Big McDonnell bears swiftly down upon him and leaps high at him, but The Don lowers his shoulder, catches McDonnell below the wind and slides him over his back; but before he can get up speed again little Carroll is clutching at his hips, and Mooney, the McGill full back, comes rushing at him.Swinging round, The Don shakes Carroll partly off, and with that fierce downward cut of his arm which is his special trick, sends the little quarter flying, and just as Mooney tackles, passes the ball over his shoulder to Shock, who is immediately pounced upon by half a dozen McGill men, but who, ere he is held, passes to Campbell, who in turn works forward a few yards, and again on being tackled, passes to The Don.It is a magnificent bit of play.
The spectators have long since passed all bounds of control, and are pouring on the field, yelling like mad people.Even the imperturbable old lady loses her calm for a moment, and griping Helen's arm exclaims, "Look at that, now! Man, man, yon is a grand laddie."There is no chance for The Don to run, for a swarm of the McGill men stand between him and the line only a few yards off.Then he does the only possible thing.Putting his head down he plunges into the crowd in front of him.
"Come on, Shock," yells Campbell.Instantly a dozen 'Varsity men respond to the cry and fall in behind Campbell and Shock, who, locking arms about The Don, are shoving him through for dear life.
There are two minutes of fierce struggle.Twenty men in a mass, kicking, scragging, fighting, but slowly moving toward the McGill line, while behind them and around them the excited spectators wildly, madly yelling, leaping, imploring, adjuring by all kinds of weird oaths to "shove" or to "hold." In vain the McGill men throw themselves in the way of the advancing mass.Steadily, irresistibly the movement goes on.They are being beaten and they know it.
"Down! down!" yells big Huntingdon, dropping on his knees on the line in front of the tramping, kicking 'Varsity phalanx.
A moment's pause, and there is a mass of mingling arms, legs, heads and bodies, piled on the goal line.
"Held! held!" yell the McGill men and their supporters.
But before the referee can respond Shock seizes The Don below the waist, lifts him clear of the mob, and trampling on friend and foe alike, projects him over the struggling mass beyond the enemy's line, where he is immediately buried beneath a swarm of McGill men, who savagely jump upon him and jam his head and body into the turf.
"He's in! he's in!" shrieks Betty, wildly waving her hand.
"Will it be a win, think ye?" anxiously inquires Shock's mother."It will hardly be that, I doubt.But, eh--h, yon's the lad.""Down! down!" cries the 'Varsity captain."Get off the man! Get off the man! Let him up, there!"But the McGill men are slow to move.
"Get up!" roars Shock, picking them off and hurling them aside.
"Get up, men! Get up! That ball is down," yells the referee through the din, into the ears of those who are holding The Don in a death grip.
With difficulty they are persuaded to allow him to rise.When he stands up, breathless, bleeding at the mouth, but otherwise sound, the crowd of 'Varsity admirers go into a riot of rapture, throwing up caps, hugging each other in ecstatic war dances, while the team walk quietly about recovering their wind, and resisting the efforts of their friends to elevate them.
"Quit it!" growls Campbell."Get off the field! Get back, you hoodlums!"Meantime Huntingdon is protesting to the referee.
"I claim that ball was fairly held, back there.Balfour was brought to a dead stand.""How do you know, Huntingdon?" returns Campbell."Your head was down in the scrim.""I could see his legs.I know his boots."It is true that The Don has a peculiar toe on his boots.
"Oh," jeers Campbell scornfully, "that's all rot, you know, Huntingdon.""Look here, Campbell, listen to what I say.I want you to remember Iam speaking the truth."
Huntingdon's quiet tone has its effect.
"I would never think of challenging your word," replies Campbell, "but I think it is quite impossible that you could absolutely know that The Don came to a dead stand.""I repeat, I can pick out Balfour's boots from a whole crowd, and Iknow he was brought to a stand.I am prepared to swear that.Can any man swear to the contrary?""Why, certainly," cries Campbell, "half a dozen men can.There's Shock, who was right behind him."But Shock thus appealed to, hesitates.He has an unfortunate conscience.
"I can't say for sure," he says, looking piteously, at his captain.
"Weren't you moving all the time, Shock?""Well, I was shoving all the time."
"But hold on," says Huntingdon."Will you say that Balfour was never brought to a stand? Will you swear that?""Well, I cannot say for sure," replies Shock in great distress."It was not very long, anyway."Yells of triumphant laughter break from the McGill crowd.
The referee is in great difficulty.He has a reputation for courage and fairness.He hesitates a moment or two, and then, while the crowd wait breathless for his decision, says, "You can all see that it is almost impossible to be certain, but on the whole I shall give it a 'hold.'"It was a bitter moment to the 'Varsity men, but Campbell is a true sport.
"Shut up, men," he says in answer to the loud protests of his team.
"Get behind the ball."
Every second is precious now, and the line is only three feet away.
Again the field is cleared.The teams, springing to their places in the scrimmage, began to shove furiously before the ball is in play.
"Get up, men!" says the referee."You must get up.Let me get this ball in.Get up, McGill! Get off your knees!" for the McGill men are on their goal line in an attitude of devotion.
