"Fine!"
McCarty put his arm about him and walked with him.
"Oh, Dink, you will last, won't you?"
"You bet I will, Tough!"
"It's the last stand, old boy!"
"Only two minutes more we've got to hold 'em! The last ditch, Dink."
"I'll last."
He looked up and saw the school crouching along the line—tense drawn faces. For the first time he realized they were there, calling on him to stand steadfast.
He went back, meeting the rush that came his way, half-knocked aside, half-getting his man, dragged again until assistance came. DeSoto's stinging hand slapped his back and the sting was good, clearing his brain.