And when Dick Merriwell had been hurt and it seemed he must leave the field, Hal had seen June Arlington—forgetting appearances, remembering only that Dick was stretched on the ground and might not rise again—run out from the grand stand and kneel to lift his head. Standing apart, his heart beating hotly, Darrell saw her give back to Dick a locket containing her picture—a locket she had given to him once before when he had risked his life to save her from some savage dogs which attacked her on a lonely road on the outskirts of Fardale, and then demanded again after her brother had told her some untrue tales about Dick. “She would not let me have it when I asked her for it after she got it back,” thought Hal. “But now she gives it to him again! And she does not mind who sees her!” It seemed very strange for a proud, high-bred girl like June Arlington to do such a thing before the assembled spectators. She had been governed by her heart, not her head. Had she paused to consider, she would have been dismayed; but she scarcely knew how she reached Dick, and she seemed to come to a realization of her position first as she knelt and held his head. Then she had courage not to lose her nerve, and she gave him the locket as a “charm” to restore his good luck. It was after this that Dick made the run that set thirty “faithful” Fardale rooters howling mad with joy. He did it even though he reeled and could scarcely stand when he rose to his feet. He did it by casting off his physical weakness and calling to his command all the astonishing reserve force of a perfectly trained young athlete. But for his training and his splendid physical condition, he would have been carried from the field, done up. In the moment of his temptation Hal realized that Dick had trusted him perfectly in calling him to hold the ball. “But he’s made me help him win glory in her eyes!” was the stinging thought that followed. However, he conquered the temptation. As Dick balanced himself, Darrell carefully lowered the ball toward the ground. The seam was uppermost and everything was ready for the kick that would decide whether the game should end a tie or Fardale should leave the field victorious. Darrell’s hand was perfectly steady as Dick advanced quickly and kicked. Fairly over the middle of the bar sailed the ball, and the “faithful” shrieked and howled and thumped one another on the back and had fits. But they were not the only ones who had fits. Apart at one side of the field Chester Arlington, June’s brother, and a student at Fardale, walked round and round in a circle, muttering and almost frothing at the mouth. Then he started for the grand stand. “I’ll tell her what I think!” he grated.