-yard run once, and Fayette, who, if he was not Roeder’s equal, was fresh and untired and eager, pulled off a wonderful plunge through the left of the Green’s line and squirmed and pulled himself――and three opponents――along for twelve yards! Hammel pounded the line for gains and Stearns knifed himself through for a yard or two at a time. Then came a fumble by Fayette and a Broadwood player pounced on the ball. Once more Broadwood kicked. Stearns caught the punt on the run, the interference formed about him, and he came pounding back for nearly twenty yards. Again Yardley took up the journey, but the time was growing perilously short. Past the middle of the field she worked; Hammel; Fayette; Stearns; then Hammel again. Finally an end run by Simms that laid the pigskin on the thirty-five-yard line. A plunge by Fayette netted a scant yard and Stearns tried a skin-tackle play and made six. But he was hurt and Greene took his place. Broadwood seized the opportunity to put three fresh men into her line. Greene was given the ball on the next play and tore off three yards, making it first down again. Only two minutes and a half remained. Simms, hoarse, almost staggering, called signals, changed them and then looked appealingly at Dan. “It’s all right!” yelled Dan savagely. “Go ahead!” But it wasn’t all right. Fayette should have had the ball, and Fayette wasn’t there. Simms was still clutching it when the Broadwood left guard hurled himself through and slammed Simms to earth. Simms gave up then for a minute. Ryan came on with the pail and the big sponge, and Dan and Ridge talked together while the quarter struggled for his breath. “We’d better have Holmes, hadn’t we?” asked Ridge through two swollen lips. Dan shook his head, looking doubtfully at the side-line. “No, Simms can do it if it can be done. Why, oh, why, Hal, haven’t we a fellow who can kick that ball over from here? I’d try it myself if there was a ghost of a chance. Even Norton’s off now, and he’s about the only one――” He broke off and hurried over to Simms. The quarter was on his feet and staring rather dazedly around him. “What’s the down, Dan?” he whispered huskily. “Second; twelve to gain. Come back here.” He led him away. “What do you think? Forward pass? Or Number 24? Or shall we try to smash it out, Al?” “Smashing’s――no good――now,” panted Simms. “Roeder’s the only fellow――who could get us by. Better try a forward, Dan; it’s the only chance. Isn’t it? What else can we do, Dan? There’s only a couple of minutes more, and it’s second down. Gee, Dan, I don’t want to lose this game!” Simms was almost whimpering now.