"You've got the elephants going at last."
"Rush 'em!"
"A touchdown saves us!"
Dan's face was flushed, Dave's white and set as the line again formed for the next play.
Quarter-back Joyce held up his head, watching the field like a mouse seeking escape.
Then came the emergency signal: "Nine—fourteen—twenty-two—three!"
Back came the pigskin while the middies seemed to throw their bodies toward the right. It looked as though they were trying to mask this feint.
The ball was in motion. But Dave had it, instead of Farley. Instantly the Navy swung its entire line toward the left, for this was the grand rush, the die on which everything was cast!
Dave was darting forward, and never had his interference backed him better.
Before Midshipman Darrin stood one of the big college men, who looked fully equal to stopping the midshipman anywhere and at any time.