That was M’Crae’s voice and he was pulling at the ball. But Cal only shook his head and held on.
“It’s—mine!” he gasped.
Then someone turned him over on his back and tore the ball from his hands and began lifting his arms up and down. But Cal was all right now. Brooks, grinning, his face as white as a sheet of paper save for two disks of red in the cheeks, pulled him to his feet and hugged him.
“O you Boland!” he gasped huskily. “O you Boland!”
Cal smiled embarrassedly.
“I cal’late that was a touchdown, wasn’t it?” he asked.
There was no goal kicked, but what did that matter? House didn’t care and Hall could get but slight satisfaction from the fact. Two minutes later the game was over and House, victor by 5 to 0, went cavorting and dancing off the field, tired, aching, bruised and happy.
An hour later, after House had cheered itself hoarse in front of the gymnasium, the West House eight marched back across the park, Sandy striding ahead with the Silver Shield held proudly before him. The West House eight did I say? Rather the West House nine, for [beside Sandy tripped] Miss Molly Elizabeth Curtis, [the Obnoxious Kid, waving triumphantly her red and white banner]!
THE END.