As they went into a huddle, Dave muttered to his team: “Remember what we did in the beginning? They’ve forgotten by now. Same play, all the way through, except just three plunges through left tackle, then one through right guard.”
Hillcrest’s ball on the enemy’s thirty-yard line. Four minutes to play. First down, ten to go.
Snap! The ball fairly cracked as it reached Kentucky’s hands. Dave broke a wide opening. Kentucky went through to a first down.
“Break that line! Break that line! Smash ’em! Smash ’em! Smash ’em!” the bleachers chanted.
Kentucky passed his hand before his eyes—that leering sophomore was there again.
Now he was off once again for a gain of six yards.
“Make it a first down!” Dave muttered grimly.
From the enemy’s bleachers there came a mighty roar: “Stop that man! Stop that man! Kill him! Kill him!” Dave knew they meant him. He grinned broadly. A moment more and he was laughing, for the bruised and battered tackle of the opposing team straightened up to shout back to the now silent bleachers:
“Stop him yourself! He ain’t no man! He’s a stick of flaming red dynamite!”
“Red dynamite!” The Hillcrest bleachers caught the words and hurled it back. “Red dynamite! Red dynamite! ’Ray for Red Dynamite!” And so, in a flash, Dave was named for life.