CHAPTER XXIV.
HARWELL VS. YATES--A FAULT AND A REQUITAL.
The kick-off came into Blair's ready arms, the interference formed quickly, and the full-back sped down the field. One white line passed under foot--another; Joel felt Blair's hand laid lightly upon his shoulder, and ran as though life itself depended upon getting that precious ball past the third mark. But the Yates ends were upon them. Joel gave the shoulder to one, but the second dived through Kingdon, and the runner came to earth on the twenty-three-yard line, with Joel tugging at him in the hope of advancing the pigskin another foot.
"Line up quickly, fellows!" called Story. The players jumped to their places. "1--9--9!" Joel crept back a bare yard. "1--9--9!"
Kingdon leaped forward, snugged the ball under his arm, and followed by Joel tried to find a hole inside left end. But the hole was not there, and the ball was instantly in the center of a pushing, grinding mass. "Down!" No gain.
Story, worming his way through the jumble, clapped his hands. Chesney was already stooping over the ball. Joel ran to his position, and the quarter threw a rapid glance behind him.
"2--8--9!" He placed his hand on the center's broad back.
"2--8--!" The ball was snapped. Joel darted toward the center, took the leather at a hand pass, crushed it against the pit of his stomach, and followed the left end through a breach in the living wall. Strong hands pushed him on. Then he came bang! against a huge shoulder, was seized by the Yates right half, and thrown. He hugged the ball as the players crashed down upon him.
"Third down," called the referee. "Three yards to gain."