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A Boy Knight by Martin J.

Whence it was gradually worked over the line for a touchdown


spectators were about equally divided. Both sides were on fire with enthusiasm. Those who knew the players pointed them out to those who did not. The strong and weak points of the respective teams were adverted to and discussed.

Below, on the gridiron, the players were limbering up. Some tossed the ball around, others made short sprints, while a few kicked the pig-skin, not far but accurately. The warning whistle sounded. Off came the heavy sweaters. Both sides ranged up in battle formation. The ball was propelled by a mighty kick far into Stanley's territory, and the fight was on.

The battle surged to and fro. Neither side showed any distinct superiority over the other. The ball was pushed now down to Stanley's goal, now down to Regal's. Either side, held for downs within the shadows of its own goal posts, invariably punted the ball back into hostile territory. Time and again an onward march was stopped by clever work and the ball changed hands. The game went on in this way for about ten minutes.

Suddenly from scrimmage, the ball was passed to Mulvy's substitute for a run forward. The chance was good for a score. A little clever dodging here and there would mean a touchdown and six points for Regal. The spectators rose to their feet, they stood on tip toe, they craned their necks to see the first score. All of a sudden, when within fifteen feet of goal, the runner was tackled,

toppled, and the ball rolled into Stanley's possession. A groan came from Regal as Stanley picked up the ball, and carried it down the field, whence it was gradually worked over the line for a touchdown. They failed, however, to kick goal, and the score stood 6 to 0 in favor of Stanley.

No time was lost in renewing the battle, and soon it was on as fiercely as before. The Regal's coach was storming and stamping.

"I told them not to drop Mulvy," he bawled. "This is no dude's game. That sub has got no grit. Look at him now! He's got cold feet, he is only half playing. Here, Green, tighten up your belt. I'm going to put you in the next quarter."

The cheer leader was frantically appealing for encouragement from his yelling hordes. They gave cheer after cheer, louder and longer. The encouragement was telling. Again Regal pushed the ball up the field. Again, a fine opening presented itself and Derby got the ball, and a good open track to the enemy goal. Deafening cheers gave him wings. Again a hostile player crossed his path and brought him down like a bag of oats. A hiss resounded over the field. The coach could hardly wait for the quarter to be up. Gaffney ran over from his cheering place to the bench, and whispered to him.

"I know it," growled the coach, "I told the bunch after yesterday's practice. He looked good to them, but I knew he wouldn't do. We're presenting the game to Stanley. It's theirs without half trying. I'll put Green in the next quarter."

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