It was fourth down now, with twelve to go, and, after a hurried conference, Weston again sent Keyes back. But although a try-at-goal was to be expected, Rotan was not to be caught napping, and she placed her back-field players to guard against a forward pass. But the ball never reached Keyes. Instead, it slanted off to Bert and, while the big full-back gave a clever exhibition of a youth kicking an imaginary pigskin, Bert circled wide to his right, Vail leading the way, and turned in sharply where Tray had cleared the hole. There was an instant of doubt, for a Rotan back dived for the runner and almost stopped him, but Bert squirmed on, wrested himself free, crossed the five-yard line unchallenged, and plunged on in a confused medley of friends and foes. He was almost across when the Rotan quarter-back smashed into him. Bert faltered then and gave back, but the next instant the drive behind him carried him on again above the enemy and buried him from sight well over the goal line. Grafton waved and shouted and exulted, and continued to shout until Weston was lying on the sod with the ball between his hands and Keyes was cautiously measuring the distance and studying the cant. And afterwards, when the ball had slanted off at a weird tangent, avoiding the goal widely, Grafton shouted again, for what mattered it if Keyes had missed? They had scored on Rotan, scored against a far bigger and more experienced team, and the figures on the score-board were 6 and 20! Something that did matter, however, although few paid heed to it just then, was the fact that Bert had laid where he had fallen until Davy, beckoning two substitutes from the bench, had had him borne away to the field house. CHAPTER XVI A BROKEN RIB On the whole, Grafton was satisfied with that game. She had made larger scores against Rotan in the past, to be sure, but on those occasions the college team had been undoubtedly weaker than she had been today. Even Coach Bonner, who was not easily satisfied, acknowledged to Ted Trafford that the Scarlet-and-Gray eleven had done well to hold Rotan to three scores. Ted wanted credit, too, for the six points his team had won, but Mr. Bonner shrugged his shoulders then. “There was too much luck in that touchdown, Traf,” he said. “Defensively the team did very well. Let it go at that!” Hugh climbed the stairs to the infirmary on the second floor of Manning after supper that night to inquire about Bert, as to whose injury many and various rumors were afloat. Mrs. Prouty, the matron, gave him permission to see the patient and Hugh found the invalid in the act of finishing a fairly substantial meal. Bert greeted the caller quite cheerfully. “You needn’t tiptoe,” he laughed, “and you needn’t look like an undertaker. I’m not dead yet, Duke. It’s only a cracked rib. The Doc says I’ll be all right in a couple of weeks and can play before that if I’ll wear a pad. Still, it’s kind of tough luck.”