This time Jack made no mistake. He beckoned to Big Bob Jeffries to try for goal. It was an oblique slant, and only a clever kicker could succeed, with that baffling wind against him. Big Bob looked once in the direction of the grandstand as if to draw inspiration. Most people believed he must know some girl, whose encouragement he sought; but Mollie and Lucy and Adelaide did not venture to take such honor to themselves. A little modest woman sat behind them, and it was her eyes moist with tears of pride that inspired Big Bob Jeffries when he strode up to win, or know the reason why--his mother sat there! Well, when the "punk" was heard, every eye followed the sailing ball. It seemed to sag to one side, then again took on a true course, as though guided by some invisible hands. As it was seen to drop squarely over the bar between the posts the crowd broke into frenzied shouts. Chester had won by a single point! That last kick for goal after Jack had saved the day by his touchdown, had done the business; and the happy visitors could go back home feeling they had a reason to be proud of the scrappy eleven that represented their town on the gridiron. The final score was 16 to 15. CHAPTER XIII WHEN THE RED FIRE BURNED IN CHESTER It was such a great victory that the boys of Chester laid plans to celebrate by making a night of it, just as they always do in college towns, when the local team brings home high honors, to be handed down to posterity as great feats worthy of emulation. On the way back home every fellow in the big carryall promised to come out and join the parade that must circle through every street in town. It would be led by a brass band, and they would march to the glare of numerous bonfires, which of course the younger element could be depended on to furnish. They had already doubtless taken note of every old vegetable barrel that grocers unwittingly left outdoors nights, as well as a few tar barrels in addition, all of which would help make the heavens turn red under the glare, and add to the joyous occasion. Jack tried to back out, but his mates would accept no excuses. "You're no more tired than the rest of the bunch, Jack," Toby told him; "and say, what is a victorious procession going to be like, anyway, with the noblest Roman of them all absent? You are the captain of the football squad, and everybody'll expect you to be in the front rank. Just forget all your modesty for once, Jack, and make up your mind to have a grand blowout." "We certainly deserve it," snapped Joel Jack-man, "after putting up such a royal fight against desperate odds. Why, when it drew near the end I warrant you even the most loyal among our rooters began to turn cold with fear that Chester would be left out in the count. But didn't Packy McGraw and his crowd sing loud, though? That's what a cheer captain can do for his side. Every time I heard them give that Chester yell it seemed to put fresh heart in me."