Cateye, who had played a wonderful game at left guard, was tiring fast. Knapp had chosen the left side of the line to direct a good share of his smashes at and Cateye had borne the brunt of the attack. Now, after each play, he was the last man to crawl upon his feet, and fall back into his position.
Pennington fought its way to the seven yard line. There were three minutes left in which to score a touchdown. Gordon took the ball, intending to drive his way through Cateye's position for a substantial gain. But Cateye, calling forth one last, great effort, broke through and tackled Gordon for a one yard loss.
The crowd gave him a mighty cheer but Cateye heard it not. He lay where he had fallen. Benz rushed up, knelt down beside him, then motioned to Neil.
"Help me get him to the sidelines, will you? He's knocked out!"
Someone rushed up with a blanket and pail of water. Cateye was carried to the sidelines. The substitutes crowded around. Judd pushed them aside.
"Cateye! Pal! Wake up! What's the matter?" Judd shook him rather roughly.
Cateye began to come to. "My knee! My knee!" he gasped.
Judd jerked off Cateye's shoe and sock. The bandaged knee was already badly swollen.
Coach Phillips came to Cateye's side. "Tough luck, old man. You played a great game. Judd, take off your sweater. You're going in Cateye's place. It's up to you. Hold 'em!"
"Me? Naw,—well," Judd hesitated, glancing at his room-mate.