he burst into the core of the formation and threw the runner back for a loss.
Then St. John's kicked, and St. Timothy's returned the kick; and back and forth in the middle of the field the two elevens struggled. The time slipped by. Rupert Ormsby kept glancing nervously at his watch.
"Well," he said, in a voice that was undecided between relief and disappointment, "they're holding 'em, anyway. And there can't be more than five minutes left."
St. John's tried a mass play against the St. Timothy's centre, and suddenly, while the two elevens were jammed together, the ball rolled jauntily, unconcernedly, out from the scrimmage.
Joe Herrick, pushing on the outside, saw it first, made a leap, and caught it up from the ground. The next moment, with it tucked under his left arm, he was racing up the field, up toward the carriage in which Ward and Rupert Ormsby sat.
The St. Timothy's spectators rushed yelling, along the side line. Ward stood up in
