Mills turned to the bench and Neil's heart jumped into his throat; but it was Smith and not he who struggled feverishly out of his sweater, donned a head-harness, and sped on to the field.
Neil sighed and sank back.
"Next time," said Stone sympathetically.

But Neil shook his head.
"I guess there isn't going to be any 'next time,'" he said dolefully.
"Time's nearly up." "Not a bit of it; the last ten minutes is longer than all the rest of the game," answered Stone.

"I wonder who'll try the goal." "We've got to have it," said Neil.

"Surely Devoe can kick an easy one like that! Why, it's dead in the center!" Stone shook his head.
"I know, but Bob's got a bad way of getting nervous times like this.

He knows that if he misses we've lost the game, unless we can manage to score again, which isn't likely; and it's dollars to doughnuts he doesn't come anywhere near it!" Paul staggered up to the bench, Simson carefully wrapping a blanket about him, and the fellows made room for him a little way from where Neil sat.