He gave up trying to breathe; it was too hard.

His head was swimming and his lungs seemed bursting.
Then his wandering faculties rushed back at a bound as he felt a touch, just the lightest fingering, on his shoulder, and gathering all his remaining strength he increased his pace for a few steps, and the hand was gone.

And the ten-yard line passed, slowly, reluctantly.
"One more," he thought, "one more!" The great stands were hoarse with shouting; for here ended the game.

The figures on the score-board had changed since the last play, and now relentlessly proclaimed one minute left! Nearer and nearer crept the five-yard line, nearer and nearer crept the pursuing full-back.

Then, and at the same instant, the scattered breadth of lime was gone, and a hand clutched at the canvas jacket of the Harwell runner.