He made it, and the spectators on the Yale stand went wild. It was the first moment since the start of the game that the tension had been released, and, surging to their feet, they sent roar after roar of cheering which thundered across the field in great crashes of sound, stupendous in their volume. Then came a breathless hush while the goal was being kicked, and after that the noise commenced again, dying away gradually as the game was resumed. Nothing more happened in that quarter. The crimson-clad men, undeterred by their opponents’ vantage, worked like tigers; but there was not enough time left for them to accomplish anything, and the shrill sound of the whistle left them on Yale’s forty-yard line. “How about it, Dale?” Dick asked, as he passed the Harvard captain on their way to the track house. Sparkfair grinned cheerfully. “That was only my generous spirit giving you boys a little needed encouragement,” he returned airily. “Wait until the next quarter, Richard, and see us wipe up the field with you fellows. We’re only just beginning to get warmed up.” Merriwell caught up with Jack Kenny, who was a little ahead. “That was corking, Jack,” he said warmly. “You rang that double pass in at exactly the right moment. They weren’t expecting it, and it couldn’t have worked better. Keep it up, old fellow. You’re playing the game of your life.” Kenny flushed with pleasure. “I’m trying to make up,” he said, in a low tone. “And you’re succeeding,” Dick said swiftly. “We’ve got them going, and now we want to hold them from making a score.” In the track house, Fullerton gave the boys a short, pithy talk, cautioning them not to lose their grip now that they had scored, and to bend every energy toward keeping the crimson line away from the goal. There was a vast deal of rubbing lame shoulders, ankles, and wrists, until the rooms fairly reeked with witch-hazel and arnica; a perfect babel of excited talk and speculation and laughter; and then they trotted out to the field again and took their places on the gridiron. Dale Sparkfair made good his joking words to Merriwell by means of as pretty a round-the-end dash as had ever been seen on the field, and then it was Harvard’s turn to let loose their pent-up flood of enthusiasm. More than one undergraduate—and staid alumnus as well—could not speak above a whisper for a good many hours. The third quarter ended with the scores even. The excitement had risen to a fever heat. With only fifteen minutes of play left, what was going to be the result? Would the game remain a tie? That seemed incredible, and yet it looked to a good many as though it would be the case.