The youthful champions in Mr. Brandiston’s house match were not unaware of the great issue dependent upon their prowess. They performed untold feats of gallantry and daring. They ‘ran’ and ‘charged’ and ‘passed’ as if their lives, no less than their reputations, were at stake. Hardly more than three minutes of ‘time’ remained when the ball was forced by Mr. Brandiston’s boys into the neighbourhood of the enemy’s goal, and one of the players attempting to ‘middle’ it sent it by a too violent kick a good way past the centre of the ground to a spot where the two players who would have the best chance of reaching it were Venniker and one of the ‘backs’ (as I think they are technically called) belonging to the opposite side. Both boys made for it amidst the cheers of the spectators. The ball bounded on towards the ‘back;’ he made ready to give it a mighty kick before Venniker was upon him; his leg flashed--it was literally a flash--in the air, and a loud shout rising from both sides of the ground--of exultation on one side, of indignation on the other--told that he had missed the ball. Whether it was that Harry Venniker was so close upon him as to disturb his aim, or that he did not allow for the unevenness of the surface along which the ball was rolling, he missed it and fell sprawling on the ground. It was but the work of a moment for Harry to ‘dodge’ past him and turn the ball in the direction of the goal. So sudden, so unexpected had been the manœuvre that in a straight line between Harry and the goal stood the goalkeeper only. ‘Shoot, shoot!’ was the cry raised instantly by Mr. Brandiston’s boys. But Harry was still too far from the goal to be sure of success. He gave the ball a short sharp kick which brought it into line with the goal-post; the goalkeeper hesitated for a moment--that fatal moment!--uncertain whether to run forward and ‘charge’ him, or to fall back upon the goal and take the chance of being able to stop the ball when it was kicked; Harry followed close upon the ball, steadied himself for an instant, and then, just as three of his enemies were within a yard or two of him, kicked it hard, and full in view of all the spectators it passed clear over the goalkeeper’s head between the posts. There was a shout that rent the heavens. The spectators rushed upon the ground--for they knew there was no hope of resuming play--the members of Mr. Brandiston’s house clustering around the victorious eleven, most of all around Harry Venniker, applauding on the ground and all the way up the hill and along the street and through the courtyard into the house. It was a striking and inspiring sight. Boys are the only beings who know how to clap or cheer, all other clapping and cheering seems impotent after theirs, and Mr. Brandiston’s boys made full use of their knowledge. Mr. Brandiston himself, meeting Harry Venniker at the entrance to the house, remarked with more than his usual graciousness that he had done the house good service; he added,