Bob responded nobly. Never had he put up such a game before. Tireless, never failing, swift as lightning, with his brain in splendid working order, he seemed to be all over the field at once. Dodging, slipping through holes in the line where one would not have thought any advance possible, blocking, cutting off opposing runners, and interfering for runners of his own team, it seemed as if all the pent-up, thwarted energy of the last few days of deprivation was being poured out now in this brief, brilliant exhibition. His work thrilled the other men with a new hope, and stirred them to fresh endeavor, so that they were with him heart and soul; and the pigskin was rushed down the field swiftly and irresistibly, until the forty-yard line was reached. Here the orange-and-black fellows seemed to recover, and, rallying, presented such a solid line that two downs brought barely six yards; and Yale had to resort to a drop kick, which sent the ball forward thirty yards, but gave it to Princeton. Then the great struggle of the day began. Inspired by the brilliant Hollister, Yale made a strenuous, dogged effort to score, while her opponents were equally determined that she should not. Back and forth surged the lines of men, never reaching within kicking distance of either goal, and using up the precious minutes in fiercely contesting every inch of progress. It was a battle royal, and the spectators were so thrilled with interest and excitement that they almost forgot to cheer. At last, when there were but six minutes left to play, Kenny decided to make use of one of the most intricate and most daring of the combinations of double plays and crisscrossing which the coaches had worked out from Hollister’s suggestion. It was only to be used as a last resort, and Kenny decided that the time had come. “Sixty-seven—twenty-four—thirty-two——” Kenny paused. Merriwell sprang back a yard. Buckhart crept a few feet in. “Fifty-four—seventeen!” finished Kenny swiftly. The ball was snapped, Brad ran forward three strides, Kenny turned, and the pigskin flew back. The next instant Merriwell had the ball, and sped toward the right end of the line. The quarter crossed in front of him; the tackle and guard thrust back their opponents; the Princeton line surged forward with a rush. Hollister plunged forward, too, as if he were intent only on interfering in Merriwell’s behalf; but he had a more important duty than that to perform. Swiftly, before their opponents realized what was being done, he and Dick changed places, Merriwell was blocking with all his might, while Hollister, the ball clutched tightly to him, sped round, shot through and out onto the field, leaving a mass of waving legs and arms many yards behind.