Jetting fought like a tiger to hold the lead, but Mansford crowded him harder and harder, finally going to the front.
Then came a desperate struggle between Merriwell and Jetting, but Yale's colors were carried into second place at the beginning of the last quarter.
And now—now there was excitement. The finish
was drawing near, and Princeton had the lead, although the distance was short.
As Frank passed the Yale crowd he was given a rousing cheer, which seemed to put fresh life and strength into his body. He crept up on Mansford, who was running like the wind. The difference grew less and less. Eight feet, six feet, four feet—could he close the gap?
Then, for a moment, a black cloud seemed to pass before Frank's eyes. His heart was in his mouth, where it lay hot and dry, like a stone that has baked in the sun. It seemed that he must fall.
"Win or die! win or die!"
Those words rang through his head as if some one had shouted them into his ear.
"I will!"
He knew the end was close at hand, and still the black and yellow was before him.