Forward charged St. Eustace. But, gathering encouragement from the knowledge that back of them stood a full who would put them out of danger if the opportunity were given him, Hillton stood fast.
"Second down, five yards to gain!" cried the umpire.
Again the wearers of bedraggled blue stockings surged and broke against the line. And again there was no gain. Back of Hillton, less than eight yards away, lay the goal-line. Desperation lends strength. Huddled together, shoulder to shoulder, the backs bracing from behind, the crimson-clad youths awaited the next charge. It was "the thin red line" again. Then back went the ball, there was a moment of grinding canvas, of muttered words and smothered gasps, of swaying, clutching, falling, and "Down!" was heard.
"Hillton's ball; first down," announced the umpire.
What a cheer went up from the grand stand! What joy was in Remsen's heart as the St. Eustace full-back went trotting up the field and Greer stooped over the ball! Then came a pause, a silence. Every one knew what to look for. Squarely between the posts and directly under the cross-bar stood Joel March, his left foot on the goal-line. Back came the ball, straight and low into Joel's outstretched hands. The line blocked long and hard. One step forward, an easy, long swing of his right leg, and Joel sent the ball sailing a yard over the upstretched hands of the opposing line and far and high down the field.
There it was gathered into the arms of the St. Eustace full-back, but ere that player had put his foot twice to ground he was thrown, and the teams lined up on St. Eustace's forty-five-yard line. Then it was that the god of battle befriended Hillton; for on the next play St. Eustace made her first disastrous fumble, and Christie, Hillton's right end, darted through, seized the rolling spheroid, and started down the field. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty yards he sped, the St. Eustace backs trailing after him.
"A touch-down!" cried Remsen. "No, the half's gaining! He's got him! No, missed him, by Jove! A-ah!"
The run was over, and Christie lay panting on the ground, with the triumphant St. Eustace half-back sitting serenely on his head; for, although the latter had missed his tackle, Christie had slipped in avoiding him. But cheers for Christie and Hillton filled the afternoon air, and the two elevens lined up near St. Eustace's twenty-five-yard line, yet well over toward the side of the field.
"If it was only in the middle of the field," groaned Blair, "a place-kick would tie the score. How much time is there, Mr. Remsen?"
"About two and a half minutes," answered Remsen. "But I've an idea that, middle or no middle, Whipple's going to signal a kick."