Behind the Line | Page 4

their
staffs. On the next play St. Eustace's full-back hurdled the line for two
yards, but lost the pigskin, and amid frantic cries of "Ball! Ball!"
Fletcher, Hillton's left half, dropped upon it. The crimson banners
waved again, and Hillton voices once more took up the refrain of
Hilltonians, while hope surged back into loyal hearts.
"Five minutes to play," said Professor Beck. Gardiner nodded.
"Time enough to win in," he answered.
Decker crouched again, chanted his signal, and the Hillton full plunged
at the blue-clad line. But only a yard resulted.
"Signal!" cried the quarter. "_8--51--16--5_!"
The ball came back into his waiting hands, was thrown at a short pass
to the left half, and, with right half showing the way and full-back
charging along beside, Fletcher cleared the line through a wide gap
outside of St. Eustace's right tackle and sped down the field while the
Hillton supporters leaped to their feet and shrieked wildly. The
full-back met the St. Eustace right half, and the two were left behind on
the turf. Beside Fletcher, a little in advance, ran the Hillton captain and
right half-back, Paul Gale. Between them and the goal, now forty yards
away, only the St. Eustace quarter remained, but behind them came
pounding footsteps that sounded dangerous.
Gardiner, followed by the professor and a little army of privileged

spectators, raced along the line.
"He'll make it," muttered the head coach. "They can't stop him!"
One line after another went under the feet of the two players. The
pursuit was falling behind. Twenty yards remained to be covered. Then
the waiting quarter-back, white-faced and desperate, was upon them.
But Gale was equal to the emergency.
"To the left!" he panted.
Fletcher obeyed with weary limbs and leaden feet, and without looking
knew that he was safe. Gale and the St. Eustace player went down
together, and in another moment Fletcher was lying, faint but happy,
over the line and back of the goal!
The stands emptied themselves on the instant of their triumphant
burden of shouting, cheering, singing Hilltonians, and the crimson
banners waved and fluttered on to the field. Hillton had escaped defeat!
But Fortune, now that she had turned her face toward the wearers of the
Crimson, had further gifts to bestow. And presently, when the wearied
and crestfallen opponents had lined themselves along the goal-line,
Decker held the ball amid a breathless silence, and Hillton's right end
sent it fair and true between the uprights: Hillton, 6; Opponents, 5.
The game, so far as scoring went, ended there. Four minutes later the
whistle shrilled for the last time, and the horde of frantic Hilltonians
flooded the field and, led by the band, bore their heroes in triumph back
to the school. And, side by side, at the head of the procession, perched
on the shoulders of cheering friends, swayed the two half-backs, Neil
Fletcher and Paul Gale.
CHAPTER II
PAUL CHANGES HIS MIND
Two boys were sitting in the first-floor corner study in Haewood's.

Those who know the town of Hillton, New York, will remember
Haewood's as the large residence at the corner of Center and Village
Streets, from the big bow-window of which the occupant of the
cushioned seat may look to the four points of the compass or watch for
occasional signs of life about the court-house diagonally across.
To-night--the bell in the tower of the town hall had just struck half after
seven--the occupants of the corner study were interested in things other
than the view.
I have said that they were sitting. Lounging would be nearer the truth;
for one, a boy of eighteen years, with merry blue eyes and cheeks
flushed ruddily with health and the afterglow of the day's excitement,
with hair just the color of raw silk that took on a glint of gold where the
light fell upon it, was perched cross-legged amid the cushions at one
end of the big couch, two strong, tanned, and much-scarred hands
clasping his knees. His companion and his junior by but two months, a
dark-complexioned youth with black hair and eyes and a careless,
good-natured, but rather wilful face, on which at the present moment
the most noticeable feature was a badly cut and much swollen lower lip,
lay sprawled at the other end of the couch, his chin buried in one palm.
Both lads were well built, broad of chest, and long of limb, with bright,
clear eyes, and a warmth of color that betokened the best of physical
condition. They had been friends and room-mates for two years. This
was their last year at Hillton, and next fall they were to begin their
college life together. The dark-complexioned youth rolled lazily on to
his back and stared at the ceiling. Then--
"I suppose Crozier will get the