They backed him up manfully. That brilliant little half who had nursed his forwards assiduously all through the game got the ball when all alone and dribbled it swiftly toward Parkland's goal. Ranleigh forwards were then well in advance, and a well-placed kick sent the leather neatly amongst them. Sturton passed with the rapidity of lightning to Harper, at the same time stepping aside to evade the frantic rush of one of the visitors' backs. Harper rushed the ball still closer to the goal, passed it to his nearest man, had it sent back within the instant and lost it. But that little half was there to support. He jogged the leather upward. A Parkland man got in a punt, sending the ball to a great height. There the wind caught it. Sturton, watching its flight, rushed in to meet its fall. A man charged him. He slid aside, and just in the nick of time headed the leather. A roar of cheering told him that he had been successful.
"A drawn game. Well, that's better than last time, when it was six to two," said Clive. "But it's rotten luck. Our chaps are heaps the better. Play up, you fellows!" he yelled, almost angrily.
And Ranleigh did play up. The eleven had seen Bagshaw consulting his watch with some anxiety and knew that there could now be but a couple of minutes left in which to finish the game. Parkland fellows knew it also, and were as keen to win as Ranleigh. Off went the ball again. Visitors and Ranleighan spectators of the game kept up a continuous roar, which might have been heard right down in the village. Scarves were waved aloft. Fellows tore up and down the field at the back of the spectators. Even masters were stirred out of their usual calm. But it seemed to no purpose. The ball oscillated round about the centre of the field for what seemed ages. Then the visiting team took it triumphantly along with them, and sent a long shot at Ranleigh goal which plumped straight for the centre.
"Done!" groaned Clive, hardly daring to look.
"Good old Moon!" shouted Susanne and Hugh together. "Moon's done for 'em. He's sent the ball back to our fellows."
It was an old trick of the Ranleigh goalkeeper. It may be doubted whether there are many goalkeepers who could put up a similar performance, for, as we have said, the Goliath in Ranleigh goal could strike with his fists harder almost than the average fellow could kick. In any case, he gave the ball a terrific buffet, sending it spinning back to the Ranleigh forwards. It was then that the fellows stood on their toes in their anxiety. Harper had the leather and muffed it. Sturton somehow managed to gain possession. It shot across to the far left a moment later, was rushed forward by the outside left, dribbled across to the inside man, and then sent flying between the Parkland posts. Perhaps ten seconds later, while yells of delight still filled the air, the whistle of the referee was heard blowing.
"Look here, Franklin," said Masters, meeting him some few minutes later. "Blow those colours. I don't care whether I owe you ninepence or nine bob. Come to the tuck for a blow-out. Ranleigh's won, my boy. A chap can't afford to quarrel about mere pennies on such a glorious occasion."
They chaired Sturton from the field. A pack of juniors endeavoured to do the same for Moon, but broke down under the ponderous burden. Even Parkland fellows cheered, for they were sportsmen.
"You played us a fine game and beat us handsomely," said Barlow, taking Sturton's proffered hand with a smile of friendship. "I hope you chaps will give us a return. My word, the improvement is an eye-opener!"
"And due to the new method," said the Head of Ranleigh that evening, when Sturton and the eleven took dinner with him. "This historic match is an answer to all critics. The School has much to thank our Captain for. The improvement in tone and fitness is wonderful."