Stone, beside him, kicked angrily into the turf.
"That settles it," he muttered glumly.

"Idiots!" Pearse it was who met that first fierce onslaught of the Brown's tandem, and he was new to the play; but Mason was behind him, and he was sent crashing into the leader like a ball from the mouth of a cannon.

The tandem stopped; a sudden bedlam of voices from the stands broke forth; there were cries of "Ball! Ball!" and Witter flung himself through, rolled over a few times, and on the twenty-yard line, with half the Erskine team striving to pull him on and all the Robinson team trying to pull him back, groaned a faint "Down!" Robinson's tackle had fumbled the pass, and for the moment Erskine's goal was out of danger.
"Line up!" shouted Ted Foster.

"Signal!" The men scurried to their places.
"_49--35--23!_" Back went the ball and Pearse was circling out toward his own left end, Paul interfering.

The north stand leaped to its feet, for it looked for a moment as though the runner was safely away.