"We're not looking dismal exactly," protested Peggy, "but--well--they'll walk over us in the second half, Duane." "And why on earth," demanded Duane, "should they walk over us?" "We're dead-beat. I feel as if I couldn't run another step," with a weary sigh. "I simply couldn't get past those backs." "And I've got the stitch," added France, lugubriously. "And my heel rubs." "Oh, of course, if you're going to lie down on the grass and _let 'em_," said Duane slowly and with supreme scorn, "I've no doubt they _will_ walk over you." Peggy flushed. "Of course, we'll do our best. But all the same, it was ridiculous to think we could do anything against the school eleven." "Well, naturally," said Duane, sharply, "if you're giving in like this, it is hopeless. Only please realize that the match isn't over, so we haven't lost yet. I haven't been accustomed to playing in a team that sits down half-way through a match and says it's beaten. I, for one, certainly don't admit it, and I'm going on playing and sticking to it while I've a breath in me, if I'm the only one in the team left on the field. You stick to me and I'll stick to you. I will, on my honour, and what's more, I'll see you through somehow." The last words came out in a rush. The girl was still facing them, the blaze of an unconquered spirit lighting her brilliant eyes. For a moment, nobody stirred or spoke. Then Kitty jumped to her feet, and crossed over to the head prefect's side. "I'm sticking to you, Duane," she exclaimed, clearly, driven by an impulse she did not stop to analyse. "There'll be two to play on to the end, anyway." "And so am I," in Bertha's more deliberate tones. "And I." France, too, sprang impetuously to her feet. The spirit of the leader was as infectious as a disease. Everyone was on her feet now, eager and enthusiastic. It was as if a flame had suddenly been lit, spreading like a flash from one to the other. It was a different team entirely from the one that had entered the pavilion a few minutes ago. Duane surveyed them a moment in silence. "That's better," she said, quietly. "I guess, if you're not very big, you're game anyway." "There's the whistle," cried somebody, and the forwards ran out laughing and talking. The bigger girls followed more decorously. Duane laid her hand lightly on Kitty's shoulder. "Thanks, Kitty," she said, in a low voice. "What for?" said Kitty, awkward and embarrassed. "For backing you up? And what else should I do? You're the captain of this team." The game began again after much the same fashion as in the first half. The school eleven, who had expected to find their work much easier now, were astonished to discover that their opponents were playing with a new burst of energy and enthusiasm, sticking to it determinedly. The spectators, too, were surprised, and generously conceded that if Carslake's had rather too much cheek, their hockey eleven certainly had plenty of grit.