The first half had been lively; the second half was hot. Both teams went into it fiercely, straining every nerve. Up and down the field flew the ball. Woodin made some splendid runs. Fillmore distinguished himself by taking the ball out of Morgan’s stick just as Dade was on the point of trying for goal. At times it was difficult to follow all the rapid plays. Still it was some time before either side forced the goal guards to sweat. Hodge was the first one compelled to work hard, and he made five difficult stops in rapid succession, causing the spectators to cheer him loudly. Frank laughed softly. “Good old Bart!” he muttered. “I knew I had picked the right man to guard the net. Reckon Onslaw knows it now.” Onslaw had advised Frank to use Wilson. It was Ready who passed the ball to Thatcher. Thatcher tried to advance it, but was pocketed by two of the Hopkins defenders. Neither Morgan nor Wilkins was in position to take the ball, so Thatcher was compelled to pass it back to Merriwell. It was a poor throw, for Mowry was nearer the ball and seemed sure to get it. How Frank covered ground so fast no one seemed able to tell, but, running like the wind, he thrust out his stick and took the ball just as Mowry was on the point of catching it. A yell of delight went up from his many admirers. “Wake up, there, you fellow!” shouted a man. “You didn’t catch it, did you! Ha! ha! ha!” Kellogg came at Frank, but Merry easily avoided him, holding his club high and swaying it as he ran. Lowe, however, managed to force Merry off to one side. Frank passed to Onslaw. A moment later there was a grand scrimmage in front of the Hopkins goal, in which a number of men of both teams were engaged. Fillmore was in it, and he found his opportunity. He smashed Onslaw across his bare shins with the stick, and the Harvard man went down. The whistle blew. Fillmore protested regret. Onslaw said nothing. His shins were rubbed and patched up and he re-entered the game. Not three minutes later there was another scrimmage, for once more Frank secured the ball and ran with it to a position where he could try for goal. Brisbane stopped the ball and drove it away. Players of both teams went after it and there was a mix-up, Merriwell being in the midst of it. Fred Fillmore got into it. They saw a stick sweep through the air. The blow, as it landed on a player’s head, was heard in the stand. Again the whistle blew. Frank Merriwell was prone on the ground with his scalp cut open. Fillmore had a broken stick, and he was bending over Merriwell, proclaiming his regret. Inza Burrage started up, but she saw Frank rise to a sitting posture, and she sat down again, although her face was deathly white. “Fred Fillmore did that intentionally,” she exclaimed. “They should put him out of the game!” Frank’s injury was quickly dressed. A bandage was tied about his head, and he continued to play. “What’s the matter with Merriwell?” yelled a delighted Yale man.