of canvas, the thud of human bodies meeting as both lines charged and a Union State halfback, head down, catapulted into the mêlée off left tackle. Suddenly there was a sharp cry. The halfback had fumbled! Out of the heap of struggling bodies trickled the elusive pigskin and bobbed about crazily on the brown turf.
Ah, who was this leaping from the pile, scooping the ball up with a deft lowering of the arms, without slackening his speed an instant? Who other than "Speedy" Lamb himself! And down he swung—down the field with the speed of an express train, straightarming the lone Union State tackier who attempted to bar his flight. The Tate section of the grandstand sprang to its collective feet, shrieking like madmen. On down the field flew "Speedy," the whole Union State team now in wild pursuit behind him. On and on he drove his tired legs. Past the middle of the field. Past the Union State twenty-yard line. He could hear the pounding of another pair of legs close behind him, could almost feel the hot breath of the foremost pursuer upon his neck. With a last desperate effort he summoned forth a final burst of speed. Five yards from "Speedy's" haven, the Union State quarterback flung himself through the air and, with a marvelous flying tackle, man-
