Neil's heart stood still.

Would it clear the cross-bar?
It seemed scarcely possible, but even as despair seized him, for an instant the bar came between his straining eyes and the dropping ball! A figure with tattered purple sleeves near at hand leaped into the air, waving his arms wildly.

On the stand across the field pandemonium broke loose.
Neil closed his eyes.
A moment later Simson found him there, sitting on the thirty-five-yard line, one arm hanging limply over his knee, his eyes closed, and his white face wreathed in smiles.
Erskine 10, Opponents 6, said the score-board..