As it drew near to eleven o'clock Harvard and Cornell gradually lost their grip upon their chance for first place, and at last, when it was time for the great tug, it proved that Princeton and Yale scored exactly the same number of points.
Therefore the result of the tug would decide whether Yale or Princeton should carry away the tournament trophy.
The thing could not have gone better for the spectators at large, but it made the students representing the two leading colleges excited and nervous.
The moment the last unfinished bout was decided, Frank hurried to the dressing-room, followed by the other members of the team and the managers.
He halted at the door with a great start of fear. Bruce lay across the threshold, his right wrist in his left hand, and glaring across the room savagely, while his jaws were shut hard together.
"For Heaven's sake, Bruce! what's the matter?" asked Frank.
"I've sprained my wrist," he muttered, "and by the feeling I guess I've sprained my ankle, too!"
"How did it happen?"
"A dirty trick, Frank, and the scoundrel who did it is somewhere in the room. I managed to get here at the door so as to grab him if he should run out, and also to prevent you from taking the same fall I did."
The other members of the team and the managers were now at the spot.