The work of Darrell caused the watchers to gasp, for never had a single Fardale interferer helped a runner in such magnificent style. He was as good as three men during that run.
Over the middle of the field sped Dick, still with Hal at hand. Dyer tried for him, but again Darrell did the trick, and Dick was able to keep on. Coleman came from another direction, but Hal got across and spoiled Coleman’s chance.
"For the love of goodness!" cried a Fairport witness, "will somebody pull that interferer down! It’s the only way to stop the runner!"
"See! see!" panted Doris Templeton, clinging convulsively to Zona. "Dick Merriwell—Dick and Hal! See how Hal is helping him!"
"They’re playing together like a machine," said Zona. "It’s just perfectly splendid! Nothing can stop them!"
All Fardale was standing—all Fardale was shrieking! To the dull November sky rose a medley of sounds that seemed to indicate a thousand maniacs turned loose.
Toward the Fairport goal sped the lad with the ball. Ringsdale came at him. Ringsdale sprang for a tackle. Darrell was on hand to balk the play, and Ringsdale rolled on the ground empty-handed.
Emerson was in the way, and now Emerson meant to do or die. This time Darrell was too far on the opposite side of Merriwell. But Dick swung toward Hal and Hal swung toward him. Then Emerson leaped and brought down—Darrell!
Dick Merriwell ran on and crossed the line.
The time was up as the ball lay dead on the ground back of Fairport’s goal, but the touch-down entitled Fardale to a try for goal, and the ball was brought out.