Speeding straight at his opponent, he held the ball straight out before him, at the same time hissing:
“Here! Take it! It might blow up!”
For a space of seconds the big would-be tackler halted in his tracks. The expression on his face was a study.
As for Rabbit, he stopped short, pivoted to the right, flashed by his opponent to speed away and across the line for a touchdown. Hillcrest went into the lead.
In the last two minutes of play, Chehalis made a desperate attempt to score. Two forward passes were knocked down. An end run was blocked, a third forward pass was intercepted. Hillcrest marched down the field for a gain of twenty yards. Then the whistle blew. Hillcrest had won!
There followed the usual wild applause and the hearty congratulations, then Dave and Rabbit sauntered toward the exit.
“I tell you it’s nonsense!” Dave burst out. “Under such circumstances you just couldn’t blow up that football. Suppose it was full of gasoline or gun powder, how would you light it? I tell you it’s impossible!”
“I suppose it is,” Rabbit laughed. “It happened all the same. And I haven’t got a single theory about how they did it. One thing is sure, Dave, the ball was cold, cold as ice. I—
“Look! There’s something under the bleachers, something shiny—dollar maybe.
“Nope,” he said a moment later, “it’s a football pump. And look! What a fat one it is!