"Shut up, men," he says in answer to the loud protests of his team. "Get behind the ball."
Every second is precious now, and the line is only three feet away.
Again the field is cleared. The teams, springing to their places in the scrimmage, began to shove furiously before the ball is in play.
"Get up, men!" says the referee. "You must get up. Let me get this ball in. Get up, McGill! Get off your knees!" for the McGill men are on their goal line in an attitude of devotion.
Again and again the scrimmage is formed, only be broken by the eagerness of the combatants. At length the referee succeeds in placing the ball. Instantly Shock is upon it, and begins to crawl toward the line with half a dozen men on his back, gripping him by nose, ears, face, throat, wherever a hand can find a vulnerable spot.
"Hold there!" calls the referee. "'Varsity ball."
"Get off the man! Get off!" cry the 'Varsity men, pulling the McGill fellows by legs and heads, till at length Shock rises from the bottom of the heap, grimy, bloody, but smiling, grimly holding to the ball. He has made six inches. The line is two feet and a half away.
It is again 'Varsity's ball, however, and that means a great deal, for with Campbell lies the choice of the moment for attack.
Placing Shock on the wing, and summoning his halves and quarters, Campbell prepares for a supreme effort. It is obviously the place for the screw.
The McGill men are down, crouching on hands and feet, some on their knees.