The Yale man would like to have stayed to complete the job, but he knew that there was not a moment to lose. They must get back to the stage. Half lifting, half supporting the girl, who was sobbing hysterically, he carried her through the stage door, back to the wings. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “You must brace up, Marion. You’ve got to think of the play. We’ll have to go on in a minute.” She caught her breath, and brought all her will to bear to calm herself. “You’re right,” she faltered. “I mustn’t fail. That’s what he wanted to carry me off for—to spoil the play.” “It was Bryton, I suppose?” Dick questioned. “Yes.” She put her hand up, and mechanically smoothed her hair. As she did so, Dick heard their cue to enter. “There’s the cue,” he said quickly. “Can you go on?” “Yes, I’m all right now.” They hurried to the entrance, and stepped onto the stage. Luckily the situation in the play was enough to account for any signs of emotion which Marion Gray displayed, but she was very soon herself again. The first half of the game was over. The men came into the track house, worn and exhausted by their struggles, discouraged by their failure—for Harvard had scored. Marion Gray told her story, swiftly, dramatically. The villain was unmasked, and _Jarvis_ restored to the team to play out the second half. The curtain dropped to the sound of thunderous applause. The audience fairly broke loose. Yells and catcalls made bedlam of the place. Time and time again Merriwell came before the curtain with Miss Gray. At length he was forced to appear alone, and shouts of “Speech! Speech!” rent the air. This nearly broke him up, but he managed to say a few words of thanks before he backed out of sight. The last act was a short one, which simply rounded things out, and tied up loose ends. The game was over. _Jarvis_ had won a victory for Yale by a phenomenal play, and appeared on the stage, borne on the shoulders of his enthusiastic comrades. The play ended with a pretty bit of love-making between the heroine and _Lance Jarvis_, which Marion Gray played with all the fascination and art she possessed. It fairly brought down the house, and Dick found himself wondering how Austin Demarest could go through that every night of the week without falling head over heels in love with the attractive actress. When the curtain dropped it was past eleven o’clock, but no one made a move to leave the theatre. They simply sat in their seats, thundering on the floor with their feet, clapping their hands sore, and raising such a din that the actors on the stage could not hear a spoken word. The curtin rolled up again and again, revealing the long semicircle of smiling faces, happy in the knowledge that they had helped score a phenomenal success. Already they saw themselves booked for a long run at a Broadway playhouse. Up and down the curtain went, almost continuously, and still the crashing bursts of sound reverberated from orchestra to gallery, and back again.