There was a slight pause, as one of the visitors was hurt a bit. In that pause Dick glanced hopelessly toward the grand stand. He could see nothing of June.
“She will not come,” he thought. “Her mother has refused to let her.” Then he went into the game again with all the energy he could command. He was wearing her locket. If she was not there, he had her picture, and that was the next best thing.
Fardale played fiercely for a time, actually pushing the ball down the field to within twenty-five yards of Franklin’s goal, but there it was lost on a forward pass.
Franklin went into Fardale savagely, but at the very outset was set back for holding, a thing which delighted the watching cadets. But they made it up quickly by a clever crisscross and a run round Fardale’s left end, securing twelve yards.
Franklin realized that it had no snap, and the visitors strained every nerve. After that run round the end the gains were small, but Fardale was steadily pushed back to the center of the field. There something happened.
Franklin lost the ball on a fumble, and Darrell got through and caught it up like a flash. He managed to squirm out of the tangle and started for the enemy’s goal.
How it was that Dick Merriwell got through also and joined Hal no one could say, but he bobbed up just as Captain Hickman came down on Darrell with a rush.
Dick hurled himself before Hickman, who pulled him down, and Hal ran on with a clear field before him. The crowd rose up and roared like mad.
Darrell ran as if his life depended on it. Behind him the players strung out in pursuit, but they could not catch him.
Dick Merriwell had made the run and touchdown possible by blocking Hickman.