Once more Joel called upon his strength and tried to draw away, but it was no use.

And with the goal line but four yards distant, stout arms were clasped tightly about his waist.
One--two--three strides he made.

The goal line writhed before his dizzy sight.

Relentlessly the clutching grasp fastened tighter and tighter about him like steel bands, and settled lower and lower until his legs were clasped and he could move no farther! Despairingly he thrust the ball out at arms' length and tried to throw himself forward; the trampled turf rose to meet him....
* * * * * "The ball is over!" pronounced the referee.

It was a nice decision, for an inch would have made a world of difference; but it has never been disputed.
Then Dutton leaped into the air, waving his arms, Rutland turned a somersault, and the west stand arose as one man and went mad with delight.