But there was no need to tell Frank to hurry. He had torn off his sweater with the first hint of his opportunity, and was listening to the coach with body poised for the run onto the field. In his eagerness he had entirely forgotten about the ankle. With the coming of the new quarterback, the team took fresh life. Under his urgings, they began to mow down their opponents as they had in the first part of the game, and the crowd gathered along the side-lines expressed their appreciation of the brace the team was taking in joyous howls. A pretty forward pass, Turner to Bostwick, put the ball on Pawling's 15-yard line. Harrington, the big center, made a bad pass on the next play, but on a slice outside of tackle, Turner made five yards. The Pawling team braced, and cut the advance down on the next play to a single yard. Bostwick stepped back to Frank and whispered something to him. Then he called the whole team around him, and with arms over each other's shoulders, they conferred on the next play. Dropping apart quickly, the linemen sprang into position. "Look out for a fake," cried the Pawling quarter, dancing around in front of the goal posts. "A forward pass!" cried another of the backs. But it was neither a fake nor a forward pass. Armstrong ran quickly to a point ten yards behind his crouching line, coolly measured with his eye the distance from where he stood to the cross-bar, and a moment later, receiving the ball on a long, true pass from Harrington, dropped it to the ground, swung his toe against it as it rose, and sent it spinning directly between the posts. The kick was as pretty a one as could be desired, and its appreciation was testified to by jubilant yells and the skyward flight of sweaters and blankets along the side-lines. A kick-off at midfield which Turner ran back 30 yards, a single rush, and the whistle ended the game. "Why didn't you tell me you could do that?" said Coach Howard giving Armstrong a hearty slap on the back as he trotted over to the side-line to pick up the discarded sweater. "You put that over like a veteran!" "Didn't have a chance before," said Frank, grinning. "Guess you didn't. Well, I'll see to it that you get a chance after this." And then, as the throng of grimy players and the spectators straggled off to the cars, "I had pretty nearly come to the conclusion that you were too soft for the game of football." "My ankle isn't as good as it ought to be," said Frank, looking down. "I was afraid of doing more damage to it." "I'll take a look at that ankle in the gym," said Howard. "Maybe we can make a quarterback of you yet. I want you to come over to the Freshman training table after this."