Some one insisted on sponging his face, much to his disgust.
"How's the other fellow?" he said grimly.
"He's a tough nut; he's up, too!"
"He must be."
The recovery of the ball gave them a short respite, but it served also to enrage the other line, which rose up and absolutely smothered the next plays. Again his kick seemed to graze the outstretched fingers of the Princeton forwards, and he laughed a strange laugh which he remembered long after.
This time the punting duel was resumed until, well within Yale territory, Cockerell looked around and gave the signal for attack.
"Now, Yale, stop it, stop it!" Dink said, talking to himself.
But there was no stopping that attack. Powerless, not daring to approach, he saw the blue line bend back again and again, and the steady, machine-like rolling up of the orange and black. Over the twenty-five-yard line it came, and on past the twenty.
"Oh, Yale, will you let 'em score again?" De Soto was shrieking.
"You're on your ten-yard line, Yale."