Those fellows in the shiny suits hit the line hard, and Sampson came through on the jump. It seemed that a dozen hands grabbed him, but he twisted and squirmed and slipped away and kept on for ten yards before being stopped. Merriwell was in the scrimmage, and he made a startling discovery. “Boys!” he palpitated, as they prepared to line up again, “their suits are greased!” It was a fact! The leather suits, each suit made in one piece, were greased! That explained how it was that the tacklers had been unable to hold the man who carried the ball even when they clutched him with their hands. That explained how Sampson had been able to slip through the center of Fardale’s line when many hands were placed upon him to restrain him. If anything, the dampness added to the slippery condition of the leather suits, and the New Era players were like a lot of greased pigs. Merriwell was thunderstruck. Never had he heard of such a trick, and when the truth dawned upon him he felt completely nonplused. New Era gave Fardale little time for thought. She had the cadets “going,” and she meant to keep up the work. Again a word was spoken as a signal, and again the ball went to Sampson. There was a rush toward center, but Sampson circled to come around the right end. Dick dashed to meet the fellow. He doubted if it would be possible to hold Sampson if he made a fair tackle. Therefore, as Sampson came round the end Dick charged him at full speed, plunged into him heavily and bowled him over. The ball flew from Sampson’s hands. Dick had expected the shock, and he recovered in a most amazing manner. With a dive, he caught up the ball and leaped away. A New Era man grabbed for him. He thrust out his hand, caught the fellow under the chin and pushed him off with a thrust that actually lifted him off his feet. Another came down on Dick, but Merriwell was like a cat on his feet and dodged away. “I must do it!” thought Dick, as he darted toward the enemy’s goal-line. They were after him. They sought to pen him in. He flew through them. The cadets rose on their seats and roared. “Go, Merriwell!” they shrieked. “Go on, Merriwell!” Considering the condition of the field, considering the fact that there were pools of water and the ground was wet and slippery, Dick’s speed was surprising. His dodging was even more surprising. It seemed that Dick was certain of getting through for a touchdown. Austin cut down on him from one direction. Dick got past the visiting full-back. Then, with a clear field before him, he turned to make straight for the goal. The other players, spread out and strung out, were coming after him. In that moment, when success seemed certain, Dick slipped. He had kept his feet in turning, twisting and dodging, but now he slipped and came near going down. He was up and away again, but Austin was close upon him. “He’ll make it!” “No, he won’t!” “Austin has him!”