Wilkins was at hand, and he scooped it into the net.
The score was tied.
Never had Fillmore and his fellows been more desperate. They had fancied the game safely in their hands; but now they saw it slipping through their fingers.
It was no use. Again the Hopkins players saw the ball go into Merriwell’s possession, and again they did their level best to keep him from reaching a position where he could try for goal.
But, swiftly dodging man after man, Merry wove his way through them toward the net and the anxious goal keeper.
Brisbane was nervous. He feared he could not stop the ball. That fear aided in his undoing.
He did not stop it.
Merry cast it deftly into one of the upper corners of the net, and his team had taken the lead.
After that Hopkins seemed to slump. Had the game lasted a few minutes more the Merries would have added another score. As it was, it finally ended four to three, just as the game with Harvard had finished.
The moment the game was over Frank Merriwell walked up to Fred Fillmore.