"Regal, Regal, Rah, Rah, Regal!"
The ball was snapped back to Bob, who gave it a kick that sent it right over the goal for three points. Again pandemonium. Again cheers. Stanley followers were beginning to get nervous. 8 to 3 was not dangerous, but it was the way Regal was going at it. "What a difference one man makes," was heard on all sides.
The teams lined up again. Both were playing at top speed. They swayed to and fro. There were no slips, no mistakes. It was give and take, with the results about even. It kept on that way until the whistle blew and the third quarter was over.
The Regal crowd occupied the short interval cheering its team uninterruptedly. Stanley did the same.
The whistle blew again, and the battle was renewed. If Stanley could hold the score as it was, the victory was hers. Out from her side of the stands came the concerted yell,
"Stanley, hold! Stanley, hold! Stanley, hold!"
And that was their game. They held well. Eight minutes of the quarter had passed, and it began to look as if nothing could get through Stanley. It looked like her game. Then something happened.
The ball was passed to Mulvy. With the grace and speed of a hound, he made for the enemy line. Hardly had he started when a big Stanley player got right in front of him. By clever dodging Frank got by him. He had just struck his stride when another opponent dashed across his path ready to spring at him. Frank came on full tilt, and just as a plunge was made for him, he stopped short, turned aside and the tackler went digging into the ground.
The crowd was wild now. Only one man stood between Mulvy and a touchdown, and victory. The coach was pulling his hat to pieces. The Regal followers were frantic with anticipation.
But Stanley's best tackle was waiting for Mulvy. He had seen how the other two were fooled, and was ready for every emergency. He was a cool, active big chap with lots of football instinct. Frank knew him. He had seen him play often. But on he ran like a deer, his hair blown back by the wind, his nostrils distended and his eyes aglow and determined. As he got near the barrier, he made as if he were going to keep right on. He came at top speed to within a foot of the tackle; then just as the tackle crouched low and sprang at him, Frank fell sidewise to the ground, rolled over, and before the tackle could rise, jumped to his feet, ran at full speed and crossed the line!