Rockford knew then that it was to be given to Donovan, and quickly set themselves to stop him. This time the signal was for a mass on left tackle. But Larry saw at a glance, as the ball came into his hands, that the Rockford players were bunched just where the play should go ... and in the same glance he saw that there was a hole through right guard. Leaving his interference, he shot through the hole, dodged the full-back, and dived across the goal line. Dugald kicked goal, while the Sheddon stands rang with the name of Donovan, and the Sheddon players patted him on the back and called him “Good old Larry!” The score was now 13 to 7, and Sheddon could win with another touch-down and goal. “How much time to play?” Dugald asked, as Sheddon lined up to receive the kick-off――Rockford having chosen to kick. “Ten minutes!” answered the timekeeper. “Come on, fellows――we can do it!” Dugald cried; and the team answered him in bellowing unison, Larry’s voice ringing out with a new-found happiness: “Sure we can do it! Let’s go!” But it was not so easy, this time. Rockford began to watch Larry, and every time he took the ball it seemed as if the whole Rockford team was on top of him. But steadily Sheddon pushed the ball down to Rockford’s fifteen-yard line, only to lose it on a fumble. Rockford kicked out of danger, and Sheddon again started the march to victory. Then the timekeeper announced four minutes to play――and the goal was sixty yards away! Dugald came out of the line and spoke low to Larry. “Larry, you’re the only one who can gain. Can you stand to take it every time?” “Give it to me!” Larry answered, gritting his teeth. Eight straight times the ball came to him, and eight straight times he carried it toward Rockford’s goal. He followed no signals――merely took the ball and bucked, dodged, fought his way forward. Rockford knew he was coming, but they came to know that they could not stop him. The bleachers were now giving forth a continuous roar; and when, on the eighth try, Larry carried the ball over for Sheddon’s second touch-down, he knew, as every man on the field knew, that he had won for Sheddon――for Dugald made the victory an assured fact by kicking goal, thus making the final score 14–13. It was from no lack of college spirit that Larry Donovan did not turn out that night to join in the song-singing, cheer-bellowing “snake dance” wherewith Sheddon celebrated its victory. A bruised ankle――that he didn’t know was lamed until the game was over――kept him in his room, and it was here that Dick found him when the long, noisy parade wriggled its way back to the campus after having shouted itself hoarse all over town. “How’s the old foot-knuckle by now?――hurt much?” inquired the celebrator, peeling off the white night-shirt which was the regalia for the parade. “Nothing to weep about,” said Larry. “It’ll be all right in a day or so. Parade over?”