Another line up, and Hal Foster came plunging through a big hole that had been torn for him between centre and right guard. On and on he came, wiggling and squirming to gain every inch. In vain did Captain Haskell call on his men to stop the play. Kentfield seemed irresistible, and eight yards were reeled off, the grandstand contingent of our friends going wild with delight. But Dick and his mates paid little attention to this. They had other matters to occupy them. There was another play to be made. In silence, broken only by their panting breaths, the cadets again lined up, and as Jim Watkins passed the ball back to Dick, the latter shoved it into the waiting arms of John Stiver. John was on the run and with the aid of Rutley he sprang eagerly into the hole between the opposing left tackle and end, being preceded by Dutton who saw that the way was clear. It was a smashing attack, delivered at the right moment, Tom Coleton following in to see that no fumble was made. But none was, and ten clean yards were ripped off, a bigger gain than Blue Hill had yet made. "Now, again, boys!" yelled Dick in delight, and now he gave the signal for an end run, that his panting lads might have some relief. It was Dutton's cue to take the ball around to the Blue Hill right end. But this was not so successful, as several of the opposing players were on the alert and were ready to nail him. He ran to one side and was actually forced back a yard before he went down. "It might be worse," said Dick cheerfully. "We'll try it differently this time." An on-side kick netted a good gain, and then came a forward pass, which was not so successful. There was a fumble--just whose fault it was could not be said--and one of the Blue Hill players fell on the ball while wild yells from their supporters told of the joy in their camp. "Watch out now!" warned Dick again. But there was no kicking or trick play. Blue Hill was evidently going to depend on her slightly superior weight, and retain her line-smashing tactics. At Kentfield she came with a rush that carried her opponents off their feet for the time. "Hold! Hold!" yelled Dick desperately, and his men tried to do so. "Go on! Go on!" screamed Haskell. "Smash 'em to bits, but get through!" Dick was watching for any slugging, but his opponents seemed to be playing a clean game. On came the man with the ball, and twelve yards had been ripped out through the very centre of the line of our heroes before they managed to nail Tom Hughes, who was worming his way forward with the pigskin. So terrific was the next impact that Paul Drew went down and out and a pail of water was hastily called for. He was well soaked and massaged, until his breath came back with a gasp. "Can you stay in?" asked Dick anxiously. "Sure!" panted Paul, but his voice was not as strong as his captain would liked to have heard it. "Stand by him," whispered the young millionaire to Frank Rutley. "They may try to put him out again."