women! Afraid of mussing your hair? Come on, fight! Fight!" He danced behind them, slapping the guards and tackles on the back. He bawled at the backfield men, "Come on, you half men! Snap into it! Smash these blue-bellies. Kill 'em!" His teammates looked at him sadly, indulgently. They were beginning to admit they were beaten. They had about given up.
Then Harold trotted back to the position back of the line just vacated by Hollister.
Houghton was playing to his right, also lurking for the forthcoming punt. But everybody knew the punt would never go to Houghton. Swanson would try out this thin, childlike-looking new quarterback, hoping to find him as butter-fingered as the last one. The ball spiraled back from the center. Swanson caught it. But, instead of punting, the big tackle attempted to double-cross his opponents by rushing around right end. He cleared the line of scrimmage and started for the open field. But Houghton and Harold, rushing over to stop him, tackled him at once. Swanson was cut down as if an avalanche had struck him. Harold landed under the husky Swede. Players of both teams flung themselves upon the heap.
Darkness closed abruptly around Harold. When it cleared again, he found himself be-
