The team gathered around Chip without paying any attention to the jubilation of the Warwick crowd, which extended even to the team itself. Horton ran out on the field to the little knot of Queen's players and after half a minute's examination of Chip's wrist came back to the side-lines, while the Warwick team prepared for a kick-out. The ball had crossed the line far over toward the side of the field, and it was not thought possible to kick a goal if the ball were brought straight out, because of the difficult angle.
CHAPTER XVII. FRANK SAVES THE GAME.
"What's the matter with Dixon?" inquired the Codfish, as Horton sat down on the ground just in front of our friends.
"He says he hurt his wrist in the first half and again just now," replied the coach gloomily. "If he's hurt as bad as he acts, it's all over with us. There goes the ball," he added, glancing over his shoulder. "Good kick! Fine catch, too, even if it does beat us!"—for Hudson had caught Burns' kick-out right in front of the posts. "They can't miss it from there."
Nor did Warwick miss it. Burns took most deliberate aim, while the little quarter-back, lying flat on his stomach, tilted the ball this way and that. When it was just right, Burns moved forward and swung his foot. Every one watched the ball's flight with straining eyes.
"Goal!" shouted the referee, and the Warwick crowd, which had settled back on the stand, again sprang up, yelling like mad. The point just scored meant a victory, even if no more scoring was done. A great white figure 6 appeared in the blank space, which up to this time had decorated Warwick's place on the scoreboard. At the sight Warwick redoubled its yells.
"One, two, three, four, five, six!" chanted the crowd, while the teams trotted back to their places on the field.
"Five minutes left in this quarter," called Burns to his team; "do that over again! Come on now, hard!"