“100—13—88.” It was Fardale’s signal, and the tackles’ back formation was made. The ball went to Jolliby, who tried center. Knowing what was coming, Obediah Tubbs actually butted the Franklin center over, and Jolliby went through for seven yards. This was the kind of stuff! “20—102—21—44.” It was the signal for the same formation, but Kent was to take the ball this time. Kent went into center and made three yards, but Selden, Franklin’s snap-back, stood up against Tubbs in far better style. There was a slight pause, as one of the visitors was hurt a bit. In that pause Dick glanced hopelessly toward the grand stand. He could see nothing of June. “She will not come,” he thought. “Her mother has refused to let her.” Then he went into the game again with all the energy he could command. He was wearing her locket. If she was not there, he had her picture, and that was the next best thing. Fardale played fiercely for a time, actually pushing the ball down the field to within twenty-five yards of Franklin’s goal, but there it was lost on a forward pass. Franklin went into Fardale savagely, but at the very outset was set back for holding, a thing which delighted the watching cadets. But they made it up quickly by a clever crisscross and a run round Fardale’s left end, securing twelve yards. Franklin realized that it had no snap, and the visitors strained every nerve. After that run round the end the gains were small, but Fardale was steadily pushed back to the center of the field. There something happened. Franklin lost the ball on a fumble, and Darrell got through and caught it up like a flash. He managed to squirm out of the tangle and started for the enemy’s goal. How it was that Dick Merriwell got through also and joined Hal no one could say, but he bobbed up just as Captain Hickman came down on Darrell with a rush. Dick hurled himself before Hickman, who pulled him down, and Hal ran on with a clear field before him. The crowd rose up and roared like mad. Darrell ran as if his life depended on it. Behind him the players strung out in pursuit, but they could not catch him. Dick Merriwell had made the run and touchdown possible by blocking Hickman. Over the line went Darrell for a touch-down. This was the stuff to thrill every watcher! Somehow Dick seemed to close behind Darrell, for all that he had been hurled to the ground, and he was laughing. “Great!” he said again. “Now we’re in the game good and hard!” “You blocked Hickman handsomely,” said Hal, relaxing a little. “I thought he had me. Where did you come from?” “Oh, it was a lucky stab for me, that’s all,” said Dick, modestly declining to take credit for special cleverness. The ball was brought out. Darrell was willing to let Dick or Singleton try the kick, but Dick declined to take the privilege away from him. So Dick held the ball, and Darrell lifted it over the bar, which tied the game. “They can’t beat us now!” declared Dick.