In the last word was an appeal which wrung Wolcott’s heart. He had broken through in practice games and blocked kicks, but here it seemed impossible. Taking in the position of his adversary at a single glance, he riveted his eyes on the hands that held the ball, and waited tense as a coiled spring. As the Hillbury centre’s hands contracted on the ball, he leaped forward, caught Holmes by the left arm and jerked him around, and shot by toward the ball. The pass was high. Rounds reached for it and drew it down into position for a punt. As he caught the ball Lindsay struck the quarter and bowled him over; as the ball rose Lindsay rose, met it squarely with his chest and sent it bounding beyond the goal-posts against the fence which separated the spectators from the end of the field. The Seaton rushers had streamed through the broken Hillbury line at Wolcott’s heels, and without slackening speed raced for the ball; the Hillbury backs were no less quick. Together they dived for the ball, covering it in an instant under a heap of bodies which were still squirming when the referee’s whistle called a peremptory stop. Little by little the tangle was loosened. At the bottom lay Hendry and under Hendry the ball! The half closed a few minutes later with the score eleven to six. CHAPTER XXIV THE GAME ENDS In the short intermission both teams took account of stock and heard some vividly suggestive words from the coaches. The problem for Seaton was to keep the score as it was. A successful trick play, the fumble of a punt, a lucky end run by the fleet Hillbury back, might turn the present advantage into ultimate ruin; for from two touchdowns and two goals results a score of twelve points, while the two touchdowns and one goal which Seaton had achieved had yielded but eleven. “If they get another touchdown, they’ll beat us,” declared Laughlin; “we’ve simply got to hold ’em.” And the others nodded emphatic agreement, and in various forms repeated the sentiment. There was no lack of comprehension of the situation. The coaches drew the captain into a corner apart. “I’ll bet you’re going in,” whispered Wolcott to Durand. “These fumbles have sewered Jack, and they’re afraid of a punting game. If you do go in, try to forget where you are and play just as you did last Tuesday on the second. Yell your signals good and loud, and don’t try to be so terribly fast. I’ll risk you for tackling and hugging the ball.” Durand didn’t answer, but he felt a thrill from crown to toe, a sudden uplift of joy, and as sudden a reaction of doubt and fear. The coaches turned. “Durand starts at quarter,” said Laughlin. “No fumbling now! If we get the ball, hang to it like death and fight for every inch. Hold ’em on the first down, and we’ve got ’em licked.”