The play looked to be another rush on the part of Bellport, and with fierce and eager eyes her opponents watched for the slightest advantage. Bardwell came on with the ball like a stone from a catapult. He hit the line between Shay and Daly, but he did not go through. With desperate energy, borne of despair, the guard and tackle held. And then, wonder of wonders, probably because he was dazed by the impact with which he hit the line, Bardwell dropped the ball. Like a flash Daly had fallen on it. "Our ball!" he fairly howled, and when the crowd knew that they went wild--that is, the Columbia contingent. But the time had slipped by. There were but three minutes more of play. "Quick now, fellows. Line up! Get a touchdown!" begged Frank. "Break the tie!" Into the play plunged the doughty captain himself for a ten-yard gain, for the shock of surprise at their misfortune still held the Bellport players spellbound. "Another like that!" cried the throng. A fake kick netted eight yards additional, and then followed more line bucking. "A goal from the field," suggested Wallace, when time was taken out to allow Alpers to get back his end. "No, straight up the field--rush it!" ordered Allen. Once more he made a slight gain. "One minute more!" warned the time-keeper. "Oh, can we do it!" panted Wallace. He called on Ralph West for a straight plunge between guard and tackle. The plucky left-half drew a long breath, and gathered himself for the tremendous energy he knew would be needed. They were but four feet from the goal line. The ball _must_ be shoved over if human lungs and muscles could stand the terrific strain a moment longer. Amid a solemn silence came the signal. Like a shot West plunged forward, with the ball tightly tucked under his arm. Into the line he went, smash bang! Oh, what a great hole there was torn for him by the strenuous Shay and Daly! Through it West went, and in vain did Lee and Bardwell try to stop him. As well try to stop a rushing torrent as the Columbia players now. They were going to have that touchdown or tear up the goal posts. With the quickness that argued how well he knew the need of haste, West placed the ball down beyond and over his head after he had fallen in a fierce tackle. Over the line--over--ah, was it over? The chalk-mark was obliterated at this point. Was it over? "Touchdown!" howled the Columbia players madly. "Never. It's not over!" retorted Bellport's men fiercely. There was a wild dispute, and in the midst of it the whistle blew, ending the game. Who had won? It would take a measurement to decide. The linesmen came hurrying up, while the crowd chaffed at the delay and did not know who to cheer. Anxiously the measure was taken, and while hearts wildly beat the announcement was made. "The ball is over by four inches. Columbia wins the touchdown!" "Oh, wow!" "Hurrah!" "We win!" "Eleven to six!" "The silver cup is ours!"