Dick landed on his feet, recovered quickly, and was off like a flash. The spectators yelled like maniacs. There was no such thing as concert cheering now; it was simply the wild whooping of hundreds of witnesses gone mad with amazement, admiration, and joy.
Students climbed on one another’s shoulders and waved hats, hands, handkerchiefs, and flags, shrieking till their eyes nearly popped from their heads.
Never before in the history of football at Fardale had such a scene been witnessed. Lifted in one thrilling moment from the depths of despair to the heights of hope, with possible, nay, probable, victory in sight, the Fardale spectators were shrieking lunatics then.
With the speed of the wind, Dick Merriwell flew along the field, headed for the Hudsonville line. Hudsonville players broke away and started after him. Then came the whole pack trailing out in his wake.
But as well might a lot of mongrels have sought to overtake a greyhound. The crowd saw he could not be stopped, and it shrieked and shrieked.
The hearts of Dick’s enemies were filled with such dismay that, had the triumphant lad known their sufferings, he must have felt himself fully avenged for all injuries he had suffered at their hands.
Jabez Lynch turned sick and faint, while his white lips moved, but made no sound. Uric Scudder cursed, his words being drowned in the uproar.
So Dick Merriwell ran the length of the field with the ball, and planted it squarely behind the Hudsonville goal-posts.
It seemed that the crowd would never stop its yelling, but, at last, the cadets on the seats gained sufficient self-possession to start a regular cheer.
"Ha! ha! ha! ’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! Rigger-boom! Zigger-boom! All hail—Merriwell! Merriwell! Merriwell!"