And he did. There were no more games through center while play lasted. Time and again Jones, the big Hammond center, was literally lifted off his feet by Forrest's savage onslaught; twice the pass was practically spoiled. Forrest was angry, and being angry forgot both his good-nature and his slowness. Hammond soon transferred her attention to the wings again and found a fairly vulnerable spot where Jack Rogers had given place to a substitute. But there was no chance for her to score and she knew it. Now she was only killing time, determined to keep the ball in her possession and guard her goal until the whistle blew. And she would have done it, too, had not Forrest lost his temper. That blow on the nose hurt and he set out to make life as unpleasant as possible for his adversary. He didn't slug once, but he pushed and hauled and upset Jones until that gentleman was thoroughly exasperated. Over and over he appealed to the officials to watch Forrest. "He's interfering with the ball," he declared. But the officials couldn't see it that way. And finally, when the ball had been worked back to the center of the field and the word had gone around that there was only five minutes of time left, Forrest spoiled a snap-back, the ball trickled from Pool's hands and Forrest plunged through and fell upon it. Roy raced in, crying signals as he came. Time was called while the Hammond center and the Hammond captain made vain appeals to have the ball returned to them, claiming interference with the snapper-back. But, as before, they were denied and the two teams lined up again, this time with the ball in Forrest's hands. "_7-6-43-89!_" called Roy, and Whitcomb, with the pigskin snuggled in his elbow, was racing around left end. All of eight yards gained, and the crowd on the side-line went wild with delight! Flags waved and horns shrieked, and over it all, or so Roy thought, could be heard the shrill voice of Harry! It was a time for risks, the coach had said. And Roy took them. Over and over he attempted hazardous plays that ought not to have succeeded, but that did, partly, perhaps, because of their very improbability! Twice more Whitcomb was sent outside of left end; once Pryor got through for four yards between right tackle and guard; and once Kirby, full-back, hurdled Jones for a good gain. It made joy in the Ferry Hill camp and the wavers of the brown and white banners had visions of a score. But they were not considering the fact that the timer's watch proclaimed but two minutes left and that that official was walking out toward the teams proclaiming the fact.