A moment later the team trotted back to the field.
"Touch her down, Touch her down, Touch her down again! H-I-double-L-T-O-N!" chanted the wearers of the crimson; and--"St.Eustace! St.Eustace! St.
Eustace!" shouted the visitors as they waved their bright blue banners in air.

The whistle piped merrily, the ball took its flight, and it was now or never for old Hillton! Stephen Remsen joined the string of substitutes and found a seat on the big gray blanket which held Browne and Clausen.

From there he followed the progress of the game.
Outwardly he was as happy and contented, as cool and disinterested, as one of the goal posts.

Inwardly he was railing against the fate that had deprived Hillton of both the players who, had they been in the team, could have saved the crimson from defeat.

Wesley Blair joined him, and with scarce a word they watched St.Eustace revert to her previous tactics, and tear great gaping holes in the Hillton line, holes often large enough to admit of a coach and four, and more than large enough to allow Allen or Jansen to go tearing, galloping through, with the ball safe clutched, for three, five?
or even a dozen yards! No line can long stand such treatment, and, while the one-hundred-and-fifty-pound Greer still held out, Barnard, the big right-guard, was already showing signs of distress.