"If we can only keep them from
scoring again!" Suddenly there was a murmur from the seats, then a cry
of surprise from Remsen's side, then a shout of exultation that gathered
and grew as it traveled along the line. And around the corner of the
stand came a youth who strove to lace his torn and tattered canvas
jacket as he ran. Remsen leaped to his feet, dropping his pipe
unnoticed, and hastened toward him. They met and for a moment conversed
in whispers.
"It's Joel March!" cried Blair. "He's going to play!" exclaimed a dozen
voices. "But he can't," cried a dozen others. "He's on probation." "He
is! He is! He's going on! He's going to play!"
And so he was. Whipple had already seen him, and had sunk to the ground
nursing an ankle which had suddenly gone lame. "Time!" he cried, and
obedient to his demand the referee's whistle piped. "Give your place to
Post, Wills!" he commanded, and then, limping to Joel, he led that
youth apart.
"Can you play?" he asked hoarsely.
"Yes."
"Then get in there at full-back, and, O March, kick us out of this
bloody place! I'll give you the ball on the next down. Kick it for all
you're worth." He gave Joel a shove. "All right, Mr. Referee!" The
whistle sounded.
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.
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